Pain.
That was the first thing I felt.
Not the metaphorical "my heart hurts" kind. No. I mean someone-just-slammed-my-skull-against-a-brick-wall level pain. My head was pounding like a drum at a heavy metal concert, and my mouth tasted like I'd been eating burned toast dipped in horse water.
I cracked my eyes open, expecting to see my crusty apartment ceiling. Maybe my half-broken fan spinning like it was trying its best to die.
Instead, I saw… a tent ceiling.
A fancy tent. Red cloth. Fur lining. The smell of actual burning wood, not cheap incense.
"Huh," I muttered. "Either I've been kidnapped by medieval cosplayers… or I died."
Both options felt weirdly believable.
I tried to sit up—and immediately realized this body was not mine. My hands were too big. My wrists were thicker. My hair flopped into my face, heavy and curly.
Curly? My hair was supposed to be straight. And shorter. And… less luxurious.
I snatched a lock and stared at it.
Brown. Wavy. Heroic-looking.
Hold on.
Wild-looking hair. Smell of wet dog. Giant tent. Leather armor stacked on a nearby chest. A direwolf sigil stitched onto a cloak.
Oh. Oh no.
"Oh hell no."
Before I could continue my mental breakdown, a voice called from outside.
"My king?"
King?
The tent flap opened, and Greatjon Umber walked in.
Not just some dude like him. The real deal. Seven feet of loud muscle, beard like it could beat me in arm wrestling.
And he kneeled.
"Robb," he growled, voice unusually soft. "The men await your command."
Every neuron in my brain froze.
I knew this scene.
I knew where I was.
I wasn't in cosplay. I wasn't in a dream.
I was Robb Stark. Son of Eddard Stark.
Which meant…
Ned Stark was dead.
And I—I—was about to lead an army south.
I swallowed.
Well. Crap.
---
SYSTEM BOOTING…
A loud DING echoed in my head like someone had installed Windows 95 inside my skull.
A glowing blue screen blinked into existence. Floating in midair. Hologram-style.
[TEMPLATE SYSTEM INSTALLED]
Current Host: ROBB STARK (Age 16) — Status: PANICKING
Available Template: ODA NOBUNAGA — The Demon Daimyo
Would you like to APPLY TEMPLATE?
[ YES ] [ YES ]
I squinted.
"…Those don't look like choices."
The system popped another line.
You're applying it either way, genius.
"Rude," I muttered.
Applying Template — ODA NOBUNAGA…
Installing Traits:
[Strategic Genius ✓]
[Intimidating Presence ✓]
[Unreasonably Cool Battle Quotes ✓]
[Occasional Desire To Conquer Entire Continent ✓✓✓]
Warning: Ego Surge Imminent.
"Wait—ego wha—"
Suddenly my lungs filled with FIRE.
Power—confidence—ambition—roared through my veins like someone injected espresso directly into my soul.
I shot up from the bed, eyes blazing, hair probably doing dramatic anime fluttering even though there was no wind.
Greatjon blinked. "You… alright, lad?"
I wanted to say "No," but the words that came out were:
"Gather the lords. We conquer the South at dawn."
Oh yeah.
Nobunaga.exe was officially installed.
---
HOW TO PRETEND YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING (WHEN YOU ABSOLUTELY DON'T)
I left the tent with peak dramatic stride. Outside, the Stark camp stretched across rolling hills—thousands of soldiers cooking, sharpening weapons, trying not to freeze.
Every single one of them stopped and stared.
And kneeled.
"HAIL ROBB STARK! KING IN THE NORTH!"
Normally, this scene gave me chills when I watched the show.
Now?
Now it was terrifying.
I wasn't Robb. I was just some random dude whose previous greatest strategic feat was scoring top in a game of Civilization.
But then Nobunaga whispered in the back of my head:
> If they follow, lead. If they doubt, conquer their faith with fire.
"Yeah okay but also like… let's not burn anyone yet," I whispered back mentally.
I raised my hand. "Rise."
They did.
All eyes locked onto me. Expectant. Fierce. Loyal.
Crap. They were waiting for a speech.
Good news: Oda Nobunaga apparently came with a DLC pack labeled 'Motivational Monologue Generator.'
Words flowed out of my mouth like I'd rehearsed them my whole life.
"My father was murdered by cowards."
The men growled.
"They think the North weak. That we freeze while they feast."
Louther growls.
"But we are wolves."
Roars now.
"We do not beg. We do not yield. WE TAKE."
The men went berserk, slamming shields, roaring like madmen. Even Grey Wind howled beside me, because of course there was a massive wolf casually sitting there like my Pokémon.
I pretended this was normal.
Inside I was screaming.
---
INTERMISSION: PANIC BREAK
Back in my tent, I finally let myself flop face-first onto the bed.
"Okay," I mumbled into the fur blanket. "This is fine. I'm just… Robb Stark now. With battle mode Nobunaga installed. Easy."
Silence.
Then: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—"
Grey Wind poked his head through the flap, staring like I'd offended his ancestors.
"Don't judge me," I muttered.
---
STRATEGY MODE: ON
I sat up, rubbing my temples. If I was going to survive—and win—I needed a plan.
Facts:
Ned Stark = dead.
Robb Stark (a.k.a. me) = currently smack in the War of the Five Kings.
In canon, I make several terrible life choices. One of them involves marrying for love instead of politics.
Solution: Do not simp.
System pinged.
[New Mission Unlocked: DO NOT SIMP]
Reward: +10 Strategy. +20 Self-Control.
Failure: Execution. Possibly beheaded. Also disappointed ancestors.
"Noted."
I stood up, feeling… weirdly calm. Nobunaga's presence in my head was like a battle GPS. I could feel how to reorganize troops. Which routes were best. Which lords were loyal. Which ones were waiting to stab me.
This was good.
This was very good.
---
COMEDIC SURPRISE GUEST: CATELYN STARK
"Robb?"
I turned.
Catelyn Stark stood at the entrance. Her eyes red—but strong.
Oh boy. Mom talk.
She stepped closer, scanning my face. "You seem… different."
"Puberty," I said instantly.
She blinked. "…What?"
I coughed. "Uh. Just thinking clearly now. Father wouldn't want me drowning in grief."
That, at least, made her soften.
"He would want justice," she whispered.
"No," I corrected gently. "He would want victory."
Her eyes widened just slightly.
Then she smiled.
"My son," she said proudly, "you are your father's heir."
Nobunaga snorted internally.
> If she knew whose soul was in here, she'd faint.
"Shut up," I mentally hissed back.
---
END OF DAY ONE IN WESTEROS
That night, I lay awake staring at the tent ceiling.
So. I was Robb Stark. The Young Wolf.
Except this wolf had downloaded Demon Lord DLC.
I could be better than canon Robb.
Smarter.
Scarier.
Funnier, preferably.
And maybe… just maybe…
Unbeatable.
System pinged cheerfully.
[CHAPTER COMPLETE]
Next Template Slot Unlocks Soon…
Hint: Think bigger than Oda Nobunaga.
Oh, hell yes.
I drifted to sleep with one final thought:
King in the North? Nah.
Emperor of Westeros.
---
END OF CHAPTER 1