Suddenly, a high-pitched sound similar to cracking ice grabbed his attention, followed by cries of pain and death. His gaze caught the unnaturally bright pair of blue eyes adorning a face made of ice instead of flesh. It was a beautiful thing, Greatjon had to admit, but its cruel eyes and annoying smirk made it uglier than a southern weasel. The White Walker wielded a large longsword made of pure ice, and it effortlessly cut through his men as if they were made of cloth. The legendary foe also glided above the snow as if it was weightless. Swords quickly shattered when meeting the icy blade or bounced off the black armour adorning its torso. All who attempted to get close and stab the enemy with a dagger were slain mercilessly before they even got close. A few arrows flew towards it but shattered on its armour. Those who were about to land on its unprotected neck or face were easily avoided or cut down with a swing of the crystalline sword. The being of legends reaped lives across the battlefield effortlessly and was starting to reverse the tide of battle single-handedly.