The Female Knight Ygritte (1)

This Harmony Furnace was something he had borrowed from the family's Elixir Hall before setting out.

The Elixir Hall. One of House Stark's principal enterprises — the workshop in charge of crafting the family's elixirs.

Lately, however, elixir ingredients had grown harder and harder to come by, and the place had lost its old liveliness, now standing quiet and half-deserted.

Which was exactly why he'd managed to borrow that precious Harmony Furnace without any fuss. Bran lifted the lid.

Ssss— In an instant, the fresh, grassy scent of herbs wafted out. Inside sat the Seonrocho he had prepared in advance.

Seonrocho was an elixir herb that could be bought for a pittance in the market district.

Just then—

The entire crafting process surfaced in Bran's mind unbidden. Every step was vivid and sure, as though he had spent long years mastering the elixir arts.

"Good. I'll start just like this."

Bran opened the pouch where he kept his essences. Thirty-six Chauwang essences. He dumped every last one of them into the Harmony Furnace.

Clatter. The blue-tinged essences rained down inside.

Bran placed his hands over the furnace and began pouring mana into it. Vmmm—! The Harmony Furnace shuddered in response and began to vibrate.

Heat rose, and the ingredients within slowly melted and mingled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together. Bran took up his stirring paddle. Keep the strength and the rhythm steady.

He stirred in an even cadence. Slosh. Slosh.

Two hours or so slipped by. Beads of sweat began to dot his forehead. The herbs dissolved into softness, and a subtle, mysterious light and fragrance gradually spread through the air.

The process itself isn't hard, but the mana drain is brutal. This was work that demanded a constant infusion of mana — more than an actual battle ever would. The strain on his mana core was immense.

Even so, his hands never stopped. I have to finish this elixir properly. That's the only way it fetches its true price. Bran gritted his teeth and pushed his focus higher.

Slosh. Slosh. The liquid in the furnace turned a murky yellow.

And then, six hours later—

Fwoooosh! A radiant light burst from within the Harmony Furnace. In an instant, the cave was bathed in gold.

"At this volume... six kilos? Maybe closer to seven?" He lifted the paddle and stirred through the mass, gauging its size. "That's enough for a hundred-plus mid-tier elixirs."

Bran scooped up a generous chunk and popped it into his mouth.

Gulp. The moment it slid down his throat—

A pleasant warmth wrapped around his entire body. Like swallowing a spoonful of piping-hot soup in the dead of winter. And that warmth, soon enough—

Fwoooosh! —became a fierce energy that surged through every inch of him. The rush was powerful enough to make his cock jerk.

"Khhah! Now that's the stuff!"

The fatigue of the sleepless night washed away as though it had never existed. His mana core charged until mana was practically spilling over the brim.

And at that very moment—

Ding.

"Whoa! Worth every ounce of last night's grind!" With a satisfied grin, Bran scooped up another chunk and put it in his mouth.

But this time—

Ding.

Bran smacked his lips in disappointment. "Come to think of it, the comic did have a mechanic like this."

Repeatedly consuming the same type of elixir steadily diminished its effects. Otherwise he could have grown infinitely strong, and the balance would have shattered.

Bran eyed the remaining lumps of elixir. "Time to mold these into pills."

Gently, carefully. One pill, two, three... In total, one hundred and thirty mid-tier elixirs.

Bran brought out the elixir gourds he had prepared, dividing ten pills into each. Thirteen gourds in all. Just looking at them was enough to make him feel full.

"Heheheh." Laughter spilled out of him unbidden. "So all that's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠left is turning these into money?"

Bran shot out of the Forest of Monsters as though flying. All around, the pitch-black darkness still lay undisturbed.

But then— his sharpened hearing caught an alien noise.

Clang! Clang! A sharp metallic ring from far away. Bran stopped in his tracks.

That's... the sound of a fight? Instinct took over, and he hurled himself toward the source.

And there, the scene that met his eyes: a beautiful woman in white battle garb, locked in fierce combat with a giant serpent.

"That's a Single-Horned Python!"

A mid-tier monster — one whose strength rivaled that of a 3-Star knight. A massive body, glinting golden eyes. It bore down on the woman, its enormous maw stretched wide.

Bran recognized the woman's face. A sworn knight of House Stark... Ygritte.

She was counted among the most gifted knights in the family. But— she dies in the war before her talent ever has the chance to bloom.

Even while reading the comic, he'd thought it a waste. A character who clearly had the talent to grow truly strong, yet in the end never crossed her limit and simply vanished from the story.

And now, she was in mortal danger. Don't tell me she dies here? Or... could the future have shifted because of me?

A jet of venom sprayed from the serpent's gaping maw. "Kyaahk!" Ygritte twisted out of the way with lightning reflexes— Fwsh! —but the grazing stream scorched the hem of her battle garb pitch black.

The charred fabric crumbled away in flakes. Ygritte felt a wave of helplessness wash over her. My current strength is only 2-Star. If this drags on, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it's only a matter of time before I'm overwhelmed.

The Single-Horned Python's attacks grew more ferocious by the second. "Kweeehk!" Defending herself was becoming a struggle. Her breathing turned ragged; her movements, sluggish.

Am I going to die here...? And in that instant, her vision filled with serpent scales.

WHAM! The massive tail caught her square, and Ygritte went flying into the wall. CRASH! The pile of stones collapsed, burying her body beneath it.

"Khugh!" Her white battle garb soaked through with red. Under the moonlight, her wounded form looked heartbreakingly pitiful.

The Single-Horned Python loomed over its helpless prey, flicking its tongue as if in mockery. "Kueeehk!" Its enormous maw yawned open, venom-laced drool dripping from its sharp fangs.

Ygritte could no longer force strength into her limbs. "...So this is the end." She steeled herself for death and closed her eyes.

But in that very moment—

CLANG! A sharp metallic ring tore through the night. The pain she had braced for never came.

"...?" Ygritte slowly opened her eyes. And there he was — a young, strikingly handsome man who had appeared like a bolt of lightning, standing between her and the monster.

Who... is that?

When its attack was batted aside so effortlessly, the Single-Horned Python instinctively sensed the threat and gave ground, golden eyes glaring at the new intruder as if to size him up. The young man leveled his sword at it and stared back without a flicker of fear.

The moment Ygritte's gaze confirmed his face—

"You're...!"

The black sheep of House Stark. The youngest son she had always written off as hopeless.

Bran Stark is the one who saved me? Disappointment soon seeped into her astonished eyes.

...Blocking one strike had to be luck. What if the Single-Horned Python attacked again? Bran would be cut down where he stood. Even so, she couldn't let slip a chance this precious.

Ygritte forced her shattered body upright. Every bone in her frame shrieked in protest. Bran might be a hopeless wreck, but he was still blood of the family she had sworn to serve.

"Young Lord, get out of here, quickly! I'll buy you time! That monster is nothing you can handle!"

In that moment, her eyes met Bran's — and Ygritte was quite taken aback.

Those sharp eyes... is that really the young master...? And the intense aura rolling off him...

What is going on? This isn't the youngest son I knew. Perhaps it was the pale moonlight, but even his face seemed handsomer than she remembered.

Bran spoke in a low voice. "Stay down. That one's mine."

He stepped forward, keeping Ygritte out of the fray, and beckoned toward the Single-Horned Python with a lazy flick of his hand. "Come on, you snake-headed bastard."

As if it understood the taunt, the python's golden eyes contracted, glinting with menace. "Keeeehk!"

Bran smirked. "You got all that? Smart bastard, I'll give you that much."

The Single-Horned Python lunged. Its speed was on an entirely different level from when it had fought Ygritte — as if it knew that until now it had merely been toying with an amateur, and that from here on, it would need its full strength.

But Bran was faster still. He slipped past the strike and rocketed skyward, his blade flashing silver in the moonlight.

"Three Talents Swordsmanship, Second Form."

The sword came down with crushing weight. It was over in a blink. Terror flooded the python's eyes.

Shrk! A single blow cleaved the giant serpent's head clean off.

THOOM! Even headless, the body thrashed wildly in every direction, tearing the forest apart. CRASH! Craaack!

Bran walked over to the wounded Ygritte and lifted her lightly into his arms. "If you want to live, hold on tight."

Before she could even react, he sprang upward. The instant they touched down atop a giant tree, Ygritte — cradled against his broad chest — quietly caught her breath.

And then—

Thump. Thump. Her heart began to pound ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like mad.