Lynn looked down at Melisandre kneeling before him, staring at the heavy ruby she held high. His mind was an absolute knot of conflict.
Killing her meant securing two god-tier skills. Eternal Youth. Fiery Resurrection.
Immortality, and the absolute power to bring anyone back from the dead. With those two skills permanently locked in, Lynn wouldn't have to fear a damn thing, no matter what apocalyptic threats the future threw at him. He could go absolutely wild.
The temptation was massive!
But to just butcher a living, breathing, smoking-hot woman right here? She wasn't just flawless with a top-tier body—she was an incredibly rare, highly skilled magic user. Keeping her alive as a tool offered way too much utility to just casually throw away.
Lynn's brain spun at light speed.
Wait!
A highly calculated thought violently clicked into place. Melisandre was a fanatic of the Lord of Light. She was his literal proxy in this world. If she died, her so-called god wouldn't just sit back and watch, right?
Wait... couldn't he just exploit a bug in the system?
First, he breaks down the ruby and secures the skills. Then, before she fully ages to death and her physical body crumbles into ash, he actively runs her through with his sword. And then? He instantly uses his newly acquired Fiery Resurrection to bring her right back!
The skills are his. The woman stays alive.
He gets absolutely everything! It was perfectly, lethally flawless!
However, before executing the play, he needed to verify one crucial detail: the exact limitations of this resurrection magic. If he acted on impulse and she actually stayed dead, it would be a massive fucking joke. He absolutely wasn't going to throw away a highly loyal subordinate just because of his own stupidity.
"Get up."
Lynn completely ignored the ruby.
Melisandre froze. She had just actively offered him her literal life and absolute devotion. Why the hell was this man completely unmoved? Was he actively testing her?
"Put your clothes on," Lynn added, his voice dead flat. "I have questions."
Melisandre didn't dare disobey. She slowly rose from the stone floor, pulling the heavy crimson robes back over her flawlessly sculpted body. But she kept the ruby—the literal anchor to her life—clutched tightly in her palm.
It was her life. Of course she valued it. But if Lynn demanded it, she was absolutely willing to offer it up in the name of the Lord of Light. Honestly, death would be a profound release. She had walked this earth for far too long. If her death provided him utility, he could simply take it.
"You claimed the gem around your neck is a divine gift from your Lord of Light," Lynn said, settling heavily back into his chair, his fingers methodically tapping the armrest. "And that if you lose it, you die."
He paused.
"Fiery Resurrection. Tell me exactly how it works."
Melisandre's entire body violently shuddered. Her head snapped up, her crimson eyes locked onto Lynn in absolute, paralyzed disbelief.
Fiery Resurrection! How the hell did he know that name?! It was one of the absolute highest-tier divine miracles bestowed by the Lord of Light! Aside from herself, there wasn't a single living soul on the entirety of Westeros who could possibly know it!
He truly was the Prince That Was Promised! He was absolutely omniscient!
Every last shred of doubt in Melisandre's mind permanently vaporized. Her fanatic devotion to Lynn violently peaked.
"Yes, my Master," she breathed, her voice cracking with euphoric emotion. "Fiery Resurrection is the absolute greatest miracle the Lord of Light can bestow upon a devout believer!"
"It can violently rip a chosen soul straight back from the realm of the dead!"
"And beyond that, whatever lethal injuries or terminal afflictions the person suffered in life are completely permanently erased during the resurrection process."
So that means her rapid, terminal aging could be entirely wiped out too? "Oh?" Lynn arched an eyebrow, carefully feigning a casual curiosity. "Absolutely anyone?"
"No." Melisandre slowly shook her head. "First and foremost, it requires the absolute consent of the Lord of Light."
"Only a champion recognized by the Red God as a weapon against the Long Night is worthy of resurrection."
"And tearing a soul back from death demands an apocalyptic toll."
"It requires a massive amount of... King's Blood to serve as fuel!"
King's Blood? Lynn actively thought back to the original storyline. Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord, had been resurrected multiple times. He practically refused to stay dead. And he didn't seem to pay a massive price.
No, wait. He absolutely did.
With every single resurrection, a permanent chunk of his soul was violently ripped away. Memories, human emotions, his very humanity—it all slowly eroded. He mutated into a hollow, dead husk existing solely to execute his mission. His lethal wounds—the axe to the skull, the heavy rope burns around his throat—never faded. And his physical body actively decayed, perpetually drained and freezing cold.
Except for the absolute first time Thoros brought him back.
Thoros had strictly used a Red God burial rite called the "Last Kiss." It was supposed to be a meaningless, ceremonial comfort for the dead. But driven by profound, crushing grief and absolute faith, Thoros had begged R'hllor, unknowingly transferring his own life force—his "fire of life"—directly into Beric. It was essentially a massive, highly potent transfer of raw life energy.
But after that, his resurrections became suspiciously casual...
Lynn finally, perfectly understood exactly how the Lord of Light operated. If a pawn was highly useful to his apocalyptic agenda, he would effortlessly resurrect them, even without the required fuel. But if the pawn was completely irrelevant? He'd actively calculate whether they were actually worth the investment.
"So you're saying only a highly unique individual possessing King's Blood can actively serve as fuel?" Lynn asked.
"Yes," Melisandre replied with absolute, ironclad certainty. "The raw power contained within blood and fire is unfathomable."
"Stannis was only capable of incubating a shadow assassin because the royal blood of both House Baratheon and House Targaryen flows directly through his veins."
Makes perfect sense. Lynn fully grasped the mechanics. The definition of "King's Blood" was incredibly broad and exploitable.
"Then take a look," Lynn said, slowly standing up and closing the distance to stand directly over Melisandre. "Do I possess King's Blood?"
I'm insanely overpowered right now. I absolutely have to have it, right?
Melisandre's breathing completely stopped. She swallowed hard, her nerves violently spiking. She slowly closed her eyes and extended a trembling hand, meticulously attempting to read the raw, dormant power flowing beneath Lynn's skin.
The absolute second she did.
All the color violently drained from her face. Her expression warped into sheer, unadulterated chaos!
She felt it!
A massive, apocalyptic ocean of power, as terrifying as a detonating volcano! Within that power, there was the heavy, ancient breath of nature—absolutely pure and majestic! It was undeniably the magic of the Old Gods!
But! Why?!
Why the hell was there something else deeply buried within it? A freezing, highly toxic aura that violently made her physically nauseous and shake with absolute terror! It was the bitter cold. It was literal death. It was the Long Night!
It was the absolute antithesis of the Lord of Light—the lethal power of the White Walkers, the Great Other!
Melisandre's mind permanently blanked. She was completely, utterly paralyzed.
How?! How was this physically possible?!
How could one single human vessel simultaneously contain two absolute, diametrically opposed forces of apocalyptic magic?! What in the actual fuck was he?!
Melisandre felt her entire religious foundation violently fracture. For a terrifying fraction of a second, she actively doubted if the man standing before her was truly the Prince That Was Promised.
Or was he an apocalyptic monster, infinitely more terrifying than the White Walkers themselves?
No! He absolutely had to be!
The prophecy could not be flawed! The Lord of Light's absolute divine vision could not be wrong! The Lord of Light had personally spoken directly to her! Yes! That had to be it! The true, absolute savior of the world must possess the omnipotent power to violently conquer and subjugate all forms of magic!
Melisandre aggressively, ruthlessly crushed her internal panic. She opened her eyes, and the crimson depths were completely saturated with a psychotic, fanatical devotion that completely dwarfed anything she had felt before.
"Yes!" Her voice violently shook, practically shattering from sheer ecstasy. "I feel it!"
"Your bloodline is the absolute most powerful, most untainted King's Blood I have ever encountered in my centuries of life!"
"It feels as though it does not even belong to this world... I have never felt anything so ancient and unfathomable."
"Compared to you, Stannis is nothing but a pathetic, flickering candle!"
"You are the absolute, undeniable, born King!"
Lynn's eyes flickered with a brief hint of surprise.
Not belonging to this world? Well, technically, that was absolutely true. He was born in modern China. If you traced his lineage back far enough, he was a literal descendant of the Yan and Huang Emperors. Claiming "King's Blood" wasn't really a stretch. Lynn completely dropped the thought; he had already secured the exact intel he needed.
"Excellent." His face remained an entirely unreadable, dead-calm mask.
But to Melisandre, that absolute, freezing composure only violently cemented her fanatic theory. Look at him! He absolutely already knew everything! He is so infinitely powerful that mortal praise means absolutely nothing to him!
"You have thoroughly proven your devotion," Lynn stated slowly, locking his dead gaze onto her.
Melisandre was completely engulfed in absolute, euphoric ecstasy. She immediately moved to drop aggressively back to her knees to swear her permanent fealty.
But right at that exact second.
She looked down.
The heavy ruby clutched in her palm was rapidly, violently losing its burning glow! An apocalyptic, indescribable wave of pure, terminal weakness instantly siphoned every single drop of strength from her body!
"No... no..."
Melisandre's eyes violently bulged in pure, unfiltered horror. She stared dead at Lynn, absolutely paralyzed. She had absolutely no fucking clue what was happening!
[DING! Breakdown Successful!] [Congratulations to the host for acquiring: Skill - Eternal Youth. Magic - Fiery Resurrection!] The icy system prompts violently echoed inside Lynn's skull.
He completely ignored them. His cold, dead eyes locked onto Melisandre's face.
And as she stared back at him with bottomless, terrified confusion, Lynn slowly, methodically drew Longclaw from its scabbard.
"Don't panic," Lynn whispered, his voice lethally soft. "You'll be right back."
SHHHNK! The razor-sharp Valyrian steel met absolutely zero resistance, driving cleanly and violently straight through Melisandre's heart.
Melisandre's entire body locked up. The frantic, fanatic light in her crimson eyes rapidly, permanently extinguished. Even as her soul left her body, she couldn't comprehend why the absolute Master she had just sworn her life to had completely, ruthlessly butchered her.
Lynn smoothly ripped the longsword free.
Melisandre's body heavily collapsed onto the freezing stone floor like a sack of wet meat. She was completely, undeniably dead.
"Sorry about this. Just sit tight for a second," Lynn muttered, staring down at her bleeding corpse without a single ounce of hesitation.
He crouched down, aggressively planting his bare hand directly against her forehead. A massive, burning surge of raw power violently erupted from his palm.
"Fiery Resurrection!"
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