The ravine—silent as death.
Only the crackle of bonfires. Heavy breathing.
Everyone stood frozen, staring at the figure in the center.
Lynn.
Longclaw in hand, covered in glittering ice shards that sparkled in the firelight.
What just happened?
That thing—immune to blades, nearly invincible—
Gone?
Their commander just... shattered it with one strike?
"We... won?"
A young ranger's voice trembled.
"We won!"
"The Lord won!"
Someone shouted first.
Then—
"WOOOOO!!!"
"Lord Lynn is mighty!"
"Long live Lord Lynn!"
Deafening cheers erupted like a tidal wave through the silent ravine!
Relief from near-death. Worship of the strong. Both ignited every soldier's emotions.
They threw down their weapons and surged toward Lynn.
"By the Old Gods!!"
"Unbelievable!"
Torren and Jason's faces blazed with fervor.
They watched Lynn hoisted into the air, eyes filled with undisguised worship.
This battle shattered everything they knew.
And cemented Lynn's godlike status in their hearts.
They'd seen how fragile warriors were against that terrifying White Walker.
Yet Lynn shattered it with one strike!
Incredible!
Arya clutched the warm egg, watching Lynn surrounded by the crowd.
Her gray eyes shone like they held the entire night sky.
Pride and joy filled her small face.
Look!
That's my Lynn!
He's better than any hero in the stories!
Lynn was set down, chest still heaving.
That fight had drained nearly all his strength and focus.
Especially that last move—looked effortless, but was deadly dangerous.
If the Walker had reacted a fraction faster, or if I'd miscalculated the ice magic even slightly—
I'd be the one lying there in two pieces.
Still too risky.
My current strength—fine against wights.
Against White Walkers? Not quite enough.
Lynn's gaze fell on his status screen.
[Killed White Walker x1, EXP +100]
One hundred experience!
One Walker gave a hundred points!
Jackpot!
High risk, high reward!
A bold idea formed.
If only I could mass-produce White Walkers.
Use them for dirty work. Or farm them for experience.
But the system clearly says "hostile creatures."
That route probably won't work. Still—worth trying.
Lynn decided to dump all his experience into Ice Magic.
Let's see what kind of transformation that brings.
Lynn suppressed his wild joy, face returning to calm.
He raised Longclaw high.
"Clean up the battlefield!"
"Gather our fallen brothers. Burn them. Don't let them turn into wights!"
"Then break camp!"
"We're going home!"
"Home!"
The soldiers erupted in cheers again.
The return journey held none of the earlier dread.
Instead—high morale. Pride.
They—this expedition of one hundred fifty—had killed a legendary White Walker!
Even if they hadn't done much.
That glorious achievement made them all stand taller.
And their gazes toward their commander grew ever more fervent.
Lynn ignored the fanatical stares.
Most of his time was spent studying the egg.
Since absorbing ice and fire, it had remained warm.
Lynn felt it clearly—the heartbeat inside growing stronger.
The affectionate consciousness clearer.
It's growing.
It wants to hatch.
I need to find it a proper place.
And feeding a dragon will be a problem.
Sure, dragons can fish in the ocean or hunt livestock on the plains.
But the North is sparsely populated. Livestock is the lifeblood of every holding.
Can't pull stunts under my lord's nose.
If I buy livestock with gold to feed it—given a dragon's size—I'll go broke.
Lynn's gaze deepened.
My fief's location will be critical.
At minimum, it needs to guarantee wealth.
Time passed in Lynn's contemplation.
When the familiar black silhouette appeared on the horizon, the entire column erupted in cheers.
On the Wall, a watchman spotted them.
"Lynn's back!"
"Quick! Tell the Lord Commander!"
The news spread like wildfire through Castle Black.
When Lynn led his column through the dark tunnel into the courtyard, nearly every brother had gathered.
Jeor Mormont. Maester Aemon. Jon Snow...
All stood waiting.
"Lynn!"
Lord Commander Mormont stepped forward first.
He looked Lynn up and down. Seeing him unharmed, relief washed over his weathered face.
"You've... returned."
"Yes, Lord Commander."
Lynn dismounted, bowing slightly.
"As you see, we're back."
Mormont's gaze swept over the spirited, high-morale soldiers behind Lynn.
Confusion filled him.
They've only been gone a few days?
Why does this force look completely transformed?
"How did it go?"
Mormont lowered his voice.
"Did you find the place?"
"We did."
Lynn nodded.
"And... what the map mentioned—the key to fighting the White Walkers... the blessed relic?"
Hope tinged Mormont's voice.
Before Lynn could answer—
A sharp, mocking voice cut in.
"Hmph. Look at him—empty-handed. Obviously came back with nothing."
Alliser Thorne stepped from the crowd, face twisted in a gloating sneer.
"I told you. Old Gods' guidance. Prophecies. All lies!"
"Lord Commander, you shouldn't have trusted him!"
"Letting him lead a hundred fifty brothers to their deaths!"
Thorne's voice rang loud, deliberately ensuring everyone heard.
He wanted to expose Lynn's "lies" in front of everyone. Humiliate him.
But the other brothers said nothing.
Just a temporary setback. Besides, Lynn brought everyone back alive.
They can search again.
Torren and Jason, hearing Thorne's slander, flared with rage.
They reached for their swords.
Lynn raised a hand, stopping them.
He looked at the jumping Thorne like a clown.
"Ser Thorne."
Lynn's voice—calm.
"Who said I came back empty-handed?"
"Oh?"
Thorne raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
"What did you find? Glowing rocks? A talking tree branch?"
His cronies behind him burst into laughter.
Lynn ignored him.
He turned, carefully taking the thick fur-wrapped bundle from Arya's arms.
Then, before everyone—
He began unwrapping it.
Layer by layer.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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