Jesselton W: Clash in K185 Where Silence Meet Jesselon W

Jesselton W: Clash in K185 Where Silence Meet Jesselon W

In the far corners of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, where the kingdoms slept and the wars rested only for a breath, there was one small warrior who didn’t—Jesselton W. When most were rebuilding, training, or counting the last drops of merit he spilled before the reset hit, he was already marching. Not because he had something to prove, but because silence annoyed him. Peace made his hands itch. That night, he moved again—not with a plan, not with a target—but simply jumping from kingdom to kingdom, looking for firewood to burn. Then came K185, 

and with it, the flicker of something that made his blood slow down for a moment. A castle, quietly standing, no bubble, no shadows around it, no soul awake. But it wasn’t just any farm or alt—this one had a name. Dorainhunter. COU alliance. Something about that name rang familiar, maybe from an old leaderboard or just one of those names you remember because they once survived something they weren’t supposed to. Either way, Jesselton didn’t hesitate. Scout was sent.. Soon, the report came in of DorainHunter castle. What is inside the castle of the DorainHunter?

The scout shows 15 million troops. His fingers paused on the screen. Most would’ve turned back right there. That’s too many troops to solo, even for someone with teeth and guts. 

But Jesselton was different. He didn’t count numbers the normal way. He clicked deeper into the scout, and what he saw made him smile. The defense wall… weak. Not empty but weak. Theon, Russell, Robb Stark, Merrel, Winston. A full wall, yes—but not one meant to handle a Bleed formation. No Jon, no Simon, no Night King. No snergys who could stand when the field goes red. Jesselton leaned back, cracked his neck, and started prepping. His march? The usual. Vorian, Jon Snow, Deron, Sinara, Rhea—his signature line-up, tuned and sharpened for kills. Bleed effects, fast triggers, and that draining silence that doesn’t stop until the target forgets how to breathe. He activated the march speed buff. Hit the 75% marching boost. Health up. Defense up. No second-guessing.

You never feel the time when the march is moving. It’s like those 40 seconds and shrink at once. All you hear is the sound of your thoughts, ticking louder than any drum. Jesselton watched the red line move. His troops looked like a bleeding arrow flying straight from inside the heart of a castle. And then it happened. Impact. The scene shuddered. Flames. Broken shields. Screams. Then nothing. He tapped the report the second it appeared. And what he saw made his chest sink and rise at once—6.6 million troops dead. 580,000 wounded. Jesselton’s own losses were heavy too—348k gone, but most of them just wounded. A win. A real one. Not some farm cleanup. Not a pre-hit. Not a rally mop-up. A real war strike.

He could’ve stopped there. That was enough for most. But Dorainhunter still stood. Still had troops. Still had that wall flickering with arrogance. Jesselton clicked back. Another scout. And again—still millions left. Still the same F2P commanders. No swap. No wake-up. No change. That was all he needed. He didn’t even blink. Second march sent. The same lineup. Same buffs. Only this time, faster, angrier, sharper. Jesselton’s heart was already ahead of the troops—he knew what was coming. The Red River surged again. The castle caught fire before the troops even arrived. That’s how fast things broke.

The second hit was the loss of 6.6 million troops. All that remained of Dorainhunter were shadows and bones. This time, Jesselton had only lost 270,000. The mountain appeared to have cracked due to the drastic change in tide. Now the castle walls were a cemetery. However, the screen blinked as Jesselton was getting ready for the last march. The castle was encircled by a blue light that resembled divine mercy. 

The Alliance Tower came to life. Too late, but just enough, COU woke up. Dorainhunter and other unbubbled COU players were surrounded by a protective bubble that grew like a panicked net. It was timing, not skill, that stopped the third hit. Jesselton let out a breath without using profanity. He was respectful of it. That is the nature of war. When you can, you take what you can. Don't be upset over a march.

He sat there for a moment. Quiet. Looking at the logs. The first report, then the second. Two back-to-back strikes, both massive. No dragons needed. No alliance backup. Just one man, one lineup, and the hunger to burn. Once a proud castle with 15 million troops, Dorainhunter is now nothing but ashes and regret. Furthermore, he wasn't the primary target. He was simply the next target. Jesselton snapped a screen grab. Just in case you forgot. Another name to list. Another banner burned. Another Villain. He [Jesselton W] didn't bubble for another night while someone else slept. Because sleep isn't peace to Jesselton. Sleep is a sign of weakness. And choosing to rest when the war is still going on always costs someone.

Because the bleeding river had only just begun to flow.