That deserter…
No.
He isn’t a deserter.
The thought flashed through Robb Stark’s mind.
A deserter wouldn’t have eyes like that!
He was a true warrior!
Theon was equally dumbfounded.
He hadn’t counted Lynn in the equation at all, thinking each of them would have to kill two men to secure victory.
Yet in mere moments, Lynn had exceeded his quota.
Lynn’s chest heaved heavily from his rapid breathing.
Yet his sword arm remained steady!
A heavily bearded bandit leader let out a beastly roar, breaking the brief silence.
“What the hell are you afraid of!” “They’re on horseback!
We can’t outrun them anyway, so we might as well fight!” “Charge!
Take a few down with us!” Fear was replaced by a more primal savagery, and the remaining bandits rallied once more.
Some of them had noticed it too.
The man in black seemed to be the greater threat—a tough nut to crack—but his continuous slashes were bringing him close to his limit.
If two men ganged up on him, no matter how strong he was, he wouldn’t last long against multiple foes.
Robb saw through the bandits’ intentions and roared, attempting to lead two men over to reinforce Lynn.
“Intercept them!” Seeing Robb issue orders, another wave of bandits instantly realized who the leader of this force was.
They shifted direction, recklessly launching a side assault on Robb and his men, forcing Robb into a defensive engagement.
Lynn’s eyes narrowed.
He hadn’t expected to be singled out like this.
Then again, it made sense.
After killing three men so cleanly, it was hard not to draw attention.
Lynn backed his spine up against a thick pine tree.
By doing so, he only had to deal with enemies coming from the front and sides.
He hadn’t forgotten how even someone as legendary as the Sword of the Morning had been stabbed in the back of the neck.
Facing multiple foes on his own was far too difficult at his current level.
Robb and his men drew the vast majority of the bandits’ attention, significantly reducing the pressure on Lynn.
A bandit charged forward first, his long-handled axe chopping down with a rush of wind.
Lynn didn’t block it head-on.
Sliding his feet, he pressed his body against the tree trunk, narrowly dodging the axe blade.
Wood splinters flew.
The axe embedded itself deeply into the trunk.
That was the opening!
Lynn flipped his wrist, driving his longsword upward.
*Pfft!* The tip of the sword cleanly sliced open the bandit’s unprotected throat.
Blood spurted out, painting a striking streak of red across the gray tree trunk.
[Killed bandit × 1, EXP +1] Before the corpse could collapse, another bandit’s scimitar swept sideways toward Lynn’s waist.
Lynn twisted his hips, swinging his sword to parry.
*Clang!* Sparks flew as steel met iron.
Right at the moment of his parry, a bandit suddenly lunged from the side.
He held no proper weapon, only a sharpened wooden stake, but he thrust it viciously toward Lynn’s ribs.
Nowhere to dodge.
In the nick of time— *Whew!* A stray arrow whistled through the air, piercing straight into the eye socket of the stake-wielding bandit.
The agonizing scream cut off abruptly.
The bandit’s body stiffened for a second before collapsing limply.
Lynn’s attention had been drawn by the ambusher, and the bandit whose scimitar he had deflected grinned cruelly as he raised his blade again.
Lynn’s mind could process the threat, but his body couldn’t keep up.
Outnumbered in chaotic combat, everything happened far too quickly.
A flash of steel—Lynn dodged as best he could, but only managed to turn his shoulder.
A tearing, searing pain shot up from his left shoulder.
His clothes were slashed open, his flesh rolled back, and blood instantly soaked half his body.
Lynn grunted, staggering slightly.
The intense pain stimulated his nerves, but it did not cause him to lose his mind.
Instead, it ignited the ferocity in his blood.
Rather than retreating, he used the momentum of his stumble to slam forward.
He slammed his shoulder hard right into the bandit’s chest.
Unprepared for such a reaction from a wounded man, the bandit was knocked back several steps.
Lynn’s sword moved.
A simple, direct upward slash.
*Tear!* Lacking armor for protection, the blade sliced across the bandit’s belly, carving straight up until it opened his chest.
Organs mixed with blood poured onto the ground with a splash.
The cruel smile on the bandit’s face froze.
He looked down at his hollowed abdomen, his eyes filled with unbelievable despair.
[Killed bandit × 1, EXP +1] Seeing that he was injured, Lynn stopped pushing his limits and began retreating toward the edge of the battlefield.
“Roar!” Robb Stark’s roar echoed across the clearing.
Young Robb had completely given himself over to bloodlust.
He fully ignited the direwolf bloodline within his veins.
No longer adhering strictly to the swordplay taught by his master-at-arms, despite his youth, every one of his slashes packed immense power.
Sweeping and wild, his blows carried the distinct ferocity of the North.
One bandit had his arm severed by Robb’s blade, falling to the ground screaming.
Another was crushed, shield and all, by a single cleaving strike.
Twenty men were neither many nor few.
The tide of battle shifted rapidly due to the explosive rampages of Lynn and Robb.
The bandit leader saw this, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
He abandoned his struggle with the Stark guards and made a feint to flee.
In the process, he happened to run right into Lynn, who was also maneuvering toward the outer edge.
Seeing that Lynn was wounded, the bandit chief roared, swinging a filth-encrusted two-handed battle-axe as he charged straight at Lynn.
Before he even arrived, a thick stench of blood and sweat hit Lynn’s face.
The axe blade kicked up a fierce wind, crashing downward.
Lynn didn’t dodge.
His physical stamina was exhausted; no matter how he tried to dodge, he couldn’t escape the reach of a polearm.
He bent his knees slightly, lowering his center of gravity, and held his longsword horizontally before him.
*Clang!* A deafening impact echoed.
Lynn used the thickest part of the blade to parry, deflecting the deadly axe strike off to his side.
The massive impact sent a violent tremor through his arms.
The wound on his shoulder tore open again, the sharp pain making his vision go dark.
A gleam of surprise flashed in the bandit chief’s eyes, quickly turning to cruelty.
He exerted force through his wrists, pressing down with the axe, intending to completely crush the stubborn fool before him.
However, Lynn had achieved his goal.
He had traded that block for a chance to close the distance.
Lynn released his left hand from the hilt and pivoted his body sharply to the right.
His right elbow, driving forward like a cannonball, smashed violently into the bandit chief’s ribs.
*Crack!* The crisp sound of shattering bones echoed.
The bandit chief let out a pained grunt, his massive body stiffening instantly from the agony.
At the same time, Robb, unwilling to let the bandit chief escape, arrived on the scene and thrust his longsword forward.
*Pfft!* The blade sank in up to the hilt, cleanly piercing the bandit chief’s chest.
Fearing that Robb would steal the kill, Lynn quickly retrieved his longsword from the ground and plunged it straight through the bandit’s eye socket.
[Killed bandit chief × 1, EXP +2] The ferocity in the bandit chief’s eyes rapidly dimmed.
Lynn ripped his sword free.
The tall bandit instantly lost all life.
*It actually gave two experience points?* *It seems the stronger the opponent, the more EXP they yield.
Still, he wasn’t particularly strong, or he wouldn’t have given just two points.* Then, if he killed someone powerful like Jaime, or a wight, a White Walker, or even the Night King, how much EXP would he gain?
*Of course, I could also choose to slaughter civilians en masse to gain EXP.* *However, if I actually did that without a powerful background to back me up, there would be no place for me in all of Westeros.* With the death of their leader, the remaining few bandits collapsed completely.
They threw down their weapons and fled in all directions, weeping and screaming.
They were met by the blades of the Stark guards and the deadly arrows of Theon.
The battle came to an end.
Silence returned to the woods.
Only the crackle of the campfire and the groans of wounded guards remained.
Sliding down the trunk of the scar-marked pine, Lynn sank slowly to the ground.
With a *clang*, the longsword dropped into the snow.
His entire body was trembling.
Not out of fear, but sheer exhaustion.
The wound on his shoulder was still bleeding, and his bruised ribs throbbed with agonizing pain.
Every breath tugged at his injuries, nearly making him pass out.
His vision began to blur.
A pair of boots caked in mud and snow came to a stop in front of him.
Lynn struggled to lift his head.
It was Robb Stark.
Unspent bloodlust still lingered on the young Young Wolf’s face, but his blue eyes were filled with complex emotions.
Shock, confusion, and a hint of…
respect.
“You…” Robb opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say.
He looked at the corpses surrounding Lynn, then at Lynn’s gruesome wound.
Any words at this moment felt pale and meaningless.
“Hullen!” Robb turned and shouted at one of the guards.
“Get over here!
Bandage him up!” Theon Greyjoy walked over as well.
He stowed his longbow and crouched down.
Looking at the deep wound on Lynn’s shoulder that exposed the bone, there was no longer any mocking smirk on his face.
Using his blood and wounds, Lynn had won the respect of Robb and Theon.
In his field of vision, the blue panel—visible only to him—floated quietly.
[EXP: 7]