Hoofbeats grew closer, and the identity of the arrival was quickly revealed: Will's horse, which had been killed by an Ice Sword ten days ago, emerged from among the trees. On its stiff body, covered in icicles, sat a pale, gaunt figure.
The White Walker pursuing Aegon had transformed the dead horse into a wight creature, transforming from a regular White Walker into a White Walker knight. If not for its poor riding skills, it would have caught up to the two long before reaching The Wall.
But the result wasn't bad now; a feeling called satisfaction arose in the White Walker's body: it had finally caught up.
As humans go, these two Black Brothers in front of him possessed excellent endurance and willpower, especially the younger one: from the decisiveness with which he immediately turned and fled upon seeing him, to the calmness and accurate judgment that prevented him from having naive ideas when his weapon fell from his hand, to the agility with which he dodged the thrown Ice Sword, and the speed with which he ran away... This was a human of good quality, and after today, he would also be a good wight subordinate.
It was two against one, but the advantage in power, equipment, and ability he possessed was already so great that he could completely disregard the disadvantage of one extra opponent, not to mention that the two humans in front of him were already at their physical and psychological limits... This wasn't a battle; it was a hunt.
***
The horse that had collapsed to the ground neighed as it struggled to its feet and stumbled away into the distance, while Aegon drew his weapon and coldly watched the pursuing White Walker. Hot air steamed up from his lungs, and a deep, guttural gasp that seemed to come not from his vocal cords but from his soul was difficult to suppress in his throat—shock and fear transformed into surging fighting spirit: the opponent had a horse; running away was absolutely impossible. So, it was either you die or I live!
It was a fight with their backs against the Wall, not to protect The Wall or defend the Kingdom, but for survival.
"I'll stop it," Gared also realized they were in a desperate situation, raising his sword. "You run. Someone has to warn the brothers. Winter is here."
"No, I don't want to be desperately chased down after you're killed, always running until I die." Aegon knew Gared couldn't possibly stop it. "We'll kill it here, and then escape over The Wall together. We'll discuss the specifics later. Be careful of its weapon; steel swords can't block it. If it dares to throw that thing at us again..."
The enemy didn't wait for him to finish. It stared emotionlessly at the two Night's Watchmen for a few seconds with its eyes glowing with a faint blue light, then charged at them on its horse.
"Get out of the way!"
The two quickly split up, the surrounding trees providing good cover. The two Night's Watchmen performed a circling maneuver in the Haunted Forest, circling around obstacles so that the mounted White Walker failed to touch even a single hair on them after several charges. After a few such attempts, the latter roared something in a harsh voice, dismounted, and charged at the two on foot.
"Charge!" Gared roared and lunged forward.
"Be careful!"
Aegon cried out. The sword fighting training the Night's Watch received was the most basic blocking and counter-attacking techniques, which were more than sufficient against Wildlings raiding parties who fought purely on instinct and strength. However, the basis of this fighting style was built on the premise that 'the weapon can withstand collisions', and this condition was not met in front of a White Walker!
There wasn't much build-up or standoff; the real battle instantly escalated from eruption to a life-and-death climax. Although Aegon had reminded the veteran to be careful of the White Walker's weapon, Gared had been accustomed to his fighting style for over thirty years. Seeing the White Walker expose a weakness, his subconscious reaction was to step forward and deliver a head-on cleave!
This was a simple but extremely proficient strike. The angle was impeccable, and the timing was precisely the moment the White Walker was unsteady on its feet after dismounting. Gared hadn't received any flashy sword training; what he relied on was forty years of experience and proficiency. This cleave seemed to gather all the skill and strength of his lifetime. Even if the Sword of the Morning climbed out of his grave, he would have to be fully alert to deal with this sword—the veteran even had an intuition: he wouldn't need Aegon to finish it off; this single strike would end the battle.
(Even if this strike was blocked, he could quickly retract his sword and change his move to a side slash, forcing the opponent to continue defending. At that point, Aegon could attack it from behind and finish off this damned ghost. The best part was, if they could kill this White Walker that had come to them and bring the body back to The Wall, the two wouldn't have to risk being deserters!)
This was a tricky and also fatal sword strike. If the opponent were human, they would likely be in big trouble... But reality deviated at the very first step, because his sword broke.
The sword Waymar Royce had brought from his home had only barely lasted a few blows against the White Walker's Ice Sword, and the standard issue weapons used by the Night's Watch soldiers were the most ordinary steel swords. The material was barely 'considered steel'; its toughness and strength were difficult to compare with fine steel. The moment it first collided with the White Walker's weapon, the point of impact directly shattered, and the entire sword broke cleanly in half plus several fragments, accompanied by a 'bang'.
Gared had never encountered such a situation in his fifty years of life. In the instant he was stunned, the White Walker calmly pierced him with its Ice Sword.
"No!" Aegon's eyes were splitting with rage. At the moment his comrade engaged the White Walker, he was still two meters away, unable to coordinate in time. He could only watch helplessly as his comrade was stabbed and fell, roaring desperately, and charged towards the enemy from behind without hesitation.
Aegon didn't have much love or admiration for Gared—how could a Night's Watchman who had served for forty years and was still a mere soldier be admired? It was like his previous life, arriving at a construction site as a supervisor representing the client to inspect. Of course, he couldn't inexplicably become friends with a farmer-turned-laborer in his fifties or sixties who still moved bricks and built Walls and couldn't read a single word. This wasn't looking down on people or discriminating against laborers, but the difference in their horizons, ways of thinking, and lifestyles was so vast that they wouldn't have any common topics or interests, let alone genuine friendship and feelings?
But no matter what, Gared was his roommate under the same roof, and also the Black Brother who had taken the most care of him after the transmigration. The most important and realistic point was that the veteran was his only comrade against the White Walker at this moment, his only remaining reliance and spiritual pillar. He had a series of coordinated plans in his mind, and as long as he could induce the White Walker to expose even a slight weakness, he could plunge the dragonglass dagger in his hand fiercely into its body.
If everything went smoothly, Gared would also be his guide and partner in escaping the Wall.
But now, all plans and intentions were stillborn. His only remaining comrade was stabbed to the ground by the enemy without even lasting a single exchange. Only he was left. How could he possibly defeat this natural enemy of humans with such powerful strength and strange abilities?
"Ah—die!" When hope disappears, even the most rational and cowardly person can go mad. Aegon roared hoarsely. At this moment, fear vanished without a trace. Nothing could scare a soldier who had already decided to die with the enemy. He raised the sword in his right hand above his head and slashed towards the back of the White Walker's head, while clenching the dragonglass dagger in his left hand and stabbing towards the enemy with all his might. If there was no possibility of surviving today, then fight like a man! Since death was certain, you wouldn't get off easy either!
***
The pale humanoid figure turned around and raised its weapon to block with a blank expression. This last prey disappointed him a little. The previous person was defeated by him this way, yet he still attacked him in the exact same manner?
Was this sword, slow as a snail, distorted by anger, with a trajectory so clear that he could block or dodge it in countless ways, his final struggle? Oh, perhaps there was also that small dagger in the other hand?
The White Walker showed an expression of disdain. Maintained in form by magic, it had no vital points whatsoever. Aside from cutting off its head causing it a little trouble, stabbing its belly... even if it stood still and allowed the attack, this thing couldn't cause it even half a point of damage.
The White Walker raised its Ice Sword, blocking and breaking Aegon's sword exactly as it had when defeating Gared, and then followed up with a horizontal sweep while his front was wide open. The Ice Sword sliced through the Night's Watchman's body, and everything was settled.
—