What is that?
Lynn's consciousness was forcibly dragged from his body by an irresistible force, thrown into absolute nothingness.
No light, no sound, no time.
Immediately after, a will descended.
Cold, vast, with an extreme hatred for all living beings in the world.
It was like a mountain condensed from ten thousand years of ice, crushing down fiercely on Lynn's tiny consciousness.
The Night King? Or the so-called Cold God?
Only this thought remained in Lynn's mind.
This altar, this dragon egg, was a trap from beginning to end!
His touch had awakened this terrifying existence that had been dormant for an unknown number of years!
"Buzz—"
Lynn felt his soul tremble violently.
As if it would be torn to shreds by that cold will in the next second.
Before his eyes, countless terrifying illusions began to appear.
An endless army of the dead crossed the frozen sea, passed over the crumbling Black Castle.
Winterfell turned to ruins in the frost.
The giant weirwood tree he had once seen was frozen into a pale statue.
King's Landing was enveloped in eternal night, and the spires of the Red Keep were covered in icicles.
On the Iron Throne sat a figure wearing an ice crystal crown, with blue flames burning in his eyes.
The entire Westeros became a desolate ice field.
All life, all warmth, all hope, were completely erased.
Only the tranquility of eternal death remained.
"No..."
Lynn's consciousness struggled frantically, but he could not make any sound.
He wanted to resist.
But he found his will laughably fragile before that god-like power.
That cold will was slowly infiltrating his soul, freezing his thoughts, and eroding his memories.
He felt himself being assimilated.
The longing for warmth, the attachment to life, were rapidly dissipating.
Replaced by a yearning for death, a conversion to eternal silence.
This... didn't seem so bad either.
No worries, no pain, no strife.
Everything returned to nothingness.
Dying in such a godforsaken place was a complete disgrace for a transmigrator.
Lynn's consciousness began to blur, almost giving up resistance.
Just then.
A stubborn little face suddenly flashed in his mind, her grey eyes full of dependence and adoration for him.
And Daenerys, Margaery, the Red Priestess... No!
I cannot give up like this!
I still want to be the master of this world!
I'm a transmigrator, damn it!
How can I die so ignominiously here!
The most primitive will to survive erupted!
Lynn's consciousness was like a spark thrown into the deep sea, reigniting into a blazing inferno just as it was about to extinguish!
He began to recall frantically.
Recalling everything from his previous life.
Skyscrapers, bustling traffic, online games, delicious food and movies... Recalling everything since he came to this world.
The execution block in Winterfell, Ned Stark's complex gaze, the bloody fight with bandits, the intrigues of Castle Black, and... the Valyrian steel sword he had just acquired!
These memories, these emotions, these unique imprints belonging to the individual 'Lynn', converged into a powerful spiritual torrent, beginning to furiously resist the erosion of that cold will!
"No matter who the hell you are!"
"Get out of my head!"
Lynn let out a silent roar in his spiritual world.
That cold will seemed to be enraged by Lynn's fierce resistance.
It no longer tried to assimilate, but turned to pure destruction!
An even more terrifying, more immense pressure swept over him like a tsunami.
Lynn's consciousness, before this power, was like a small boat that could be overturned at any moment.
Was he... going to lose?
Just as Lynn's consciousness was about to be completely crushed.
In the cave.
Everyone watched in horror as everything unfolded before them.
Their commander, Lord Lynn.
Ever since he touched the stone egg, he had remained in that position, motionless.
His face first flushed red, then turned ashen white.
His body trembled violently.
A visible layer of white frost was spreading from his arm, where he touched the stone egg, to his entire body at an alarming speed.
"My Lord!"
"My Lord, what's wrong with you?"
Toren and Jason shouted anxiously, wanting to go forward and pull Lynn away.
But as soon as they approached, they were forced back by an invisible chill.
The chill was bone-piercing, as if it could freeze a person's blood.
"Quick! Go call for help! Bring all the lamp oil and torches!"
Toren yelled at the Guards behind him.
But, it was too late.
The frost had already spread to Lynn's neck, about to cover his entire head.
Lynn's body was turning into an ice sculpture!
Despair appeared on everyone's faces.
Arya was even more terrified, her little face pale, standing rooted to the spot, tears welling up in her eyes.
Just then.
Nymeria, who had been quietly at Arya's feet, suddenly let out a low growl.
The Direwolf seemed to sense her master's profound fear, and also the deadly cold emanating from Lynn.
The Direwolf, who usually only fetched mole-skin gloves, suddenly sprang out, circled behind Lynn, and bit the hilt of the longclaw at his waist!
longclaw!
The Valyrian steel sword forged by dragonfire and magic!
Nymeria bit the wolf's head and pulled outwards with force!
"Clang—!"
A clear sword cry!
The longclaw was drawn half a foot, and the dark ripples on its blade began to glow with a faint, blood-like red light.
A power, equally ancient, equally powerful, yet filled with heat and life, erupted from the sword!
That power collided fiercely with the cold will in the cave!