Game of Thrones: The Dangerous Traveler (MULTIVERSAL)

GOT: The Dangerous Traveler 20

Lyn Corbray

Year 2010 AD – Georgia

Suddenly, Lyn looked up and saw an eagle circling in the sky. A sly smile spread across his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, his right eye had turned completely white.

Ciri, noticing the change, immediately knew what he was doing but said nothing. Glenn and Maggie, on the other hand, were too distracted by their own thoughts to notice.

Lyn was now seeing through the eagle's eyes. With a simple thought, he guided the bird into a lower flight, exploring the surroundings. In the distance, he saw massive structures rising toward the sky.

Lyn was captivated by the sight of those structures. They were like man-made mountains, straight and uniform, but colossal in size. He had never seen anything like them in his world.

'What kind of madness drove someone to build something like this?' he thought to himself. 'These towers are too tall to be practical. Did they want to touch the sky?'

The eagle continued to stare intently at one of the tallest towers, and Lyn focused on the details with those superhuman eyes. Windows, like thousands of gleaming eyes, covered the surface of the structure. "Maybe they were temples," he mused. "A place to worship their gods. But if that were the case, where are those worshippers now?"

As the bird kept flying, Lyn noticed that many of the structures were partially destroyed. "The civilization that built this must have been impressive... and tragically short-lived," he thought.

The perspective was unsettling to him. In his world, things were built to last centuries, but here it seemed that even the grandest creations had been abandoned in a matter of months.

"It's ironic," Lyn thought as the eagle made one last turn. "The bigger and more ambitious the dream, the harder the fall."

Shifting his gaze toward the road, Lyn noticed movement several kilometers ahead. A group of humans was hiding among the trees, seemingly in an ambush position.

He snapped back to himself, releasing the eagle, and his right eye returned to its normal color. "Ciri," he whispered, leaning toward her. "There's an ambush ahead. A group of humans is waiting for us."

Ciri looked at him seriously. "How many?"

"About five or six," Lyn replied. "They're well hidden, but I saw them clearly."

"What do we do?" Ciri asked, her hand instinctively moving toward her sword.

Lyn flashed a confident smile. "I'll clear the path. You stay here with our 'guests.' I won't take long. But first, since they're expecting us, there must be a lookout trailing us, far enough that we wouldn't have noticed him. I'll take care of him, and then the guys up ahead."

Ciri wanted to protest, but Lyn was already dismounting from his horse, moving with a calmness that contrasted with the gravity of the situation. Maggie and Glenn, on the other hand, watched in surprise, confused by the development.

Lyn ventured into the forest, his steps so light that they barely made the dry leaves crunch under his boots. With both eyes closed, he focused on the darkness his mind offered, searching for the spark of a vision. In no time, he saw it.

There he was, a young man with light brown hair, a thin face, and a restless expression that betrayed a mix of confidence and fear. He was crouched in the bushes, holding a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. His worn, dirt-stained clothes made him look like a skilled survivor, but his tense posture revealed nervousness. He wasn't too close to where Ciri and the others were waiting, but close enough to reach them with moderate effort.

Without wasting time, Lyn opened his eyes and began to move.

The forest was silent, interrupted only by the soft whisper of the wind and the occasional song of a bird. Lyn moved like a shadow, each step measured with precision. He stayed low, weaving between tree trunks and bushes, avoiding any branches that might give him away.

As he approached, he could hear the young man's breathing, slightly labored. The boy seemed focused on his watch, unaware of the figure slipping up behind him.

Lyn paused for a moment, assessing the terrain. There was a small slope he could use to get even closer. He moved quickly, descending the slope without making a sound.

Now he was less than five meters away. He could clearly see the details of Randall's clothing: a worn leather jacket, torn jeans, and boots covered in dried mud. The young man shifted slightly, adjusting the position of his pistol.

Lyn took advantage of the sound of a sudden breeze to cover his final steps. He positioned himself right behind the young man, raised his sword, and with a quick, precise motion, plunged it into his heart.

Randall collapsed without a sound. Lyn carefully held his body, preventing it from falling noisily. He lowered it to the ground and began searching his belongings. He found a pistol, a small radio, and some minor supplies, like a knife and a canteen. "What the hell is this?" Lyn murmured as he examined the radio. The device was unfamiliar to him, but he kept it just in case.

Lyn got to work quickly. With precise movements, he began to cut the skin from Randall's face. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like this; his magic required both physical and spiritual focus. Though he had never killed a target outside of his travels, he had perfected the technique.

As he separated the skin, he murmured words in an ancient language, activating the energy flowing within him. The process transformed the skin into something more than a simple mask; it gained magical properties, allowing him to assume not only Randall's appearance but also certain aspects of his voice and gestures.

Once finished, Lyn held the mask in front of him. It was impeccably detailed, an almost perfect reproduction of the young man's face. With a fluid motion, he put it on.

As soon as the mask touched his skin, Lyn felt his body change. His muscles and bones reconfigured slightly, adopting Randall's slimmer build. His hair also changed color and texture, and his voice, as he spoke a few words, sounded identical to the young man's.

"This shit is always uncomfortable," he said, touching his now-transformed face.

Suddenly, the radio crackled to life, followed by a male voice.

"Randall, any updates?"

Lyn picked up the device with some clumsiness, studying the buttons until he figured out how to speak.

"All good," he replied, imitating Randall. "The targets are on their way, but they're moving a bit slower. One of the prisoners twisted their ankle."

"Understood. Stay alert. If you do well, I'll let you have a go at that white-haired girl you described."

"Thank you, sir," Lyn responded.

He stashed the radio, adjusted the mask, and headed toward the ambush group's position.

Lyn approached with Randall's mask still on, walking confidently toward the ambush group. There were six people in total, hidden among bushes and trees; all spread out, with their weapons ready but their postures relaxed. They weren't expecting immediate trouble, trusting in their lookout "Randall."

The first man who saw Lyn greeted him with a nod.

"What are you doing here? Are they that close?" he asked, adjusting his rifle on a fallen log.

"Yeah, they're coming," Lyn replied, modulating his voice to mimic Randall as he casually walked closer.

He took advantage of the man's trust, positioning himself beside him as if he were about to take his place. With a quick motion, he drew one of his swords, Dawn, and plunged it into the man's side, cutting through flesh and bone as if they were paper. Lyn held the body, letting it fall softly to the ground to avoid noise.

The next target was a few meters away, a short-haired woman with a hardened expression who was reviewing a map. Lyn walked toward her calmly, using his disguise to remain unnoticed. When he was close enough, he drew his sword and stabbed her in the throat. The woman fell instantly, and Lyn quickly moved to his next target.

As he advanced, Lyn maintained a steady pace, keeping an eye on his surroundings to ensure no one noticed him. The third target had his back turned, watching the road where the prisoners were supposed to come. It was the perfect moment.

Drawing Blackfyre, the other sword hanging from his waist, Lyn approached in complete silence. The man didn't even notice his presence before feeling the cold blade pierce his heart. Lyn withdrew the sword and let the body collapse without a sound.

The remaining three began to notice something was off.

"Where are the others?" one of them asked, a woman with a rifle who had been keeping watch from a nearby tree. They were spread out to minimize casualties and make the ambush more effective, but they could still occasionally see each other when the wind moved the leaves.

Lyn decided to act before suspicions turned into alarm. He raised the rifle he was carrying and, in a quick motion, fired a single shot that pierced the woman's skull. The gunshot shattered the forest's silence, and the remaining two turned with faces full of confusion and fear.

"Randall? What the hell are you doing?" one of them shouted, raising his weapon toward Lyn.

Lyn theatrically ripped off the mask, revealing his true face as a twisted smile spread across his lips.

"Randall is no longer available," he said calmly, drawing both swords as he lunged toward them.

The first man fired his rifle, but Lyn dodged the shot with an agility that left the two men stunned. More than dodging, the man simply hadn't aimed well in the first place. Closing the distance, Lyn used one of his swords to cut the barrel of the rifle and plunged the other into the man's stomach.

The last survivor, a trembling young man with a shotgun, backed away while firing wildly. Lyn hid behind a tree. Shotgun pellets weren't something you could dodge.

"Don't come any closer!" the young man shouted desperately, his voice breaking.

Lyn, completely calm, fired Randall's pistol, hitting the young man in the arm and disarming him. Without giving him time to react, Lyn quickly advanced, wielding Blackfyre and Dawn.

"You know, you could've run instead of trying to face me," Lyn remarked, his tone mocking as he prepared for the final blow.

The young man, still on the ground, tried to crawl toward his shotgun, but Lyn stopped him with a firm stomp on his hand. With a final gasp of panic, the man tried to plead, but he didn't get a word out before Lyn ended him with a single, precise strike.

Lyn stood still for a moment, looking around. The forest was silent again, save for the distant echo of the last gunshot. He holstered the pistol and picked up the mask he had dropped.

"Well, that was fun while it lasted," he murmured, examining the mask before stashing it in a pouch on his belt. "Though it wasn't as useful as I'd hoped."

With a light sigh, he wiped his swords on one of the corpses' clothes, sheathed them, and began walking back to where Ciri and the prisoners were waiting, satisfied with the chaos he had left in his wake.