Chapter 701: Assassination

Boom!

The massive ice dragon let out a final, desperate roar before crashing heavily onto the icy plains, stirring up a blinding snowstorm.

Benjen Stark, being too close to the impact, was forced to release the reins of his horse, Red. He found himself buried under the snow, gasping for breath.

Ironically, he no longer needed to breathe. Once, he had struggled against this new reality, trying to draw breath into his lifeless body. But over time, he had grown accustomed to the sensation of not breathing for hours on end.

"It's him!"

"He's the Night King!"

As Benjen lay on the ground, waiting for the snowstorm to settle, he caught a glimpse of a figure atop the fallen ice dragon. The White Walker wore a crown of ice and wielded an ancient stone sword. Benjen had encountered the Night King once before in Winterfell. He had narrowly escaped then, but the Night King's visage was etched into his memory.

Not long ago, amidst the army of the dead, Benjen had searched for two individuals: his sister, Lyanna Stark, and the Night King, the most formidable of the White Walkers. He had ventured beyond the Wall, seeking clues about the White Walkers to prepare for the impending war between the living and the dead.

"Night King!"

The sight of the Night King mounting the ice dragon and driving his mysterious stone sword into its skull filled Benjen with a mix of dread and determination. He reached into his chest and grasped the dragonglass dagger hidden there. The cold touch of the dragonglass sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of his undead state.

Benjen concealed the dagger in his sleeve just as his loyal horse, Red, returned. The horse, now a skeletal creature, approached with a gentle demeanor, despite its grotesque appearance.

"Old friend," Benjen whispered, caressing the horse's mane. He believed that their transformation might be linked to the weirwood tree in Whitetree village, where they had both been ambushed by wights.

"Red, leave this place," Benjen urged, sending the horse away with a gentle pat. The skeletal steed hesitated, looking back at Benjen with a longing in its eyes, before disappearing into the snowstorm.

As the snow settled, the massive form of the ice dragon lay still, its body aflame with blue fire. The Night King stood before it, his hands raised, channeling some arcane magic.

Benjen, the black-clad knight, watched intently. With the dragonglass dagger concealed, he stealthily approached the Night King, blending in with the surrounding wights.

A nearby wight growled, its drooling maw twisted in a grotesque grin. But Benjen paid it no mind. His focus was solely on the figure before him, the Night King.

"Die," Benjen muttered under his breath, drawing the dragonglass dagger from his sleeve. With a determined stride, he lunged at the Night King's back.