Chapter 169 – Spirit Cards
Strange and intricate symbols were rapidly etched into the snow by Charles using a tree branch.
He controlled his strength carefully, making each mark small and precise—but before long, the once-white ground was covered in a dense spread of mysterious runes.
Behind him, horses neighed continuously.
Not far away, a sizable army was dismantling their camp, organizing supplies, and preparing to return to the Wall.
Of course—
not all of them.
"My lord is busy. He has no time for you," a guard's voice came from behind.
Charles's ears twitched slightly, but he didn't stop working.
"I need to speak with him," a young voice insisted.
"Not happening—"
"Jon Snow?"
Charles interrupted without turning around.
"…Yes, my lord," the boy answered quickly.
"What do you want?"
Charles set the branch aside and finally turned to face him.
"I want to stay here."
Jon spoke nervously.
"As a man of the Night's Watch, the enemies beyond the Wall are our responsibility. I have a duty to remain. And when you return, you'll need a guide—I've already memorized the route, I can—"
Charles listened until he finished.
Then shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"No reason."
With a dismissive wave, Charles turned away.
Behind him, the guards drove Jon off. The boy's frustrated voice faded into the distance, and soon the surroundings fell silent once more.
Nearby, the army had nearly finished preparations.
With the Other God's influence gone, the Three-Eyed Raven had begun rebuilding crossings along the blockade line.
So Charles had ordered most of the troops to return to the Wall.
Facing what came next, more manpower was useful—but in this mountainous terrain, numbers meant little.
And more importantly—
Charles didn't believe ordinary soldiers could harm a dragon.
"Besides… I'm not sure I can revive you all a second time."
He muttered softly, returning his focus to work.
In the real world, nothing much had changed.
Days passed in routine monotony.
Thanks to the time difference between worlds, Charles had already practiced this magic array thoroughly.
Yet strangely—
even after seven days, the Church had not come looking for him.
It was as if they had forgotten him entirely.
Charles didn't mind.
In fact, he preferred it.
With pressing matters in the A Song of Ice and Fire world, he had no intention of seeking them out either.
For him, the priority was clear:
Defeat this world's final boss… and open the path to the next world.
He had been preparing for this for a long time.
"The Lady of Light may be weakened, but she is not something you can trap so easily. And even if you could… you would never be able to kill her."
A sharp voice drifted through the air, interrupting his thoughts.
Charles looked up.
A black crow had landed on a nearby branch.
He smiled.
"Never?" he asked. "Like the Other God?"
"You did not kill the Other God," the crow replied, its three eyes fixed on him.
"But it hasn't appeared again."
The crow tilted its head slightly, as if exasperated by Charles's stubbornness.
Since Charles had been investigating his enemy, the matter of the Lady of Light had naturally come to the Raven's attention.
The Raven didn't agree with his plan.
In his view, even though the Lady of Light—R'hllor—had become harsh and cold, she still stood on the side of this world.
She should be an ally.
But he did not try to stop Charles.
After a long silence, he finally said:
"The Night Lion's presence… has disappeared."
"Wasn't it devoured by the Other God?"
"After you took the Other God away, it should have been reborn."
"Maybe it's just… running late."
Charles replied casually.
The Raven seemed to suspect Charles knew more than he was saying—but couldn't be certain.
After a few more silent glances, it flapped its wings and departed.
Without the Other God's presence, the strongest of the Old Gods—the Greenseer—was slowly regaining his strength.
Charles didn't care.
As long as the Raven didn't interfere with his plans, he had no objections.
Finishing the final stroke of the array, Charles stood up.
After glancing at the dense runes beneath his feet, he casually kicked them apart.
Then he turned and left.
Guards followed closely behind.
As he walked through the camp, countless soldiers watched him with awe—and even fanaticism.
A side effect of being brought back from the dead.
Charles ignored it.
Entering his tent, he ordered the guards to stand watch outside.
Then he sat on the bed, placing the brown staff across his knees.
To activate the binding array, he needed two things:
Sufficient spiritual power
Appropriate soul entities
And where to find them—
was obvious.
Now, unlike before, he had the ability to extract the souls stored within the staff, instead of merely observing them.
The world shifted.
The sky turned dark.
The land was swallowed by gray mist.
Walking through it, Charles appeared like a lone white ghost—striking, out of place.
This black-and-gray realm seemed eternal.
As he moved forward, shadowy human figures flickered through the fog.
Most of them were dazed.
Some stood still.
Some muttered to themselves.
Some wandered aimlessly.
None could communicate.
"So… where exactly am I supposed to find those dragon souls?"
Charles frowned.
This space held hundreds of thousands of souls.
It was vast—so vast that once inside, he was effectively lost.
Even though dragon souls would stand out—
finding them could take a very long time.
"And I can't even fly…"
He sighed quietly, disappearing deeper into the endless gray mist.
Great Adventure in the American TV World
Chapter 169 (Part 2) – Spirit Cards
It was a problem.
But Charles wasn't too worried.
After all, even if those dragon souls could fly, they couldn't stay airborne forever. Sooner or later, they would descend.
The real question was—
how to find them.
With that in mind, Charles continued wandering through the gray mist, observing everything around him.
Then—
he spotted a bald figure in the distance.
And suddenly, an idea struck him.
"I may not be able to find them… but someone else might."
Muttering softly, he approached silently from behind.
Then reached out and tapped the man's shoulder.
"Hello there."
The figure froze.
For a brief moment, he seemed confused—
then he turned around, face lighting up with excitement.
But that expression didn't last.
The moment he recognized Charles—
despite the time that had passed, despite the unfamiliar attire—
recognition flashed instantly.
Excitement turned into terror.
Without hesitation, he turned and ran.
But this wasn't the past.
Watching the fleeing soul, Charles merely raised an eyebrow.
He didn't chase.
Instead, he stood still—
his gaze locking onto the escaping figure.
And in that instant—
his black eyes transformed into a brilliant, crystalline blue.
A strange force surged forth.
Frost began forming on the runner's legs—visible, creeping, spreading.
The man slowed.
Step by step, his movements became heavier, more sluggish.
Until finally—
he was completely covered in frost.
His body trembled. Even walking became difficult, let alone running.
Left with no choice, he turned back.
Shivering violently, his round face forced out a strained smile.
"M-my lord… i-it's been a long time…"
It was none other than Varys, the former master of whispers of King's Landing—killed long ago by Charles's arrow.
Charles smiled faintly and walked up to him.
He said nothing.
He simply stood there, watching.
Waiting.
Not out of theatrics—
but because speaking with someone who was still stuttering from freezing was… inefficient.
The ability he had just used came from Lord of the Long Night.
It allowed him to freeze a target through his gaze.
But in truth, it wasn't the eyes themselves that held power—it was spiritual force.
The eyes were merely the medium.
And the "body and mind" it affected referred to both physical form and soul.
That was why it worked even here—
in the realm of spirits.
---
Of course, this wasn't true "freezing."
Not yet.
Like his other abilities, it held great potential—but its current effect was limited.
Charles didn't mind.
No one became powerful overnight.
After a moment, when Varys had calmed down, Charles finally spoke:
"So… can we have a proper conversation now?"
"Of course, my lord," Varys replied instantly, bowing his head with practiced humility.
---
"I need you to help me find something," Charles said directly.
"Some big creatures. You know what I mean."
Varys blinked.
Then smiled cautiously.
"Dragons, my lord? Yes… I do know where they tend to gather. In fact, I've been observing them for some time…"
He hesitated.
"But?"
"But… perhaps my lord could understand my… difficulties…" Varys said, his expression turning pitiful.
"I can guide you, of course. But this place is unbearably cold. There's no one to talk to, nothing to do… so I have a small… insignificant request…"
"A request?"
Charles raised an eyebrow.
But he wasn't fooled.
He remembered very clearly what this "harmless eunuch" had been capable of in life.
"A request?" Charles scoffed.
"Call it what it is—a condition."
"You've made one mistake."
---
Before Varys could react—
Charles reached out and placed a hand on his forehead.
A surge of invisible power erupted.
Golden threads—formed from countless tiny runes—suddenly appeared around Varys's soul.
They spread like a net, wrapping around him completely.
Layer by layer.
Tighter and tighter.
---
Then—
with a single pull—
the net contracted.
Varys's soul shrank, folded, twisted—
until in the blink of an eye—
he transformed into a card.
The card resembled the Fate Cards Charles had used before.
But instead of gold, its edges shimmered in silver.
On its surface—
a stylized image of Varys struggled desperately, like a trapped puppet.
Charles studied it for a moment, then focused on Varys's face within the card.
"So," he said calmly,
"are you going to cooperate…"
"or spend eternity frozen inside here?"
Inside the card—
Varys's tiny figure twitched.
As if… nodding.