Chapter 171 – The Demon Dragon Descends
The neighing of horses echoed through the long column as the army marched forward.
On the vast plain, the snow thinned gradually as they entered the forest.
Under the dull rhythm of hooves, the mountain behind them—Horn Hill—grew more distant, until it became nothing more than a faint, shadowy silhouette on the horizon.
---
"Jon, why do you think that lord stayed behind on the mountain?"
A companion beside him asked curiously, glancing back at the fading peak.
"There must be a reason," Jon Snow replied absentmindedly.
Seated atop his horse, he looked unusually subdued.
"I know there's a reason," the man pressed.
"But what reason?"
"How would I know?" Jon rolled his eyes.
---
When he learned the army would split, with most returning to the Wall, Jon had wanted to stay behind.
But he had been firmly refused.
And that… still bothered him.
So he wasn't in the mood to dwell on it.
"Honestly, staying on that mountain didn't sound so bad," said his companion, Edd.
"Back at Castle Black, it's just endless training… and patrols along a seven-hundred-foot wall. Just thinking about it is exhausting."
"Exactly," Pyp chimed in solemnly.
"Up there, we were close to the presence of gods. I feel like I'm not the same person anymore."
As he spoke, he began muttering passages from the Seven-Pointed Star—
about how demons could not harm the faithful,
how mortal lives were like candles in the wind,
and how the unrepentant would fall into the seven hells.
Jon wasn't surprised by Pyp's newfound devotion.
After all—
what they had experienced recently was nothing short of surreal.
They had journeyed to Horn Hill.
Been trapped by White Walkers through terrifying means.
Seen the so-called Old Gods, who appeared as childlike beings.
Then—
engulfed by black clouds and mist.
Killed.
And somehow—
brought back to life.
At least, that was what others told him.
As for Jon himself—
he only remembered being swallowed by that dark cloud…
losing consciousness—
and then, after an unknown amount of time—
awakening beneath a sky filled with blinding light.
Everything—
everything he had experienced—
had shattered Jon's understanding of the world.
Looking back now, he felt as though reality itself had changed.
"…It's like two different worlds."
Muttering softly, Jon rode along the forest path, letting out a quiet sigh.
And now—
he was drifting farther and farther away from that other world.
At the front of the column rode the old wildling sent by the King-Beyond-the-Wall, shouting orders loudly.
He, too, had been among those resurrected.
His spirit seemed unchanged, his booming voice cutting through the air as he led the way.
From time to time, he would halt and use his eagle to scout the surroundings.
Though the White Walkers seemed to have vanished, years of caution kept him alert.
A virtue—
but today, at this moment…
it would prove to be a flaw.
As they marched on—
a distant, ancient roar echoed across the horizon.
The horses panicked instantly, neighing wildly.
The entire column came to a halt.
Soldiers tightened their reins, struggling to calm their mounts—
when suddenly—
a scream tore through the air from the front!
It was sharp. Agonizing.
Jon looked ahead—
and saw the old wildling, who moments ago had been shouting with full vigor—
now clutching his head as he fell from his horse!
"What happened?" Jon murmured, startled, watching soldiers rush forward to help.
Before anyone could understand—
a gust of wind swept overhead.
Jon's dark hair whipped violently in the air.
At the same time—
a deafening roar erupted from the sky.
He looked up—
and froze.
A massive black shadow streaked across the heavens.
Wings spread wide—
blotting out the sky itself.
"This is—"
"Dragon!"
"It's a dragon!"
"Run!"
Panic spread through the ranks.
But only for a moment.
Because—
the creature ignored them.
It didn't even glance their way.
It simply flew past overhead.
Relief swept through the army.
Jon exhaled as well—
but when he noticed the direction the dragon had taken—
his heart tightened again.
"…That's… Horn Hill, isn't it?" Edd muttered beside him.
The two exchanged uneasy looks.
At the peak of Horn Hill—
a broad, flat platform extended from the mountain's "neck," level with the surrounding rock.
From afar, it resembled a giant's seat—
with the sharp summit behind it like a towering backrest.
And there—
stood Charles.
Below him stretched a vast expanse of snow-covered land, spreading endlessly toward a distant forest.
"If things go badly, I will try to save you."
A crow perched on a nearby rock, its dark eyes fixed on him.
Its sharp voice cut through the wind.
"You saved me. You saved the Children of the Forest. You may have even saved this world."
"I don't understand why you insist on opposing the Lady of Light… but I won't stand by and watch her kill you."
Charles glanced at it.
"You're talking like I'm guaranteed to lose."
"In truth, you should already know what form she will take," the Three-Eyed Raven replied.
"In the age of Valyria, she bred creatures through shepherds—"
"Magic dragons."
"They breathe fire. They fly. Weapons cannot harm them."
"They are the perfect counter to the Other God's White Walkers."
"Your magic may be impressive… but I don't believe it will work against such a creature."
"That's what you said about the Other God too."
Charles shrugged.
"And about that 'sun' energy."
The Raven fell silent.
"…Still," Charles added, "thanks."
"But you should be careful. If I can't beat her, I can run."
"You… might not be so lucky."
"I am safe," the Raven said calmly.
"A greenseer's lifespan has limits—but not its existence."
"Unless she destroys this entire mountain from its roots… she cannot kill me."
His tone was flat—
but the confidence behind it was unmistakable.
Charles shrugged and said nothing more.
Instead, he turned his gaze toward the distant forest—
and waited.
He didn't know when his enemy would arrive.
But the staff in his hand—
was trembling.
It could sense its former master drawing near.
That was why he had come here in advance.
"…Whether this works or not…"
"…it all depends on today."
Time passed.
The cold wind howled.
Then—
on the horizon—
a small black dot appeared.
"…She's here."
Charles tightened his grip on the staff, his expression sharpening.
"Be careful," the Raven said before taking flight.
Charles nodded.
His eyes locked onto the approaching figure.
The black dot grew larger—
and larger—
until its form became clear.
A dragon.
A massive, black-scaled dragon.
Its head resembled that of a colossal lizard.
Its wings—thin yet enormous—spread like those of a bat.
A long, hooked tail trailed behind it.
Its body was sleek, powerful, and covered in metallic black scales that gleamed under the sunlight.
Spines lined its neck and jaw.
With each beat of its wings—
it drew closer.
The wind roared louder and louder—
until it became a raging gale.
Charles's coat snapped violently in the wind.
His black hair whipped wildly.
He narrowed his eyes, staring into the sky.
The dragon halted midair—
directly opposite him.
No words.
No warning.
With a thunderous roar—
it opened its jaws—
and unleashed a torrent of blazing dragonfire straight at him.