When the royal herald announced the semifinals, the tourney grounds turned strange.
Jaime Lannister.
The name itself represented the peak of Westerosi knighthood.
His opponent? A nobody Black Knight who'd clawed his way here through dirty tricks and dumb luck.
This wasn't a duel.
The outcome was already decided.
Jaime Lannister mounted his horse leisurely.
His golden armor blazed in the afternoon sun. Like a god descending.
He didn't even wear his helmet. Just casually tied his brilliant golden hair back.
That handsome face wore a bored smile.
He looked at the black iron figure at the other end. Like looking at dead prey.
On the high platform, Littlefinger's face had returned to normal.
He held his cup. Watched his betting board's absurd odds. Relaxed.
The Mountain—Loras's biggest threat—is already out. Some bet on Jaime, but the ending's set.
Jaime's jousting is slightly worse than Loras's. Loras has high odds of winning.
As for Lynn? Odds are ridiculous.
Littlefinger didn't even consider Lynn. His previous performance was pathetic. No way he keeps that luck against Jaime.
The game ends now.
He didn't even bother looking at Lynn. Instead, he turned toward the Stark stands.
I want to see Ned Stark's face when his hero gets skewered by the golden lion.
Lynn sat quietly on Storm's back.
He could hear the whispers in the stands.
"Poor crow. He's finished."
"Lord Jaime will run him and his horse through!"
Lynn's heart was calm.
He just slowly raised his lance.
In that moment, everyone noticed—his grip had changed!
No longer the clumsy, stiff hold from earlier matches.
His arm, wrist, back—formed perfect lines with his mount.
The black plate armor that seemed heavy before now melded with his body as he straightened.
Man and horse radiated cold, fluid power.
On the Tyrell stands, Loras Tyrell's smile froze.
That stance...
That lance angle...
He shot to his feet. Stared at Lynn. Eyes full of disbelief.
That's my technique!
The grip I perfected through brutal training at Highgarden!
How does this crow from the Wall know it?!
Impossible!
"BEGIN!"
Robert's roar dropped.
The horn blared.
Jaime Lannister didn't even spur his horse immediately. Still basking in the attention.
But the black figure across from him launched instantly!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Storm's thick hooves pounded the ground like war drums!
Not a charge.
A small-scale earthquake!
Jaime's face finally changed.
He felt the unreasonable pressure bearing down!
He clamped his horse's flanks. Spurred his white steed forward.
Gold and black.
Two streaks of light closed rapidly under all eyes!
Jaime's eyes flashed coldly. His lance steady as a mountain. Aimed precisely at Lynn's chest.
I'll end this farce in one pass!
But the moment the horses were about to cross—
Lynn secretly activated Ice Magic.
Jaime felt a sudden chill. His body stiffened.
What—?
At that critical moment, Lynn's body dipped with a movement nearly invisible to the naked eye.
CRACK—!!!
An explosion rang in everyone's ears!
Jaime's lance struck Lynn's shield.
But the expected devastation didn't happen.
Jaime felt his lance tip hit an immovable wall!
A savage, unimaginable force surged back through the shaft!
SNAP!
His prized knight's shield shattered under that brutal power!
THUNK!
Jaime's right arm—the one holding the lance—tore with pain. His palm split open. Blood soaked through his gauntlet's seams!
His hand trembled uncontrollably...
His warhorse shrieked.
The terrible impact knocked it back. Nearly collapsed!
Lynn was unharmed.
9 Strength. Except for special races or freaks of nature, that's peak human.
Plus the unpredictable Ice Magic.
Even the Mountain—I could play him to death!
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