The steady rush of flowing water echoed through the morning air.
A cool sea breeze swept across the northern bank of the Blackwater Rush, where the mighty river met the sea. Autumn had already brought a chill to the land, a reminder that winter was drawing ever closer.
Rows of golden battle banners fluttered proudly above the sprawling military camp. Four different emblems adorned the flags, each representing one of Gendry's growing alliances.
Standing in the center of the training grounds was Gendry.
His coarse black hair was as dark as midnight, while his ice-blue eyes could be warm and cheerful one moment and as cold and resolute as forged steel the next.
Every morning, Gendry sparred with his knights and commanders.
Sometimes he fought with a longspear.
Sometimes with a sword and shield.
Sometimes with a heavy warhammer.
For a true knight, training was a lifelong pursuit—a never-ending cycle of improvement meant to survive the battlefield, win glory, and avoid becoming another forgotten corpse.
"Come!"
Gendry beckoned to his opponents.
Today's challengers included Harrold Hardyng, Jon Snow, Robar Royce, Ser Guyard Morrigen, Roland Storm—the Bastard of Nightsong—and several other accomplished warriors.
In the past, single combat had been enough to challenge him.
Now...
It took more than a dozen elite fighters working together just to make him exert himself.
Watching from the sidelines were Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Tyene Sand, the Crimson Lady Melisandre, and Anguy the Archer.
Jon Snow and "Dumb Harry" Hardyng stepped forward first, carrying sword and shield.
Both possessed considerable talent.
However, compared to Gendry, they still lacked experience and refinement.
Steel clashed.
Clang! Clang!
Sword-and-shield combat demanded immense endurance.
Few warriors ever had the opportunity to cross blades with the greatest Storm warrior of their generation.
"Careful!"
Jon barely saw a blur before Gendry's sword descended like a crashing tidal wave.
He instinctively raised his shield.
Crack!
The sturdy oak shield shattered instantly.
Before Jon could recover, Gendry's blade changed direction in one smooth motion, sweeping across horizontally.
Gendry's immense height and overwhelming strength left Jon's greatest advantage—his speed—completely meaningless.
Jon desperately raised his sword.
Bang!
The impact sent him flying backward.
Before he had even regained his footing...
He was already defeated.
Harrold Hardyng stepped forward next.
The moment Gendry attacked, Harrold saw nothing but flashing steel.
His own blunt sword desperately parried left and right.
Every strike that landed felt like being hit by a galloping warhorse.
The force traveled through his arms and into his entire body.
"Gods..."
After only a handful of exchanges, every muscle in Harrold's body ached.
His helmet rang violently.
His vision blurred.
He couldn't launch a single proper counterattack.
There was no opportunity for feints.
No chance for technique.
The difference in strength and speed was simply too overwhelming.
Finally...
Only three opponents remained.
Robar Royce.
Ser Guyard Morrigen.
Roland Storm.
The three exchanged determined looks before charging together.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gendry spun through the battlefield like a whirlwind.
His sword carved arcs through the air, attacking relentlessly.
Sometimes he didn't even bother using his shield.
He simply overwhelmed every opponent with pure offense.
His movements resembled a hunting leopard.
There were no fixed sword forms.
No rigid techniques.
Every strike flowed naturally into the next.
A thrust.
A horizontal slash.
A diagonal cut.
An upward sweep.
A spinning strike.
The heavy practice sword looked almost weightless in his hands.
Swift as fire.
Steady as a towering tree.
Powerful as a collapsing mountain.
As the battle continued, even a blunt practice sword became exhausting to wield.
Yet Gendry showed no sign of fatigue.
Instead...
He became even fiercer.
"How can someone this big move so fast?"
Roland Storm stared in disbelief.
His face, scarred by childhood pox, made him appear intimidating, but beneath that appearance was a brave and honorable knight from the Stormlands.
He admired great warriors as deeply as he worshipped the Seven.
"Fall back!"
Guyard Morrigen barely managed to raise his sword and shield in time.
Gendry was far taller than an ordinary swordsman.
He should never have possessed such speed.
Even more unbelievable...
His stamina seemed endless.
Guyard found it almost impossible to believe.
Normally, battles involving sword and shield became contests of endurance.
Experienced warriors conserved their strength while slowly wearing down their opponents.
But none of those principles applied to Gendry.
His power...
Speed...
Technique...
And endurance...
Exceeded everyone else's by such a ridiculous margin that the fight resembled a butcher carving through livestock.
One strike after another...
His remaining opponents fell.
A blow to the wrist.
Another across the shoulder and chest.
A final strike to the ribs.
When Gendry's speed surpassed ordinary perception...
He could identify every weakness.
And when his strength exceeded human limits...
He could shatter every defense.
Roland climbed back to his feet, smiling despite his bruises.
"You truly fight like the Warrior himself has descended onto the battlefield."
Nearby, Jon Snow and Harrold Hardyng sat on a bench, exhausted.
Neither felt ashamed of losing.
After all...
They had just fought the strongest warrior in the Seven Kingdoms.
Gendry's strength.
Speed.
Stamina.
And swordsmanship...
Were all regarded as unmatched.
Every sparring session left Jon covered in bruises and aching muscles.
But he treasured every opportunity.
Only by crossing swords with a true master could he continue improving.
If all he ever fought was Harrold...
He would never grow stronger.
As children in Winterfell, Jon and Robb Stark had practiced together every single day.
They had laughed.
Played.
And dreamed of becoming great knights.
Those memories now belonged to another lifetime.
They had both grown up...
But had chosen entirely different paths.
Gendry lowered his sword.
"Go get some rest."
The men bowed respectfully before leaving the training ground.
Although they had all been defeated...
They remained among the finest warriors in the army.
Gendry only wished they would attack him faster and more fiercely the next time.
Anguy stepped forward carrying Orphan-Maker.
Gendry sheathed the Valyrian steel sword at his waist.
Beside it rested a Valyrian steel dagger.
Tiger Roar was far too large for everyday use.
Orphan-Maker was much more practical.
---
Tyene Sand quietly watched him.
Her golden hair shimmered beneath the morning sunlight, while her blue eyes reflected admiration that she made no effort to hide.
The Dornish were passionate by nature.
They loved intensely.
They hated just as fiercely.
Tyene's affection for Gendry was written plainly across her face.
After all...
What woman wouldn't admire a handsome warrior of unmatched strength?
He seemed less like a man...
And more like the Warrior himself walking the earth.
"Your Highness..."
"Do you truly intend to unite the Stormlands, the Crownlands, and Dragonstone into a single realm?"
Gendry looked toward the daughter of the Red Viper.
Although Tyene clearly wished to become much more than an ally...
Oberyn Martell remained one of his closest friends.
Still...
Knowing Oberyn's unconventional personality...
He doubted the prince would object very strongly.
"They should never have been divided in the first place."
Gendry answered calmly.
"Before House Hoare expanded across the Riverlands..."
"And before Aegon's Conquest..."
"The Storm Kingdom ruled lands that now belong to both the Crownlands and parts of the Riverlands."
"It was only history that tore them apart."
Tyene smiled.
"Then perhaps history is finally being corrected."
She looked at him softly.
"You are already the true King of the Seven Kingdoms..."
"...Your Majesty."
Gendry chuckled.
"You're crowning me a little early."
"I'd rather hear those words on the day I'm officially crowned."
Then he smiled.
"I'm considering sending Prince Oberyn another gift."
"He'll hear about it soon."
Tyene curtsied gracefully.
"Thank you for your generosity."
She hesitated before asking another question.
"And after this?"
"What comes next?"
"An empire?"
"Glory beyond the Seven Kingdoms?"
"The lands across the Narrow Sea?"
Gendry's expression became serious.
"None of that is the greatest battle."
"The true battle..."
"...is the Song of Ice and Fire."
"The struggle against darkness."
"The coming Long Night."
"That..."
"...is the Storm's true mission."
"Even though Dorne lies far to the south..."
"I hope Prince Oberyn is preparing."
Tyene slowly nodded.
Compared to political intrigue...
Gendry always seemed most alive on the battlefield.
There, victories earned by sword and courage were far more trustworthy than those won through schemes.
"The battle between ice and fire..."
She quietly repeated the words.
There was something vast...
Almost sacred...
About them.
Melisandre stepped forward.
"One fire."
"One ice."
"One light."
"One darkness."
"One life."
"One death."
"Compared to that struggle..."
"The wars fought over crowns are insignificant."
Tyene nodded solemnly.
"I'll deliver every word to both my father and Prince Oberyn."
"Thank you."
Gendry smiled.
"Before the greatest war begins..."
"We must all stand together."
Tyene met his gaze.
"You've made Lord Stannis your Hand."
"You entrusted Lord Mace Tyrell with the treasury."
"You avenged Houses Stark and Arryn."
"The kingdoms are finally beginning to unite."
"Dorne won't forget your kindness."
"When the time comes..."
"We'll fight beside you."
Gendry nodded.
"If Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn decide to march north..."
"Send word beforehand."
"We'll prepare together."
Tyene gracefully knelt before him.
She kissed the ring on his hand.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"I'll make sure both of them understand your intentions."
Gendry gently lifted her hand and lightly kissed her palm.
"I'm equally grateful that Prince Oberyn sent someone both intelligent and trustworthy."
Tyene smiled.
She was an expert in poisons.
People who mastered poison naturally learned caution and patience.
Among the Sand Snakes...
She was undoubtedly the most level-headed.
Of course...
Gendry himself understood poison as well.
Although it wasn't exactly something to boast about.
After spending time observing him...
Tyene finally understood.
The future of the Seven Kingdoms...
Perhaps even the entire known world...
Rested in the hands of this rising Storm King.
If Dorne wished to secure its place in the new order...
It needed to become part of Gendry's growing alliance.
She silently recalled everything he had accomplished.
The brilliant victory at the Blackwater.
Bombarding the Reach encampment.
Using the shield-and-anvil strategy.
Destroying Volantis' allied army.
Killing four rival kings.
Capturing Tyrion Lannister.
Driving Cersei into flight.
Ending Joffrey's reign.
She also remembered his earlier campaigns.
The Battle of Myr.
The Whispering Wood.
The siege battles.
The assault on the Twins.
The secret march through the Bloody Gate.
Even the proud Red Viper admitted that Gendry possessed unmatched command on the battlefield.
Ambushes.
Forced crossings.
Decapitation strikes.
Flanking maneuvers.
Shield-and-anvil tactics.
Every strategy came naturally to him.
No general could honestly claim perfect foresight.
Yet Gendry continued climbing higher...
Standing atop the defeats of every enemy who challenged him.
His ferocity...
And his strategic brilliance...
Were equally terrifying.
---
"Prepare to depart!"
Anguy's booming voice echoed across the camp.
A great horn sounded.
Gendry looked toward Tyene and Melisandre.
"Come."
"Our first stop today is the Dragonpit."
"We still have work to do."
Knights wearing brilliant golden cloaks assembled into orderly columns.
Even those without official cloaks wore golden surcoats as symbols of belonging.
Serving as one of Gendry's vanguard knights had become one of the highest honors in the realm.
The golden host stretched forward like a river of sunlight.
Four magnificent battle banners waved proudly overhead.
Tyene quietly counted their emblems.
The crowned stag.
The three-headed dragon.
The direwolf.
And the symbol of the liberated slaves.
Never before had dragons and stags marched beneath the same banner.
Yet Gendry had made the impossible possible.
Power now flowed toward King's Landing.
And at the center of King's Landing...
Stood Gendry.
His greatest strength...
Was also his greatest weakness.
The entire new order depended upon one remarkably young king.
But...
Who could possibly assassinate him now?
He was already the greatest swordsman in Westeros.
Far stronger than he had been when he fought Khal Drogo.
And he was never alone.
Barristan Selmy.
Balon Swann.
Anguy.
Lothor Brune.
Jon Snow.
Guyard Morrigen.
Countless loyal companions surrounded him.
Tyene smiled quietly to herself.
And there's also me...
Along with the Crimson Lady.
She would protect the Red Keep from poison and hidden threats.
Melisandre guarded against dangers of a different kind.
Looking at the powerful figures surrounding Gendry, Tyene couldn't help but wonder...
With a lineup like this...
Who could possibly threaten him now?
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)