Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 681: The Night King’s Weakness

His army seemed endless, a relentless tide of the dead that surged forward like a sea, overwhelming everything in its path.

Roar!

One after another, dragon roars echoed through the skies as several great beasts soared into the air.

"Dracarys, Dreamfyre!"

The immense pale-blue dragon Dreamfyre leapt over the Great Wall, soaring like a cloud a hundred meters high, its fantastical flames interwoven with blue and white.

Boom!

The ground below erupted, large flakes of snow exploding as the advancing army of ghouls came to a sudden halt.

Roar!

From the frost-covered city walls, a muddy, weathered dragon crawled forward, defiant. Sheepstealer leapt from the top of the Wall, overcoming its barrier for the first time, and unleashed a torrent of thick, muddy Dragonfire.

With a thunderous rumble, the four dragons attacked together, their Dragonfire tearing through the ranks of the undead like an unstoppable force. The flames carved deep ravines into the snowy ground, scorching the earth and reducing the ghouls to ash.

Roar!

Above the Wall, a young light-green dragon circled anxiously, letting out a shrill cry. Baela pulled hard on the reins, urging Moondancer to join the fray. But the young dragon resisted, reluctant to cross the Great Wall—an unusual disobedience.

Even so, the sheer number of dragons on the battlefield was enough to turn the tide. The army of ghouls faltered under the onslaught of fire.

For the first time, the Night King's expression changed. His ice-blue eyes narrowed, and a shadow of concern flickered across his face. His lips parted slightly, revealing white, frostbitten teeth beneath the fog of his breath.

Roar...

The Cannibal, black as night, let out a long, fearsome howl. His massive body plunged downward like a meteor, his abyssal maw gathering dark-green Dragonfire. His menacing vertical pupils locked onto a lone figure standing on the distant slope.

Rhaegar's eyes, sharp as a falcon’s, fixed on the Night King. His voice was cold and commanding: "Dracarys!"

Boom!

The dark-green Dragonfire, thick as smoke and mist, came crashing down, enveloping the towering slope in a torrent of flame.

The Night King remained unmoved, his icy gaze locked on the man and the dragon above. As the Dragonfire hurtled toward him, he calmly raised his ice spear.

A second later, the Night King was swallowed by the Dragonfire, the flames spreading like a deadly mushroom cloud, scorching the snow and earth alike.

For a moment, his figure blurred within the blaze, the searing fire threatening to consume everything in its path.

‘Did it work?’

Rhaegar rose cautiously from the back of the Cannibal, his eyes locked on the raging flames below. The dark-green Dragonfire roared, scorching the earth and cracking the frozen ground beneath it. If the figure trapped within the fire was the legendary Night King, this battle could be over in an instant.

To end the war, you must first kill the king.

Rhaegar's heart raced. If the Night King fell here, the White Walkers' invasion would collapse. No creature should be able to survive such fierce flames. The figure had disappeared, seemingly consumed by the fire.

‘Why didn’t he even try to avoid it?’

Each second stretched into eternity, and unease crept into Rhaegar’s mind. Something wasn’t right.

And then it happened.

Whoosh!

A smooth spear of ice shot through the Dragonfire, slicing the air with lethal precision.

‘Roar!’

The Cannibal’s green pupils contracted sharply, and the dragon twisted violently, flapping its wings to narrowly avoid the spear. But the danger wasn’t aimed at the dragon.

The spear had been aimed directly at the Cannibal's neck. As the beast dodged, it grazed the dark dragon’s side, tearing through the air toward its rider.

Rhaegar saw the glint of the ice spear reflecting in his eyes, and a chill swept over him. In less than a heartbeat, the spearhead was upon him, the cold biting into his skin.

‘No way to avoid it.’

For an instant, his mind went blank. He ran through a dozen evasive maneuvers in his head, but none of them worked. The spear was too precise, its speed too great. One of them would fall.

Zero point one second left.

The icy spear hurtled toward him.

‘I’ll give it a go.’

In a last-ditch effort, Rhaegar rolled sideways, gritting his teeth. His loose saddle straps saved him; his body was never tightly bound, allowing him to roll freely. He twisted, moving just enough to avoid a direct hit to his head or chest.

Pop!

Bronze scales suddenly covered his body, shattering part of the ice spear as it made contact.

Sizzle!

A transparent protective film appeared over his skin, slicing through the spear’s sharp tip with ease. The two layers of defense bought him a fraction of a second.

But it wasn’t enough.

Pop!

The spear pierced his right shoulder with brutal force, the impact throwing Rhaegar backward. He crashed onto the dragon’s back, his body slamming into the saddle as pain shot through his limbs. His internal organs felt like they had been shaken loose from the force of the blow.

Rhaegar hit the ground with a heavy thud, breathless, his vision swimming. His shoulder burned with pain, and cold sweat dripped down his face. Yet even through the agony, his mind remained sharp.

Roar...

The Cannibal let out a pained wail as dark-green Dragonfire spilled from its maw, wings beating furiously as it soared into the sky. The Ice Crystal Spear had pierced Rhaegar’s body and driven deep into the dragon’s dark scales.

Rhaegar’s face turned deathly pale, his body pinned to the dragon’s back, head tilted, barely able to stay conscious.

Croak... hiss... buzz...

His mind felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer, and his ears rang with a chorus of strange noises. The gray Dream Toad leapt onto his forehead, its green eyes rolling wildly. The Serpent and Bat Worm circled the wound, guarding him anxiously against the spear’s icy chill.

The three Rune Creatures were restless, black smoke rising from their bodies, all affected by the terrifying cold of the spear. Forced to materialize, they worked desperately to protect their master.

Boom!

The Cannibal shot upward, diving headfirst into thick black clouds, its form vanishing in the swirling darkness.

Whoosh!

Just as the dragon’s tail disappeared into the sky, a second Ice Crystal Spear struck, barely missing its mark. The spear grazed the Cannibal’s pitch-black scales, but it was too late to land a direct hit.

Down below, the Night King stood on the slope, his ice-blue eyes narrowing as he watched the dragon escape. A flicker of doubt crossed his cold expression. A White Walker stepped forward, offering him another spear. The Night King glanced at it but made no move to pursue—the target had left his sight.

Roar!

Across the battlefield, several dragons rampaged through the ranks of the undead, setting vast swathes of wights ablaze with their Dragonfire. The Night King’s gaze swept over each one, his eyes cold and calculating.

...

Among the clouds, the Cannibal’s glowing green pupils burned with anger. The dragon paid no attention to the battle below, focusing instead on checking the condition of its rider.

Zilala!

Rhaegar’s face was ashen, his left hand frozen solid as he gripped the Ice Crystal Spear embedded in his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he began to pull the spear out, inch by excruciating inch. Frost had overtaken his hand, and the wound alternated between searing heat and freezing cold.

No blood flowed from the wound; it had all been frozen into a solid clot by the spear’s icy touch.

“Ssshh... that was close,” Rhaegar muttered, biting down hard as he yanked the spear free.

Pop!

The moment the Ice Crystal Spear was exposed to the air, it shattered into powder.

Coo... sssss...

The three Rune Creatures pounced on him, each using their own unique abilities to aid him. The Serpent inhaled deeply, sucking in the black smoke surrounding Rhaegar’s body like a chimney, its dry belly nearly bursting. The frost on his wound began to melt, though it left behind an unbearable itch.

“What’s going on?”

Rhaegar glanced down at his wound, now barely recognizable. His sharp instincts told him the wound wasn’t just physical—there was a chilling curse within it, sapping his vitality with every passing moment.

The Serpent absorbed a wisp of the cold air, hanging on for dear life as it tried to contain the magic.

Rhaegar frowned, tearing off a piece of cloth to wrap around the wound. With great effort, he hauled himself to his feet, his body trembling from the pain.

"Roar..."

The Cannibal arched its massive head, its green vertical pupils narrowing with tension. It could sense its rider’s distress, the pain coursing through Rhaegar’s body.

"It’s fine. First, let’s deal with these demons."

Gritting his teeth, Rhaegar forced himself back into the saddle. He had been careless, caught off guard by the Night King's attack. But worse than the spear, was the realization...

‘The Night King isn’t afraid of Dragonfire!’

His body stiffened, neck aching from strain, as he growled, "Let’s face him again, Cannibal."

The Night King’s immunity to both Dragonfire and ice had turned him into an even greater threat. Rhaegar knew he had to hold him off, to prevent the danger from reaching Rhaenyra and the others.

Roar...

The Cannibal’s pupils narrowed further, its wings flapping with renewed intensity as it lowered its head, exuding a powerful, acrid smell of ash.

Rumbling...

From above, the black dragon swooped down, spewing dark green Dragonfire that swept across the battlefield in a devastating arc. The flames seemed unending, carving a deep furrow toward the towering slope where the Night King stood.

Sensing the growing threat of the ash-tainted flames, the Night King turned his gaze skyward, locking eyes with the silver-haired figure atop the dragon.

Rhaegar, suppressing the tremors in his body, flipped his left hand and retrieved a spear. The spear, forged in Valyria, gleamed coldly in his grip.

‘Let’s see if the Night King truly has no weaknesses.’

If the Night King dared to stand his ground, Rhaegar would pierce his chest with the spear Dawn.

This time, the Night King finally moved. He slid off his rotting horse and strode forward, his long strides carrying him toward the blackened pit where the Dragonfire raged.

Roar...

The Cannibal descended, its dark green Dragonfire sweeping the ground. In an instant, the rotting horse and the pale White Walker at the Night King’s side were incinerated, reduced to nothing but ash.

"Retreat, Cannibal!" Rhaegar commanded in High Valyrian, his eyes flashing with caution. The Night King had vanished into the Dragonfire, and Rhaegar didn’t intend to repeat his mistake.

Boom!

The Cannibal, half-airborne, surged back into the sky, its massive body flying high. Unwilling, it glanced back at the battlefield below, its green eyes filled with lingering fury.

At that moment, a sudden change rippled across the battlefield.

Clatter!

Half of the dead collapsed where they stood, falling into heaps that piled up like a grotesque mountain of the dead. As if responding to an unseen command, the remaining White Walkers retreated swiftly, vanishing into the depths of the Haunted Forest.

Roar!

Dreamfyre’s pupils narrowed as it relentlessly pursued the fleeing wights, flames pouring from its jaws, displaying the full destructive power of a mature dragon. The other three dragons followed closely behind, clearing away the remnants of the undead army in a blazing sweep.

Roar...

Meanwhile, the Cannibal veered in the opposite direction, descending toward the Wall. Its massive feet slammed down on the frozen ramparts, the impact shaking the ice-crusted stones.

Rhaegar, beads of cold sweat trickling down his forehead, replaced his spear with a black horn, twice the size of his arm.

Wo...

A deep, sonorous blast echoed from his lips as they touched the dragon horn. The sound resonated across the battlefield, causing the dragons to slow their pursuit and turn back.

Gritting his teeth, Rhaegar tightened his grip on the saddle, his gaze fixed on the blackened pit where the Night King had vanished.

‘Has that half-human, half-demon creature fled?’

After their second encounter, Rhaegar understood the Night King’s true intentions. The attack on the Wall had been a diversion—a mere test. Had Rhaegar not fought with every ounce of strength, the Night King would have pressed further. It was a probe to measure Rhaegar’s resolve.

Hoo!

A cold wind swept across the battlefield, carrying the acrid scent of burnt ash. The remaining wights retreated beyond the Wall, scrambling back into the Haunted Forest, leaving nothing but silence in their wake.

The deep pit behind the slope lay still, void of any movement. Rhaegar exhaled slowly, his chest tight with tension.

‘It was gone?’

Roar!

Dreamfyre’s roar broke the stillness as it turned back toward the Wall, its light blue wings beating against the cold air.

From atop her dragon, Helaena’s clear eyes noticed Rhaegar’s pallor.

"Retreat, Sheepstealer," Aemond called, tugging on the reins and commanding the stubborn Mud Dragon to turn back.

The battle was over. The threat had receded—for now.

The low blast of the Dragon’s Horn echoed once more, signalling the recall of the dragons.

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