I am an Alien in another reality.

Alex and his army marched toward the Great Wall in the North, only to find it already breached, with no signs of life. Despite the eerie silence, they pressed forward, a relentless silver tide moving across the snowy landscape.

As they advanced, they encountered only ruins, no bodies, no trace of the lives that once were.

After eight days of nonstop marching, they reached a high vantage point, gazing out over a vast plain filled with motionless figures. The darkness did little to obscure the scene; their enchanted helmets allowed them to see clearly.

Ahead, Winterfell stood like a looming fortress, its walls tall and resilient. In front of it, an immense army of the Wights.

The forces of the living, desperate and determined, stood ready to face them, but the odds were insurmountable. The Wights, a mass of hundreds of thousands. Alex surveyed the battlefield, looking for a familiar figure.

"Stop," Alex commanded. His army halted, dragons hovering above, their massive forms darkening the sky further.

In Winterfell, the Dothraki warriors let out a triumphant cheer as their swords ignited with fire. They mounted their steeds and charged into the waiting Wights, only to be overwhelmed as the Wights swarmed them, tearing them apart like rag dolls.

The flaming trebuchets fired, but they were extinguished as they landed. The Wights pressed on, indifferent to the artillery's assault. The cries of agony filled the air as the light from the Dothraki's swords flickered and died, swallowed by the darkness of the battlefield.

The Unsullied and the organized Westeros joint army faced the assault of the Wight enemy, amassing large casualties.

As the Wights army pushed forward, the living retreated behind the walls of Winterfell, collapsing their bridges to slow the oncoming tide. Their trenches, initially prepared to slow the Wights, refused to ignite, until at last, the flames flickered to life, halting the Wight's progress for a brief moment.

At Alex's signal, the Fey troops stepped forward. With practiced precision, they raised their palms toward the sky, and ten thousand spheres of light rose, illuminating the battlefield as if the sun had returned. The Wight army faltered, and in the distance, the Night King and the White Walkers turned, sensing the threat.

Winterfell's defenders, watching from the safety of the walls, marveled at the sight of the approaching army. "Reinforcements?" one soldier asked, eyes wide with disbelief. "Who's army is that? So many dragons… Look at their armor! So luxurious!" The soldiers were stunned by the sight of the Silver Moon Legion, their dragons and warriors standing like a wall of fire and steel against the night.

With a decisive signal from Alex, the Legion advanced. The shield cavalry, dismounting from their horses, formed a line at the front, their mithril shields gleaming in the light.

The light infantry followed, their swords ready. Archers on horseback aimed, drawing their enchanted arrows toward the oncoming Wights. The Night King, realizing the threat posed by the Legion, ordered the Wights to attack, giving Winterfell's defenders a brief respite.

The Wights charged, crashing into the shield wall. But the mithril shields held firm, the enchanted spears of the infantry driving the Wights back with brutal efficiency.

The first wave of the Wights crashed against the line but couldn't break it. Those that leapt over the shields were met by the swords of the light infantry, each swing delivering a killing blow.

The archers released their arrows, each one leaving a glowing trail as it pierced through multiple Wights at once, setting them ablaze.

The dragons, dove down from the skies, unleashing torrents of fire and ice upon the Wights. The living forces of Winterfell watched in awe as the Silver Moon Legion fought with unmatched precision, their dragons and soldiers striking down the Wights without suffering a single casualty.

On the walls of Winterfell, the defenders debated whether to join the battle. "Shouldn't we help them," one soldier asked. Everyone looked at him as if looking at an idiot and mocked him. "Go on then, jump you go." others laughed. "If they defeat the undead army, what then?" One asked. Hearing this, everyone fell silent. Daenerys and Jon Snow appeared, riding dragons of their own to help with the fight.

The Night King raised his ice spear, aiming for one of the dragons. Alex, his eyes fixed on the scene, pointed his blade toward the Night King. In an instant, several dragons turned, unleashing streams of fire that shattered the ice spear before it could be thrown.

The Wight army began to falter under the unrelenting assault. "Push forward!" Alex commanded, his voice carrying across the battlefield. The shield infantry advanced steadily, their spears driving back the Wights with each step.

The light infantry followed, cutting down the creatures with deadly precision. The Fey troops provided support, casting magical barriers to shield the wounded soldiers and healing magic to heal them.

The people of Winterfell, watching from the walls, saw the tide of battle shift in favor of the Legion. At last, Alex led the charge toward the remaining White Walkers and the Night King.

As his army encircled them, Alex raised his sword high, signaling the red dragons. Dozens of them swooped down, surrounding the remaining White Walkers. The Night King, his icy glare filled with fury, glared at Alex coldly.

But before he could react, a sword struck him in the chest thrown by Alex imbued by his energy. Moments later, fire rained down upon him and the White Walkers. The dragons unleashed their fiery breath, and the land beneath them melted, turning into a pool of molten rock and soil.

With the Night King destroyed, the Wight army disintegrated, and the battle was won. The Silver Moon Legion stood victorious, and the forces of Winterfell watched in stunned silence as the last remnants of the Wights were reduced to ash.