The Narrow Sea, The Stepstones, Cutthroat Isle
"Awoooo—!"
In the middle of the Godswood battlefield, the tension-strung mutineers were suddenly struck by a bone-chilling howl. The moment that terrifying sound tore through the air, Kapo—who had been poised to strike—felt his courage deflate like a punctured bladder.
Kapo's legendary caution was not born of cowardice, but of a deep, visceral recognition of the horror Jon represented. Before entering the Godswood, Jon had held a mobilization meeting at the Pirate Fortress. There, Kapo had witnessed Jon perform the "Promotion Ceremonies" for Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry, and Garo. While crude reavers like Karun dismissed it as "stage magic," a man of Kapo's experience saw it for what it truly was: magic of the oldest and darkest sort.
Decades of surviving the waves had introduced Kapo to things most men only whispered about in nightmares. His fear of the unknown was rooted in a disastrous expedition to the ruins of Old Valyria. In that cursed mist, he had glimpsed entities that defied description—monsters that shouldn't exist. He had watched his own captain attempt to sacrifice the entire crew to appease the void. Having survived by a hair's breadth, Kapo had nurtured a pathological hatred and terror of anything touching the arcane. He had intended to kill Jon the same way he had killed that monster-captain: waiting for a moment of vulnerability to deliver a single, lethal stroke.
"Grrr..."
Under the silver moonlight, a Direwolf the size of a bull manifested near the Heart Tree. Ghost's blood-red eyes were fixed on Kapo's group, radiating a murderous intent so thick it was almost tangible.
Almost immediately, the surrounding forest erupted with agonized screams. Within moments, several of Karun's men came stumbling into the clearing, bloodied and hysterical.
"Help me!" "Drowned God, save me!" "There are monsters in the dark!"
These were the scouts Karun had sent to eliminate the sentries. Familiar with the isle's terrain, the pirates thought they knew every ambush point. But Karun, blinded by the need to reclaim his lost pride, had underestimated the "blessings" Jon had bestowed.
Watching his men break and flee, Karun—who had been locked in a stalemate with Frodo—felt the cold fingers of fear clawing at his heart. Is this truly a trap? he wondered. With his resolve crumbling, his movements became sluggish. In a desperate exchange of steel, his hand-axe was knocked spinning into the darkness.
"Hah—!"
Frodo saw the opening. He lunged, his System-granted shortsword whistling through the air. The blade bit deep into Karun's left shoulder with a sickening crunch of bone.
"My hand! Ah... cough..."
Karun's scream was cut short as Frodo's follow-up thrust pierced his throat. Blood flooded the man's windpipe, drowning his final words in a wet, bubbling gurgle. As Karun collapsed, Frodo pivoted, charging into the fray to assist Merry.
The remaining pirates stood frozen, watching their leader die. While the "Ring Guard" were technically weaker without horses, their System-enhanced attributes far exceeded the raw brutality of the reavers. Merry, in particular, was dancing through the blades. Using the "Vantage" ability—a System gift that allowed him to perceive the rhythm of an attack before it landed—he dodged strikes with impossible grace.
Jon's "Golden Finger" provided more than just classes; it granted specialized "Talent Modules." While a practitioner could eventually awaken these through grueling training, Jon's inner circle had received them as a head-start. Merry's "Vantage" allowed him to find the gaps in any defense, though he still lacked the seasoned technique to finish the fight quickly. As the battle dragged on, the two boys began to merge their foreign muscle memories with the reality of combat. To Kapo, they no longer looked like boys—they looked like lions wearing children's skin.
"You treacherous bastards! You were hiding your strength!" Kapo roared, his mind snapping under the pressure.
"Heh... only now you see it?" Merry laughed, his voice high and sharp. "Too late. Our reinforcements are here!"
Awoooo—!
As if on cue, Ghost blurred into a white streak of lightning. He lunged at a shivering pirate on the flank, his jaws snapping shut around the man's throat with a wet crack. The speed was so absolute that the pirate didn't even have time to raise his buckler.
Rustle... rustle...
Around the Godswood, the sound of movement in the undergrowth intensified, as if a hundred invisible soldiers were closing in.
"Stop with the tricks!" Kapo screamed, his voice breaking into a manic edge. "We are Ironborn! We are protected by the Drowned God! We do not fear heathens!"
Driven to a corner, Kapo's fear inverted into a suicidal bloodlust. He turned toward the Heart Tree and bellowed at the silent, weeping face.
"Brothers! There is no retreat! If we kill the sorcerer in the tree, the spell is broken! Kill the wizard and we live!"
Kapo's logic was desperate but effective. He was convinced Jon had lured them into a "Skinchanging Trap." His only hope was to strike at the heart of the web.
"Cover me! I see where he's hiding! Kill the boy!"
"Praise the Drowned God! For Captain Kapo!"
The Ironborn charged with a renewed, mindless ferocity. Had they fought with this zeal at the start, they might have overwhelmed the two boys. But Frodo and Merry had found their rhythm. They fought with a synchronicity that felt almost magical, their blades carving a path through the reavers.
"Die!"
Kapo led the breakthrough, charging toward the base of the Heart Tree. He raised his heavy battle-axe, aiming for the slumped, motionless figure nestled in the white roots.
"No!"
In the shadows, Narsas watched with mounting horror. He had been the one making the noise in the brush, trying to scare the mutineers into a retreat. He hadn't expected Kapo to snap and charge the one person who was currently defenseless. Ghost was occupied with two other reavers, and Narsas was too far to intervene.
Crack... Boom!
Suddenly, the Heart Tree itself seemed to shiver. A deafening sound of splintering wood erupted, followed by a shockwave that sent a cloud of white bark-dust and ancient ash billowing into the air. Kapo stumbled, shielded his eyes, but didn't stop.
"You won't scare me! Not again!"
Kapo lunged into the white cloud, his axe descending toward the shadow within.
Jon, having just jolted back from his Skinchanging trance at the Wall, was still disoriented. The System's internal clock was flashing, but he had no time to read it. Every instinct screamed Danger!
Clang—!
In a blur of motion, Jon reached into his inventory. He didn't pull the standard iron sword. Instead, his hand closed around the hilt of a weapon rippling with beautiful, dark watermarks—the Valyrian steel blade, Dark Sister.
The impact was cataclysmic. A massive force traveled up the blade, nearly numbing Jon's arm as he parried the axe. He realized with a jolt of adrenaline that he was in the fight of his life.
"If it's death you want," Jon growled, his eyes flashing with the cold light of the North, "then I shall grant it to you!"
Bolstered by his LV3 Warrior Strength, Jon swung Dark Sister in a black, shimmering arc. The blade moved like a lightning strike, the sheer force of the counter-blow sending Kapo reeling backward, his heavy axe notched and trembling in his grip.