Game of Thrones: Bastard? I’m the Damn Heir!

Chapter 340 340: The Army of the Dead

Craster's Keep lay some distance from the Frostfangs, as Craster's wives had described them.

Kal sent several men to escort the women to the Wall. After resting a day at the earthen fort, the company set out again.

In the blink of an eye, three more days had passed.

"If we're to reach the Frostfangs, we must pass by the Fist of the First Men, then cross the Milkwater, go through the Gorge of Whispers, and only then can we reach where Mance Rayder is!"

"On the way, we're likely to run into wildling scouts. That will expose us!"

"Your Grace, I advise that we make camp first at the Fist of the First Men, then dispatch scouts into the Frostfang mountains to see what Mance Rayder is truly doing!"

The blizzard descended once more, and Kal's party struggled through the snow.

Ill luck had dogged them today, and the storm had come far too swiftly.

Benjen had to shout at Kal's side for his voice to pierce the wind and snow and reach his ears.

He pointed toward a mountain faintly visible ahead. If they wished to avoid being buried beneath the storm, they had to reach it as swiftly as they could.

In truth, Benjen need not have shouted—Kal could hear him clearly—but Kal had no mind to correct him.

Just then, a deep, resounding bark suddenly rang out from within the storm ahead.

"Kal, there is something before us."

Erevi, who had shown little initiative along the road, suddenly appeared at Kal's side. A violet light glimmered in her eyes, as though she had already discerned something.

"And this storm is strange. Since it began, the magic in the air has surged wildly. This is likely what you called 'the work of the Others.'"

Their exchange was swift. Benjen, standing nearby, barely caught a word. He only saw the King produce a greatsword out of thin air; with a brush of his hand, the blade flared with light.

"See to their safety. I will look ahead."

Without further word, Kal switched to House Tarly's Valyrian steel blade, Heartsbane, and after enchanting it with a casual motion, stepped straight into the storm.

Benjen, realizing what was happening, was at once startled.

Yet before he could do anything, he saw that the King had already stepped back.

"Hear me! Draw your weapons!"

The shout burst like thunder in the air, drowning out the howl of wind and snow in their ears.

Though they still did not know what had happened, within little more than ten seconds the company had drawn their weapons one after another.

Gazing at those gleaming blades, Kal's eyes glinted faintly as the skill [Weapon Enchant] flickered wildly across his panel.

Unlike most games, Peasant's Quest, as a turn-based RPG, had no notion of cooldowns for its skills—only the limitation of mana.

Thus, in less than a minute, the long column of men stretching along the road was lit up by a trail of light.

Like Kal's, every weapon in every hand now shone.

After finishing all this, Kal gave Erevi a silent nod and stepped once more into the storm.

Behind him, the force of more than two hundred men stood staring blankly at the weapons in their hands, now radiating a warm glow.

"Follow me."

Unlike her manner toward Kal, the mistress of the Dread Tower was far colder when facing these mortals.

She threw back her hood and raised a hand. At once, a passage of blazing flame appeared before them, stretching all the way to the Fist of the First Men.

There was no time for words, nor for marveling at the magic before their eyes. Anyone could see that something had gone amiss.

The expedition raised their weapons and quickened their pace, rushing forward along the road of fire.

Whereas Kal's lightning spells flowed with greater ease, Erevi's most powerful offensive magic was bound to flame.

When all had gathered upon the Fist of the First Men, they finally understood what it was that the King—and the witch now at his side—had feared.

Within the storm, a swaying, maimed figure emerged abruptly before their eyes.

…

In the raging blizzard there was only the sound of a dog's bark, yet the corpse trudging through the snow could not find from where the sound came.

And as they were still searching for that dog, a figure shining with light entered their senses.

It was the scent of the living.

The scent of flesh they loathed most—and desired most.

They felt the warmth that life gives off.

Pairs of glowing blue eyes turned toward him.

Before they could make a move, a bolt of lightning shattered the darkness; seven or eight wights standing close together exploded straight into ash.

The wind and snow grew ever more savage.

The army of the dead surged toward the man who had dared to appear alone within their sight.

"Good. Let me test your worth."

Seeing the tide of corpses rush at him without the slightest fear—though he had just slain seven or eight of their kind with a casual strike—Kal rolled his neck and raised his sword.

As his words fell, his cloak vanished, and pieces of green dragon armor layered themselves over his body.

With another motion of his left hand, lightning once more tore through the dark.

More than a dozen wights at the front were blasted into ashes again.

Yet Kal had no intention of stopping there.

Before the battle he had downed potion after potion to bolster himself and had enchanted his weapons besides; like the wind, he swept into the horde of corpses.

Though lightning was efficient, he could not be bothered to waste mana exterminating these wights.

After using it several times and finding it no better than a simple strike, Kal raised his left hand as well. The greatsword personally forged by Tobho Mott—rarely brought forth—appeared in his grip.

Enchanted as well, the slab-like blade shone with a brilliance like a lantern.

Two glowing blades whirled in his hands, rising and falling in swift succession. Not a single wight could come within five meters of him.

It was as though a domain of death moved with him—wherever Kal stepped, the wights perished and scattered into drifting ash.

He killed without pause, killed without cease.

In the end he even abandoned his techniques altogether, holding the greatswords level in either hand and turning himself into a storm of blades that collided headlong with wind, snow, and the dead alike.

Among them he saw not only human wights, but those of horses, and spiders as large as horses.

There were even giants.

Yet none of them could halt him.

Beneath his swords, even giants were cleft down with a single stroke, split in two and falling away into ash.

"Woof! Woof!"

And just as Kal was deep in the slaughter, a bark rang out from within the blizzard.

"Found you!"

The raging gale ceased in an instant. A storm of lightning spread like rain, blasting open a clearing.

Kal's own deep blue eyes turned toward the direction from which the bark had come.

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