Arya's knuckles were white around the hilt of Needle, her sword pointed straight at the monster kneeling on the ground.
The biting chill radiating from its body made her feel as though her very blood was freezing.
This was beyond her comprehension.
The dead returning to life, obeying commands.
Were these not the White Walkers the bards spoke of, the bringers of endless fear during the Long Night?
She had seen Lynn burn their corpses at the Wall. She had seen him kill them with his own hands!
And this... "thing"... looked exactly like those White Walkers!
It was obvious. This was a White Walker!
Then...
If Lynn could resurrect the dead... what did that make him?
"Don't be nervous."
Lynn's voice was calm.
He didn't even glance back at the monster. He simply stepped forward and gently pushed down Arya's sword arm.
"It won't hurt you."
"What... what is it?"
Arya's voice trembled slightly.
"A soldier."
Lynn's answer was simple and direct.
"A soldier who is absolutely loyal, tireless, and fearless."
With that, Lynn turned and issued a new command to the kneeling White Walker.
"Rise. Go to the weapon rack. Choose a longsword."
The White Walker stood up stiffly, its heavy footsteps echoing as it walked to the rack in the corner of the cave.
It held an array of weapons Lynn had collected, from Arakhs to standard Westerosi knightly swords.
The White Walker extended a pale, withered hand and picked up the most common knightly longsword.
Its movements were still somewhat stiff, but the moment its fingers closed around the hilt, a strange transformation occurred.
An aura of a warrior radiated from it.
"Attack me."
Lynn commanded, casually drawing a longsword from the rack himself.
"Use all your strength. Hold nothing back."
Arya's heart leaped into her throat.
Was Lynn mad?
He was going to fight this monster?
This was a White Walker!
The blue flames burning in the White Walker's eyes flickered.
The next second, it moved!
Fast!
Impossibly fast!
That body, which should have been stiff, exploded with agility and power completely at odds with its appearance!
It made no sound, no roar, simply swinging its sword in a silent arc of death.
It wasn't the wild hacking of a savage, but a display of exquisite, lethal swordsmanship!
CLANG!
Sparks flew as steel met steel.
Lynn was forced back half a step by the immense force, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face for the first time.
Arya's pupils contracted.
She recognized that style!
Her dancing master, Syrio Forel, had explained it to her.
It was the dual-wielding style of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning!
Lynn had practiced it in front of her countless times.
He wielded two swords as extensions of his own arms, offense and defense in one, flawless.
And this White Walker, though using only one sword, mirrored Lynn's moves, footwork, and even the subtle shifts of his body perfectly!
It was like... like Lynn's shadow!
A perfect shadow that felt no pain, no fatigue, executing orders to kill with absolute precision!
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The crisp sound of clashing blades rang incessantly through the cave.
The White Walker's offense was like a storm, each strike faster and heavier than the last.
It had no need for defense. Its icy body allowed it to ignore ordinary steel; every parry it made was only to set up a more ferocious counterattack.
Lynn shifted from testing his opponent to fighting in earnest.
He held nothing back, pushing his swordsmanship to the limit.
Sword light flashed through the cave. The two figures moved so fast they blurred, the only sound the rain-like rhythm of metal striking metal.
Arya watched, dumbfounded.
She knew Lynn was strong, but she never imagined he could "manufacture" another monster as strong as himself!
"Switch to a greatsword."
Lynn kicked the White Walker in the chest, forcing it back, and issued a new command.
Without hesitation, the White Walker dropped the longsword and picked up a massive two-handed greatsword, the kind Ser Rodrik favored.
To a normal man, it would be heavy, but in its hands, it seemed weightless.
Lynn switched to a similar greatsword.
Combat erupted again.
If the previous duel was a clash of agility and speed, this was now a crushing contest of pure strength and technique!
Every swing of the greatsword tore through the air with a whistling roar.
The White Walker's style was open and brutal, full of the fierce valor of a Northern warrior—Ser Rodrik's style exactly!
Lynn even ordered it to pick up a lance, running through the piercing charge techniques of Ser Garlan Tyrell.
The result was the same.
A perfect replication!
Arya was numb.
She looked at the tireless monster, then at Lynn, whose forehead was now beaded with sweat.
A chilling thought surfaced in her mind.
If... if Lynn created hundreds, thousands of these monsters?
What kind of army would that be?
A legion composed of countless "Swords of the Morning"?
Who in the Seven Kingdoms could withstand them?
No, even the Targaryen dragons might fall before an army of the dead that feared no death on the ground!
Why did ordinary men struggle to improve their swordsmanship?
Because sparring partners held back, afraid of injuring each other. With that hesitation, true skill was hard to hone.
But the White Walker was different.
Lynn had imbued it with the memories of history's greatest warriors. It was far beyond anything a greenhouse flower could hope to challenge.
Fighting such an enemy was, without a doubt, a terrifying prospect.
The test ended. Lynn ordered the White Walker to kneel back in the corner.
He walked up to Arya, seeing the shock and fear written on her small face, and asked softly,
"Now, do you still think it's just a monster?"
Arya remained silent for a long time before shaking her head with difficulty.
A monster?
No. This was a weapon.
The most terrifying, lethal weapon in Lynn's arsenal.
She finally understood why Lynn had the confidence to speak as he did, why he dared to make such a mad plan.
Because he held a trump card strong enough to flip the entire board!
"Who... who are you, really?"
Arya finally asked the question that had been circling in her mind.
"They say the Long Night is coming, and the White Walkers are the enemy of all the living."
She looked up, her grey eyes fixed on Lynn.
"But you... you are the Night King, aren't you?"
Lynn didn't dodge the question.
He looked into Arya's eyes.
There was fear there, and confusion, but mostly a desperate yearning for the truth.
Lynn reached out and gently cupped her cheek.
"I am not the Night King."
"But I possess power similar to his."
"Arya, do you remember what I told you about where I come from?"
Arya nodded.
Lynn had told her he came from a land far to the east, beyond Essos. A world without magic, dragons, or White Walkers.
"My power comes from the gods of that world."
"It gave me the ability to gain the strength of enemies I kill."
"And when I killed the first White Walker, I gained... the ability to create them."
Lynn's voice was calm, as if recounting a trivial matter.
He took Arya's cold hand and placed it against his chest.
"I wondered if I should tell you this."
"It is my greatest secret, enough to make the whole world see me as a true demon."
"But..."
Lynn's gaze turned incredibly tender.
"You are my wife."
"You have the right to know everything about me, good or bad."
Arya's heart trembled violently.
The chill of fear melted away, replaced by a warmth more powerful than she had ever known.
Yes.
He was her husband.
Whether he was man, god, or demon.
He was the man who held her, who promised her a lifetime.
All his secrets, all his power, ultimately served one purpose.
To survive.
To protect the people he wanted to protect.
And she was one of those people.
The chaotic thoughts in her head about the Night King and enemies suddenly cleared.
Enemy?
Who was the enemy?
Those who wanted to hurt Lynn, who wanted to hurt her family—they were the enemy!
As for what power Lynn used?
Whether it was a sword, a dragon, or these... dead soldiers.
What did it matter?
Arya gripped Lynn's hand tightly in return.
Instead of fear, she felt an unprecedented peace of mind.
Her man was the strongest, most reliable man in the world.
"I understand."
Arya looked up, the fear and confusion wiped from her face, replaced by a determination that mirrored Lynn's own.
"Since they are soldiers, they need a name."
"From now on, let's call them the 'Winterguard Legion'."
Lynn smiled.
He knew his little she-wolf had accepted it completely.
---
Lynn created a total of ten White Walkers here.
Each one possessed the ability to kill Jaime Lannister.
Of course, this drained Lynn significantly.
Thinking of the battles to come in a few days, where he might need his spiritual energy, Lynn decided against making more for now.
When Lynn and Arya walked out of the cave, the army outside had finished assembling.
Tens of thousands of wildling soldiers, hundreds of giants and mammoths formed a formidable host.
All eyes focused on Lynn.
Holding Arya's hand, Lynn ascended the highest watchtower of Dragon's Landing.
He looked down at the faces filled with fanaticism and worship.
"My brothers! My warriors!"
Lynn's voice carried across the entire military town on the cold wind.
"Those southern nobles who call themselves civilized call us wildlings!"
"They look down on us, despise us, think of us as savage bandits!"
"They cut off our food, wanting us to starve to death in this ice and snow!"
"And now, we march south!"
"To tell those fools who the true masters of this continent are!"
"ROAAAR!"
A roar like a tsunami erupted from the formation below, vibrating in everyone's ears.
The wildlings didn't understand political relations, but if Lynn told them to fight someone, they would fight them. It was that simple.
Communication with them had to be simple and direct.
Only then would they understand.
Lynn didn't stop. He continued to use inflammatory language to ignite the fire in every wildling warrior's heart.
"To let our enemies feel the warmth of the North ahead of time!"
From his cloak, Lynn slowly produced an ancient, massive horn.
The horn was made of some unknown pale material, covered in strange runes, emitting a desolate chill from a primordial age.
The Horn of Winter!
Lynn had kept it as a collector's item until now.
But with war imminent, it was time to bring it out.
"Today, I summon a new comrade for you!"
"A giant from the Lands of Always Winter!"
Lynn raised the horn to his lips and took a deep breath.
Wooooo—Wooooo—Wooooo—
The desolate, ancient sound, seeming to come from the end of the world, pierced the clouds.
There was no bloodlust in the sound, only an absolute cold that could freeze the soul.
The sky seemed to darken in that instant.
The wind stopped. The snow stopped.
The whole world fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone held their breath. They could feel something incredibly terrifying, incredibly great, waking from its slumber.
The ground began to shake violently!
On the empty snowfield in front of the town, the earth suddenly bulged upwards into a massive mound!
Countless giant ice spikes burst from the ground, growing, interweaving, condensing wildly!
A figure of unimaginable size was slowly rising from the ice and earth!
Its body was composed entirely of the purest glacial ice—crystal clear, yet indestructible.
Deep blue soul fire burned in its joints.
Its height exceeded fifteen meters!
More than three times taller than the tallest giant in the army!
It was like a moving iceberg!
Just standing there, its overwhelming presence demanded submission from all living things!
A Frost Giant!!!
Everyone was stunned.
Tormund's jaw dropped, his wineskin falling to the ground unnoticed.
Even the arrogant giants raised their heads, looking up at their colossal kin with primal awe.
The Frost Giant lowered its head of ice crystals. Its massive eyes, burning with blue flame, looked toward Lynn on the watchtower.
Slowly, it knelt on one knee.
With a sound that made the mountains tremble, it voiced its submission to the summoner.
"ROAAAR!"
Arya held Lynn's hand tightly. Watching this miraculous scene, there was no fear left in her heart.
Only endless pride and battle spirit remained.
She turned to look at her husband.
Meeting her gaze, Lynn wore a confident smile.
"Not worried anymore?"
"Your husband is far stronger than you imagined!"