bookcurios Chapter 372 372: The Plan to Slay a God
Chapter 372 372: The Plan to Slay a God
In the empty underground, the Three-Eyed Raven's emotionless voice echoed.
That single blood-red eye stared at Kal, as if trying to see through the heart of the newly crowned king of the Seven Kingdoms.
A god had descended into the world.
And you… wish to kill me?
The indifferent exchange between two sovereigns made Meera, Jojen, and even the nameless Child of the Forest grow tense.
None of them dared to interrupt.
This was not a place for mortals to speak.
Erevi, of course, did not care. She watched the "novel" being before her with keen interest.
A lifeform where organism and plant were "perfectly" fused into one… something she could not quite describe, yet clearly far deeper than what could be seen on the surface.
A miracle of magic, she thought.
Faced with a question that seemed difficult to answer, Kal's expression did not change.
Having come this far, standing face to face, there was no longer any need for unnecessary restraint.
So Kal nodded without the slightest psychological burden, even smiling faintly.
"Yes, that is indeed what I intend."
"Three-Eyed Raven, your existence makes me uncomfortable—because I know what you are."
As he spoke, Kal pointed at the Three-Eyed Raven.
Then he pointed at himself.
"And from my current position and standpoint, you not only hinder my path forward—you also shackle this world."
"Perhaps in the games of those gods, this world was always meant to follow such a main thread. That includes you, Greenseer—a living record of history. Or more precisely… a 'manual' for this 'game.'"
Kal did not hide anything. He stated plainly what he believed to be the truth.
Given his current strength and status—
The Child of the Forest trembled, her three-fingered hand clutching the torch. The flames flickered wildly, the shadows writhing as if seized by a dragon.
The Three-Eyed Raven listened quietly, that lone red eye still fixed on Kal.
"But in my view, you and I are not enemies."
"Those things outside—those dead ones—are our enemies."
"And besides, I have not blocked your path… If you mean Bran, then believe me—I have already abandoned him."
"You are right. My existence is the history of this land. But history… is written by people like you, is it not?"
The Three-Eyed Raven seemed to be pleading.
Or perhaps he was simply stating a fact.
This time, Kal fell silent.
But the invisible pressure grew even heavier than before.
Even Meera noticed that the faint smile at the corner of Kal's lips had disappeared without a trace.
"If it were you, would you allow a blade to be pointed at you from a place you cannot see?"
"But that is not the truth," said the Three-Eyed Raven.
Kal's tone did not soften.
"No. That is the truth. Greenseer, you make me uneasy—that is why I had to find you."
"You are not as weak as you claim."
"…"
Another stretch of silence.
Compared to the freezing cold outside, this underground cavern—of unknown depth—was warmer.
And yet, to Meera and Jojen, it felt suffocatingly cold.
They were drenched in sweat.
"Your Grace, time holds no meaning to you."
"As you said, to you, I am nothing more than a harmless 'manual.'"
"…I can see them. With a thousand and one eyes—I see them being born, see them take their first step, hear their first word, enter their first dream."
"But when it comes to you… all I can see is you standing before me now."
"And then you—or the lady beside you—could tear me apart as easily as tearing a book."
The Three-Eyed Raven's murmured words carried an indescribable sorrow.
Erevi said nothing. A faint smile curled at her lips as she glanced around the cavern.
White, snake-like weirwood roots twisted through stone and soil, stretching everywhere.
Their king stood before them now—this tree-man, pleading before a human.
No one would believe the Three-Eyed Raven's words.
Yet Kal narrowed his eyes slightly, and the smile he had withdrawn returned to his face.
Erevi shifted her gaze into the darkness and waved her hand—but there was no response.
"War was never my intention. That is why I came here," Kal said calmly. The lightblade in his hand no longer radiated a terrifying aura; its cold glow illuminated the space like a lamp.
"Brynden… you know the secret of the Old Gods, don't you?"
For the first time, Kal addressed the Three-Eyed Raven by name, asking a question laden with meaning.
…
"Kal, what is the secret of the Old Gods? Where are they?"
On the way back, the dark elf witch asked with curiosity.
Gods—especially the gods of this world—greatly intrigued Erevi.
After all, in her own world, she had once been a priestess of a god.
The full moon hung high, stars scattered across the sky.
Falling rain froze mid-descent, joining the snow and snapping branches under its weight.
The snow in the mountains was thick. Each step sank deep, producing a soft groan beneath their feet.
At the question, Kal stopped and looked up at the moon. An aurora shimmered faintly on the distant horizon.
It was like a painting suspended in the sky, as though another world had overlapped with this one. Its beauty was beyond words.
"They are nothing—to us," Kal said.
White mist poured from his mouth as he spoke, stretching several meters in the cold air.
Erevi tilted her head, even more puzzled.
"I don't quite understand."
Kal turned back, looking behind them.
The wights that had once roamed here were gone without a trace. The Reed siblings struggled through the snow, doing their best to keep up with the king ahead—and the powerful witch beside him.
"Because in my view, the Three-Eyed Raven is a true Old God…"
"A consciousness that has drifted above Westeros for thousands upon thousands of years—formed from the fusion of countless minds."
"You know skinchangers, don't you? Those born with the bloodline magic of wargs."
"The crows we saw underground—each one contains a human or Child of the Forest soul. In that way, they continue their existence after death, coexisting."
"The weirwood trees can do the same… and on an even broader scale."
Compared to the struggling siblings, the newly named Child of the Forest moved far more easily.
The two-hundred-year-old "squirrel person" wore a thick cloak woven from feathers of many colors—it looked warm.
Kal simply called her "Squirrel." It was not meant as an insult—merely a casual form of address.
"A miracle of magic," Erevi said, her eyes shining.
Kal nodded. "Which is why we need to find a way to end this once and for all—to completely destroy him. This meeting has given us quite a bit of material and a number of ideas."
"Slaying a god?" Erevi smiled as well. "Interesting."
"Yes. The next time we meet will be the day of his death. And I already have a fairly good plan."
The two of them—and the Child of the Forest who had finally managed to catch up—turned around a bend. In a small valley, they discovered a stone stele embedded with a crystal-like orb that shone with a faint light.
The dense trees of the Haunted Forest, the heavy snow, and the terrain of the valley itself provided near-perfect concealment for the massive monument.
A golden-furred dog darted out from somewhere unknown.
It wagged its tail happily at Kal, as if claiming credit.
…
"Your Grace, you are saying that you have formed an alliance with the Children of the Forest against the Others?"
"So this is what the Children of the Forest look like?"
"It is said the last time they were seen was a thousand years ago."
"Does that mean we are witnessing history?"
"History is made every day, child."
"About eight thousand years ago, before the Andals landed, during the long winter of the Long Night, it was the Children of the Forest and the First Men who fought together in the War for the Dawn against the Others. Only then were the Others driven back to the Lands of Always Winter."
"His Grace Kal has written another epic—are we heroes in this story as well?!"
"Long live His Grace Kal!"
"Long live…!"
The appearance of a legendary being in Castle Black ignited cheers among those who had long been trapped in its unchanging monotony, driven nearly mad by boredom.
Everyone wanted to see the Children of the Forest of legend—but most of them were driven back.
Those who needed to train trained. Those who needed to work worked.
War was rising. There was no room for idle curiosity.
Even so, the great hall of Castle Black was packed.
At this moment, there was no distinction—southerners, northerners, or those from beyond the Wall.
Every pair of eyes, bright with intensity, was fixed on the small figure hiding behind Meera—the "Squirrel."
People spoke over one another, more fascinated by the Child of the Forest than even by a dragon.
Benjen Stark, Qhorin Halfhand, Bronze Yohn—whether known by name or not, everyone's attention centered on that tiny figure.
And as their behavior grew increasingly unrestrained, Kal slammed his hand on the table with a loud crack and cursed outright: "Get the hell back, all of you! Don't frighten my guest!"
"And the Others are their enemies as well—what is wrong with forming an alliance?"
Seeing that Kal had not stopped them earlier, only stepping in now after fully enjoying the flattery, the Squirrel sitting on the stool rolled her eyes.
As one who served the last Greenseer—and the only Child of the Forest in Westeros who could speak the Common Tongue—she had no choice but to come.
She had been born in the age of dragons, had walked among humans for two hundred years—observing, listening, learning. No one understood humans better than she did.
The massive dragon sleeping outside Castle Black filled her with awe.
The magic that could cross thousands of miles in the blink of an eye left her equally shaken.
In the end, Kal and the Three-Eyed Raven did not come to blows.
Because after close contact, Kal realized he had no certainty of killing the Three-Eyed Raven in a single strike.
Even with Erevi, the ambushed golden dog, and even if he brought out the dragon-girl Artessa from the game world—it would not be enough.
Because the Three-Eyed Raven could not truly be defined as a single individual.
He was more like a collective consciousness—and one that could disperse at any time.
Before Kal, who had arrived with overwhelming force, the Three-Eyed Raven seemed powerless, fragile as a child.
But that did not mean Kal could truly kill him—or that he lacked the ability to retaliate.
If he were scattered, then the Three-Eyed Raven that remained would no longer be the same as the one now.
Whether he could strike back at Kal would no longer carry any meaning.
Perhaps this was why, when the Three-Eyed Raven realized he could not stop Kal from seeking him out, he chose to come forward and speak plainly instead of continuing to hide.
And the reason he did so—Kal suspected—had something to do with Brynden Rivers, who now controlled this collective consciousness.
It had to be said—Brynden Rivers was formidable.
Even after becoming the Three-Eyed Raven, he had retained part of his human consciousness—and even managed to dominate the collective.
So, since fighting would achieve nothing but tearing relations apart, Kal simply changed his approach—turning an enemy into an "ally."
Had the Three-Eyed Raven not said it himself? The Others were their true enemy.
Kal believed him.
So Kal changed his strategy.
And besides, keeping the current Three-Eyed Raven might even be beneficial.
...
The king's "anger" still had its uses. Realizing their impropriety, the people sheepishly returned to their seats—though their eyes still lingered on the small figure with embarrassing intensity.
"Ahem. I understand. That means we have gained another ally."
"So then, honored Child of the Forest—what can you offer us?"
As the crowd quieted, Benjen Stark, the nominal master here, coughed awkwardly and stepped forward to ease the tension.
Surrounding a royal guest—one who represented a future ally of mankind—was indeed improper.
What Benjen Stark did not realize, however, was that his question was just as improper to the newly named "Squirrel."
The Squirrel shrank slightly in embarrassment, then extended her hand.
"Three thousand?"
Her dark skin did not show a blush, but Benjen Stark, as Lord Commander, keenly sensed her unease.
"Three hundred?"
The Child of the Forest averted her sun-gold eyes and shook her head.
"Thirty?"
Benjen Stark's voice grew incredulous.
"Including myself, we can provide thirty individuals. These are warriors capable of fighting."
"And we know what weapons can kill the Others. We can provide that knowledge."
At this answer, Benjen and everyone present fell silent, looking at the Child of the Forest—no larger than a human child.
No one mocked her.
They only felt… a quiet sense of regret.