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Chapter 1 : After the Fall
Part 1 — Terminal Velocity
People don't usually wake up thinking, "Today I'm going to break a few laws of physics and then myself."
But then again, people don't usually end their day as a human pancake either.
That morning in New York was supposed to be routine—skyscraper windows, squeegee, safety harness, quick lunch, maybe a nap in the van before heading home. My name was Victor Martinez twenty-six years old, half-asleep most days and fully broke all of them.
The city below looked like a anthill made of tthousands of people and things. I remember humming some dumb reggaetón beat through my earbuds as I leaned out to scrub a stubborn smear of pigeon art off the glass. My reflection grinned back—short black hair matted with sweat, tan skin, tired eyes, the usual expression you know the pain of having to come to work again
Then I felt a jerk .
The metal clip that was my best friend and lifeline made a noise that should never, ever come from life-saving equipment: "snk."
I had time for one brilliant thought—Oh, that's not good—before gravity decided to assert itself.
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The fall wasn't instant. It was an eternity packed into eight seconds.
Wind clawed at my face, city lights stretched like comets, and somewhere between panic and acceptance my brain decided to find the humor in my situation.
> "Well," I yelled at nobody, "guess I shouldn't have had that last twinkie
People screamed from far below. Someone probably filmed it—there's always someone filming. Maybe I'll trend for a day: 'Window Washer emulates a pancake and why pancakes because f#ck waffles always burning me for no reason
And then, mercifully, blackness.
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I expected nothing after that—just a hard cut to either a hot inferno that is hell or purgatory yeah I'm Self aware enough to know I don't deserve heaven. Instead, I blinked awake to… white.
Not purgatory. Not hell. Just… screens.
An infinite white void surrounded me, its silence broken only by the hum of something mechanical. Floating ahead was a retro-looking gacha machine—red metal, glass dome, one shiny lever. The kind you'd see outside a grocery store next to gum dispensers and screaming toddlers.
Only, this one pulsed with power. The dome wasn't filled with capsules but tiny swirling planets—miniature worlds orbiting each other like lazy fireflies.
> [WELCOME, PARTICIPANT.]
[CAUSE OF DEATH: INCORRECT DESCENT.]
[CONSOLATION PRIZE: REASSIGNMENT.]
The text scrolled across the air itself. No voice, no sound, just pure information imprinted directly into my thoughts.
"Okay…" I muttered. "So I died, and the luck decides my fate just great I fell off a building because I just have the best luck."
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I looked around. There was nothing else—no St. Peter, no line of souls, just me and the cosmic vending machine. A single slot beneath the lever glowed with a prompt:
> [PULL TO DECIDE FATE]
"Sure, why not. Worst case, I die again."
I wrapped my hand around the lever and pulled. The machine whirred like a slot machine possessed. Light burst out, planets spun faster, and the screen behind it flashed:
> [LOADING FIRST SPIN… WORLD SELECTION IN PROGRESS]
[WORLD: DANCE OF DRAGONS — A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE]
I blinked. "…Are you serious?"
Of all the fantasy worlds, it had to be Westeros—the place where peace lasts five minutes and every meal can turn into a massacre.
"Great," I sighed. "Guess I'm not getting a chill reincarnation in a farming village away from incest riddled royals."
Still, it could be worse I could be sent to warcraft or something in that general genre and as long as I dont decide to throw my common sense into the void survival should be possible.
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> [SPIN 2 — POWER SELECTION #1]
[RESULT: ACCESS TO SUB-REALM 'SAVAGE LANDS' (MARVEL UNIVERSE)]
"Wait, Marvel? So there's a possibility that I can get a couple of unknown resources from marvel to trade with the barbarians.
Another spin initiated before I could question the cosmic licensing agreement.
> [SPIN 3 — POWER SELECTION #2]
[RESULT: QUIRK — 'HARDENING' (MY HERO ACADEMIA)]
I blinked. "Okay… that's actually kind of metal. Pun intended."
My brain tried to do the math:
Westeros + Savage Lands + Hardening = ?
Somewhere, a fan-fiction writer was screaming with joy.
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The screen flashed one more time.
> [SPIN 4 — BACKGROUND CONFIGURATION LOADING…]
Suddenly the gacha machine vanished, replaced by a circular room made of light. In its center floated a humanoid figure, blank and white, like a digital mannequin. Next to it appeared a set of sliders and traits—height, build, hair, eyes.
I exhaled. "So, character creation. Knew it was coming."
Lines of text hovered nearby:
> [AVAILABLE TEMPLATES: NORTHMAN, REACHMAN, DORNISH, VALYRIAN, ESSOSI VARIANTS AVAILABLE.]
The "Valyrian" option gleamed temptingly, but I hesitated. Silver hair and violet eyes screamed 'Target me, I'm related to dragons!' — not ideal in a war where dragonriders were burning entire cities.
So I tweaked things.
Height: 6'3" (because why not, it's my second life).
Build: Lean, defined, warrior's frame.
Hair: Black, slightly wavy, shoulder-length.
Skin: Sun-tanned, like someone born under Dornish suns but hardened by travel.
Eyes: Golden—bright, molten, almost unnatural, a small hint that something deeper flowed inside.
When I was done, the mannequin looked back at me—handsome in a rugged, dangerous way. Someone who could pass for a sellsword or bastard knight, not a dragonlord.
Yet as I finalized the form, another message flashed:
> [GENETIC MARKERS: VALYRIAN DRAGONSEED (DETECTED)]
[PHENOTYPE: DISGUISED]
[BLOODLINE RETAINED — VISIBLE TRAITS SUPPRESSED]
My breath caught. "thank god or gods if the religion is real but regardless its good I thought it might reject my options due to me being valyrians and valyrians are like 2 generations from being vampires I cant and will not deal with looking like a pretty boy vampire."
A grin tugged at my lips mexican dragon rider f#ck all the the pale purple eyed b#tches ."
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The chamber dimmed. My chosen form began to dissolve into particles of light that swirled around me.
> [CONFIGURATION LOCKED. COMMENCING TRANSFER.]
"Wait, do I get a tutorial or—"
> [TRANSFER INITIATED.]
Darkness slammed into me like a
Ugh—what a way to wake up.
As the dizziness faded, one thought cut through the haze: why did that damn system have to drop me on the pointiest rocks in all of Westeros? Also just out of curiosity how can the air taste salty, and not to mention the ground it feels like someone got a knife and decided to poke me with it.I groaned, pushing myself upright.
Black stone stretched out in every direction, slick with sea spray, and in the distance a volcano was smoking— Above it, winged dragons wheeled through the clouds,and suddenly i remembered that i was out in the open where any dragon can decide.to have me for lunch so onward towards potentially less being eaten and more finding out shit.
You know Im not a genius but it was kinda obvious where I landed t didn't take long for the realization to hit me. With the volcanic peak, the jagged coastline, and those unmistakable shapes in the sky, there was only one place this could be: Dragonstone.
All things considered, not a bad spawn point.
Now… time to see if the system granted me my powers—and maybe, the part most likely to kill me, get me a murder beast.