Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos-Chapter 105 - - The White Walkers (IV)

"Four down, sixteen to go. When all my Primarchs are born, the universe will know humanity for the first time with my twenty Legions of Adeptus Astartes." - Aenar I Targaryen, looking at Sanguinius.

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With a thud, Caraxes landed on the ground. His long neck snaked through the air, and he opened his mouth, shooting a funnel of flames at a group of Wights still alive at the moment. There was fire all over the battlefield; of the army of tens of thousands of Wights, there were now only a few hundred left.

Aenar didn't know if he had killed all the White Walkers, but he was sure he had eliminated most of them. Which, in all honesty, was a great victory. Depriving the Night King of his necromancers was something very valuable, almost a hundred dead White Walkers, a feat he hadn't expected to accomplish before the war against the Night King.

Suddenly, Aenar looked towards the Far North. His eyes shone brightly; the dome that prevented him from communicating with the Nexus of Time and Space and the Warp Dimension had disappeared, or rather had been broken.

Looking up, he saw that the color red had advanced a little against the color blue.

He knew that his victory over the forces of evil had increased R'hllor's power, giving the Red God a slight advantage, even though he was on another continent and in enemy territory.

At the same time, Aenar's Prescience returned to normal. Images of the future began to appear before him, endless possibilities laid out in front of him. Honestly, that dome, placed by some god, made him realize that he wasn't invincible, at least not yet.

The only thing limiting his power was his own body. But Aenar could wait: his body was transforming and would become powerful without him having to do anything. However, there were a few things he could do to speed up this process of improvement.

He didn't like being unable to connect to the Nexus of Time and Space, including the Warp. Even if it was only for a few minutes, those minutes could be crucial in the Great Crusade.

Especially for him, who needed to act as a beacon for when the Spaceships crossed the Warp, traveling to other points in the known universe.

If he couldn't act as a beacon, how could the navigators move in the Warp, a place that had absolutely no sense of direction or even the concepts of high and low?

However, Aenar felt a cold gaze upon him. The dragon prince raised his eyes, and his vision seemed to travel hundreds of kilometers away, until it landed on the peak of a snowy mountain. In that inhospitable place, where no race could flourish, a figure was riding a horse.

He had blue skin, black armor covered his body and his eyes were a deep shade of blue. On his rocky-looking head, a crown of ice glittered like blue crystals.

The two exchanged glances, intense and murderous. Aenar was the champion of light and the Night King the champion of darkness. Both were born to be eternal enemies. There was no possibility of friendship between them; their race had determined that they would be adversaries.

However, there was a feeling that they both shared at that moment.

A feeling of anticipation for the fight that would take place in the future.

Curiously, they were both confident that they would win the war. Aenar was confident because he could see the future with his Prescience, and the Night King was confident in his own strength. Both were extremely certain of their victory and never even considered the possibility of losing to the enemy.

Aenar stopped looking at the Night King and turned his attention to the army of Savages, who were clearing the battlefield and gathering up the bodies of their dead comrades.

Guiding Caraxes towards the Free Folk, who were gathering up the corpses, Aenar approached and spoke with a determined tone:

"Let me help you with that."

Mance, who was about to set fire to the dead, was surprised for a moment, but lowered his torch and gestured for Aenar to continue.

Aenar spoke in a gentle tone:

"Dracarys."

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Caraxes didn't hesitate. He opened his mouth and unleashed a jet of red flames onto the corpses.

Mance, looking at his wife among the dead, held his son and showed him the scene, wanting the baby to remember his mother for once. What Mance didn't know was that the baby would actually remember his mother.

A depressing atmosphere hung over the now destroyed camp; sounds of weeping and wailing filled the air.

Widows, sons, daughters, brothers, mothers and fathers had all lost someone. Even though the death toll had not yet been counted, Aenar could see that at least thirty thousand people had died in the attack. Most of them were men who had fought.

Aenar let out a sigh. He wished he had foreseen the attack with his Prescience to prevent so many deaths, but fate was cruel and didn't care about mortals.

Descending from Caraxes, Aenar walked up to Mance and placed his hand on the King Beyond the Wall's shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort and mourning. He never wanted to feel what Mance was feeling at that moment. Just imagining his wives dying gave him an uncontrollable urge to destroy everything.

"What's the baby's name, Mance?" Aenar asked, looking at the blond-haired, blue-eyed child. He could see that the baby had mutated from the Warp, developing extra limbs on its back. It wasn't noticeable at the moment, but it would become obvious as the child grew.

"I ask that Your Grace appoint him." Mance looked at his son with a gentle gaze and spoke with a determined tone.

Aenar didn't hesitate to reply:

"Sanguinius."

The Primarchs were important. They were the generals who would lead his twenty Legions. He currently had four, including Sanguinius, who was still a baby.

(Note: Titus, Sigismund, Moqorro [Vulkan] and Sanguinius.)

They would be demigods, immortal beings and the warriors most loyal to him and, in some ways, more his children than his own blood children.

Not that his sons and daughters would be weak. On the contrary, they would be extremely powerful, but Aenar would never share his power with them.

It wasn't out of selfishness or reluctance to give up his power. He simply didn't want his sons and daughters to bear the burden of seeing the future.

Aenar knew well that the Prescience changed a person. If they could change something for the better, they would. But with the Chaos Gods on the prowl, any good intention could easily be twisted.

How could Aenar allow such a thing to happen? Even if his sons and daughters inherited his gifts, they would never inherit the gift of Prescience. He alone would be enough to see the future.

He didn't want his sons and daughters to fall to the forces of chaos because they wanted to do something good.

"Sanguinius." Hearing his son's name, Mance didn't complain about how exotic the name was, he just felt that the name had an important meaning for Aenar and that satisfied him. Even if he died in the future, his son would at least have the king's support. This relieved him, as he felt he could be one of those tens of thousands of dead men.

When Aenar was looking around, he noticed Leda next to him, the girl was still in clean armor, which wasn't surprising, Wights and White Walkers don't have blood, so it's hard to get sucked into something that doesn't exist in the enemy.

"I've captured three Wights, my king." Leda spoke, remembering the task Aenar had given her earlier.

"Good work, worthy of being my Lady Commander." Aenar nodded with satisfaction; with the Wights, it would be much easier for the Northern Lords to bow down.

Leda seemed immensely happy with Aenar's praise, she wished she had more enemies for her to capture and receive more praise from her king.

"Let's go." Aenar spoke in a calm tone, ignoring Leda's abnormally happy look.

"Are they going to kneel?" Leda followed Aenar and asked in a calm tone.

"They've already knelt, but they don't know it yet." Climbing into Caraxes' saddle, Aenar replied. He looked at the tens of thousands of people in front of him and let out a sigh. Only a real tragedy could change humans' minds and make them want to evolve.

Which was strange.

You had to be facing a precipice to want to change.

Humanity was strange, but perhaps that was why humanity was the reason the Chaos Gods were born. This chaotic and contradictory entropy of humanity was the perfect nourishment for the Immaterium.

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