Solo Leveling in Westeros

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They came as a wave, thousands upon thousands of wights surging forward, their limbs jerking in unnatural rhythm, their pale eyes burning with the cold will of the Others. The frozen ground shook under the charge of undead giants, each step splintering ice. Wolves of frost and bone leapt over the smaller corpses, jaws snapping with the sound of shattering ice.

Aeron's violet-lit eyes swept across them, unblinking. His greatsword hung loose in his hand, the black metal already wreathed in dark flame that coiled and hissed around it.

He stepped forward once, his shadow army following without a sound. Then his voice rang across the battlefield, low and commanding a single word that cracked through the roar of the dead.

"Attack."

The air shuddered as [Monarch's Domain] activated. It was as though the very shadow of the world deepened, spilling out from Aeron's feet and racing across the battlefield. The ground itself turned black beneath his army's boots. The moment it touched them, violet flames licking along the edges of their blades, axes, and claws. The pulse of his power made the air heavy, the snow slow, every movement of his soldiers faster, heavier, more brutal.

And then, they struck.

Aeron's direwolf Garm hit the wights first, a hulking beast of pure shadow and fur, its eyes glowing in the dark. It ripped through three corpses in a single leap, jaws crushing skulls like dry twigs, flinging bodies aside as if they weighed nothing.

From the flank, the shadowcats darted in, silent as midnight, their bodies rippling with speed unnatural for their size. They tore through the dead with precision slashing hamstrings, dragging wights screaming into the dark before tearing them apart. While his shadow red priests burned their remains.

A massive shape moved through the center like an avalanche Aeron's icebear, each pawstrike crushing bones to powder. It swatted an undead giant in the chest with such force the creature toppled, smashing through its own ranks.

The giant in Aeron's service roared and met another of its kind head-on, his weapon a titanic club, smashing through rotting flesh and frozen sinew in a single, brutal attack.

Above them, Vaydris descended. his spell blotted out the pale sky, shaking the snow. Fire spilled from it, rolling over the ranks of the dead, turning ice and flesh alike into steaming sludge.

Aeron himself was already moving. He cut into the enemy with an unholy speed, the greatsword's black flames leaving streaks of burning night in its wake. A wight lunged his blade split it from collarbone to hip without slowing. An undead direwolf sprang he caught it mid-air with a single-handed swing, sending it spinning into the mass behind it.

One of the giants raised a tree trunk, aiming to crush him. Aeron stepped forward, shadows whipping around his legs, and leapt impossibly high, impossibly far. His sword came down in a two-handed strike that bit through wood, flesh, and bone in one motion, the black fire erupting outward and consuming the giant's upper half in a violent blast.

The horde tried to close around him. He welcomed it. His movements blurred every strike so precise and lethal, every step carrying him through enemies like a shadow. His soldiers fought with the same unrelenting ferocity, [Monarch's Domain] binding them together like an unstoppable tide of death.

Aeron tore through another rank, shadows coiling off him in great tendrils. His voice rose above the slaughter, calm and certain a promise to the dead.

"You will not even get to see the wall.."

Snow swirled madly like it was controlled by someone, a roaring wall of white. The blizzard bit at Aeron's face, frost clinging to the dark edges of his armor, yet his violet eyes burned through it all. His greatsword, black as a moonless night, plunged deep into the corded neck of an undead giant. The beast gave a shuddering groan before collapsing like a mountain of rotting meat, snow exploding outward in a white-and-red spray.

For a moment, Aeron stood atop its fallen carcass, his chest rising with measured breath, eyes scanning the chaos. Shadows clashed with the dead all around his knights, wolves, shadowcats, icebears, and the towering figure of his giant wading through the swarm like a god.

Then something cut through the haze. A darker shape beyond the blizzard.

He narrowed his gaze. Through the flurry, he saw a figure astride an undead steed, the pale form unmoving, crowned in jagged frost. Beside him, a small host of White Walkers, each mounted on a skeletal horse, their weapons glowing with a deathly blue light.

A slow, feral grin pulled across Aeron's lips.

"That's him…" he murmured, his voice was low.

The grin became something sharper, predatory. Without hesitation, he leapt down, the snow crunching hard under his boots. His greatsword shifted in his grip, dark flames burning hotter along its edge as he strode forward.

Undead surged to meet him. He didn't slow.

"Out of the way, small fries!"

The first wight to block him was cleaved clean in two. A frostbitten wolf leapt at him, and he grabbed its skull with his free hand crushing it while passing. His shoulders slammed through the horde, every step a hammer blow that sent rotting bodies flying. The shadows followed, knights cutting in perfect formation, wolves lunging and tearing, shadowcats slipping between the undead to rip at throats. Vaydris and the shadow priests tore the undead ranks with his flame spells scattering snow in violent gusts.

The White Walkers dismounted, moving toward Aeron in cold, calm strides. The Night King remained seated, still as stone, blue eyes locked on Aeron.

Aeron stopped just short from the walkers, black flames wrapping his blade. He met that glacial gaze.

"I finally got to see you."

The Night King said nothing, only tilted his head slightly, his icy sword resting loosely at his side.

Aeron moved first. [The Red God's Wrath] burst from his palm, an eruption of holy fire that roared across the snow, engulfing some of the approaching Walkers. Their screams split the storm before they collapsed into shards of ice and drifting ash.

Without pause, Aeron dismissed the greatsword, the Gauntlets of the Warrior materializing on his fists, plates of metal rippling with power. He drove a single blow into the ground and the earth split like glass under a hammer, a spiderweb of cracks racing forward until it stopped just before the Night King's mount. The snow shook. The blizzard seemed to falter.

Then Aeron lunged again.

He was a blur through the snow, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His gauntleted fist swung toward the Night King's skull with bone-breaking force.

A cold, clawed hand rose, catching the blow mid-strike. Frost erupted across Aeron's arm in an instant, creeping up the black metal of his gauntlet. The two locked eyes violet fire meeting glacial blue.

Aeron's smirk faltered for the first time.

He struck with his other fist, aiming for the crown of ice. The Night King's blade flashed up, catching the blow in a perfect parry. This time, the ice spread over Aeron's other arm, searing like liquid winter through steel.

The cold bit deep, and Aeron's teeth clenched. He twisted, shifting his stance, then unleashed a brutal kick into the side of the Night King's undead horse. The beast let out a hollow scream before collapsing, both rider and mount toppling into the snow.

Aeron stepped back, shaking out his arms, flakes of frost falling from the metal like shattered glass. He stared at the thin ice still clinging to his fingers.

"Gotta be careful with this bastard..." he muttered under his breath, eyes never leaving the pale figure rising from the snow. "His strength… clearly is something else."

Aeron swapped his weapon once more back to his Greatsword and his hand closed around its hilt. The black metal pulsed faintly, hungry, almost alive, as if it knew the foe before it.

With a deep breath, Aeron stepped forward, muscles coiling, and then with a roar that tore through the howling winds, he swung in a vicious, full-bodied arc.

The black flames erupted along the blade's edge, wild and hungry, scorching the very air. The heat was so fierce that the snow beneath his feet hissed and melted before the first ember touched it, steam rising in ghostly tendrils around him.

The Night King didn't step back. He simply raised his ice-forged sword, and caught the strike head on.

Steel and ice collided with a sound that split the storm.

BOOM

The shockwave exploded outward, hurling snow and broken wights in all directions. The ground beneath them cracked like shattered glass, fissures racing outwards. Aeron's cloak and hair snapped wildly in the force of the wind, violet eyes burning brighter against the storm.

The Night King's cold blue gaze was unblinking, the frost swirling around him untouched by the heat. Aeron gritted his teeth, leaning into the clash the black flames hissing against the ice like a living thing desperate to devour it but it couldn't. "You will die today for good!" Aeron howled.

Neither moved. Neither gave an inch.

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