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That deserter...
No.
He's not a deserter.
The thought flashed through Robb Stark's mind.
Deserters don't have eyes like that.
He's a true warrior.
Lynn's chest heaved with ragged breaths.
But his sword hand stayed rock-steady.
A bearded bandit leader broke the brief silence with a bestial roar.
"What the fuck are you scared of?!"
"They've got horses—we can't run anyway! Fight them!"
"Kill one before you die!"
Fear gave way to primal savagery. The remaining bandits rallied.
Some noticed: the man in black looked dangerous. A hard target. But the consecutive kills had pushed him to his limit.
Surround him with two men—even the strongest couldn't hold out long against four hands.
Robb saw their intent. Roared. Tried to push toward Lynn with his men.
"Block them!"
Seeing Robb give orders, another wave of bandits instantly understood who led this group.
They pivoted. Attacked Robb's flank like madmen. Forced him into defense.
Lynn's eyes narrowed.
They noticed me.
Of course. Three clean kills in seconds—hard to miss.
Lynn backed against a thick pine tree. Now he only had to face enemies from the front and sides.
Robb's group drew most of the bandits' attention. Lynn's pressure eased.
One bandit charged first. Long-handled axe whistling down at Lynn's head.
Lynn didn't block head-on.
Slid his feet. Body hugging the trunk. Dodged the blade by a hair.
Wood chips flew. The axe bit deep into the tree.
That opening!
Lynn's wrist twisted. Sword thrust upward.
Squelch.
The blade sliced cleanly through the bandit's unprotected throat.
Blood gushed. Left a shocking red streak on the gray-white bark.
[Bandit killed x1, Experience +1]
Before the corpse fell, another bandit's curved blade swept toward Lynn's waist.
Lynn twisted. Parried.
CLANG!
Steel rang. Sparks flew.
The instant he blocked—a third bandit lunged from the side.
No proper weapon. Just a sharpened stick. Aimed viciously at Lynn's ribs.
Nowhere to retreat.
Critical moment—
Whoosh!
An arrow pierced the air. Buried itself in the stick-wielder's eye socket.
The scream cut off. The bandit's body stiffened. Collapsed.
Lynn's attention had been drawn to the ambusher. The blade-wielder grinned viciously. Raised his knife again.
Steel flashed. Lynn dodged as much as possible—only managed to twist sideways.
Tearing pain exploded from his left shoulder.
Cloth ripped. Flesh peeled. Blood instantly soaked half his body.
Lynn grunted. Staggered.
The pain stabbed his nerves—but didn't break his focus.
Instead, it ignited something feral in his bones.
He didn't retreat. Used the stumble's momentum. Charged forward.
Slammed his shoulder into the bandit's chest.
The bandit hadn't expected him to attack after being wounded.
Caught off-guard, he staggered back several steps.
Lynn's sword moved.
A simple upward slash.
Rip!
No armor. The blade carved from the bandit's belly upward. Opened his chest.
Organs and blood spilled out. Splattered the ground.
The vicious grin froze. The bandit looked down at his empty cavity. Eyes filled with disbelief and despair.
[Bandit killed x1, Experience +1]
Lynn, wounded now, stopped pushing forward. Moved toward the battle's edge.
"ROAR!"
Robb Stark's battle cry rang out.
The young lord's eyes had turned red with bloodlust.
He'd ignited the wolf blood in his veins.
No longer bound by his master-at-arms' teachings. Still young, but every strike carried power.
Wide, sweeping attacks. Northern savagery unleashed.
One bandit lost an arm to his blade. Screamed. Fell.
Another was cleaved through shield and body both.
The tide turned. Lynn and Robb's explosive offense tipped the scales.
The bandit leader saw it. Eyes bloodshot. Abandoned his fight with the Stark guards. Tried to flee.
Ran straight into Lynn, who was also moving toward the edge.
Seeing Lynn wounded, the leader roared. Swung a blood-caked two-handed axe. Charged.
Before he arrived, the stench of blood and sweat hit Lynn's face.
The axe blade whipped up a vicious wind. Crashed down.
Lynn didn't dodge.
He was exhausted. Couldn't escape a polearm's range anyway.
He bent his knees. Dropped his center. Held his longsword horizontal.
CLANG!
Massive impact. Lynn blocked with the sword's thickest section. Deflected the killing blow sideways.
The force shook his arms violently. His shoulder wound tore open again. Pain blackened his vision.
Surprise flashed in the leader's eyes. Turned to cruelty.
He pressed down on the axe. Wanted to crush this stubborn bastard.
But Lynn's goal—achieved.
That block bought him a chance to close in.
Lynn released his left hand from the sword. Body twisted right.
His right elbow—like a cannonball—slammed into the leader's ribs.
Crack!
Bone shattered crisply.
The leader grunted in pain. His massive body froze for an instant.
At the same moment, Robb arrived—unwilling to let the leader escape. Thrust his longsword forward.
Squelch!
The blade plunged hilt-deep. Pierced the leader's chest.
Lynn, afraid Robb would steal the kill, grabbed his fallen sword. Stabbed it through the bandit's eye socket.
[Bandit Leader killed x1, Experience +2]
The ferocity in the leader's eyes dimmed rapidly.
Lynn ripped the sword free.
The tall bandit's life extinguished.
"Two experience points?"
"So stronger enemies give more. But he wasn't that strong—otherwise it wouldn't be just two."
What if he killed someone like Jaime? Or wights? White Walkers? The Night King himself?
How much experience would that be?
"Of course, I could also slaughter civilians for experience."
"But without backing, without someone to shield me... I'd have no place left in Westeros."
With the leader's death, the remaining bandits collapsed.
They dropped weapons. Fled screaming.
Stark guards' cold steel and Theon's arrows met them.
The battle ended.
Silence returned to the grove. Only the crackling campfire and wounded guards' groans remained.
Lynn leaned against the scarred pine tree. Slid down slowly.
His longsword clanged onto the snow.
His whole body trembled. Not from fear—from exhaustion.
His shoulder wound still bled. His ribs throbbed with drilling pain.
Every breath pulled at the injury. Nearly made him black out.
His vision blurred.
A pair of mud-and-snow-stained boots stopped in front of him.
Lynn struggled to lift his head.
Robb Stark.
The young wolf lord's face still carried fading bloodlust. But his blue eyes held complex emotions.
Shock. Confusion. And a trace of respect.
"You..." Robb opened his mouth. Didn't know what to say.
He looked at the corpses around Lynn. At Lynn's terrible wounds.
Words felt powerless.
"Jory!" Robb turned, shouted at a guard. "Get over here! Bandage him!"
Theon Greyjoy walked over too. Put away his bow. Crouched down.
Looked at the shoulder wound—deep enough to see bone. No trace of his earlier mockery remained.
Lynn had earned Robb and Theon's recognition with wounds and blood.
In his vision, the blue panel only he could see floated quietly.
[Experience: 7]
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