The hollow was silent as the grave.
The only sounds were the crackling of the bonfire and the heavy, ragged breathing of the men.
Everyone seemed frozen in place, staring blankly at the figure standing in the center of the clearing.
Lynn.
He held Longclaw in his grip, his silhouette shimmering in the firelight, dusted with glittering shards of ice.
What just happened?
That dead thing... that monster immune to steel, practically invincible...
It was just... gone?
Shattered by their commander with a single strike?
"He... he won?"
A young Ranger stammered out the words, his voice trembling.
"We... we won!"
"The Commander won!"
No one knew who shouted first, but in the next second, the dam broke.
"YEAHHH!!!"
"The Commander is mighty!"
"Long live Lord Lynn!"
Deafening cheers erupted like a landslide, shattering the silence of the snowy valley.
The ecstasy of surviving a brush with death, combined with pure reverence for the strong, ignited the emotions of every soldier present. They threw down their weapons and surged toward Lynn in a frenzy.
"By the Old Gods!"
"Unbelievable!"
Torrhen and Jason wore expressions of sheer fanaticism. As they watched the men toss Lynn into the air in celebration, their eyes shone with undisguised worship.
This battle had completely overturned their understanding of the world.
It had also cemented Lynn's status in their hearts as something akin to a god. They had seen with their own eyes how fragile a warrior was before the terrifying might of a White Walker.
Yet, that same terrifying creature had been shattered by Lynn in a single blow!
It was simply too powerful!
Arya stood to the side, clutching the warm dragon egg, watching the crowd swarm around Lynn. Her gray eyes shone bright enough to hold the entire night sky.
Her small face was filled with pride.
Look!
That's my Lynn!
He's better than any hero in the songs!
---
When the men finally set him down, Lynn's chest was still heaving.
That fight had drained nearly all his stamina and focus. The final strike, while looking effortless, had been dangerous in the extreme.
If the White Walker had reacted a fraction of a second faster, or if his own crude grasp of ice magic had faltered even slightly, it would be his corpse lying in the snow right now, split in two.
Still too close, he thought.
His current strength was enough to deal with wights. But against a true White Walker, he was still lacking.
Lynn's gaze shifted to the floating text only he could see.
[White Walker slain x1. Experience +100]
One hundred experience points!
A single White Walker was worth a hundred points!
He had hit the jackpot. High risk, high reward.
A bold idea began to form in Lynn's mind.
If only I could mass-produce these things, he mused. Whether for dirty work or just to farm them for experience, it would be an incredible resource.
However, the System had clearly labeled them as "Hostile Creatures." That path was likely a dead end, but it was worth keeping in mind.
Decisively, Lynn dumped all the new experience points into Ice Magic.
He wanted to see if leveling it up would bring about any earth-shattering changes.
Suppressing the thrill in his heart, Lynn forced his expression back to its usual calm. He raised Longclaw high and shouted:
"Clean up the battlefield!"
"Gather the bodies of our fallen brothers and burn them! Do not leave them to rise as wights!"
"Then, strike camp immediately!"
"We're going home!"
"Home!"
The soldiers erupted in another thunderous cheer.
---
The journey back was nothing like the tense march out.
The oppressive atmosphere was gone, replaced by soaring morale and heartfelt pride.
They, a ranging party of a hundred and fifty men, had killed a legendary White Walker!
Even if most of them hadn't struck a blow, the sheer glory of the achievement made every man walk taller. Their eyes, whenever they drifted to their commander, burned with fervor.
Lynn ignored the fanatical looks.
He spent most of the journey studying the dragon egg in his arms.
Ever since absorbing the forces of ice and fire, the egg had maintained a constant, radiant warmth. Lynn could clearly feel the heartbeat inside growing stronger. The mental connection—a feeling of pure affection and longing—was becoming clearer by the day.
It was growing.
It was yearning to break its shell.
I need to find a suitable 'delivery room' for it, he thought.
Feeding the dragon would be another headache. While a dragon could hunt fish in the sea or livestock on the plains, the North was sparsely populated. Livestock was the lifeblood of every holdfast; he couldn't just let a beast raid the herds of the Northmen, especially not under his superiors' noses.
And if he had to buy livestock with gold... given a dragon's appetite, he'd be eaten out of house and home in a moon's turn.
Lynn's gaze grew deep and calculating.
It seems the location of my future fiefdom is critical. At the very least, it needs to be somewhere I can generate wealth.
Lost in thought, the time passed quickly.
---
When the familiar black silhouette of the Wall appeared on the horizon, the entire column cheered.
On the ramparts, the watchmen spotted them.
"It's Lynn! He's back!"
"Quick! Tell the Lord Commander!"
The news flew on invisible wings, spreading rapidly through Castle Black. By the time Lynn led his column through the dark tunnel and into the courtyard, nearly every brother of the Night's Watch had gathered.
Jeor Mormont, Maester Aemon, Jon Snow... everyone was there.
"Lynn!"
Lord Commander Mormont was the first to step forward.
He looked Lynn up and down, and seeing him unharmed, the old bear's weathered face finally relaxed with relief.
"You... you're back."
"Aye, Lord Commander."
Lynn dismounted and offered a slight bow. "As you can see, we have returned."
Mormont's eyes swept over the soldiers behind Lynn. They were energetic, their heads held high.
He was puzzled.
They've only been gone a few days. How has the temperament of this unit changed so drastically? It's as if they've been reborn.
"What of the mission?" Mormont asked, lowering his voice. "Did you find the place?"
"We found it," Lynn nodded.
"Then... the item the skin-map spoke of? The key to fighting the Others? The blessing of the Old Gods?"
Mormont's voice held a desperate hope he couldn't quite hide.
Before Lynn could answer, a sour, biting voice cut through the air.
"Hah! Look at his empty hands. It's obvious he's come back with nothing."
Alliser Thorne stepped out from the crowd, a gloating sneer plastered across his face.
"I told you. 'Guidance of the Old Gods,' 'Prophecies'... it's all mummer's farce! Commander, you never should have trusted him! You let him lead a hundred and fifty brothers to their deaths for nothing!"
Thorne spoke loudly, ensuring everyone in the yard could hear him. He intended to expose Lynn's "lies" publicly and humiliate him.
The other brothers stayed silent. Even if it was a failure, Lynn had brought his men back alive. They could always search again.
Torrhen, Jason, and the other survivors heard Thorne's slander and flushed with rage. Hands went to hilts immediately.
But Lynn raised a hand, stopping them.
He looked at the posturing Thorne as one might look at a dancing fool.
"Ser Alliser," Lynn said, his voice calm. "Who told you I returned empty-handed?"
"Oh?" Thorne raised a brow, feigning surprise. "And what did you find, then? Some glowing rocks? A talking twig?"
His cronies snickered behind him.
Lynn didn't dignify that with a response.
He simply turned, and with great care, took the heavy, fur-wrapped bundle from Arya's arms.
Then, in front of everyone, he began to peel back the layers of fur, one by one.