Apparently, I have a reputation.
"The Wight Hunter."
Who would've thought? When you hunt the dead while everyone else runs from them, you tend to stand out.
Apparently, rumors are spreading about me, even if some of them sound a bit far-fetched.
I mean, yes, technically I can call down lightning, I can set people on fire, and I've got the strength of a giant… I think.
That being said, I'm fairly sure I can't just turn people into whatever I want, or bring them back to life… at least not yet. Maybe someday, and that's a very big maybe. But still, I've got a reputation.
Some don't believe it and dismiss it all as tall tales and exaggerations. And honestly, who could blame them? Some of the rumors even say I can command ice itself, or make trees grow with a single thought… yeah, I'd think it was bullshit too.
"So… you don't take disciples?"
Ah yes, there's also that rumor—that I can grant powers to followers, like some kind of mad sorcerer or cult leader. Quite a lot of stories for a guy who's only been here two months. Don't these people have better things to do? …No, probably not.
"No, I don't take disciples."
That's what I tell one of the village children from the group that mistakenly attacked me. They said they wanted to offer me food and shelter to make up for the offense.
Honestly, I don't really care, but a bed and free food? Well, taking a break now and then doesn't hurt.
At first, the village seemed pretty hostile about me being here. But then the same woman who had first dared to step forward explained who I was and why I was here. Of course, they were more than skeptical—until I gave them a little demonstration. Namely, a column of fire bursting from my hand. After that, they unanimously decided pissing me off was a very bad idea.
Smart people.
Of course, I wasn't just going to freeload off them. Life here already seems harsh enough without an extra mouth to feed offering nothing in return. Luckily for them, the so-called Great Hunter decided to repay their hospitality by fixing anything that could be fixed—tools, weapons, houses, clothes—and cleaning anything that could be cleaned. Houses, clothes, and even the wildlings themselves.
Of course, I'm doing all this to thank the villagers.
There's no hidden agenda whatsoever.
Anyway, back to my current problem—I need to calm these kids down about the rumors before one of them asks me to conjure food out of thin air.
"But you're a wizard," says the little girl of about thirteen. She looks like some wild, Northern version of Luna Lovegood… this world isn't a crossover, right? Gods, I hope not. The last thing I need is a Tyranid invasion to deal with. No, thank you.
Anyway… I really need to stop losing myself in thoughts like that.
"First off, apprentice wizard. Second, what's your point?"
"Shouldn't you look for other wizards? Or make others into wizards, so you can form a group of wizards to do more wizards things?"
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"First, that's called a coven. Second… you might actually have a point, kid."
Should I create a coven? Responsibilities aren't exactly my thing. Like, at all. I'm more the type to do my own thing and just live my life. It's not like I plan to stay here forever, and founding a circle of mages only to run off for a pack of smokes doesn't sound very appealing.
That said, I don't even know how long I'll be stuck here. It's been two months now, and I'm still at apprentice level. Not that I'm complaining—I knew from the start that mastering space-bending magic would take time, a lot of time. And it hasn't even been half a year since I started, so really I'm just impatient. Still, it's frustrating. At least I realize this is going to be a hard road.
Sometimes I feel like I'm overthinking it. What if the kind of magic I'm trying to master won't be within reach for a long time? A very long time. It might take me over a century, and I've no idea if I'll even be alive by then.
At least I'm talented at this magical mess. Even at apprentice level, I'm not quite at the point where I could wipe out an army on my own… but I'm getting dangerously close.
"Are you even listening to me?" My thoughts are cut short by the girl's voice, followed by a kick to my shin. I don't even feel it.
"Not at all. What were you saying?" I answer honestly, which makes her pout in annoyance—though it's honestly kind of adorable.
"Mother's calling me. I have to go. Goodbye, mister sorcerer." She says it without even waiting for a reply from me… rude.
I watch the Game of Thrones version of Luna Lovegood run off toward one of the houses I'd improved for a few seconds before turning my gaze to the massive bonfire the villagers had asked me to light. Which, to me, feels like a really stupid idea. In a land crawling with wights and cannibals, setting up a giant beacon of fire to mark the exact spot of your home sounds like a very complicated way of committing suicide. Then again, these people have probably been surviving against the dead and man-eaters since before I was even born… well, "born" theoretically, if I'd actually been from this world. You get the idea.
Anyway.
I stay another good hour sitting in front of the fire, not really thinking about anything in particular, just practicing my craft on small objects that need fixing. Eventually, I'm pulled out of my non-thoughts by the sound of footsteps—muffled by the snow but loud enough to my ever-sharpened senses. Because hey, maybe I've helped improve their village, but I'm not about to make the rookie mistake of letting my guard down.
As far as I'm concerned, everyone's an enemy until proven otherwise. This isn't a show I watch behind a screen anymore—it's real life. And real life here is cruel and merciless.
But I digress… again.
"Greetings, hunter." My eyes settle on the old man who serves as the village's leader.
I give him a nod as he sits down a few paces away from me. Neither of us says anything—him for reasons unknown, me because, frankly, I couldn't care less.
The silence lasts a few minutes before the old man finally speaks.
"I'd like to ask you a question, if you'll permit it."
I'm not really interested in what he has to say, but I give him a small gesture to continue.
"Are you a messenger of the gods?"
My gaze snaps to him, brows furrowing in confusion and surprise. Subtle, this guy is not.
"No." At least, I don't think so. The Old Gods, the Seven, or R'hllor don't exactly have the power to summon people from other universes and hand them powers like mine… right?
Sure, R'hllor grants his followers certain abilities. Same with the Old Gods. And the Seven… well, the Seven are basically useless.
Sure, R'hllor grants his followers certain powers, same with the Old Gods, but nothing compared to what I can do—or what I could potentially do. Besides, the Lord of Light's cult is openly contemptuous of other faiths, so I doubt that if the Lord of Light resurrected someone with my current abilities, he'd pick anyone but one of his own zealots. Same goes for the Old Gods.
Do I want to pray to weird trees with faces? No.
Do I want to set people on fire? Yeah… but that's only because I discovered I've got a bit of a magical pyromaniac streak.
Do I want to set people on fire in the name of a god? Fuck no.
"I'm not the servant of any god." At least not that I know of. And even if I was, I'd tell him to fuck off.
"Why the question?"
The old man stares at the massive bonfire without a word, while I stare at him, waiting. The idea of using my telekinesis to toss him into the flames starts to creep dangerously into my head. Finally, as my magic hums beneath my skin, he speaks—barely saving his life. Gods, I'm really getting way too quick to jump to magical murder.
"I wanted to know who I should send my thanks to."
My brows knit together at his words, and I fix him with a look, waiting for details.
"Few are ignorant of their existence. Those who are, are either fools or blind."
"Those of us lucky enough to escape saw our brothers, our sisters, our fathers, our mothers, our sons, our daughters… die, and then rise again to join those abominations. Even if we discovered fire as their weakness, it changes nothing. We are still hunted on our own lands, left with nothing but flight as our option."
"Until now." He finally says, staring right into my eyes. Which makes me frown even harder.
"You think I'm some kind of savior, old man?"
I'm the type of guy who won't do shit during an assault because, one: it's not my problem, and two: why the hell would I risk my life for a stranger? So people can look at me afterward and go, "Oh my gods, he was so brave." Yeah, fuck no.
"If that's the case, you're not going to like what you hear."
To my surprise, the old bastard bursts out laughing—rough, tired laughter.
"Oh no, far from it." He clutches his belly, which only makes me scowl deeper.
"No, you're no hero. But you're here. And so are they. They want to plunge the world into eternal winter, and I suppose you don't want that… do you?"
His voice, confident and amused, just makes me more confused. And the fact that he's right doesn't help.
I mean, yeah, I need time to master my magic if I want even a chance at going home. A world full of zombies and endless cold doesn't exactly help with that… then again… no. I'm not that much of an asshole. Eternal winter? That's a no-go.
"It's a simple matter. Two powerful beings—you, and the abomination that commands the wights—living in the same world where coexistence is impossible. It will lead to a clash."
"Either the world is saved from eternal winter, or the world succumbs to it."
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That clever son of a bitch.
"The gods did not send you. So I'll send my prayers and thanks to you." He finishes with a faint smile, before walking away lightly.
"Who says I'll succeed? I might fail. The world might die." I tell him, in a half-hearted attempt to… honestly, I don't even know. Probably just me trying to shove away a burden I don't want.
"That's true, you could fail." He stops, turns, and smiles at me.
"But I have faith. Faith in you, great hunter."
And then he leaves me, with a bitter taste in my mouth. Because even though it pisses me off… he's right.
If I want to reach my goal, Big Smurf has to die—and vice versa. So I'll have to kill him. But as for the rest, they'll just dress it up as religious or heroic bullshit.
Fucking great.