บท 334: Chapter 334: The Nightmare Descends
After the human alliance's brief display of unyielding will, repelling the onslaught of the army of the dead, their momentum inevitably waned. After all, humans are complex creatures, not easily defined by simple terms.
At first, they were filled with fervor, feeling as if they bore the weight of honor, duty, and faith. They fought for their countries, wives, and children behind them, for those who could not fight, for the faith of the Seven Gods, to uphold the light of the gods and dispel the darkness.
But reality is harsh. When the initial surge of adrenaline was gradually washed away by the flow of fresh blood, what followed was a painful awakening.
The soldiers of the Seven Kingdoms' alliance gripped their spear shafts and sword hilts, their palms sweating. Their breathing became heavy, and their hearts raced.
They watched as the ghastly White Walkers, teeth bared, lunged at them. Even the gaps between their teeth held remnants of their comrades' hair and flesh.
Inevitably, emotional breakdowns occurred.
"Ah—"
Some soldiers, unable to bear the psychological pressure, suddenly broke down, screaming in terror as they threw down their weapons and fled.
However, the Seven Kingdoms' excellent commanders were all gathered here, and they had naturally anticipated such a situation.
Fully armed enforcers stepped forward, armed to the teeth. They wielded their swords and cut down those who threw down their weapons and tried to desert.
"Deserters on the front line, die!"
Count Anders Yronwood, wielding a blood-stained sword, roared with a fierce momentum.
"There are no cowards among the sons of Dorne!"
However, at this moment.
In the distance.
The Night King, crowned with a frozen crown, rode on an ordinary skeletal horse.
Other White Walkers under his command rode on ice spiders, dead direwolves, and polar bears.
Some even rode on half-rotted mammoths, charging towards the human army with heavy steps.
However, only he and a few White Walkers rode ordinary skeletal horses.
Perhaps he had not yet found a suitable mount.
The Night King's eyes burned with icy blue flames as he surveyed the entire battlefield, his gaze calm.
The flames in his eye sockets flickered gently, showing no signs of disturbance.
"Ha—"
Then, he uttered an obscure language from his mouth.
Clang—
Then, he drew a transparent sword from his waist, like crystal, reflecting a rainbow of light in the snowstorm.
The icy long sword pierced through the raging snowstorm, pointing towards the distance. His mouth once again emitted a piercing sound, like ice cracking.
"Roar!"
At the Night King's command.
The army of the dead once again let out a deafening roar.
"Roar, roar, roar!"
Then, they let out sharp screams, rushing even more fearlessly towards the human soldiers, wanting to tear all living beings in front of them to shreds.
"Not good."
"Hold on!"
The pressure on the alliance's front line suddenly became even greater. The wights rushed up desperately, and human soldiers and wights were squeezed together.
Crack, crack, crack—
Spears were snapped by the swarming wights, bitten off by their teeth.
Even the swords at their waists could not be drawn before they were knocked to the ground. For a moment, there seemed to be signs of the front line collapsing.
"Hold on!"
"Hold on!"
"All of you! No retreat!"
The commanders of the human alliance also began to shout loudly.
They shouted desperately, hoping to encourage the soldiers' fighting spirit.
They absolutely could not retreat at this moment,
or it would be a catastrophe.
"No retreat!"
"Retreaters, die!"
Anders Yronwood, the noble of Dornish blood, still led the enforcers with his sword, cutting down deserters.
He ordered them to face the enemy, not to abandon their comrades and run.
Thud—
The sturdy Dornish noble once again killed a deserter from Dorne.
Although they were all Dornish and had come to the end of the world, Anders did not hesitate to kill.
Because he knew that at this critical moment, if he was soft and did not deter the soldiers, a disastrous avalanche might occur.
By then, if the line collapsed, even he could only mount his horse and flee.
Huff~
Huff~
Anders' chest rose and fell, he was slightly panting, and cold sweat slid down his forehead.
"Can we win?"
He was momentarily distracted.
At that moment.
Slap—
He suddenly felt a tickle at his ankle, as if something had grabbed his boot.
"Hmm?"
The Dornish noble, holding his blood-stained sword, looked down and saw the first deserter he had killed.
He was already dead.
His body was even covered in a thick layer of snow in the blizzard, disappearing from sight.
However, he didn't expect that at this moment, his corpse, with a face full of congealed blood, would crawl out of the snow.
His eyes had turned a deep blue at some point, his mouth was dripping with blood, and he was making meaningless howls.
One hand tightly gripped his ankle, and his body moved forward a bit, letting out a sharp scream.
Then he raised the dagger he had held in his hand before he died and stabbed it fiercely into Count Yronwood's boot.
"Damn it!"
Anders Yronwood's face changed drastically, and he instantly realized that something was terribly wrong!
Then, intense pain swept over him, making him unable to help but wail.
"Ah—"
Blood stained the white snow.
...
"Tell Lord Jon Umber to lead the reserve team to reinforce the Dornish!"
The man with dark brown hair, his face serious, surveyed the battlefield before him.
Then he turned to the messenger beside him.
Something seemed to have happened on the Dornish front line, he thought he saw Lord Anders Yronwood fall.
Then Eddard quickly asked Jon Umber, the Count of Last Hearth, who was prepared to reinforce from the rear, to step forward.
Although the alliance of the Seven Kingdoms was supporting the North under the king's coordination, the most anxious about the invasion of the White Walkers were the Northerners.
Excluding the North, the alliance had a total of 60,000 men, while the North alone contributed 30,000 men, almost all out.
All the nobles sent all the soldiers in their territories without hesitation, and they also had to constantly forcibly conscript strong men.
Because this was a matter of life and death for the North.
"Yes, my lord!"
The messenger, hearing Eddard Stark's command, naturally knew the urgency of the situation and hurriedly ran down to relay the order.
However, not only on the Dornish front line, but also on other front lines, there were more or less disturbances.
"What..."
"What on earth is happening?"
Eddard Stark frowned.
He suddenly felt a sense of unease in his heart, and then he hurriedly mobilized soldiers to continue filling the gaps.
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