Man Of Steel, Shield Of Ice

The moon hung low over the Shivering Sea, its pale light shimmering on the restless waves. The air at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea was cold and biting, carrying the salt of the sea and a strange stillness that made the men uneasy. They had faced many threats from the icy wilderness beyond the Wall, but tonight, the ocean itself seemed to whisper of something darker.

Fishermen had been the first to report strange sightings—massive shadows beneath the waves, as if something ancient stirred in the depths. The patrols along the coastline grew more vigilant, but their efforts yielded no answers, only growing tension. Eastwatch's garrison was stretched thin, a mix of wary Night's Watchmen and distrustful Free Folk volunteers who had reluctantly agreed to help guard the Wall. Their mutual mistrust simmered just beneath the surface.

Ser Denys Mallister, the aging but resolute commander of Eastwatch, stood atop the Wall, staring out over the vast, churning sea. He clutched his black cloak tightly against the wind as his keen eyes scanned the horizon.

"Anything?" he asked, his voice gruff from years of barking orders.

"No movement, m'lord," replied the ranger at his side, though his voice wavered. "But the sea... it doesn't feel right."

Denys nodded grimly. "It hasn't felt right in days."

A raven perched nearby let out a sharp caw, as if in warning. They had sent messages to Castle Black and Winterfell, but no reinforcements had arrived yet. The isolation of Eastwatch felt heavier tonight, like a noose tightening around their necks.

In the courtyard below, torches sputtered as men gathered for a night patrol. A group of Free Folk stood apart from the Night's Watch, their distrust evident in the way they clutched their weapons and whispered amongst themselves.

"You think we'll find anything out there?" asked a tall, scarred Free Folk warrior with a wary glance at the Watchmen.

"Find what? It's just the sea acting strange," muttered a young ranger, his tone dismissive. "You lot are jumpy over nothing."

The scarred man sneered. "And you crows are blind. Something's out there, and when it comes, you'll wish we weren't here to save your hides."

Before the argument could escalate, a horn's mournful note echoed from the Wall. The sound silenced everyone, freezing them in place. One blast—rangers returning. Two blasts—wildlings. Three blasts—

The horn sounded once.

Relief rippled through the group, though the unease remained palpable. The returning patrol brought no news of the sea, only the troubling report of a missing scouting party three days prior. Denys Mallister had sent them north along the coast, and they had yet to return.

"We'll send out another patrol at first light," he declared, though his tone betrayed his uncertainty. The Wall had faced many dangers, but the sea was an enemy they did not know how to fight.

As the night deepened, the stillness became oppressive. The waves, once restless, now seemed almost frozen, their surface eerily smooth. The wind died, leaving an unnatural silence that settled over Eastwatch like a shroud.

Denys Mallister stood watch at the Wall's edge, his brow furrowed. "The gods help us," he murmured to himself. The ocean reflected the pale light of the moon, a silver sheet stretching into the unknown. Yet, beneath its surface, something stirred.

Suddenly, a sound broke the quiet—a low, rumbling growl that seemed to come from the depths of the sea itself. It was faint at first, barely audible, but it grew louder, reverberating through the very stones of the Wall. Men looked at each other, their faces pale.

"What in seven hells was that?" muttered a Watchman.

Denys gripped the cold stone railing. "Sound the horn. Now."

The order was barely given before the sea erupted.

The water churned violently, waves crashing against the cliffs as if the ocean itself had been enraged. Then, with a deafening roar, it emerged. The Abomination rose from the sea, its massive form blotting out the moonlight. Its body was an unholy amalgamation of scales and ice, its tentacles thrashing with unnatural strength. Two glowing eyes, cold and malevolent, fixed on Eastwatch as it let out another earth-shaking roar.

Panic swept through the garrison. Men shouted, scrambling for weapons and lighting torches. The beast surged forward, smashing into the docks with the force of a battering ram. Wood splintered, and boats were thrown into the air like toys. Screams filled the air as men were dragged into the sea by the creature's writhing tentacles.

"Archers! Loose your arrows!" Denys bellowed from the Wall.

Flaming arrows streaked through the air, striking the beast's hide—but they bounced off its icy armor, leaving barely a scratch. The Creature lashed out, sending a wave crashing over the defenders and extinguishing their fires.

"Rally to me!" cried Denys, drawing his sword. He leapt down from the Wall's edge, landing in the chaos of the courtyard. "We hold this ground, or we die trying!"

The Beast was a nightmare brought to life, a creature of ancient terror that defied understanding. As it wrenched docks from their foundations and crushed the structures of Eastwatch, the garrison struggled to mount any form of defense. The defenders, now a disorganized mess, scattered in all directions. Men shouted orders, but the fear in their eyes was palpable. For all their training, they were mere mortals in the face of this beast.

Denys Mallister stood resolute in the courtyard, his sword raised as the creature's massive tentacles lashed across the ground. He swung his sword at the nearest limb, but it was like striking stone. The blade splintered, and the tentacle recoiled only to strike the ground with enough force to shake the very earth beneath them.

"Move! Get to the walls!" Denys shouted, his voice hoarse as he watched men flee toward the safety of the keep. "Everyone, fall back!"

But it was too late for most. The Free Folk, already on edge, scattered into the night, their faces twisted with terror. Some remained, driven by the shared determination to protect their home, but the lack of order made them just as vulnerable.

A massive roar split the air again, and the beast's tentacles shot up, slamming into the side of the Wall. The stone shook with the force, and a large section of the outer wall cracked, sending debris raining down onto the courtyard below. The crack opened wide, and through it, the creature's gleaming eyes peered, its massive body looming ever closer.

With a final cry, the Beast whipped a tentacle toward the keep. It smashed into the side of the tower, sending plumes of dust and stone into the air. The defenders recoiled, some tumbling backward into the chaos, as the tower began to crumble.

Amid the madness, something else happened—something that made the very air crackle with energy. A faint whistle sliced through the night, and before any of the defenders could register what was happening, a figure descended from the heavens.

Clark , clad in a glowing silhouette, dropped from the sky like a falling star, landing with a thunderous impact in the courtyard. His boots struck the ground with enough force to send ripples through the dirt and shattered stone, creating a shockwave that knocked several men off their feet.

The onlookers froze. For a moment, there was only silence—the Creature's thrashing stopped as all eyes turned toward the figure standing tall in the middle of the courtyard. His clothes fluttered in the aftermath of his landing, and the light from the torches seemed to bend around him, casting long shadows on the broken stones.

Clark scanned the chaos before him, his eyes narrowing in focus. His strength radiated from him, a quiet power that made the very air seem heavier. His eyes flicked to the creature that had torn through the garrison, now momentarily distracted by the arrival of this new force.

The Beast recoiled as if feeling the presence of something far more powerful. It roared again, a terrible sound that rattled the bones, but Clark barely seemed to notice. His jaw clenched as he shot into the air, propelling himself forward with the speed and precision of a comet.

With a swift motion, Clark slammed into the Creature's side, his fist connecting with the beast's armored hide. The impact created a shockwave that echoed through the garrison, and for the first time, the creature staggered backward, its massive form unsteady.

The Beast's eyes flared with an eerie, unnatural light as it retaliated, swinging its massive tentacles in a fury. One of them cracked the stone beneath it as it moved toward Clark, but he dodged with ease, his body a blur of motion. His eyes glowed faintly as he focused on the beast, raising his eyes to unleash a blast of heat vision. The beam tore through the night, a sizzling ray of heat that struck the Creature squarely in the face.

The creature howled in pain, its dark scales sizzling and cracking under the intensity of the heat. It recoiled, but Clark was already upon it, his fists driving into the beast's armored hide. With every blow, its defense weakened, cracks forming in the ice-like armor that covered its massive body.

Tentacles lashed out, wrapping around Clark, but his strength was beyond the creature's grasp. With a roar of exertion, Clark tore the tentacle free and sent it flying with a single twist of his arm. He flew upward again, high into the air, and then dove straight for the beast's exposed underbelly, where the armor was weakest.

In an instant, he drove his fist deep into the creature's flesh. The Creature screeched, a horrible, guttural sound that seemed to shake the very earth. The creature's once-immense form faltered, its movements slowing as it struggled to free itself from Clark's unrelenting assault.

With one final strike, Clark unleashed another burst of heat vision, this time aimed directly at the creature's head. The blast melted through its ice-like armor, and it's body convulsed violently before collapsing into the sea with a mighty splash.

Clark stood over the edge of the broken garrison, breathing heavily but unscathed. His eyes remained locked on the water, watching as the beast disappeared beneath the waves, leaving nothing but ripples in its wake.

The courtyard was eerily quiet. The clash of battle, the screams, and the roar of the Creature had all ceased, replaced by the stunned silence of the survivors. The men of Eastwatch, many of them on their knees or staring wide-eyed in disbelief, had witnessed something they could scarcely comprehend.

Denys Mallister, standing at the edge of the courtyard, took in the scene. His heart pounded in his chest, and yet, as he looked at the figure before him, a strange sense of awe washed over him.

"Who...?" he started, his voice failing him for a moment.

Clark, still standing tall, his cape billowing in the wind, turned toward Denys. His expression was calm, his gaze focused.

"I'm not here to explain," Clark said softly, his voice carrying in the silent air. "I'm here to help."

The tension in the courtyard shifted—slowly, uncertainly. The Free Folk, who had witnessed the destruction and the heroism, began to gather their courage. Some looked at Clark with reverence, while others eyed him warily, as if unsure whether to trust the stranger who had come from the sky.

But one thing was certain: Clark had given them a chance to survive.