WMK 130 (Patreon)

Chapter 130: A Different Outcome

The Mountain showed no mercy to his horse, galloping at full speed across the gravel-strewn riverbank, leaving his soldiers far behind.

On the battlefield, Rymun had just mustered all his strength to unhorse a Lannister cavalryman when he looked up and saw the Mountain charging into the fray.

Several Lannister riders, forgetting the enemies before them, scrambled to get out of the way, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and this terrifying figure.

The Mountain swung his greatsword, a fearsome weapon a full six feet long. The horrifying blade gleamed coldly as it swept through the air with a gale-like force, descending sharply upon one of Lord Beric's guardsmen.

The guard had no time to dodge and could only raise his shield in haste.

With a thunderous crash, the greatsword struck the shield, producing a piercing screech of grinding metal.

The guard's horse whinnied in agony and knelt forward. The guard, bleeding from all seven orifices, slid from the saddle like a log, splashing into the water. The icy river quickly submerged him, washing away the blood covering his face to reveal youthful features.

The colossal figure continued his charge towards Beric. Another of Beric's guardsmen attempted to block his path, but the Mountain merely sent his weapon flying with one blow, then followed with a second strike to his chest. The sturdy plate armor split open with a massive gash, sending a spray of blood into the air.

All who witnessed this felt their hearts freeze with terror. Suddenly, Rymun forgot his fear. Letting out a roar, he dug his heels into his horse's flanks and charged straight at the Mountain.

Someone shouted nervously, "My lord, that's the Mountain!"

But Raymond only left him with a back without hesitation.

"Crash!"

Rymun's shield met the Mountain's greatsword, sending a wave of numbness through his arm. Even though he had managed to deflect some of the sword's force by angling his shield, the remaining impact was almost unbearable.

The Mountain possessed strength that bred despair. Rymun relied on precise anticipation and refined skill to hold his ground, but each of the Mountain's blows made it harder to continue.

Failing to kill the man before him after several strikes enraged the Mountain. He rose in his stirrups, threw aside his shield painted with three dogs, and for the first time gripped his absurdly large sword with both hands, raising it high overhead. Only by cleaving this annoying foe in two could he vent his fury.

Rymun raised his shield, his arm already numb from the vibrations, to protect his body, while his right hand thrust his sword towards the Mountain's exposed chest.

"Clang!" The tip of his sword struck the Mountain's chestplate.

Unfortunately, it was the heaviest, thickest armor in all of Westeros, so heavy an ordinary man couldn't even lift it.

Rymun knew his sword could never penetrate that thick plate, yet a satisfied smile spread across his face.

Just as everyone else averted their eyes, unable to watch, a goshawk suddenly dove from the sky towards the Mountain's visor. Its claws hooked into the air holes, stabilizing itself, and its spread wings covered the narrow slits used for vision.

The sudden darkness caused even the Mountain to panic instinctively. He yanked hard on the reins.

His mount, in pain, reared up whinnying, lashing out with its iron-shod hooves. In the chaos, the Mountain lost his seat and crashed down into the water with a great splash. The goshawk beat its wings and soared back into the sky.

Rymun stared dumbfounded at the sudden chaos, then snapped back to reality. There was no time to rejoice at his narrow escape. He urged his horse to Beric's side and bellowed, "Lord Beric, to the river bank! Now!"

Only on the bank could they use their horses' speed to escape that daunting figure.

The Lightning Lord did not linger. He commanded his remaining guards, and together with Rymun, they fought their way towards the nearby riverbank.

The Mountain struggled to his feet in the water, dripping wet. He swung his greatsword at the air and let out a roar of fury.

Turning, he grabbed a nearby Lannister rider, hauled him from his saddle, and flung him into the river. Then he mounted the rider's horse.

Pointing his greatsword forward, the Mountain roared, "Kill them all!"

His guards caught up and charged behind him.

Soon, the Mountain and his men were upon them.

He singled out knights for attack: the North's captain of guards, Ser Willis Woode, Ser Lothar Mallery...

Under his frenzied assault, the allied nobles' situation grew dire. Several knights fell in succession, and the soldiers, now outmatched and surrounded, fell one after another.

Though they had paid a heavy price, the noble allies finally fought their way onto the south bank of the Red Fork. However, a large number of Lannister soldiers still engaged them on the bank, and the situation remained desperate.

Suddenly, the vibration of hooves came from the distance, and a tall plume of dust rose, startling birds into flight overhead.

The desperately fighting allies had no attention to spare, but some among the Lannisters noticed the arrival of these newcomers.

The sound of hooves grew closer. Banners suddenly appeared over the riverbank, snapping in the wind, followed by a line of cavalry that poured down the bank like a wave.

Seeing the black bats on the banners, the Lannister soldiers stirred uneasily.

The allied soldiers also noticed the arriving reinforcements, and each fought with renewed vigor. Even the flames on the red priest's sword seemed to burn brighter.

The wave of cavalry charging down the bank split into three parts before hitting the main force. Ross and Jarman each led two hundred riders to flank from the left and right.

William led the charge at the forefront, channeling spiritual power into the dense points of light in his spiritual world.

The points of light fed back with a fiercely burning fighting spirit, making him feel as if he had activated a righteous fury, craving battle and bloodshed.

The guards and the hundred cavalrymen led by Willis formed a sharp wedge, closely following William, and plunged fiercely into the chaotic battlefield.

The clang of swords, the cries of falling horses, shouts of battle, and screams of agony surrounded William.

Ice swept mercilessly through the ranks, bringing forth showers of blood. The air grew thick with the heavy smell of blood, nearly suffocating.

Through the eyes in the sky, William had long since locked onto the Mountain. He cut through the layers of red cloaks before him like a hot knife through butter, charging straight toward the colossal shadow.

His gaze fixed ahead, he rose slightly in his stirrups, the cold gleam of Ice shimmering in his hand.

The Mountain had also noticed the knight charging directly at him. He grinned viciously and swung his massive sword.

"CLANG—"

A tremendous crash echoed across the battlefield, causing everyone to look over in shock and uncertainty.

The Mountain's heavy frame, combined with the immense impact, was too much for his mount to bear. The horse let out a pitiful whinny and collapsed to the ground, rider and all.

At the same time, William felt an irresistible force transmitted through his sword. He was thrown from his horse, landing heavily on the ground.

The soldiers nearby froze for a moment, then quickly reacted. Bennard and Miles rushed toward William, slamming into two Lannister cavalrymen who tried to trample him while he was down.

Willis, his face expressionless, swung his morningstar at the Mountain, who was struggling to get up, but a bald guardsman blocked it with his shield.

Knights from both sides began brawling around the Mountain and William. Cavalrymen hacked and stabbed wildly at the two, while their guards fought desperately to protect them.

The more agile William was the first to get back on his feet. The noise in his ears and the chaos before him irritated him. He swung Ice, chopping wildly at the red-cloaked cavalrymen around him.

Two red cloaks who couldn't dodge in time fell from their horses with screams. The other riders scattered, suddenly clearing a space around him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Mountain had also gotten up and was just then striking a knight of House Whent from his saddle.

"Mountain! Dare to fight me!" William roared, charging toward him.

"Die!" The Mountain, who held a sky-high hatred for this guy with the incredibly ugly helmet, charged to meet him. The greatsword he swung at William now had a deep notch in it.

The Mountain stood eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and arms as thick as small tree trunks, his entire body brimming with violent power. When he wielded his six-foot greatsword, no one dared get near him.

The Ice in William's hands was also five feet long. The blade, forged of Valyrian steel, was incredibly sharp, and coupled with his astonishing strength, it was equally unstoppable.

"CLANG!" "CLANG!" "CLANG!"

The collision of steel and force was awe-inspiring. A large area around the two men was immediately cleared.

Whether their surcoats bore bats or lions, everyone knew that a mere graze from either of these fearsome weapons meant certain death or severe injury.

Peering through the narrow slit of his helmet, the Mountain saw three new notches had appeared on the thick blade of his sword, and his heart tightened.

William also felt very constrained. Ice was a bit too long for him, preventing him from using many of his techniques.

The Mountain's strength was probably slightly greater than his own. In a simple contest of hacking like this, even wielding Ice, he didn't hold a significant advantage.

'Should I drop Ice and switch to Dark Sister? But what if I lose it? Damn, this is frustrating...'

Just as the two were locked in a stalemate, a piercing trumpet blast suddenly rang out. A group of Lannister cavalry charged towards the two men in an almost suicidal attack.

Seeing this, Bennard and the guards had no choice but to charge forward recklessly. They could allow William to face the Mountain one-on-one, but they couldn't let him face a whole squad of Lannister cavalry alone.

Men, horses, and weapons once again tangled around William, creating extreme chaos.

By the time William had cut down the last enemy in front of him, he saw the Lannister cavalry were retreating. The Mountain, who had somehow managed to remount, looked back, his gaze full of deep hatred, before fleeing north across the river mixed in with the cavalry.

How could he let this scum escape? William grabbed a riderless warhorse, leaped onto it, and prepared to give chase.

An anxious shout came from behind him. "Ser William!"

William turned and immediately smiled. "Lord Rymun, I'm glad to see you safe and sound."

In the original story, Rymun had died fighting at the Mummer's Ford. Seeing him alive and kicking right before his eyes filled William with a sense of accomplishment.

Rymun spoke quickly, "Lord Tywin's main army is not far ahead. It was to avoid them that we were hastily crossing here."

The goshawk, which had been circling high above the battlefield, beat its wings fiercely and flew north. The river, forests, mountains, and the banner-clouded host in the distance were all laid out below.

"Pursue them to the north bank! Kill as many as you can!" William roared.

The cavalry around him howled with bloodlust. Under Rymun's worried gaze, a host of riders splashed through the water, charging into the river shallows.

Beric roared past him.

"Whoosh!" The sound of flames burning reached his ears as the red priest swept by on the other side, brandishing his fiery sword.

Then came the guards from the North, followed by his own guards...

A surge of heroic fervor suddenly welled up in Rymun's heart. He pointed his sword forward, let out a great shout, and spurred his horse into a charge.

"Kill!"