Chapter 335: The Killing Fields

This was the rear of the allied forces' line.

King Robert and Duke Eddard, who had personally scouted the enemy situation on the Wall of Despair not long ago, had already descended from the wall using cranes and were now in the rear, personally directing the battle.

This time, Robert did not charge into battle with his warhammer. Perhaps the Night King's earlier display had frightened him.

However, this was not because Robert was a coward.

After all, he was still human, while the Night King was a being that transcended mortals. Perhaps he had not yet reached the level of a god, but he was probably not far off.

Even Viserys' current strength would find it difficult to challenge the Night King one-on-one.

Of course.

If Baelorion was included, it would be a different story. After all, Viserys didn't mind having a true man's battle with the enemy, with the help of his three dragons.

However, the situation at hand was precarious for the allied forces after the Night King's move.

From the position where Robert and Eddard stood, overlooking the battlefield, not just Dorne, but the human alliance lines bearing various family banners began to waver.

Even the troops commanded by Randyll Tarly, the commander of the Riverlands, began to retreat.

The line of the human alliance was rapidly disintegrating.

"What on earth is happening?"

Eddard Stark's brow furrowed, his palm gripping the wooden railing so tightly that his fingernails were slightly white.

His eyes pierced through the white snow, trying hard to find a flaw in the wights.

Then his gaze fell on a fallen soldier of the alliance who had staggered back to his feet.

Caught off guard, he pounced directly onto his comrade who had been fighting side by side with him just a moment ago.

"What..."

Eddard instantly understood what had happened, his face suddenly turning extremely grim.

"How is this possible?"

He remembered that the resurrection of the wights was not this fast. How could this be?

"Your Majesty, Lord Stark, something terrible has happened!"

At this moment.

A panting guard ran up from the stairs below, shouting loudly.

However, there was no need for the guard to report. The Duke of Winterfell already knew everything.

...

For the soldiers on the front line who were fighting fiercely with the wights.

The sudden resurrection of their fallen comrades into fresh wights...

Nothing could be more damaging to morale.

First, there was the psychological pressure of having to attack former comrades.

Second, there was the fear of becoming such a disgusting monster after death.

The morale of the alliance was instantly hit hard, the line began to retreat, showing signs of collapse.

"Do not retreat, hold the line!"

The commanders shouted desperately, but at this point, they could not save the gradually deteriorating situation.

Even some were caught off guard and pulled off their horses by a corpse that suddenly rose from the ground. The wight's mouth dripped with fresh blood as it opened wide and bit down hard on the commander's cheek, followed by a piercing scream from the rear of the battlefield.

"Kill!"

Randyll Tarly, holding his blood-stained ancestral Valyrian steel sword 'Heartsbane', charged into the front line, letting out a thunderous roar.

Crack—

With one swing, he split a wight that had pounced on him into two, as if he had shattered a rotten wooden box.

The wight he had split in two instantly died.

Valyrian steel was the weakness of the wights, and dealing with them was naturally not a problem.

At this moment, Randyll Tarly

was drenched in blood, even the gaps in his armor were soaked with blood, making it exceptionally sticky.

"Huff~"

"Huff~"

The man was panting heavily, having personally slain dozens of wights on the battlefield.

However, these monsters seemed endless, continuously rushing forward. Even he was beginning to feel the strain, his chest heaving, his breath growing heavy.

Crack—

He swung Heartsbane once more, turning to cleave a wight that had lunged at him from behind.

"Roar—"

But at the same time, another wight pounced on him from behind, wrapping its arms around Randyll Tarly's body and biting towards his ear.

The man's helmet had been knocked off in the fierce battle, his bald head smeared with blood from an unknown source, and his face splattered with fresh blood.

Suddenly, a wight tightly embraced him from behind, and a sharp pain shot through his ear, reaching his brain.

The intense pain brought a moment of clarity to his mind, and hot blood flowed down his cheek.

"Ah—"

The renowned general of the Riverlands let out a muffled roar, his facial muscles trembling slightly.

"Get off!"

He forcefully broke free from the wight's grip, gritting his teeth so hard they were almost crushed.

Enduring the intense pain, he turned around and split the wight that had bitten off his ear into two.

Blood stained half of his face, even seeping into his eye, causing a stinging sensation.

Randyll Tarly's face was covered in blood, one eye tightly shut, giving him a somewhat ferocious appearance.

"Lord Tarly!"

"We can't hold on any longer! Please retreat!"

The guards standing beside Randyll Tarly were dwindling.

With his remaining arm, one of them grabbed his lord's arm, his face covered in blood, his voice hoarse as he shouted.

Randyll Tarly, in an attempt to boost morale, had led his guards into the front line. Now, those who had followed him into battle were slowly falling, one by one.

The smoke and snow around them were thick, the soldiers of the Riverlands were falling continuously, being pounced on and savagely bitten by the wights, their screams of agony filling the air.

"Lord, we don't have much time, we must retreat!"

The loyal guard was still shouting hoarsely.

"Retreat..."

But Randyll Tarly, panting heavily, gripping the hilt of his blood-soaked sword, was momentarily lost.

Even though he knew the situation was dire, behind the alliance were the common people of the Seven Kingdoms...

However, just as Randyll Tarly was hesitating, a wight that had come out of nowhere let out a strange cry, pouncing directly onto the guard who only had one arm left, and bit down hard on his neck.

Spurt—

Blood sprayed out instantly, splattering onto Lord Tarly's face.

Randyll Tarly, holding his Valyrian steel sword, shivered slightly, his mind becoming much clearer.

"Gibson!"

Randyll Tarly came back to his senses just in time to see his last guard being pounced on and bitten by a wight.

Suddenly, his eyes turned blood red, and he let out a roar of despair.

"Ah—"

Then, he raised his sword high and swung it down fiercely.