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(There should be another update tonight.)
Arthas's arrogant words immediately stirred an uproar among the nobles of King's Landing in the stands.
No one had imagined that, facing the immense pressure of seven Kingsguard alone, this reckless young Lannister would still dare to boast.
"Lannister, you're far too arrogant!"
Before Jaime could speak, Meryn Trant, standing behind him, could no longer contain his anger. He drew his sword and gripped it in both hands, glaring at Arthas, utterly oblivious to the fact that the man in front of him was also a Lannister.
"If Ser Jaime hadn't personally admitted that you defeated him, what makes you think you'd be worthy of fighting seven Kingsguard at once?"
Meryn Trant's words immediately won the nobles' approval, and they nodded in agreement.
Although Arthas had indeed made an imposing entrance, the vast majority of those present had never seen him fight.
Had it not been for the chance to see seven Kingsguard fight together, most of the spectators would probably still have been at home, fast asleep with pretty serving girls in their arms.
"Ser Meryn Trant, you talk too much."
Arthas shifted his right hand slightly, turning Frostmourne's point from Jaime toward Meryn Trant, his icy eyes focusing all his killing intent on the man.
I'll... I'll die!
Though he could not see Arthas's eyes beneath his helmet, Meryn Trant still felt a suffocating chill sweep over him.
Somehow, he suddenly seemed to hear countless dead souls whispering in his ears, as though he were facing death itself!
Clang!
The intense terror of facing death blanked Meryn Trant's mind. His body slipped entirely beyond his control, and with the sound of steel striking the ground, his sword fell straight from his hands!
"What happened?"
Robert, who had been sitting in his seat and watching with interest as he gulped down wine, was drawn by the sudden turn of events.
Forgetting even his wine, he stood and strode to the railing, leaning halfway over it.
"Meryn Trant!"
"You useless sot! Have you spent so long at peace that you can't even hold a sword steady?"
The king's merciless abuse immediately drew a roar of laughter from the spectators.
Listening to their mocking laughter, Meryn Trant struggled to bend down and retrieve his sword, but shrouded in Arthas's killing intent, he could not move a single step.
"Ser Meryn."
At that moment, Barristan, who had yet to speak, took half a step forward. His tall, powerful frame blocked Meryn Trant from view as he took the pressure of Arthas's killing intent in his place.
"Please pick up your sword. The battle is about to begin."
With Barristan standing in front of him, Meryn Trant felt the jumble of voices beside his ears vanish instantly, and he gradually regained control of his body.
"Thank you, Ser Barristan Selmy."
Hastily retrieving his fallen sword, the somewhat embarrassed Meryn Trant gazed gratefully at Barristan's upright, resolute back and offered his solemn thanks.
"Lord Arthas!"
Ignoring Meryn Trant's gratitude, Barristan slowly fitted his helmet onto his head. Seeing this, the other six Kingsguard followed suit.
A murderous air rose once more. The seven Kingsguard stood like an arrow about to be loosed.
And Barristan was its sharpest point!
"I think we should stop wasting time."
Seemingly affected by Arthas's killing intent, the veteran, who had fought a hundred battles but had long been away from the battlefield, now felt as though every cell in his body was cheering with excitement.
"King Robert, please give the order!"
After that confrontation before the battle, everyone turned expectant eyes toward the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms in the stands.
"With the Seven as witnesses!"
"I, Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"
As the wine went to his head, an excited flush spread across Robert's face. He had a feeling that this would be the most spectacular bout in the history of Westeros!
"Begin the slaughter, knights!"
At Robert's command, to everyone's disbelief, Arthas took the initiative and charged the Kingsguard led by Barristan, like a fearless lion rushing into a flock of sheep!
"That boy!"
"Is he so eager to die?"
Screams rang out one after another from the stands. No one had expected the weaker side to attack first.
Anyone who had ever fought knew that when outnumbered with no escape, the best approach was to find a corner, press your back firmly against it, and stay put no matter what!
Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, once hailed as the greatest swordsman in Westeros, had been killed by a single surprise attack from behind precisely because he had failed to understand this principle.
"Kill him, Jaime!"
Standing in front of Robert and Cersei, Joffrey waved his fists excitedly as he watched Arthas's foolish actions and shouted into the arena.
Ever since Arthas had frightened him into wetting his trousers yesterday, he had hated this uncle, only two years his senior, to the marrow of his bones.
Arthas's speculation about his parentage had frightened Joffrey so badly that he had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep.
Now that he was about to witness the wonderful sight of Arthas being hacked to pieces in the arena, how could he contain his excitement?
"You're blocking my view, Joffrey."
His mother's voice came from behind him, seemingly tinged with irritation. Joffrey hurriedly stepped back and sat down close beside Cersei.
Though thoroughly spoiled, twelve-year-old Joffrey still listened to Cersei.
"You're the prince of the Seven Kingdoms, the future Protector of the Realm. You must remain dignified at all times."
Her tone, identical to Arthas's, made Joffrey stare at Cersei's beautiful face in disbelief. Whatever was going through his mind, he was momentarily speechless.
Yet as soon as Cersei finished lecturing him, she hurried to her feet and rushed to the railing, leaning halfway over it just as Robert had, anxiously watching the fighting below.
By then, Arthas had already charged up to Barristan with Frostmourne in hand.
The veteran stood ready, gripping his longsword in both hands and holding it upright before him, warily watching his opponent's movements, prepared to respond at any moment.
The sword point, glowing faintly blue, suddenly appeared before Barristan's forehead as though it had teleported. The seasoned knight did not hesitate for an instant; his body instinctively darted aside, barely avoiding the deadly thrust.
A few drops of crimson blood trickled down. Barristan knew that his cheek must have been cut.
With no time to wipe away the blood, Barristan thrust his longsword toward Arthas's waist like lightning the instant Arthas's body passed through the spot where he had just stood.
From his decades of combat experience, Arthas could either raise his sword to block or turn sideways to dodge. There was no third option!
But whichever choice he made, the swords of Meryn Trant and another Kingsguard beside Barristan were already slashing down and would surely strike Arthas.
Yet at that critical instant, a hint of amusement appeared in Arthas's eyes beneath his helmet, plainly visible to Barristan, who stood closest to him!
No!
Though he did not know how his opponent intended to counter this, Barristan still had an ominous premonition.
Sure enough, Arthas chose neither to dodge nor evade, instead allowing Barristan's longsword to plunge straight into his chest!
The anticipatory slashes from Meryn Trant and the other Kingsguard immediately missed.
Then Arthas reached out with his right hand, seized Barristan's longsword firmly, and kicked him several meters away.
Even with his powerful physique, the force of that kick made Barristan's vision go black and left him unable to catch his breath.
Having dealt with Barristan, the strongest of them, Arthas turned Frostmourne's blade in his left hand and drove it straight through Meryn Trant's heart beneath his incredulous gaze.
Then his right hand wrenched the longsword from his own chest and slashed it across the other Kingsguard!
Though it took time to describe, with Arthas's speed enhanced by Unholy Aura, it had all happened in an instant.
By the time the remaining four reacted and rushed forward to surround Arthas, he had already accepted an injury in exchange for easily killing two Kingsguard!
That did not even include Barristan, who still lay on the ground, yet to rise.
The situation had taken a sudden turn for the worse, and the nobles in the stands gasped at Arthas's tactic of trading an injury for lives.
"How savage! How could anyone choose such a tactic?"
"Look at the blood pouring from his chest. Even if he killed two Kingsguard, I doubt he can last much longer."
"If I'd had his courage back then, I might really have defeated Barristan the Bold!"
"Seven above, please let Arthas survive!"
The Imp gripped his own short legs tightly with both hands, gazing at the wounded Arthas in deep concern. Though he did not believe in the Seven, he now prayed ceaselessly for his younger brother.
The voices of the crowd did nothing to disturb Arthas in his excited state.
Since coming to this world, he had never experienced such a dangerous fight. A long-absent thrill welled up within him.
It was as though he had returned to his days as a prince, fighting beside Uther and Jaina!
And Frostmourne, which had lain dormant for over a decade, finally tasted blood again.
Where no one could see, two ceaselessly wailing souls were drawn into the blade that had accompanied Arthas through countless years.
Its eerie blue glow seemed to brighten further, and even the ram's skull design, hidden for years, began to show faintly.
"Old friend, are you getting excited too?"
Seemingly very satisfied with the quality of those two souls, Frostmourne's blade itself seemed to tremble with excitement.
"Hahahaha!"
Ripping off his helmet and hurling it hard to the ground, Arthas threw back his head and laughed. His laughter, laden with the weight of countless hardships, now seemed to brim with renewed life.
Gripping the sword that had once been renowned throughout Lordaeron in both hands, he stood proudly amid four Kingsguard braced as though facing a formidable enemy.
Sweeping his blade toward each fully armed Kingsguard, Arthas let out a shudder-inducing roar, like a lion standing before a flock of sheep.
"I am Arthas Lannister!"
"When this is over, you will beg for my forgiveness, and I..."
"Will refuse!"
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