Lynn merely clenched his fist lightly, and the ice crystal in his palm expanded instantly, sending a cloud of icy dust drifting toward the ten Blood Guards!
CRACK! CRACK!
Frost spread at a speed visible to the naked eye along the dark red "skin armor" of the Blood Guards.
In an instant, their figures were completely encased in a layer of crystalline ice armor.
The eerie black light was frozen, the twisted slits of their mouths solidified, and even those empty eyes radiating red light were covered by a thin layer of azure ice.
They froze in place, locked in their charging posture, unable to move a muscle.
It seemed slow, but the entire process took only a blink of an eye.
Roose Bolton watched this incredible scene, his heart pounding violently.
Aside from the warlocks creating the Blood Guards, he had never seen such a bizarre spectacle!
Lynn walked slowly toward the frozen Blood Guards, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
These Blood Guards were similar to the White Walkers—both necromantic creatures—each with their own advantages.
White Walkers could master the combat skills of their creator and were immune to conventional steel, their only weaknesses being dragonfire, Valyrian steel, and dragonglass.
These so-called Blood Guards were immune to fatal physical wounds and possessed immense strength—Lynn reckoned they were even stronger than White Walkers.
But they had weaknesses too: their attacks were disorganized, and their offense and defense relied entirely on that eerie black aura.
But if... ice magic was injected into these Blood Guards' bodies, what interesting changes would occur?
Could he gain control over these undead?
Thinking this, Lynn acted immediately.
He extended a finger and gently touched the icy body of one Blood Guard.
BOOM—!
The ice armor shattered instantly!
Shards of ice flew everywhere.
Their skin turned pale, veins clearly visible beneath, tinged with cyan.
Those eyes that once radiated dead red light now abruptly burned with eerie blue flames!
The strange curved blades in their hands, still wrapped in black aura, were now coated in a layer of frost, the edges glimmering with a dark blue light.
These frozen Blood Guards seemed to come alive, yet were entirely different from before.
They appeared taller, radiating a berserk, pure killing intent, and seemed... more agile.
"What... what is this..."
"What... what just happened?"
Roose Bolton was shocked by the strange transformation, unsure if it was good or bad.
Lynn didn't answer him.
He just looked at these frozen-then-revived Blood Guards with a trace of satisfaction.
No, they could hardly be called Blood Guards anymore. "Winter Wights" might be a more fitting name.
That's right. Lynn had converted all of Roose Bolton's necromantic creations into wights. Roose's proud trump card was now Lynn's.
This made Lynn realize his ice magic was far more domineering than this so-called dark magic.
Or perhaps those warlocks just weren't as skilled as him.
Regardless, these Blood Guards belonged to Lynn now.
Through his will, Lynn sent a silent command deep into their consciousness.
THUD!
One of the Blood Guards swung a right fist violently, smashing into a low stone wall on the side of the hall.
The wall, built of heavy stone blocks, could withstand ordinary weapons.
But under the wight's iron fist, it collapsed instantly!
Rubble flew, dust billowed, and a massive hole appeared, revealing the dark night sky outside.
That strength, that speed, that complete disregard for pain made every Northern soldier present suck in a breath of cold air!
On Roose Bolton's face, fear and ecstasy intertwined.
He looked at the smashed wall, eyes burning with feverish light.
He thought these Blood Guards had become stronger under Lynn's "magic"!
He thought Lynn had merely awakened a deeper level of their power!
"Lynn! You fool!"
Roose let out an arrogant laugh.
His voice was filled with twisted triumph.
"What are you doing? You think you controlled them?"
"Your little tricks only made them stronger!"
"Now, they will tear you apart!"
Roose pointed violently at Lynn, screaming a hysterical order.
"My bloodhounds! Kill this man! Tear him apart! Flay his skin for me!"
A petite figure rushed forward, arms spread wide, blocking Lynn.
"Lord Lynn!"
It was Roslin.
Her already pale face was now bloodless, her body trembling so hard she could barely stand.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight, crystal tears clinging to her long lashes.
She was terrified, terrified to her marrow.
But she didn't retreat, didn't scream.
She just used her frail body to stubbornly shield Lynn.
She knew how terrifying these Blood Guards were.
She had just seen them rout the Northern soldiers effortlessly.
She knew rushing up was suicide.
But her mind held only Lynn's calm smile and those words: "Well done, my little handmaiden."
She couldn't let him get hurt. She couldn't let anything happen to him.
Lynn was the reason she was alive. Without him, Edmure would have beheaded her long ago. She owed him too much.
As Roslin rushed out, another figure moved.
Myranda!
A complex light flashed in her eyes.
At first, she had ingratiated herself with Lynn just to survive.
But that night, in bed, his rough, powerful conquest gave her an unprecedented thrill of submission.
He took her chastity and tore open her deepest desires.
She once thought Ramsay was her master, her only soulmate.
But Ramsay treated her as a toy, a gift to be sacrificed at will.
Lynn was completely different from Ramsay.
She couldn't quite describe the feeling.
Myranda's body moved almost reflexively. She stood beside Roslin, a step ahead.
She didn't close her eyes in fear like Roslin. Instead, her eyes, once fierce and now resolute, stared dead at the Blood Guards.
She held no weapon, but her body was tense, like a she-wolf ready to fight to the death.
She couldn't let Lynn die.
If Lynn died, she would have nothing, perhaps ending up even worse off than now.
She had to prove her value, prove her loyalty as a "hound."
Roose Bolton's laughter cut off abruptly.
He looked at these two women—one weak, one fierce—standing recklessly before Lynn, astonishment flashing in his eyes.
He never imagined Lynn had such "loyal" women around him.
Were they seeking death?
And Reek, kneeling on the floor, went rigid the moment he saw Myranda rush forward.
In his empty eyes, a burning fire of jealousy and malice ignited instantly!
Myranda!
The Myranda who once obeyed his every word, did everything for him!
The Myranda who acted like the most docile hound before him, living only for him!
She dared!
She dared to block those monsters for another man!
Even at the cost of her life, she blocked them!
Why?
Ramsay ground his teeth together, making a grating sound.
Myranda was once his, his exclusive hound!
Now, she committed such an unforgivable act for Lynn!
Damn it! Damn whore!
Ramsay screamed internally.
His fingernails dug deep into the cold floor, wishing he could tear Myranda to pieces right now.
Lynn looked at Roslin and Myranda blocking him, a complex glint in his eyes.
Roslin's fear was real, but so was her courage.
This little handmaiden was tougher than he thought.
And Myranda...
He saw the complex emotions in her eyes clearly.
Forced, unwilling, but mostly a loyalty born of taming.
She had begun to accept her new identity.
Good...
He had only intended to play with her before, but given her actions, he couldn't just discard her casually now.
Lynn reached out, gently pulling Roslin and Myranda behind him.
"Step back."
"I don't need to hide behind women just yet."
Roslin and Myranda trembled, looking up at Lynn.
Seeing his confident expression, they obediently retreated behind him.
They understood that Lynn must have a solution, or he wouldn't be this relaxed.
Lynn's gaze returned to the ten Blood Guards.
Their blue-flame eyes were still locked on him, as if waiting for a command.
"Roose Bolton,"
Lynn smiled.
"You are naively cute."
The arrogance and triumph on Roose's face froze completely.
He stared blankly at the ten "Blood Guards" that once belonged to him, now radiating an ominous blue light.
No, those weren't Blood Guards anymore.
They were demons from the Seven Hells, beyond his understanding or control!
"You... what did you do to them?"
"Why aren't they obeying my commands?"
Roose's voice was full of disbelief.
His proud trump card, his capital to flip the table, was invalid before this young man?
Lynn didn't answer.
He simply raised his hand slowly, and crooked a finger gently at the ten Blood Guards-turned-wights.
Whoosh—!
The ten Winter Wights turned around in unison.
Ten pairs of eyes burning with blue fire looked simultaneously at their former master—Roose Bolton.
Seeing this, Roose stumbled back a step, face pale as a sheet, lips trembling but unable to speak.
However, in this dead silence, a change occurred.
Reek, the lowly creature kneeling in the dust, barely daring to breathe, suddenly began to shake violently.
He kept his head low, greasy hair hiding his face.
But an aura mixed with wild joy and malice radiated madly from him!
Not listening to Roose's commands? Does that mean... I have a chance too?
Just now, the moment Lynn controlled the wights.
Ramsay's mind, filled with hatred and humiliation, had only one thought screaming.
Kill her!
Kill that whore Myranda!
He whispered, casting this vicious curse upon the woman standing respectfully behind Lynn.
And in the instant after his whisper.
One of the ten kneeling Winter Wights, the one closest to Myranda, tilted its head almost imperceptibly.
Those blue-flame eyes seemed... to glance in Myranda's direction.
This tiny movement made Ramsay's blood boil instantly!
He could...
He could feel it!
He had established a... weak, but real connection with these monsters!
A crazy idea exploded in his mind!
Could it be...
Could he control them too?!
Once the thought appeared, it spread like wildfire, unstoppable!
Ramsay's heart pounded wildly. Suppressing his excitement, he began to test it quietly.
He didn't dare be too obvious.
That demon Lynn was watching.
He had to be careful, careful!
His gaze landed quietly on an overturned chair in the corner of the hall.
He whispered a simple, clear command—Smash it!
Whoosh!
The "Blood Guard" closest to the chair suddenly looked up!
It stood, and under everyone's stunned gaze, strode toward the chair.
Then, it raised a frost-covered iron fist and smashed down!
CRASH—!!!
A loud noise!
The sturdy oak chair shattered like paper under the wight's fist, turning into splinters!
Everyone in the hall was bewildered by this sudden event.
Lord Lynn... hadn't given an order, had he?
Roose Bolton was stunned too.
He looked at the wight, then at Lynn, confusion in his eyes.
And Ramsay, seeing the pile of wood, couldn't hold back anymore!
No more pretending! Showdown time!
I can control these killing machines too!
Today, I, Ramsay, am destined to turn the tables and become the master!
"Heh... hehe..."
Low, maniacal laughter squeezed uncontrollably from Ramsay's throat.
He slowly, slowly raised his head.
The face once written with humility and fear was now replaced by an extreme, sickly ecstasy!
Those cloudy eyes burned with fire again!
It's true!
It's all true!
He, Ramsay, born hunter, born king!
Even castrated, even humiliated, even trampled into the mud!
He was destined for greatness!
He was destined to be the master of these slaughter machines!
"Ramsay?"
Roose looked at his son's twisted face, an unbelievable thought rising in his mind.
Could it be...
He looked immediately at the "Blood Guard" that smashed the chair, then at his son.
A guess that even he found absurd surfaced instantly.
"Son!"
"My good son!"
An unprecedented burning light erupted in Roose's eyes!
"My son! It's you! It's you, isn't it!"
He strode to Ramsay.
Ignoring the stench, he grabbed Ramsay's shoulders, shaking him hard.
"Quick! Kill Lynn! Kill him!"
"As long as you kill him, you are a Bolton!"
"You are the sole heir of the Dreadfort!"
"I give you everything!"
"You will be the new King in the North!"
Heir?
Bolton?
King in the North?
These words, which Ramsay once dreamed of and would have paid anything for, now sounded incredibly ironic and laughable to his ears...
Ramsay looked at the man whose face was twisted with excitement.
At the... father who had just said "I have no son" and eaten that plate of "roast meat."
Ramsay laughed.
He laughed so hard he rocked back and forth, tears streaming down his face.
He slowly pushed Roose's hands away and stood up from the floor methodically.
He dusted off his tattered prisoner's garb, moving as elegantly as if smoothing a fine formal suit.
The lowly "Reek" vanished.
Replaced by the perverted flayer who once terrified the entire North!
"Father."
Ramsay's voice, carrying a sickly magnetism, echoed clearly in the hall.
"You remember I'm your son... now?"
"You are willing to give me the Bolton name... now?"
"Don't you think... it's all too late?"
"What I, Ramsay, want, I don't need your permission for. I say I am a Bolton, I am a Bolton!"
Roose's heart sank.
Damn, I didn't expect Ramsay to hold such a grudge.
I didn't expect this waste to turn the tables!
What a blunder!
Fuck!
He looked at the mad fire in Ramsay's eyes, an ominous feeling enveloping him.
"You... what do you want?"
"Me?"
Ramsay licked his cracked lips, a naive yet cruel smile appearing on his face.
"I just want... to take back what should have been mine."
"My good father... you shouldn't have treated me like that... you brought this on yourself... uh-hahahahaha..."
After laughing wildly, Ramsay turned, his gaze landing on the ten silent "Blood Guards."
"Alright... it's time to end this..."
Ramsay took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the world's most beautiful power.
Then, he issued his first command as "Master."
"My lovely hounds."
"Flay him for me."
"I want him to be my most perfect piece of art."
"I want him to smile at me forever!!"
The moment the words fell.
The ten "Blood Guards" moved.
Their blue-flame eyes locked onto the ashen-faced Lord of the Dreadfort in unison.
Their curved blades traced ghostly blue arcs in the air, pouncing on their prey like sharks smelling blood.
"No! Ramsay! Stop!"
"I am your father!!"
Roose Bolton let out the last roar of his life, filled with terror and disbelief.
However, the only response was the squelch of blades cutting flesh, and Ramsay's louder, madder laughter.
"Haha... HAHAHAHA!"
"Father! Look! This is true art!"
"Look! How elastic your skin is! How melodious your screams!"
"This is the... final gift from me, your most excellent son!!"
The Great Hall turned into a living hell.
Watching this scene of filial piety, the Northern soldiers turned pale and retreated.
Roslin covered her mouth, stomach churning.
Only Myranda, watching the bloody scene and Ramsay laughing in the pool of blood...
In her beautiful eyes flashed a glimmer mixed with fear, disgust, and... relief.
Ramsay finally showed his ambition.
He even killed his own father...
Lord Lynn would definitely find a way to kill him this time.
But now that Ramsay controlled these dead men...
Could Lord Lynn handle him?
However, Lynn remained seated quietly in his armchair throughout.
He held his wine glass, sipping slowly.
There was even a smile of appreciation on his face.
This tragedy of patricide was merely an entertaining show arranged for him.
He looked at Ramsay.
Watching this mad dog he personally released from the cage bite out its old master's throat in the cruelest way.
Everything was going according to plan.
This was the result he wanted.
A Ramsay completely mad, unbound, left with only pure desire for slaughter and destruction.
Such a mad dog was the best weapon.
Now, Ramsay had completed his ultimate mission.
Lynn could finally take the Dreadfort legitimately.
And just as Ramsay said.
It was time for this farce to end.
Roose Bolton's screams faded.
Only a bloody "artwork," no longer recognizable as human, remained on the floor.
And Ramsay stood beside his "masterpiece," panting heavily.
His face, his body, splattered with warm blood.
In his pale eyes burned a sickly fever of satisfaction.
Ramsay turned slowly.
"Who's next?!"
"Next, it's you!"
"My respected Master... Lord Lynn..."
"Have you decided how you want to die?"
His gaze landed on Lynn, who had looked like an outsider the whole time.
He looked at Lynn.
At the demon who played him like a toy, who turned him into this.
In his eyes, there was no fear, no hatred.
Only... extreme excitement!
He gave Lynn a brilliant, heartfelt smile.
"Lord Lynn, you didn't expect this, did you?"
"Your most loyal Reek has turned the tables!"
"Now, kneel."
"Bring Myrcella, Myranda, all of them here for me to flay for fun!"
"Or else, suffer the consequences!"
Seeing Ramsay's petty triumph, Lynn didn't worry. Instead, he smiled too.
Lynn addressed the room.
"Everyone."
"You saw it."
"How devoid of conscience House Bolton is."
"This beast Ramsay ordered these dead men to kill even his own father."
"I, Lynn, in the name of the King-Beyond-the-Wall and Lord Ned, King in the North, hereby declare."
"Ramsay is sentenced to death!"
With that, Lynn looked at Ramsay with pity.
"Reek."
"You can be sad, you can cry."
"But from today on, your house words will vanish."
"Your house will vanish."
"Your name will vanish."
"Everything about you will vanish."
"In a thousand years, no one will remember the glory of House Bolton."
"And you, Ramsay, my Reek."
"You will be nailed to the pillar of shame in history as a Snow, spat upon by Northerners for eternity."
"This is what you deserve."
Ramsay laughed madly upon hearing this.
"Lynn, are you so scared you're talking nonsense?"
"Do you want some milk of the poppy to calm down?"
Ramsay looked at the "loyal" Blood Guards beside him, a perverted smile on his face.
"Now, these terrifying dead men belong to me!"
Ramsay's expression became manic.
He got emotional and started roaring.
"The one going to hell is you, Lynn, not me!!"
"Blood Guards, kill him!"
"Flay his skin for me!"
Lynn shook his head, smiling and clapping.
"Brilliant."
"Truly brilliant."
"But, I must kindly remind you."
"Do you want to take another look at your most loyal Blood Guards?"
Hearing this, Ramsay glanced to his side.
That one glance scared the soul out of him!
The once incomparably "loyal" Blood Guards were slowly turning their stiff heads, looking at Ramsay in unison.
On those ruined faces, a weird smile was slowly forming.