Marvel Multiverse Gacha

John's POV

The night was colder than ever a cold that reached into the marrow of my bones, as if the very air sought to freeze my soul. I crouched low, carefully placing the last mine. With deliberate hands, I covered it with snow, ensuring it blended perfectly into the surroundings.

The wind howled, sharp and relentless, as if warning me of the danger ahead. It pushed against me, urging me to hurry. I stood, my breath misting in the icy air, and turned back toward the castle.

The traps were ready, spread across the battlefield. They would thin their ranks, but they wouldn't stop what was coming. I knew who the real threats were: the Night King and his dragon.

The mere thought of them made the cold feel heavier.

Suddenly, the wind surged, biting at my face and carrying with it an unnatural chill. My steps quickened.

"He's near," I muttered, my voice lost in the rising storm.

The castle gates came into view, and I saw them the soldiers and the Dothraki, standing in grim silence, their weapons ready. The firelight flickered across their faces, reflecting the determination and fear in their eyes.

And then I saw her.

The flames in their hands were unmistakable. Melisandre was here.

"Melisandre," I whispered under my breath.

She must have sensed my presence. Her head turned slightly, her gaze meeting mine for just a moment before she turned and walked away, disappearing into the castle.

I didn't linger. I moved closer to the fire, feeling its faint warmth against the biting cold as I waited. The darkness pressed down around us, heavy and suffocating.

Then it began.

The silence shattered with the first explosion.

Boom.

The sound echoed through the night, and flames burst forth in the distance, a fleeting light in the sea of darkness.

Boom. Boom.

The explosions came in quick succession, their roar filling the air. The snow-covered ground trembled beneath my feet as the fire spread, consuming the dead that had triggered the mines.

The Dothraki shifted uneasily, their eyes fixed on the burning figures in the distance. Fear and awe mixed on their faces as the flames devoured the advancing horde.

The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air. It was a smell I wouldn't forget.

And then, the largest explosion tore through the battlefield.

BOOM.

A wave of fire shot into the sky, casting a hellish glow over everything. For a moment, the battlefield was illuminated, revealing the skeletal forms of the dead as they writhed and burned.

The mines were working. Their march had slowed, but it hadn't stopped.

"Good," I muttered, my grip tightening on the hilt of my blade.

This was only the beginning.

"Let them burn."

The words barely left my lips when the dead surged forward, an unrelenting tide of death.

The mines did their job, erupting in bursts of flame and sending bodies flying, but it wasn't enough. The sheer number of them was overwhelming, and for every one that fell, two more seemed to take its place.

The living held their ground, their resolve unshaken. Flames lit up the battlefield, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the castle. Steel clashed with bone, and the air filled with the metallic tang of blood mixed with the acrid scent of burning flesh.

I stepped forward, the fire around me calling to me, waiting to be used. I stretched out my hand, pulling the flames closer. They obeyed, swirling and twisting, responding to my will.

With a single thought, I shaped the fire into a massive claw. It loomed above me, bright as the sun and roaring like a living thing.

And then it struck.

The claw descended upon the horde, smashing through their ranks with fiery vengeance. Bones splintered, bodies disintegrated, and the ground beneath them burned. The undead didn't stop they never stopped but the claw tore through them, carving a path of destruction.

Their advance faltered, but only for a moment.

I didn't stop. The fire was mine to command, and I wouldn't waste it. With a sharp movement, the claw swiped again, scattering the dead like ash in the wind.

But they kept coming.

"Keep the line!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos. The soldiers around me gritted their teeth, rallying against the endless tide.

The claw dissipated, and I shifted the fire into a new form a massive whip that cracked through the air, igniting everything it touched. The undead burned, their forms collapsing into smoldering heaps, but it wasn't enough. There were always more.

I fought without hesitation, my movements precise, my fire unrelenting. But in the back of my mind, I knew this wasn't the true battle.

The Night King hadn't shown himself. He was waiting, watching, just beyond the flames.

And so was I.

The dead pressed closer, and I summoned more fire, shaping it into another wave of destruction. "You want to march into fire?" I muttered. "Then burn for it."

The night was far from over.