My Name Is Pike!

(Feels like I caught COVID-dizzy head, sore throat, no strength in my whole body.)

"Hahaha!"

His words drew a burst of laughter from the Ironborn aboard the ship, and they all turned their eyes toward Pike, who seemed not to know his own limits.

"Boy, are you joking with me?"

One-Eyed Jamie laughed so hard that tears nearly spilled from his remaining left eye.

He lowered his head, pressing his forehead firmly against Pike's, as though he wanted a good look at this arrogant "Westerlands noble."

"I've already made myself perfectly clear. Either hand over five thousand Gold Dragons, or..."

He surveyed the captured sailors aboard the ship, finally resting his gaze on Old Shark, and gave a cruel, savage grin.

"I'll sink every last one of you into the sea!"

Faced with One-Eyed Jack's vicious gaze, Old Shark did not even have the courage to raise his head. He trembled with his forehead pressed firmly against the deck, hoping only that Pike would not anger the man any further.

To everyone's surprise, Pike did not back down. Instead, he spoke slowly and calmly.

"The seabed has a place ready for everyone."

"Everyone except me."

"Then die!"

Provoked once again by Pike, One-Eyed Jamie could bear it no longer. He raised the harpoon in his hand and thrust it viciously down at Pike's head.

The harpoon fell swiftly, passing straight through Pike's body. The Ironborn all thought this scrawny fellow was about to die at One-Eyed Jamie's hands.

But One-Eyed Jamie realized something was wrong.

He had felt none of the resistance of a harpoon piercing flesh. It was as though he had stabbed empty air.

Then, before everyone's disbelieving eyes, Pike took two steps forward, passing through One-Eyed Jamie's body like a ghost.

A cold dagger lay across One-Eyed Jamie's throat, and Pike's hoarse voice came from behind him.

"Your soul reeks so badly that you aren't even worthy of offering it to the great Lich King."

The moment he finished speaking, the sharp dagger swept cleanly across Jamie's throat. One-Eyed Jamie clutched his neck with both hands, his lone eye wide as he made choking, rattling sounds.

With a dull thud as he hit the deck, this Ironborn who lived by plunder met the end of his wicked life.

Dropping the dagger, Pike walked slowly over to One-Eyed Jamie's corpse. He crouched, pried open the hand that had yet to stiffen, and picked up the unusually shaped harpoon.

For some reason, Pike had taken a keen interest in this weapon from the moment he first saw it.

Its grip felt cold in his hand. Holding the weapon that seemed made just for him, Pike gave a satisfied smile.

"Next..."

He surveyed the Ironborn, who were trembling in terror at what they had just witnessed. They had laid down their weapons and knelt, crying out, "The Drowned God has come!" Clearly, Pike had no intention of sparing them.

"It's your turn!"

As though the countdown to death had begun, Pike vanished in an instant, then appeared behind an Ironborn. The harpoon pierced the man's chest, mercilessly taking his life.

At the sight, the other Ironborn grew even more terrified. They kowtowed to empty air, wailing loudly in the hope of being allowed to live.

But Pike turned a deaf ear to their pleas, merely repeating his slaughter mechanically.

The actions of these Ironborn reminded him of what had happened to him.

If not for these deranged bandits, perhaps his wife Jeyne would not have slit her own throat after being unable to endure the humiliation.

Disappear... appear... kill... then disappear again...

As time passed, Pike's figure slowly appeared behind the last Ironborn who had boarded to plunder the ship.

Seemingly scared out of his wits, this Ironborn did not beg like the others. Instead, an expression that was almost a smile appeared on his face as he turned somewhat frantically toward Pike and his harpoon.

"What is dead... may never die."

His right hand pressed firmly against his chest. Under his fervent gaze, Pike considerately slit his throat, sending him back into the Drowned God's embrace.

"The Drowned God..."

"The Drowned God!"

Once everything had settled, the ship's survivors scrambled over to Pike under Old Shark's lead. They all knelt, their right fists clenched against their chests.

"My lord, could you be the Drowned God himself?"

"Or are you a messenger the Drowned God sent to save us?"

Looking at the fervent gazes everyone directed at him, Pike shook his head and turned, walking slowly toward his cabin.

"I'm no messenger of the Drowned God, nor am I some Westerlands noble, Shark."

"The Iron Islands are my homeland. My home used to be on Pyke."

"My name... is Pike!"

"I wonder whether that fellow Pike has reached the Iron Islands."

In the morning light of King's Landing, Arthas stood in the square at the Gold Cloaks' headquarters, clad in heavy silver-white armor and holding Frostmourne. His gaze turned toward the distant west, and his thoughts returned to the day he first met Pike...

"Lord Arthas!"

"Oh, Pike, why did you run all the way here?"

As he looked at the dusty, bedraggled Pike, who was panting heavily, Arthas's smile remained as gentle as ever.

"Have some water first. Take your time."

Though he did not know why this scrawny man had run dozens of miles to catch up with him, Arthas still kindly offered him his waterskin.

"Jeyne..."

"My Jeyne..."

Without taking the waterskin, Pike dropped to his knees with a thud. As though his exhaustion no longer existed, tears streamed down his face.

"She killed herself!"

"Those damned bandits took turns defiling her."

"When we got home, I never left her side. I thought I'd managed to soothe her, but when I went out to make her a meal and came back..."

Overcome, Pike had begun to speak incoherently. He simply kept pounding the ground, as though that were the only way to ease the pain in his heart a little.

"Ah..."

Arthas reached out and gently stroked the devoted man's head, not minding the dirt covering him in the slightest.

"Though I sympathize deeply with what happened to you, Pike..."

He slowly straightened and spoke with a note of regret.

"I'm sorry. With my current power, I cannot bring your Jeyne back."

Paying no attention to what Arthas meant by that, Pike continued to sob in anguish, letting the dust on the ground enter his mouth and nose.

"Then... what did you come to me for?"

Helping the grieving man up, Arthas stared intently into his eyes and asked,

"Do you want Ser Gregor to compensate you with money, or have him find you another wife in his lands?"

"No!"

To Arthas's surprise, Pike asked for no compensation at all.

He wiped the tears from his face and looked resolutely at the gentle youth before him, who was unlike other nobles.

"Lord Arthas, please let me follow you."

"I don't want to be bullied anymore. Please train me. I'll do anything for you."

"I want to grow strong, then kill every damned bandit in this world!"

As he looked at Pike's resolute expression, Arthas's golden eyes seemed to flicker.

After considering it for a while, he made his decision. He patted Pike lightly on the shoulder and asked solemnly,

"Do you truly want to grow strong, Pike?"

Under Pike's shocked gaze, a wisp of pure dark energy slowly appeared in Arthas's hand.

"Even if the price is your soul, you would still do it, is that right?"

"Yes!"

After a brief moment of shock, Pike dropped to his knees again with a thud. Faced with this incomparably evil energy, he showed not the slightest hesitation.

"Ever since Jeyne died, my soul has no longer belonged to me."

"Please, take it."

"Lord Arthas!"

"Lord Arthas!"

A soft call interrupted Arthas's recollections.

He turned to see Lancel kneeling on one knee ahead and to his right, excitement on his face.

"The troops have assembled. We can set out at any time!"

At his report, Arthas looked up and saw the square packed with Gold Cloaks standing in orderly ranks.

Six thousand men!

A full six thousand Gold Cloaks had assembled here, nearly all the security forces in King's Landing.

A grim, murderous air radiated from the neat formations. Had an ordinary person passed by, they might well have wet themselves on the spot.

"As planned, divide into one hundred squads and advance toward your assigned areas!"

With a sweep of his hand, Arthas issued his first large-scale mission order since becoming Commander of the City Watch.

That was right. Our prince of Lordaeron was finally about to take action to restore order to King's Landing!

For the capital of a kingdom, law and order in King's Landing was truly outrageous.

In Flea Bottom, underground gangs ran rampant, evil cults proliferated, and filthy brothels could be found everywhere. Murder and robbery happened every day.

Even ordinary nobles in King's Landing hardly dared leave their homes after nightfall!

The starving poor did not care whether you were a noble. All they knew was that those plump, pale fellows tasted far better than scrawny children!

Arthas could leave past affairs alone, and they had not been within his authority anyway.

But now that he had become Commander of the Gold Cloaks in King's Landing, he could never tolerate such chaos under his rule again.

To restore order to King's Landing in Robert's debauched and lawless kingdom, Arthas had taken great pains to devise this plan.

He called it-Operation Hundred-Day Purge!

Led by their respective Lannister knight captains, the hundred squads dispersed in orderly fashion throughout King's Landing like a swarm of bees.

Only twenty Lannister household knights remained at his side.

"Lord Janos."

Arthas turned his icy gaze toward Janos, the former Commander, who stood shivering beside him. Even his smile seemed to carry a chilling cold.

"Please lead the way for us."

"Let a country bumpkin from the Westerlands like me see just how many Gold Dragons you've extorted during all your years as Commander of the City Watch!"