Will kept his eyes shut tight, curled deep within the snow hollow.
He prayed to The Seven and to the Old Gods of this land, hoping to escape the terrifying monster’s sharp gaze.
Yet fate showed no mercy.
Footsteps ultimately came to a stop beside the tree where he hid, cold and distinct.
Will trembled uncontrollably and opened his eyes— —only to meet the monster’s gaze.
Pale blue eyes flickered like ghost fires in a graveyard.
The monster held a longsword forged of ice, its blade coated in blood that had frozen into red frost.
“Gods…” Will uttered a helpless murmur.
*Swish—* The sound of metal rending the air suddenly descended from above.
A short crossbow bolt made entirely of forged steel drove cleanly into the monster’s chest.
The sudden attack caught even the creature off guard.
It raised its head, trying to locate the source of the missile, but before it could discern the direction, the crisp sounds of a mechanical mechanism operating rang out repeatedly through the treetops.
*Click—click—click—click—* In rapid succession, several steel bolts hit their mark, pinning the monster heavily to the pristine snow.
Will looked up toward the branches behind him, straining to see his savior’s face.
The crows that had been circling above his head had already scattered.
But as his gaze locked onto a particular bough, a far larger “crow” sat quietly perched on a snow-laden branch.
No—perhaps it wasn’t a crow at all.
Just as Will stared in shock, the fallen monster beside him suddenly began to climb back up.
At least three bolt ends still protruded from its chest—had it been a mortal man who suffered such wounds, he would have died instantly.
Yet this blue-eyed monster stood tall once more, even raising its ice sword to slash down at Will.
*Whoosh—* A dark silhouette leapt down from the treetops like a crow.
A long blade cleared its sheath, a cold gleam flashing before Will’s eyes.
In a single strike, the razor-sharp blade severed the arm holding the monster’s sword.
The person was clad in pitch-black attire Will had never seen before, wearing a black conical hat on his head and a finely crafted hand-crossbow slung behind his waist.
His movements were fierce and precise.
After severing the arm with one slash, he spun swiftly and delivered a heavy kick to the monster’s chest, forcing it to stumble backward.
Without giving the undead creature a chance to act further, the black-clad swordsman swung his long blade repeatedly, severing its other arm and both legs in rapid succession.
Stripped of its limbs, the monster collapsed onto the cold snow, squirming endlessly.
A flicker of emotion finally surfaced on its hitherto cold face.
Was it anger?
Or something else?
To Will, however, none of it mattered anymore—and the same went for the black-clad warrior.
“How interesting.” A language Will had never heard before flowed from the man’s mouth, its cadence ancient and unfamiliar, belonging to no kingdom he knew.
The man wearing the conical hat and black armor examined the blue-skinned, limbless monster squirming on the ground with keen interest.
Guttural noises emerged from the monster’s throat, seemingly expressing its rage.
“Do you know what this thing is?” “What?” Will’s eyes were filled with utter confusion.
“Hmm…
Empire speech.
Are you from the Empire?” Will finally understood the latter half of the man’s words, but as for what this “Empire” was, Will, who had little education, had no clue.
“Not the Empire?
Then which Duchy of Bretonnia?
Looking at this environment, it shouldn’t be Kislev, right?” The man looked at the blank expression on Will’s face that clearly read, *Who am I and where am I?* His tone suddenly shifted.
“Or are you going to claim you’re an elf hiding out in the forest?” There was an unmistakable note of teasing in those last words, but Will remained entirely bewildered.
“Whatever.
Bring you back and everything will be clear.” As he spoke, the man drew a length of rope from his belt and securely bound the monster still writhing on the cold snow.
To prevent its snapping teeth from injuring anyone, he stepped over to Will, drew his blade, and sliced off a corner of the ranger’s black cloak, stuffing it into the blue-skinned monster’s mouth.
“Finally quiet,” the man let out a long breath, as if the entire world had at last returned to peace.
“What about you?” “What?
My lord?” “I asked if you plan to freeze to death in this godforsaken place,” the man said as he lifted the tightly bound monster.
“If you don’t want to die, come with me.” Without another word, the man turned, carrying the monster, and walked toward the deep forest.
Will froze in place for a moment before picking up his sword and following the footprints in the snow.
…
Will knew better than anyone what the lands beyond the Wall were like.
This domain was locked in eternal cold; the frozen soil could yield no crops, and the branches bore no fresh fruit.
Only during the long summer days would the earth briefly awaken.
Even then, ice and snow still covered most of the land.
Game was scarce, crops were virtually impossible to cultivate, and whatever food could be gathered was barely enough for Wildling tribes to eke out an existence.
They wrapped themselves in rough animal pelts for warmth.
Their so-called weapons were nothing more than sharpened wooden sticks serving as spears, or scattered iron weapons seized from the Night’s Watch.
This barren land could provide them with virtually nothing of substance.
Precisely because of this, when the forest obscuring his view suddenly gave way to a high wall constructed from neatly stacked timber, Will refused to believe it was merely a stronghold built by Wildlings.
He saw standing atop the timber wall soldiers—real soldiers.
They wore uniform armor and held spears of an odd design—the tip was not a simple point, but resembled a shortsword.
Their iron armor gleamed cold in the snow’s reflection.
The green helmet plumes flapped gently in the wind, and they gave the appearing Will only an indifferent glance before turning away to resume their guard.
The black-armored man who had led the way had vanished somewhere, leaving behind only a line of footprints that led into the timber city that had suddenly appeared before him.
Will stepped over cleared tree stumps onto a patch of bare black earth.
The snow had vanished here, leaving the soil exposed directly to the biting Northern air.
Feeling the strange sensation beneath his feet, Will took a deep breath and walked trembling toward the heavy timber gate that was slowly opening.
“I am Will, a ranger of the Night’s Watch,” he said to a soldier approaching him.
The soldier held a massive black shield and a long spear, his body fully covered in pitch-black armor, an iron mask concealing his face.
His voice came through the metal, deep and carrying a tone that brooked no argument.
“Lord Kuxi has given orders.
Follow me.” Without waiting for Will’s reply, the soldier turned and walked toward the depths of the encampment.
Looking back at the heavy gate slowly closing behind him, Will felt a jolt in his heart: he vaguely realized he was being drawn into an event momentous enough to alter his destiny.
Hesitating no longer, he quickened his pace and caught up with the silent soldier.