Time seemed to stretch infinitely in this moment.
Everyone watched helplessly.
Sandor Clegane's head was being pulled viciously toward his monstrous brother with all his remaining strength!
The Mountain intended to use his one good hand to twist Sandor's neck off!
On the high platform, Sansa let out a short scream, clapping her hands over her mouth.
Arya's small face lost all color, her grey eyes filled with despair.
Ned Stark stood up abruptly. He wanted to do something, but he couldn't interfere with the duel; he was powerless.
A sickly hope resurfaced on Petyr Baelish's slack face.
Die!
Die together!
As long as the Hound dies, this duel has no winner!
If there is no winner, I still have a chance!
However, in this moment of imminent peril.
Lynn, who had been sitting calmly from beginning to end, finally made a subtle move.
He didn't stand up, didn't even open his eyes.
He sighed lightly, the knuckles of the hand holding the goblet twitching slightly.
An invisible, extreme cold, like an unseen thread, instantly crossed the distance of space, wrapping precisely around Sandor Clegane's neck!
Hum——!
Sandor, who was being pulled by immense force and felt his neck bones about to snap, shuddered violently.
A coldness of the utmost extreme exploded from the back of his neck.
And spread along his spine to every limb and bone!
It wasn't the cold of death.
But a... indestructible cold!!
In that instant, his neck seemed no longer made of flesh and blood, but transformed into the hardest cold iron of the Lands of Always Winter!
Crack... Crackle...
For the first time, an emotion other than bloodlust appeared in the Mountain's bloodshot eyes.
Confusion and bewilderment.
He felt he wasn't gripping a human neck.
But a piece of ten-thousand-year-old ice transported from the far North!
He used all his strength, finger power enough to crush steel, but could only leave pale marks on Sandor's skin.
He couldn't penetrate any deeper!
What is going on?
This bastard's neck... how can it be so hard?!
The Mountain was stunned.
His brain, burned into chaos by hatred and pain, crashed for the first time.
And Sandor snapped back from the momentary suffocation.
He felt the cold, solid power at his neck.
He didn't know where this power came from, but he knew this was his last chance!
"ROAR!!!"
Sandor didn't hesitate. He let out a roar wilder than the Mountain's!
It was the beast's final struggle, the dying man's counterattack!
His only good arm exerted sudden force.
The longsword in his hand didn't stab at the Mountain's vitals, but smashed the pommel viciously onto the charred arm gripping his wrist!
Crack!
The sound of bone breaking rang out!
The Mountain felt pain, and the grip on Sandor's wrist loosened instinctively.
Now!
Sandor yanked his longsword back.
At the same time, his ruined left arm twisted at a strange angle, and he slammed his shoulder hard into the Mountain's chest!
He didn't retreat; instead, he used all his strength to ram forward!
"Get——Off——Me——!!!"
Sandor roared with all the hatred and strength of his life!
BOOM!!!
The Mountain's massive, mountain-like body lost its final balance under Sandor's suicidal charge.
His confused eyes looked at the sky.
Then, he fell backward, crashing heavily into the huge brazier that was still burning fiercely!
WHOOSH——!!!
The flames swallowed him instantly!
"ARGH——AAAAAHHHH——!!!"
A scream, inhuman and so miserable it made everyone wince, erupted from the fire!
It was the ultimate pain of flesh being roasted, of armor searing and branding skin!
The Mountain struggled frantically in the fire, twisting like a maggot thrown into boiling water.
A strange scent instantly filled the air.
The screaming grew weaker, hoarser.
Finally, it disappeared completely...
[Subordinate Sandor Clegane killed Gregor Clegane. Experience gained: 1500!]
The fire soared, illuminating the dull and terrified faces of everyone in the arena.
Silence reigned.
Only the crackling of the fire and Sandor's heavy breathing remained.
Sandor dragged his heavily injured body, staggering back a few steps.
He dropped his sword and slumped to the ground.
Watching the sea of fire that had completely swallowed the nightmare of his life, two lines of muddy tears slowly flowed down his hideously burned half-face.
This man, who had spent his life in hatred, actually cried.
It was over.
Twenty years of hatred, twenty years of torture.
Finally... it was over.
Clang.
On the high platform, a crisp shattering sound broke the suffocating silence.
The goblet in Petyr Baelish's hand slipped and shattered on the ground.
He looked as if all his bones had been removed, collapsing into his chair.
In his grey-green eyes, always flashing with shrewdness and calculation, only dead ash remained.
It was over.
It was all over.
He was truly done for this time!
His gaze drifted uncontrollably to the man who had been calm and breezy from beginning to end.
Lynn.
Lynn slowly opened his eyes.
He didn't look at the tragic scene in the arena, nor at Sandor who was finally free.
His gaze landed calmly on Petyr Baelish.
In that look, there was no mockery, no pity.
Only the calm of looking at a dead man.
"The duel... is over."
The High Septon's trembling voice finally woke everyone from their shock.
"The winner is... Sandor Clegane!"
WOAH——!!!!
After a brief silence came a tsunami of noise!
The entire tourney ground boiled over!
Gasps, screams, incredulous discussions.
They converged into a massive wave of sound that almost flipped King's Landing over!
"He won! The Hound won!"
"Seven Hells! He actually killed the Mountain!"
"By the Gods, that was the craziest, bloodiest duel I've ever seen!"
The gamblers who bet on the Hound erupted in ecstatic shouts.
While those who bet on the Mountain wore faces of defeat and disbelief.
On the high platform, Joffrey stood up abruptly, his pale face written with excitement and cruelty.
He didn't like the Mountain; he liked blood and violence!
And this duel undoubtedly satisfied all his twisted fantasies!
King Robert opened his mouth, but finally sat back heavily. He downed a cup of wine in one gulp.
Finally, he just loudly said the word, "Good."
Cersei's face was ugly to the extreme.
The Mountain was dead, which meant she had lost a powerful bannerman.
The Tyrell grandmother and granddaughter exchanged a meaningful look.
The Queen of Thorns, Lady Olenna, raised her goblet, toasting Lynn from afar, a satisfied smile on her face.
Margaery's beautiful eyes shone with strange light.
Just as everyone was discussing this shocking reversal...
Lynn slowly stood up.
He adjusted his collar and, under everyone's complex gaze, walked slowly down the high platform toward the center of the arena.
Maesters and attendants were scrambling to lift the heavily injured and unconscious Sandor onto a stretcher.
But no one dared approach the still-burning pile of fire.
Lynn's appearance quieted everyone.
They looked at this King Beyond the Wall, wondering what he wanted to do.
Lynn walked to the fire. The scorching heat blew against his robes, but he seemed not to feel it.
He looked at the charred, unrecognizable corpse in the fire and spoke calmly.
"Gregor Clegane killed countless people in his life, his sins heavy."
"He was not a knight, nor a warrior. He was a monster that should not have existed in this world."
"His soul was long tainted by evil, and his body is equally cursed."
Lynn's gaze swept the venue, finally landing on the pale-faced Queen Cersei.
"To prevent the spread of evil, to prevent this cursed corpse from polluting the soil of King's Landing."
"In the name of protecting the Seven Kingdoms, I hereby purify it completely."
Purify?
Everyone froze.
Cersei's face changed; she wanted to speak to stop him.
But she saw Lynn raise his hand.
A group of Gold Cloaks surrounded the fire.
Everyone could only watch helplessly as the Mountain's massive charred corpse was dismantled inch by inch under the Gold Cloaks' blades...
In just a few dozen breaths.
Only severed limbs remained.
Gregor Clegane.
The humanoid beast that terrified all of Westeros.
Was thus completely erased from this world.
Lynn bowed slightly to Robert, a glimmer flashing in his eyes unnoticed.
Of course, he didn't do it for purification.
He knew that in the original timeline, this corpse would be taken by a maester named Qyburn and transformed into an even more terrifying living dead with no thoughts, knowing only slaughter.
He didn't want to leave such a troublesome opponent for himself.
Even if Gregor posed no threat to him, it wouldn't do!
To cut weeds, one must dig up the roots!
Having done all this, Lynn turned around.
His gaze passed over the horrified crowd, landing once again on the man slumped in his chair, face ashen as death.
Petyr Baelish.
"Lord Baelish, now, is it your turn?"
Seeming to feel Lynn's gaze.
Petyr Baelish's body trembled violently.
He looked up. In his eyes, once filled with wisdom and ambition, only endless terror remained.
He saw two City Watch guards in gold cloaks walking silently toward him.
He knew the Gold Cloaks were coming to arrest him.
He had lost.
Lost this gamble he thought he was guaranteed to win.
And lost his life.
Petyr Baelish opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something.
But in the end, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted dead away from fright.
Game over.
Petyr had lived too long; it was time for him to exit the stage.