Rhaegar hadn't expected them to have a dog.
What was supposed to be an assassination had turned into a face-to-face fight.
Ten mercenaries and one vicious hound.
Still, the advantage was mine, he thought.
Some of the mercenaries wore vicious grins.
Others laughed mockingly.
They spread out and surrounded Rhaegar in the center of the camp.
The lame mercenary couldn't run. He limped forward with his axe raised high.
"You four really were planning something against Harrenhal," Rhaegar said calmly, tightening his grip on the sword while stepping back toward the edge of the camp.
"You even brought help. Looks like I came to the right place. Killing you won't be unjust."
"HA!"
The lame mercenary roared and brought his axe down at Rhaegar's head.
Rhaegar sidestepped left.
Both hands lifted above his head as his sword traced a half circle along his body.
The blade caught the axe handle at an angle.
The axe head slid along the sword.
The mercenary's right arm was forced off balance.
Rhaegar didn't lower his arms.
His thumbs shifted quickly on the hilt.
His wrists twisted.
The sword spun around the center of his grip.
Defense instantly turned into offense-
The blade flashed down toward the mercenary's wrist.
The axe and the hand holding it fell together to the ground.
Rhaegar wasn't finished.
The sword continued spinning above his head.
He slid sideways, turning his body.
Using the momentum of both his twist and the blade's rotation, he brought the sword down again.
A brutal overhead strike.
The mercenary reacted too slowly.
Blocking without a weapon was useless.
CRACK.
His left hand was severed as well.
"AAAAAH!"
The crippled mercenary collapsed onto the ground.
Both bloody stumps pressed against his stomach as he screamed.
His hands were gone.
Rhaegar didn't continue attacking.
Saving stamina mattered more.
"I'LL TAKE ON TEN!"
Rhaegar shouted loudly to pump himself up.
His physical strength surged.
His heart pounded.
Adrenaline flooded his body.
He was thrilled.
Rhaegar raised his sword overhead again in a high guard stance and looked around.
Nine enemies left.
WOOF! WOOF!
The scarred man released the leash.
The vicious dog bared its teeth and charged.
The mercenaries closed in at the same time with swords, shields, and wooden spears.
They had just witnessed Rhaegar's earlier movement, Three rotations of the sword had chopped off both hands.
Another rotation might have taken the man's head.
They now realized the boy was dangerous.
"You little bastard- die!"
"You're the one dying!"
The forest echoed with the shouts of men fighting for their lives.
Birds sleeping in nearby trees burst into flight.
The nine mercenaries had no formation.
They also had to avoid hitting each other.
At most four men could surround Rhaegar at once.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Steel smashed against steel.
Sparks burst through the darkness.
Rhaegar's feet shifted constantly.
His wrists spun.
His sword changed hands rapidly.
He blocked an attack from one side-
Then instantly struck from another.
Slash wrists.
Stab legs.
Cut ankles.
Split groins.
Because of his height disadvantage, most of Rhaegar's attacks targeted the lower body.
The mercenaries had never seen swordsmanship like this.
They swung-
But even while attacking someone else, Rhaegar could twist his wrist and bring the sword back in defense instantly.
Before the mercenary could even retract his blade-
Rhaegar's sword had already spun around toward his crotch.
Human vision weakens in darkness.
In the black forest, lit only by the campfire, the mercenaries didn't see a blade—
They saw a spinning blur of steel.
Often they felt a cut before they even saw the sword.
Rhaegar could even trade injuries.
"HA!"
With a diagonal strike he knocked aside a blade and quickly retreated to a large tree.
He leaned against it, breathing heavily.
Blood dripped from his black hair.
His leather armor was soaked red-
Some blood belonged to the mercenaries.
Some belonged to him.
Even though he used the sword's rotational momentum and avoided direct clashes as much as possible, he was exhausted.
Four men lay on the ground.
One had his throat half severed.
Air from his lungs bubbled blood through the wound.
Two others rolled around screaming while clutching severed wrists.
Together with the earlier cripple-
Out of ten mercenaries, only six could still fight.
"...Haa… haa…"
Rhaegar kept his back to the tree and watched all six enemies carefully.
He began regulating his breathing the way the Kingsguard had taught him.
He needed to recover stamina quickly.
His grandmother Rhaena had never made him squire for a knight.
But Rhaegar had trained with the Kingsguard instead.
And the Kingsguard were widely considered the greatest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms.
Two of them had stayed at Harrenhal for nearly two years:
Lucamore Strong and Lyonel Redwyne.
Later, when Rhaegar attended royal family gatherings, he often asked them questions during the princes' training.
Lucamore Strong was huge and powerful, skilled not only with swords but also with flails, warhammers, and axes.
Lyonel Redwyne had once defeated five Kingsguard at once.
Many considered him the finest warrior alive.
A single sentence from them could save Rhaegar a year of mistakes in training.
Rhaegar himself had once been an athlete.
After graduation he ran a gym and developed a powerful physique.
He had also studied combat weapons extensively.
Combining that knowledge with Kingsguard guidance—
And relentless training without fear of injury thanks to his HP bar—
Rhaegar forged his own style over several years.
"Haa… haa…"
His body swayed slightly with his breathing rhythm.
His stamina bar visibly recovered.
Back at Harrenhal he had already studied these mercenaries.
Only one wore armor, and it was old leather.
Their weapons left at the dining hall were cheap iron.
From their movements he had concluded they were probably former farmers.
Even the fierce-looking dog was all bark and no bite.
If they were truly the legendary killers they claimed to be, they would have already earned knighthood through military service.
Instead they struggled as mercenaries.
Rhaegar had grown up under Rhaena's care with full knightly education.
Knights were professional soldiers.
They trained constantly or fought wars for their lords.
How could untrained peasants compete with years of disciplined combat training?
These mercenaries only looked fierce because of their numbers.
Against real knights they would scatter like rabble.
HP bar.
Swordsmanship.
Enemy incompetence.
Those were Rhaegar's advantages.
That was why he dared face them alone.
"DAMN IT!"
Rhaegar cursed suddenly.
An arrow had pierced his thigh.
"Shoot him!"
The scar-faced man shouted wildly.
The crippled mercenary foamed at the mouth.
He died.
The two men with severed hands began convulsing violently.
They screamed that the sword was poisoned.
"Fight me without bows if you have guts!"
Rhaegar charged.
The six mercenaries retreated into the forest while firing arrows rapidly.
"Damn it!"
Rhaegar swung his sword to block three arrows—
He blocked none of them.
All three struck his body.
At such close range he had no time to react.
And six men were firing at once.
The HP-bar warrior was not invincible.
The earlier melee had already drained half his health.
Too many arrows could still kill him.
Since he couldn't close the distance-
Rhaegar turned and sprinted downhill.
He intended to lure them into terrain he knew well and ambush them there.
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