Previously:

"A Servant of the Many-Faced God would not have hesitated, he ought to have struck the killing blow when he had the chance," said the Kindly Man, "this way the Enemies cannot get a Wizard... he would be wise to accept the Gift. Valar Morghulis," said the Kindly Man, as I looked down and saw the hilt of a sword sticking out of my torso, clutched by the Kindly Man.

For a moment, all I could feel was the cold.

First thing I did to having my body be impaled by what looked like a sword was to slam my staff down, the butt of it revealing the Valyrian Steel dagger that buried itself into the ground.

In hindsight, I should have something cool like 'A dragon is no slave,' or something like that... you know, instead of 'All Men must serve' that they parroted all the time. Even something like 'You are confusing my mercy for weakness,' would have been better.

The only word that I could croak out was... "Textbook," commenting on the placement of the blade. Center mass and through where the heart your be... the man before me was clearly skilled as he had hit the mark to the inch.

He had also missed me by a mile... well, more like twenty miles and some change, but who was counting.

As for the feeling of cold, I mean... what should I expect, sitting in the middle of a Ritual Circle, naked at the tail-end of Winter.

How, you will ask... well, the short answer is... Shadow Clones... bitch!

Well, not really; it is more of a combination of Shadow Clones, puppetry, and fleshcrafting... along with a bit of magical ventriloquism... I think. I was going to go with Necromancy but I have lines I would rather not cross, and bodies decapitated with Valyrian Steel turned out to be a bitch to resurrect... or make them talk in any way.

The long answer was that, as a proud nerd with detailed knowledge of things that came in handy in this world, I have been working to create Shadow Clones from Naruto ever since I figured out how Shadowbinding sorta... kinda worked.

The "shadow-demons" that I could craft by burning a body and binding the soul to the smoke that came out was a tricky process. The shadow could be made solid, but only for a short while, like when you wanted to use it as a Cutting Curse to kill someone. It was however not enough to be able to carry a staff... which I needed to place inside the House of Black and White for my next trick to work.

I finally realized the missing bit, once the need to create a new arm for Ser Richard came to be an actual problem I needed to solve.

A glamour over the shadow-demon I could conjure up by burning the body of the dead was good enough to stab something, but it tended to degrade over time. The glamour also was not solid enough for me to be able to fool the Faceless Men.

Instead, I had crafted a wooden puppet spending the last fourty-eight hours enchanting it to high-heaven to be as close to human body as I could. It was still wooden and stiff in places but binding the shadow-smoke from the Assassin to the puppet, and using my latest creation, the Orb of Divination, to remote control the entire thing gave me the tools needed to enter the Place of Power of the Faceless Men.

The torso, hidden by the clothing, was the only part of the puppet that was not shadow-bound... mostly because I knew from the Valyrian Steel stabbing into my staff that injuries using Magical Weapons would transfer to the soul casting a spell or animation and, therefore, the original body. Limb injuries were easy to handle and less risky, and I did count on the Faceless Men to go for either the heart or the neck if they attacked. It was not that I could not take it, but no one likes getting injured and while it did not physically hurt to peel back the layers of soul-stuff I added to myself, it would weaken me until I found a way to use the ritual again.

The face fell as the magic holding everything together unraveled, revealing a raven behind it... a way for me to speak. A combination of using Ravens to speak and pass messages used in the old times by the First Men and the Children of the Forest and the variant of Fleshcrafting that the Faceless Men used that turned the raven into a speaking head that I could attach to the puppet torso gave me eyes, ears and a mouth.

I had even gone so far as to magically alter the face of the one sent to kill me to become like me, morphing the magically treated skin with Transmutation and a bit of my own blood. Combined with my spiritual presence and the added layer of glamour, I managed to fool the Faceless Man before me.

In the end, the Simulacrum I crafted was a mishmash of Magical concepts I had learned from day one, made to give me the time I needed to complete the Ritual I was going through... and to get answers... and give me a backdoor into their Headquarters.

Dangerous folk Wizards... should not give them time to prepare and a clear enemy to target.

What? Did you think I was stupid enough to go into the Headquarters of a bunch of Death Fanatics without a plan... which did not involve me being as far away from said Headquarters as possible?

Even without the two dozen methods of Divination I tried to use to see the outcome of me walking into their place of power, I knew that I would not be spared... or at least I was not taking chances. You simply cannot threaten a group of people that see death as a mercy and a gift. Death was not the most pleasant state of being, and I liked my new life.

There was more to the Faceless Men than I could think, but the thing that clued me in was that when I fought the Faceless Men who came after me, he was surprisingly immune to both Magical and Physical Attacks.

Faceless men did not like Magic Users so it made sense that they knew ways to protect themselves from the most common methods of magic used by their greatest enemy... Valyrian Pyromancers. It was understandable, Valyria may sound fancy but the mines were something that would make Warhammer Universe look nice. I could argue that the Alchemist was on the same status as the Pyromancers of Valyria and we could have a debate about that the whole day, but at the end of the day, fire and shadow were magic that Faceless Men would have faced before.

Physical Immunity however, if you thought of it, it looked like everyone and their cat had that nowadays. Then I had this tiny gnawing feeling... they sent me after the Alchemist for a reason. Memories of the Faceless Men, or his skull rather, called the liquid Wine of Courage, or the recipe that the Faceless Men must have bought from the Alchemist in exchange for their immunity. The memories of the Faceless Men showed a concoction that he took, made from Blood Fly Larvae that slowly left him unable to feel his body. My own memories implied a connection to the Unsullied, but I could not recall the details and Memory Potion I had access to was still technically poison.

The whole knowing the name of the Alchemist was a clever excuse as they had used me to take out someone they promised would not be targeted... because a few hundred year old immortal alchemist would know to bribe the local murderers to be left alone... just like a decade old wizard would.

So, I had no trust for the Faceless Men, who would walk in invited to a home and kill the owner.

Also, please, this is the world where main characters drop like flies... I am not a moron. I have plans to avoid even my own wedding... because I did not trust weddings to not end in a massacre. If Jaehaerys the Old could pull of elopement and get away with it, so could I.

I shivered, not liking the fact that I was sitting naked in the middle of the woods; tapping into a Magical Power source to remote control a body was not the best way to keep warm.

The Orb of Divination I created and placed on top of my staff was connected to me, like an antenna allowing me to reach the House of Black and White and set up Step Two of my plan to eliminate my pest problem.

Pity, the Faceless Men did not manage to kill me... I really did not want them to give me the reason to go through with this.

Now, it was my turn to kill them... and I had a lot of time to think about how I could manage something so monumentally dangerous and stupid.

The fact of the matter was the Faceless Men had to die. That part was no more a matter of question. There was no condition attached. It was not something that was up for debate any more. There was no bargaining with men who had made their peace with their own death and dedicated their life to a creed.

A part of me considered all the people they killed, all the politicians, artists, creative minds... all those who died for the ambitions of another so they could finance their ambition to kill all magic users in the world. This world was stuck in the middle ages, sure, which had something to do with the Magic influencing things like chemistry to the point of messing with any fire-based inventions like steam engines, but there was also the effect of those people killed by the Faceless Men. Why was rest of the world stuck in Dark Ages while Braavos was going through the Renaissance?

In the end, I had already made up my mind, hadn't I. There was nothing more the Faceless Men could do for me and I was not going to serve their whims and become their attack dog. Even then, would they be satisfied with a few lives when I became truly a significant player in the great game?

Even then, this was my attempt to make peace before I channeled Good Old Aerys and killed them all with Fire and Blood Magic... just to make sure I slept well at night.

How... that was... a thought experiment I had been working on for... more than a year now... since I faced the Alchemist and thought how they were using me as a tool against things more powerful and dangerous than most people could handle until I died.

So I went all out, combining every bit of knowledge and information I had collected, researched and practiced into a single silver bullet.

The first thing you have to understand is that Magic is about bending Reality to your will. It was tricky, though; you needed to first be able to bend your own mind to your will. 'If I look back, I am lost,' was how Daenerys would say it before hatching dragons. If you could convince yourself that up was down, you could convince Reality that up was down, and the next thing you know, you have a squirrel clutching at the branches of a tree to not fall to the stratosphere. Speaking from experience.

It was hard, though; even when you had a floating flame in front of you, it was hard to convince someone grown with the scientific knowledge of the modern world that magic worked. That being said, science had a rather lovely way of accepting evidence, so once the initial doubt was gone, I could do a lot of things if I had the power or precision required for it.

There was a method to the madness, a logical progression of breaking Reality. That worked on small things, Spellcraft, where you could slowly build up and modify spells to do things. My wand helped, recalling every spell that came before and aiding in recreating the same spell while I added just a bit more to it. First came fire, next a fire that did not burn, next a fire that did not burn but forced your weapon to fly out of your hand... you get it.

On a larger scale problem like the one I was facing now, I needed another approach, as building up a Spell that could target all the Faceless Men at once would be impossible before they cottoned on to the fact that I could indeed target each and every one of them. The Kindly Man had been at least honest about that, though I had used ravens to track one of the sloppier Faceless Men who used make up and checked that my Jinx worked even on him.

My solution to doing such a complex bit of magic to kill off a group of Super-Assassins was... complexity. The complexity of the Rituals was the best; the effort I placed into each part of the ritual accumulated and that feeling of sunk cost fallacy ironically made for a stable ground to force Reality to call you daddy.

Sympathetic Magic was an obscure branch of magic I had used for years. The flames held a connection with each other, allowing me to look through one and see another with ease. I did not do it a lot; that way lay madness and getting hounded by a bunch of Red Priests, whom I avoided like the plague after I learned the barebones of their magic from the local branch of pyromaniacs. I don't know which is more disappointing, their inability to understand what they are doing or their zealotry.

By the same logic, I could use the concept of Thaumaturgy from Dresden Files. 'As is above, so is below' was a wider-scale application of the Sympathetic Magic after all.

The Orb of Divination was an item that worked on the same principles as the Glass Candles, with the added ability to slip through the protections of the House of Black and White, containing both the blood of a Faceless Men and the combination of Dragonglass, Dragon Bone, Weirwood and Nightwood... instead of the original version that I was certain did not have Nightwood... or the Manticore Venom.

The Simulacrum had been a proof of concept to ensure that what I would do would pass through their protections, just as the Jinx I placed on the Faceless Men to have birds shit on every one of them... on the planet was a confirmation that I could hit them all at once.

The entire confrontation was an experiment as much as a way to convince me that I could not bargain with a fanatic death cult. It was a test to see if I could control a connection even if they hid behind the Magical interaction between the wood that was bound with bones and the wood that was bound with Manticore Venom. That was the secret of the two magical woods in the end. Weirwood was made of bones and could channel Magical Energy, even if it seemed unable to hold onto the souls. In contrast, Nightwood was wood bound with Manticore Venom, allowing it to slowly separate Magical Energy from the soul, leaking it.

It also explained the properties of Shade of the Evening, as consuming it allowed one to cast spells... like a bootleg wand with a core of Manticore Venom.

The combination of Weirwood and Nightwood stripped souls of their Magical Energy, the Od, the Motive Force, the Willpower, if you will. That was what kept the boundary that formed, preventing people from looking through. Weirwood sucked them in, and Nightwood undid the magic's purpose.

My necklace felt heavy on my chest. I had long since discovered that blood allowed one to bypass the Magical Phenomenon, as the owner of the blood could skinchange into the Nightwood and, in turn, gain access to the lost Magical Energy. It was as much responsible for me not ending up as brain-dead as Brandon the Broken as my wand.

The orb worked on similar principles. While the Protean Charm I created bound it to the very planet's core and the fires within, the materials used allowed me to access through the normally magic stripping effects of Nightwood in a way only a Greenseer could.

The puppet body fell apart, having completed it's task of stabbing the Valyrian Steel dagger hidden by the Weirwood, sinking the blade into the floor. That was what I had actually come to the House of Black and White for after all. In a metaphorical way, that was me punching a whole through their protections and taking over the control of the House of Black and White, using the entire building as a Magical Focus to channel my spell, creating a backdoor.

I had a method of bypassing their protections. Next, I needed a connection to reach each and every Faceless Men.

The Jinx I used worked as a proof of concept as I tapped the skinned face in front of me, acting as a makeshift bowl to hold the correct memory that was shared by every Faceless Men.

Lastly, a way to kill each and every one of the Faceless Men... and I was going to do it with style.

"Out of the Shadows…" I muttered as I felt the connection to every Faceless Men in existence.

There were spells that I did not dare to us, spells that were physically dangerous. I did not know how to cast Fiendfyre but I knew another fire that was far too potent for me to be able to safely cast near me.

But the spell I crafted would be cast far from me in this case.

Names, in this world, held a degree of power that I was barely scratching the surface of. Where in another universe, someone named Severus Snape created a Severing Curse that severed and snapped. In this world, the names held a more abstract connection.

In that regard, my name, Viserys, was a unique one... and it was my name, no matter what the Faceless Men claimed.

The origins of name came from Visenya, a name given first to the son of Aenys Targaryen, whom Maegor had allegedly tortured and killed. Visenya itself was a variation of the High Valyrian word, Vizenka, which means sun.

In the same line of thought, High Valyrian for Fire was Perzys, and Dragon Fire was Dracarys. By following the same line of logic, I could indicate that the High Valyrian word for Sun Fire was, in fact, Vizerys or Viserys if you wanted to make it compatible with the Westerosi Common.

Viserys meant sun fire... talk about Greens sucking up to Viserys the First.

Dismissing the stray thought, I focused on my task.

What the meaning of my name meant for me was a bit more complicated. The ritual I had designed connected and channeled a single spell through the Faceless Men's specific type of Magic, through the link I used to target each Faceless Men of House of Black and White, conceptually identifying a Faceless Men... a No One.

The effect was not limited to the ones who could wear the faces of others, but also the ones who wore glamours and makeup to change their identities, as they too had seen the Hall of Faces and they too were No One.

If I did a spell, I did it right... and none of the Faceless Men would escape my wrath.

For a brief moment, I was connected to all the Faceless Men. The ritual stripped me of my identity as someone who was not Viserys Targaryen. As I imposed my name, Viserys, Sun Fire, over every Faceless Men on the planet, using the Orb of Divination to bypass their protections and the Valyrian Steel of the dagger, I got to punch through the protections they had on their own House of Black and White, giving me access to the Faces in the Hall of Faces to channel the spell through, allowing for the spell to gain more momentum.

In doing this spell through my soul, I etched into my very soul my identity of Viserys, thus precluding me from being targeted by the spell in the same way as others. To me, the spell had no effect. I was not No One, or a Nameless Reincarnate. I was Viserys Targaryen, Third of my Name... and I was already Sun Fire.

To the rest of the Faceless Men who were No One... I gave Reality a set of instructions to make sure that the Faceless Men too, were Sun Fire.

Tapping my wand onto the Sun Stone inside the skin bowl, I pulled on the small amounts of sunlight I was able to bind to the stone before the sunset, "Into the Sun."

"Incendio Solem," I incanted, pulling on a concept that is foreign to this world.

The face that was before me was a link to the Faceless Men, their own faces, the fake mask they pulled over themselves, more than just the Magical Item it had become.

The spell of my choice was not a matter of energy but knowledge and will. I knew how to cast the spell, the path that the physics needed to bend to achieve the result. I did not, however, want to risk it before... as it was never something that I thought I would need soon. Guided by my will, nuclei imposed themselves on spaces occupied by other nuclei through the Quantum Tunneling effect.

The wave function collapsed under my mental heel as atoms went through a process known as Cold Fusion and released a nuclear flame so small that it would be barely enough to heat an entire room.

As is above...

The spell took it's hold on the Hall of Faces first, which was the closest thing to my reach I had. The Valyrian Steel knife that I stabbed into the ground inside the House of Black and White acted as a way for me to subvert their protections and reach out to the faces in the Hall of Faces.

In a moment, all the faces in the Hall ignited in fire, causing the spell to gain more and more momentum before I let it expand across the planet, like a tide washing over the shore, reached the Faceless Men.

In dozens of different locations worldwide, thousands of pairs of atoms decide to occupy the same location at the same time. Reality flexed under my will, though Quantum Mechanics held, and fire... nuclear fire bloomed.

Where to me, Sun Fire became my name as I embraced who I was; in dozens of different locations around the world, the sun's fire ignited through the faces of men and women with no name to protect them, killing them instantly.

...So is below.

All around the world that a Wizard called Planetos, Assassins whose mere name sends a shiver down the spines of the most powerful men of the Realms died in pain as the laws of Physics bent to my will, as their faces melted in the fires of the sun, all that was left were corpses… faces burned off. Now, the Servants of the House of Black and White were indeed Faceless.

My name is Viserys Targaryen... and I am a Wizard.

As such, I am subtle and quick to anger.

Do not fuck with me!

AN: To those of you who saw through the puppet, kudos. I did not make any comments because I did not want to spoil it. As many of you guessed, it could have only been a puppet or just a vision. Wizerys is not that stupid and he had already made up his mind about killing the Faceless Men, which is going to become an important decision and place Wiz in the watchlist of every magical and non-magical power block.

Before anyone asks, no, Sun Fire is not a spell that is in any shape or form stable. There is a reason Wizerys avoided even thinking about such a trick. The only reason it worked was that the targets were far enough away from Wizerys that any actual side effect would be minimal... but those side effects are for later chapters to explore.

Robert: Decides to send Assassins after Viserys.

Viserys: Kills the scariest group of assassins on the planet with Nuclear Flames.

Robert: Surprise Pikachu Face

Red Priests watching the Flames and getting Sunburn from the magical backlash alone: He is the chosen one!!!

Next Chapter: Consequences of Wizerys' Actions.