The wind beyond the Wall was always bone-chillingly cold—so cold that once night fell, it felt as if the very soul could freeze solid.
Over time, another stone wall had been built around Hardhome. Its surface was inlaid with jagged obsidian blades, while the two older wooden walls had been preserved, each fitted with new watchtowers.
"Elbe the Long-Haired" was a wildling warrior who had only recently joined Hardhome. His tribe had been wiped out by the army of the White Walkers; only twenty or so had escaped by boat. By rights, he wasn't even qualified to serve as a sentry.
But once Elbe heard that sentries received the best food and pay, he began training with manic enthusiasm. After a round of selections, he stood out among forty candidates and earned the position.
Dreaming about the comfortable life that awaited him, Elbe couldn't help but smile—only for that smile to vanish as a flying ice spear pierced his chest. The tremendous force hurled him backward and nailed him to the wooden wall of the watchtower. Blood gushed freely from the wound.
Fortunately, his hand had never left the bell rope. Even as he died, he tugged it several times. The clanging of the alarm bells echoed across the night, alerting the other towers.
As the warning bells tolled again and again, the great bell on the stone wall joined in. The urgent ringing roused those asleep in their huts; soon, lights flared up one after another across the settlement. Under the officers' shouts, the wildling warriors hurriedly gathered.
Ten towering giants emerged from their specially reinforced dwellings. Led by their chieftain, Mag, they donned their armor—thick leather reinforced with obsidian, meant to stop the wights from clambering up their bodies. Their weapons were simple but brutal: obsidian-studded clubs. Their intelligence had improved somewhat since joining the settlement, but intricate weapon arts still eluded them. Clubs would have to do.
By now, a dense mass of wights had gathered in front of the first wooden wall. Under the moonlight, the soldiers on the wall could see a sea of dark figures standing motionless, as though awaiting a signal.
When the sentries on the towers were finally slain by a storm of ice spears, the horde surged forward. Over a dozen gigantic wight giants rolled an enormous block of ice toward the gate—so massive it loomed higher than the wall itself. Once it reached the gate, they stopped.
The defenders braced, thinking the wights meant to climb the block and leap over—but instead, the block began to crack. After a minute, a creature over four meters tall crawled out: a being of solid ice.
Its eyes glowed with eerie blue light. Its body was covered in spike-like icicles; its right arm was a massive ice pillar, while the left ended in razor claws.
Boom.
With each blow from the ice monster, the wooden gate splintered. Every strike left a gaping hole; even the obsidian reinforcement failed to slow it.
On the stone wall, the warriors stared in horror. "Six-Shape Man" Varamyr, tonight's patrol leader, swallowed hard—but forced himself to shout encouragement:
"Our home is right behind us! Don't fear! Lord Elok will be here soon—you've seen what the Godbolt soldiers can do! Ready the burning arrows!"
Bang!
With a thunderous crash, the first gate fell. Snow sprayed high into the air. When it cleared, the ice creature stepped forward—only to be struck by a volley of flaming arrows.
Roar!
The creature let out an unearthly scream and shattered into a pile of ice shards, burying nearby wights under the debris.
Varamyr's face lit with joy—Elok Stern had arrived with his crossbowmen. Their bolts, a mix of obsidian and steel, had felled the monster—though no one knew which type had done the killing.
But as the soldiers reloaded, another wave of wights flooded through the breach. Then came a terrifying sight: several more ice creatures and giant wights marched through the gate.
A blizzard howled toward the wall. Snow blinded the soldiers; fear clawed at their hearts. Just then, a blinding golden light flared above the battlefield.
A luminous angelic silhouette, formed from pure holy light, shone down like a beacon of hope. Elok's Blessing Ritual wasn't as powerful as Marko's, but it did weaken the storm's fury.
The soldiers cheered—until dark shapes suddenly hurled out from the blizzard. Some crashed into the wall, others slammed into men below.
When the screaming started, they realized the "shapes" were wights—mangled, half-destroyed, but still writhing. Severed heads and limbs clawed at anyone nearby.
Each crash against the second wooden gate made hearts pound faster. Fortunately, reinforcements were pouring in from the settlement, steadying their courage.
Archers readied their bows. The giants hefted massive stones, preparing to give the attackers a feast of obsidian—but then some soldiers felt strange vibrations beneath their feet.
Crack... hiss...
The ground split open. Huge ice spiders crawled out of slime-filled tunnels, followed by more wights drenched in mucus and mud.
Panic erupted. The troops below the wall scattered, screams filling the night. The giants, fearing to crush their own men, hesitated. The undead and spiders poured out in waves.
The viscous slime hissed as it ate through flesh and armor. The reek of decay and acid made men gag. Some of the wights were little more than skeletons wrapped in rotten meat—the sight alone broke weaker soldiers. Yet under their officers' roars, they regrouped and began hacking through the undead line, separating spiders from wights.
Still, a portion of the monsters slipped past, charging toward the settlement—their goal clear. These ice spiders were monstrous, over three meters long, even larger than those Marko had faced before.
Boom!
Thunder rolled and fire flared from within the settlement. Three radiant archangels appeared above Hardhome, their bodies blazing with divine light.
At their head was Meifu. With her were two other archangels in similar attire. Wings flashing, they dove, their Judgement Swords wreathed in blue holy flame that sliced through the spiders' crystal bodies, melting them into pools of stinking fluid.
Behind them, squads of soldiers in red plate armor and horned helmets marched into the streets—Defenders, wielding tower shields and longswords.
At their center rode Marko upon his unicorn, Silverflash.
At his command, the Defenders charged.
Bathed in moonlight, their red armor gleamed like living fire. Empowered by Marko's Blessing Ritual and Mass Light Magic, they tore through the wights and spiders like divine warriors descended to earth.
Meanwhile, the battle below the wall raged on. The second wooden gate shattered, and over ten ice creatures and twenty wight giants advanced in formation toward the stone wall.
Wights were hurled one after another over the parapet; men were crushed or maimed where they stood. Seeing the crisis, Marko instantly cast Teleportation Shift and appeared atop the wall.
Opening his spellbook, he invoked Light of the Sacred Word. A towering figure of pure light manifested above the battlefield. It was a spell of the highest tier—its power beyond reckoning. Marko prepared to unleash Divine Retribution—
But suddenly, a new blizzard howled into existence, carrying a surge of ghostly blue energy that slammed into the sacred light. The massive luminous figure trembled violently—
Then, with a deafening explosion, the magic collapsed outward in a shockwave that drove everyone back. The Sacred Word vanished from the sky.
Marko frowned, coldly amused, and opened his spellbook again—only for a chime to ring in his ears:
"Ding! Due to interference from an unknown force, the host is temporarily unable to use Light of the Sacred Word. The system is attempting to override. Please wait…"
That message startled him. Quickly, he switched to Summon Elemental. This time, it worked. A crimson hexagram flared, and a roaring Fire Elemental burst forth, hurling flames down upon the wights.
Marko summoned three more. Earth, water, air, and fire—four elemental beings joined the fray, blasting apart ice creatures and wight giants, slowing their advance.
Then, from far off, came a strange series of sounds. Through his Tongxiao Wanwu ability, Marko understood—it was an order to attack.
Curious how they meant to strike, he extended his senses—and suddenly felt killing intent. Instantly, he manifested the weapon from his inventory: Flame Dragon's Tongue.
Clang!
The flaming blade met a volley of ice spears midair. The repeated impacts numbed his hands. He swung again, shattering several spears, when two figures appeared beside him—Meifu and Danni, weapons in hand.
Breaking through the barrage, Marko reached into his pocket and pulled out fifteen obsidian stones. Below, the ice creatures were battering at the gate—he would stop them here.
Each stone held destructive lightning magic—Thunderstrike. He hadn't had time to craft more, too busy studying the Spring of Vitality lately.
Even so, fifteen were enough. The enchanted stones detonated, killing four of the ice monsters and wight giants. Flames caught on the corpses, halting the undead advance.
With Meifu and Danni covering him, Marko used a moment's reprieve to cast the Valyrian spell Far Sight. He sought the White Walkers' location—to strike directly at their command.
They were prepared this time. Likely, after their last defeat, they'd developed a counter to Light of the Sacred Word. Marko had been cautious—but still, he'd walked into their trap.
Their strange, cold magic still interfered with his senses, yet his will pushed through the blizzard's veil. He found them.
An eagle's cry split the air. Marko and Danni mounted their griffins, soaring skyward, Meifu close behind. The other two archangels remained to defend the wall.
Reaching altitude, Marko ordered a dive toward the enemy's position. Empowered by light magic, the cutting wind couldn't touch them.
Far below, in a snowfield outside Hardhome, a circle of White Walkers stood upon a spiraling rune array, cold energy pulsing outward.
One of them—holding twin ice blades—suddenly looked up, sensing danger. It barked a command. The others ceased their chanting and hurled ice spears skyward.
More than twenty spears streaked upward.
Marko leapt from his griffin's back, brandishing Flame Dragon's Tongue and spinning into a blazing whirlwind. The storm of spears shattered against the vortex of fire.
The flames, amplified by the sword's power, roared out—Marko himself now a burning comet.
After signaling Danni, he plunged straight toward the White Walkers.
Their leader moved first. With no hesitation, it stabbed both its swords into the hearts of two of its own kin. The twin blades absorbed their essence, glowing with ghostly blue fire.
Then, mimicking Marko's motion, it charged upward—wielding both burning ice blades—straight at him.
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