Merging with His Predecessor's Combat Memories

A plain, unadorned longsword was brought before Lynn.

Its grip was wrapped in coarse leather, and its guard was a simple cross, without any unnecessary decoration.

It was a standard-issue guard's longsword.

Heavy, sturdy, and utterly practical.

Lynn reached out, his fingertips touching the cold hilt.

At that instant, a strange warmth surged from his palm and swept through his entire body, as though something long buried had awakened deep within his blood.

Fragments of memories that were not his came surging back once more.

This time, they were no longer memories of terror at the White Walkers.

They were countless days and nights spent swinging a sword atop the Wall, braving the wind and snow.

They were the resistance of flesh against a blade as he fought Wildlings.

They were Alliser Thorne's monotonous, harsh rebukes.

"Hold it steady, you useless bastard!"

"Your sword is your life!"

At that moment, those instincts etched into his predecessor's bones merged completely with Lynn's soul!

[Synchronizing predecessor's combat memories...]

[Synchronization complete!]

[Congratulations, host. New skill acquired: One-Handed Sword (proficient) 18/100]

[Congratulations, host. New skill acquired: Horsemanship (beginner) 9/10]

[Congratulations, host. New skill acquired: Unarmed Combat (proficient) 84/100]

Lynn's gaze changed.

Before, the fire burning in his eyes had been the will to survive.

Now, that fire had gained an edge as sharp as steel.

Lynn closed his fingers firmly around the hilt.

In his hand, the longsword no longer seemed like a lifeless object, but an extension of his body.

"Let's go."

Robb Stark's voice reached him.

The young Young Wolf had already mounted his warhorse.

He glanced at Lynn, his eyes still appraising him.

Lynn said nothing more and swung neatly onto a spare pony.

The party of ten soon rode out through Winterfell's gates.

The biting wind howled across the fields.

The party left a long trail of hoofprints across the snow-covered ground.

Theon Greyjoy rode up beside Robb.

He glanced back at Lynn, who rode at the rear, and curled his lips into a mocking smile.

"Robb, do you really believe this fellow?"

"A deserter who couldn't even keep his Night's Watch vows, now claiming he wants to fight for the North."

"Don't you think that's laughable?"

Robb kept his eyes ahead, his young face largely expressionless.

"Father told me to keep an eye on him."

"That's enough."

Theon shrugged.

"Fine. Let's hope he doesn't hold us back."

"Otherwise, I wouldn't mind enforcing the law for Lord Ned ahead of schedule."

Their voices were low.

But fragments of their conversation still drifted to Lynn's ears on the wind.

Lynn did not care.

He simply felt the weight of the longsword in his hand and the strength slowly returning within him.

He knew words had power, but steel and blood earned greater respect.

The party headed east along a tributary of the White Knife River.

The farther they rode, the stronger the smell of blood became.

At last, on the edge of a burned stretch of woodland, they found the remains of the attacked caravan.

Several wagons lay overturned, their cargo scattered everywhere, and snow mingled with congealed blood stained the ground a mottled black and red.

Several stiff corpses lay in the snow, the terror of their final moments still frozen on their faces, while crows circled overhead with hoarse cries.

"They haven't been gone long."

An experienced veteran examined the wagon tracks and spoke to Robb.

"Half a day at most."

Robb's face darkened, and his grip tightened around his sword hilt.

"After them!"

The party set off again, their horses' hooves thudding through the blood-soaked snow.

They pursued them for several more miles.

From a sparse grove ahead came the faint crackling of a campfire, along with coarse laughter and curses.

Robb raised his hand, signaling the party to stop.

Everyone immediately dismounted without a sound.

"Hollen, circle around from the left."

Robb lowered his voice, calmly assigning their tasks.

"Theon, you're a good shot. Find some high ground and cover us."

"The rest of you, come with me."

Finally, he looked at Lynn.

"You, stay close to me. Don't wander off."

It was both an order and a warning.

Lynn nodded and drew the longsword at his waist.

The blade left its sheath with a clear, ringing hum.

Its cold edge reflected Lynn's steady eyes.

He had already accepted what he had to do.

If I want a better life, I have to kill!

They slipped silently into the grove and pushed aside the last clump of bushes blocking their view.

In a clearing not far ahead, more than twenty ragged bandits sat around a campfire, tearing into roast meat and guzzling stolen ale.

Their weapons lay carelessly beside them, their faces full of smug indulgence after the raid.

Theon noticed the scene as well.

There were ten of them, including a deserter, against twenty bandits. Each of them would have to kill two men.

"Robb, they far outnumber us. Should we go back for reinforcements?"

Go back for reinforcements?

By the time help arrived, they would all be long gone.

Then they would only have to change their clothes. Who would know they were bandits?

"They're poorly equipped. We can take them!"

A fierce glint flashed in Robb's eyes as he raised his sword.

"For the North!"

His roar cracked like thunder!

Robb charged out first, the Stark guards close behind him, their scattered battle cries ringing out.

The bandits instantly fell into chaos, scrambling for their weapons in panic. One even choked on his ale and began coughing violently.

At that same moment, Theon's arrow came whistling in and pierced a bandit's neck with deadly accuracy.

Battle erupted in an instant.

Lynn breathed steadily, his heart beating powerfully in his chest.

Unlike the others, he did not roar, instead focusing all his attention on the chaotic battlefield before him.

These bandits were merely ordinary men holding weapons.

One bandit noticed Lynn.

He was a large man with a brutish face, and contempt flashed in his eyes when he saw Lynn's shabby black clothes and pale complexion.

An easy target.

With a vicious grin, he raised his short-handled axe and swung it hard at Lynn's head!

The air whistled.

Lynn's body reacted faster than his mind.

He twisted aside, dodging the axe blade.

Now!

Rather than retreat, Lynn stepped forward and sharply lowered his center of gravity.

The longsword in his hand thrust upward at a tricky angle.

At that moment, his proficient [One-Handed Sword] skill was pure instinct.

There were no flashy moves, only the simplest-and deadliest-thrust.

Squelch!

A faint sound rang out.

The sword tip pierced the man's throat with perfect accuracy.

The bandit's vicious grin froze, and the contempt in his eyes turned to utter terror.

He tried to speak, but only a breathy rasp escaped his throat.

Blood streamed down the blade, its warmth coating Lynn's hand.

[Bandit killed x1, Experience Points +1]

Lynn felt no discomfort whatsoever. Instead, he found it thrilling.

Without the slightest hesitation, he wrenched his sword free.

Warm blood sprayed out, and the large bandit crashed to the ground like a felled stump.

It had all happened in a flash, and the battle cries around him seemed to fade into the distance.

Lynn wiped his blood-slick hand on his clothes. Now, only life and death remained in his eyes.

Two more bandits saw their companion fall and charged at him from either side with furious roars.

A curved sword and a wooden club swept in with vicious force, cutting off every route of retreat.

Lynn drew a deep breath.

He shifted his footing and twisted his body, avoiding the deadly curved sword.

At the same time, he swept his longsword outward to parry.

Lynn precisely blocked the wooden club swinging toward his skull.

With a turn of his wrist, he slid his longsword down the club.

The club had no guard.

"Aah!"

A piercing scream rang out as Lynn severed the club-wielding bandit's hand cleanly, sending his weapon falling to the ground.

Blood gushed wildly.

Before the other bandit could react, Lynn had already closed in.

Without a single wasted motion, he delivered a clean horizontal slash, his longsword slicing through the air.

The bandit had only enough time to see a flash of gleaming steel.

The next instant.

His world spun upside down.

[Bandit killed x1, Experience Points +1]

[Bandit killed x1, Experience Points +1]

Lynn followed with a backhanded thrust, piercing the heart of the bandit with the severed wrist and ending his agony.

In just a few breaths, Lynn had killed three men.

He stood with his sword in hand.

Now, warm blood spattered Lynn's entire body.

The surrounding bandits were stunned by his swift, efficient fighting. They instinctively stepped back, their eyes filling with fear as they looked at him.

Not far away, Robb Stark, who had just cut down an enemy, witnessed it too.

Shock filled his young face.

This deserter...

He killed three enemies that quickly?