The Kingswood stretched endlessly across the horizon, its towering trees standing like silent soldiers. Beyond the forest lay King's Landing, and once this great woodland was crossed, the capital would soon be within reach.
Golden battle banners fluttered proudly in the wind as the Stormlands army advanced along a forest shortcut. Even during periods of rest, the warriors never neglected their training. Sparring matches, contests of strength, and martial competitions were a daily part of camp life.
The people of the Stormlands had always been known for their martial spirit. Strong, fierce, and skilled in battle, they were among the most warlike people in Westeros. The warriors of the Dornish Marches were especially renowned, legends claiming they learned to wield swords and bows before they even learned to walk. Men such as Barristan Selmy, Anguy, and Dick the Fletcher were living proof of that reputation.
The Stormlanders respected strength above all else. Without the greatness of Houses Durrandon and Baratheon, even powerful lords would have struggled to command such proud and stubborn warriors.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
The soldiers roared enthusiastically as they gathered around a makeshift arena.
Contests of wrestling, riding, swordsmanship, spear fighting, and archery drew large crowds every day.
Among all competitors, two names were the most popular.
Barristan the Bold.
And Gendry the Storm.
Whenever Anguy participated in an archery contest, crowds immediately gathered. Many believed his archery had already surpassed that of Ser Balon Swann.
As for Barristan and Gendry, they represented two generations of legendary warriors.
"Come on!"
Gendry raised his blunted longsword and grinned.
"Lothor, Jon, Ser Gude, Ser Justin—come at me together."
The challenge immediately drew cheers.
Individually, none of them stood a chance against him.
Gendry preferred facing all four at once.
Jon Snow, Lothor Brune, Ser Gude Morrigen, and Ser Justin Massey exchanged glances before charging together.
Nearby, Barristan Selmy, Anguy, the Red Priestess, and many others watched with interest.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Steel rang through the air.
The battle began immediately.
Gendry moved like a raging storm.
His heavy training sword had been specially modified—thicker, wider, and heavier than ordinary practice weapons. Yet he wielded it as effortlessly as a willow branch.
His swordplay flowed like a dragon swimming through crashing waves.
One moment he spun and slashed.
The next, he thrust forward with explosive force.
The four opponents fought skillfully and coordinated their attacks well. Yet compared to Gendry, they seemed slow and awkward.
The difference in strength was simply too great.
More importantly, Gendry possessed extraordinary battlefield awareness.
His sharp observation allowed him to identify weaknesses almost instantly.
"I yield!"
Ser Justin Massey was the first to fall.
Formerly King Robert's squire, Justin had gained both experience and weight over the years.
Unfortunately, the extra weight had slowed him considerably.
Gendry launched a fierce sequence of attacks.
Justin's shield was nearly shattered.
His visor was knocked crooked.
His sword flew several yards away.
Dizzy and exhausted, he collapsed onto the ground.
Removing his dented helmet, Justin laughed bitterly.
"Next time, I'll surrender earlier."
"Wine, women, and age have all caught up with me."
"I remember sparring with King Robert when we were young. Somehow I look even worse now than I did back then."
The crowd burst into laughter.
Soon afterward, Jon Snow was defeated as well.
Repeated impacts numbed his arm until he could no longer maintain his grip.
His sword slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.
Lothor and Ser Gude followed shortly after.
One by one, all four challengers were eliminated.
The defeated warriors took seats nearby, waiting for the next round.
Gendry approached Jon and offered him a hand.
"I've received training from Tobho Mott, the master blacksmith of King's Landing."
"I've also learned from Longspear, Steel Fist, Handsome Man, Dick the Fletcher, and Ser Barristan himself."
"They're all exceptional fighters."
Jon nodded.
"I simply haven't trained enough."
Although he lost every time, Jon considered these sparring sessions invaluable.
Every match left him covered in bruises and aching from head to toe.
Yet that was precisely why he kept participating.
Only by challenging someone vastly stronger could he continue improving.
The sound of clashing swords stirred old memories.
For a brief moment, Jon found himself back in Winterfell.
He could almost see himself and Robb Stark as children.
Wooden swords in hand.
Laughing.
Competing every morning within Winterfell's walls.
Later, Theon Greyjoy would join them, making everything more chaotic.
The memories felt distant now.
"Beautiful."
Barristan Selmy applauded.
For a knight, tournaments and martial contests represented the essence of their way of life.
Training.
Discipline.
Constantly surpassing one's limits.
Barristan couldn't help but remember Arthur Dayne.
For many years, he had believed the Sword of the Morning would remain the greatest warrior he would ever witness.
Yet now he wondered.
Perhaps the younger generation had already begun to surpass the old.
Perhaps a new age was approaching.
After a brief rest, another group entered the arena.
The Longspears.
These elite warriors were among the most dangerous fighters in the army.
Gendry wiped sweat from his brow and exchanged his sword for a blunted warhammer.
The Longspears immediately advanced.
Their spear thrusts were precise and powerful.
Each movement displayed years of practice.
Then—
Bang!
Several spears shot forward simultaneously.
To everyone's astonishment, Gendry caught the spear shafts with one hand.
Then he grabbed them with both hands and roared.
Muscles bulged.
Veins swelled.
The Longspears suddenly felt an overwhelming force pull against them.
Before they could react, Gendry ripped multiple weapons from their hands and hurled them aside.
Several warriors stumbled forward, nearly falling.
The crowd exploded.
"Storm!"
"Storm!"
"Storm!"
Jon stared in amazement.
"Which is harder—dodging a spear or taking it away from someone?"
Barristan answered immediately.
"Taking it away."
There wasn't even a hint of hesitation in his voice.
Such strength bordered on the supernatural.
Even the Red Priestess found herself captivated.
The blood of the Storm Kings truly flowed through Gendry's veins.
Recovering his warhammer, Gendry charged.
The hammer whistled through the air.
He smashed through the spear formation like a hurricane.
Helmets dented.
Shields shattered.
Ashwood spear shafts splintered.
One warrior after another was knocked to the ground.
The match ended decisively.
Despite his overwhelming victory, Gendry personally helped every fallen warrior back to their feet.
Many of them looked as though they had spent the entire day drinking.
Yet they smiled.
After facing such a warrior directly, their respect for him had only deepened.
"Storm!"
"Storm!"
"Swordbreaker!"
The cheers echoed through the forest.
To the soldiers, Gendry resembled a blazing golden flame.
Unstoppable.
Invincible.
Just like the great storm kings of old.
Yet Gendry remained thoughtful.
Faster.
Stronger.
Sharper.
That was the path he pursued.
At a certain level, superior strength and speed made opponents appear slow.
Combined with exceptional perception, a warrior could react after an enemy moved and still strike first.
That was true mastery.
Later that evening, Gendry drank, laughed, and sang alongside his soldiers.
Morale throughout the army was extraordinarily high.
The men seemed capable of fighting with twice their normal strength.
Beside him, the Red Priestess smiled.
"Maintain your insight, and nothing will remain beyond your reach."
"Insight..."
Gendry considered her words carefully.
Against ordinary warriors, he felt little concern.
The true threat came from hidden enemies.
Assassins.
The Faceless Men.
Turning toward Jon, he asked,
"You've encountered Water Dancers before. What do you think of their style?"
Jon nodded.
"I met Arya's instructor."
"The Water Dance is an assassin's art."
"It's agile, deceptive, and designed to strike when an opponent least expects it."
"Westerosi swordsmanship is different."
"It's direct."
"Heavy."
"It focuses on overwhelming force."
Gendry agreed.
Raw power often ended battles faster.
Still, the techniques of Braavos possessed unique advantages.
Jon continued.
"Great insight is something all elite warriors possess."
"Syrio Forel often spoke of seeing the truth of things."
Gendry smiled.
He knew the story.
When the Sealord of Braavos selected candidates for First Sword, he presented them with a fat yellow cat.
The Sealord asked what creature sat upon his lap.
Many candidates tried to impress him with elaborate answers.
Only Syrio gave the truth.
"A common alley cat."
The Sealord laughed and chose him immediately.
Insight.
The ability to see reality rather than illusion.
But Gendry wondered if there had been another reason.
Perhaps the Sealord valued perception because it helped identify Faceless Men.
After all, their greatest strength was deception.
They blended seamlessly into crowds.
They became other people.
A keen observer might notice what others missed.
A subtle inconsistency.
A hidden clue.
A truth concealed beneath a borrowed face.
The thought lingered in Gendry's mind.
The Red Priestess stepped forward once more.
"The Faceless Men interest me as well."
"Oh?"
Gendry turned toward her.
"Their powers carry traces of the Great Other."
Her voice dropped lower.
"How else could faces remain preserved for centuries?"
"Perhaps memories are preserved along with them."
"Cold preserves life."
"Like an ice sculpture frozen in time."
"Fire, meanwhile, consumes life."
Gendry frowned thoughtfully.
Her theory sounded bizarre.
Yet so many strange things existed in this world that dismissing it outright would be foolish.
Eventually, he might have to face the Faceless Men himself.
If that day came, he would need every advantage possible.
The Red Priestess smiled.
"Insight is one way to survive."
"Trust your eyes."
"Trust your nose."
"Trust your instincts."
"And trust your mind."
"The sharper your perception, the safer you will be."
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)