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But the very next moment, the glee on the jesters’ faces twisted into terror — the shift was nearly instantaneous.
Hode charged like a wild bull.
Across from him, Leon stood motionless, as if frozen stiff by Hode’s imposing might.
But just as Hode’s sword was about to land on Leon’s head, Leon moved.
His motion was swift and precise.
A light flick of his scabbard — a casual upward parry — and he blocked Hode’s heavy, forceful slash.
In that instant, time itself seemed to freeze.
Everyone heard it clearly: a sound no less loud than hammer striking iron.
Yet Leon’s arm did not budge a single inch.
Hode, on the other hand, had overexerted.
It was as if he had hacked straight into the unyielding breastplate of the Night King.
The immense recoil sent his entire body flying backward, weapon and all, crashing into the Night’s Watch Recruits behind him.
A wave of astonished uproar erupted from the crowd.
A furious man burst from a corner, screaming curses at the fallen Hode.
“Damn it, are you putting on a show?
How do you swing at someone and send yourself flying backward?
You’re more theatrical than the best mummer dwarf in the Seven Kingdoms!”
His words immediately resonated.
What had seemed like a farce orchestrated by the Night’s Watch Recruits to make fools of everyone now looked far from simple.
Veteran rangers with extensive combat experience began to realize that Leon might indeed possess formidable strength.
Their earlier disdain and mockery now looked like self-congratulatory foolishness.
By now, Hode, still sitting dumbly on the ground, had grasped the gravity of the situation.
He stared at his blood-soaked hands.
Shocking cracks gaped across the webbing between his thumbs and forefingers, wounds deep enough to expose bone.
Blood gushed freely, as if it cost nothing at all.
His eyes filled with disbelief and terror.
“Look at that sword!” someone cried out.
Everyone looked.
The greatsword in Hode’s hands had broken in two, blade and hilt separated, the break jagged and uneven.
He had selected this sword from the armory believing it sturdy and durable.
Now it seemed it could not even withstand a single strike from Leon.
The Night’s Watch Recruits who had charged to the front now halted.
Looking at Hode’s gruesome wounds and the broken weapon, fear and hesitation rose unbidden in their hearts.
The Northmen’s fear of unknown power made them falter.
They began to doubt whether they could overcome this seemingly ordinary recruit who possessed such terrifying strength.
“This is just that stone-headed fool Hode picking the worst piece of junk from the armory.
Keep going, you lot.”
On the high platform, Alliser Thorne frowned deeply.
Though the distance was considerable, he could still clearly see Leon’s astonishing combat prowess and effortlessly composed demeanor.
Unease and fury surged within him.
He could not accept that a nameless, unheard-of recruit would run so wild right under his nose, and worse, that this recruit had cost him a capable subordinate in Hode.
A flash of ruthlessness flickered through Alliser Thorne’s eyes.
He resolved to personally crush this insolent recruit who did not know his place.
Yet he also knew the time was not yet right.
He had to wait for the opportune moment, to strip Leon of his ability to resist in full view of everyone.
Only then could he eliminate the unease and hidden threat in his heart.
By now, the fighting had reached a fever pitch.
Though their hearts were filled with fear, under the master-at-arms’ orders, the Night’s Watch Recruits had no choice but to grit their teeth and continue their assault.
Yet their attacks seemed utterly feeble before Leon.
Every assault was deftly neutralized; every counterattack cost them dearly.
Leon’s fighting style was both ruthless and decisive.
He seized a shield from one recruit’s grasp while slamming his scabbard viciously into his enemies’ bodies.
His movements were swift and accurate.
Each strike caught his opponents off guard.
The recruits’ attacks invariably landed on the shield in Leon’s hand, and most were easily evaded by his uncanny footwork.
Under his onslaught, the Night’s Watch Recruits fell one after another.
Ribs broke.
Their will to fight crumbled rapidly under the terrifying weight of Leon’s combat power.
Yet Leon did not stop.
He knew these recruits were merely pawns — but so what?
Their lives or deaths were not within the scope of his consideration.
What concerned him was only how to protect himself and how to survive among the Night’s Watch, rife with danger and intrigue.
Leon, who possessed the mentality of a high school student, underwent rapid transformation the moment he faced his first true life-or-death battle.
So he continued to wield shield and scabbard, relentlessly attacking those who tried to approach him.
His gaze was resolute and cold, a fierce tiger displaying unmatched ferocity and dominance before its prey.
In the chaos of battle, Leon delivered a shield bash that knocked down the last enemy before him.
The shield shattered on impact, scattering in pieces across the ground.
Though Leon’s physique had been enhanced beyond that of ordinary men by the panel, and though he bore no wounds after this intense battle, every clash had chipped away at what little stamina he had to begin with.
Leon stole a glance at the Mount & Blade Panel.
The stamina bar at the bottom was down to a mere sliver.
In other words, even though Leon was still unwounded, once the enemy depleted his last sliver of stamina, he would likely die all the same.
Just as Leon was lost in thought, a Night’s Watch Recruit on the ground struggled back to consciousness.
He stared at Leon’s panting back, eyes flickering with resentment.
But just as he prepared to strike from behind, Leon suddenly snapped back to attention and whipped his scabbard across the man’s face.
The recruit spun a full 360 degrees before losing consciousness entirely.
Leon did not pause to check the man’s injuries.
He knew this battle had dragged on far too long.
He had to find a safe place to recover his strength quickly.
But after defeating that final Night’s Watch Recruit, Leon felt a surge of warmth flood through his body.
Fatigue and weakness vanished in an instant.
To be precise, he felt he had recovered about half his strength.
The stamina bar on the panel was instantly pulled back up to half.
“So this is what partial stamina recovery feels like.”
Leon understood.
This was the Bloodlust passive triggering after defeating ten opponents.
Every ten enemies defeated would restore half his stamina.
On the high platform, Alliser Thorne watched Leon’s battle.
His expression shifted several times as the fight progressed, finally settling into a deathly pallor.
He had witnessed Leon’s astonishing combat power.
Those extraordinary fighting skills and recovery abilities filled him with deep fear and unease.
Leon’s battle prowess was truly a rarity in this world.
It was as if he were the legendary White Knight, Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who wielded the Valyrian steel greatsword ‘Dawn’, possessing strength that was near unbelievable.
Jaime Lannister, the ‘Kingslayer,’ considered the mightiest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, had once said: I received instruction from Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, let me tell you, he could piss with his right hand while wielding a sword in his left and cut down five or six Kingsguard.
Alliser Thorne knew full well that the combat strength of Night’s Watch Recruits could not even be compared to the Kingsguard.
He understood that Leon’s strength had already surpassed the bounds of an ordinary recruit.
This made him even more afraid.
He began to doubt whether flaws had appeared in his own plans and strategies, whether he should handle this dangerous recruit with greater caution.
Yet Alliser Thorne had no intention of giving up.
He resolved to continue observing Leon’s battle, hoping to find his weakness and a way to defeat him.
He knew that only by witnessing Leon’s defeat with his own eyes could he rest easy and continue executing his plans.
A man ruthless enough even toward himself, what must his attitude toward his enemies be?
Suddenly, Alliser Thorne caught Leon’s gaze.
It was a look of profound indifference, as if Leon regarded everything around him as inconsequential dust.
Though Leon did not speak, this silence was more threatening than any words.
Alliser Thorne could not help but recall his childhood days in the Crownlands, when his father had warned him: “When you are surrounded by enemies, you had best sleep with a dagger under your pillow.”
Those words now echoed in his mind, making him want to put that advice into practice tonight.
He felt as though he were already encircled by the threat that was Leon, every moment fraught with danger.
And the crowd of onlookers, after Leon used his scabbard to thrash the second, then the third man, their cheers gradually grew frenzied, only to finally fall into a deathly silence.
People seemed utterly cowed by Leon’s combat prowess and brutal methods, no longer daring to make a sound.
It was not until Maester Aemon arrived at the center of the field with several acolytes and began treating those unlucky fellows with broken ribs that the crowd finally came back to their senses.
Watching the busy figures of Maester Aemon and his acolytes, people could not help but feel a measure of relief.
For Alliser Thorne, however, this moment only made him more acutely aware of the menace Leon represented.
And from beginning to end, as Maester Aemon treated the injured, he did not spare Leon a single glance.
Because he could see that although Leon was drenched in blood, none of that blood was Leon’s own.
Leon wanted to show off, then let him show off to his heart’s content.
At that age, even if a young man had his leg chopped off, he’d be up and bouncing around visiting brothels the very next day.
“He hasn’t even drawn his sword.”
It was only then that the Imp, who had been silent all along, finally spoke.
A dwarf who had spent the first half of his life treating the world with a playful attitude, he now offered the most solemn respect of his entire existence to the sole fighter standing tall and unbowed in the arena.
➤ Next: Leon’s Dragon-Like Recovery Stuns Maester Aemon