Chapter 1 — Rebirth in the Eastern Continent
The world returned to him with pain.
A hard, cracked stone floor pressed against his cheek, warm from the relentless Essosi sun. His lungs burned as he sucked in air that tasted like sand, sweat, and incense—an alien cocktail that felt both ancient and strange. For several seconds he lay frozen, disoriented, until a violent pulse of light flickered at the edge of his vision.
A translucent blue interface.
A system.
A voice followed—calm, mechanical, emotionless.
> [System Activated]
[Initializing Host Consciousness… Complete]
[Welcome, Player]
His heartbeat stuttered.
Player? System? What the hell…?
He pushed himself upright. His palms were bruised, scraped raw. The body was young—maybe early twenties—and unfamiliar. He felt taller, leaner, harder. The muscles under the skin were trained but underfed, like someone used to hardship.
Another notification blinked:
> [Identity: Unknown]
[Age: 21]
[Race: Human – Essos Variant]
[Starting Title: None]
[Special Trait: Hidden Bloodline — Locked]
Hidden bloodline?
His confusion deepened, but before he could explore the interface, the world around him forced itself into focus.
He was in a narrow alley of Lhazar, a dusty settlement near the slave routes—the kind of place where life was cheap and mercy cheaper. Mud-brick buildings leaned over him like watchful giants. The distant bleating of goats mixed with the chaotic chatter of merchants. Warm winds carried the scent of blood, spices, and incense.
Then came another ping.
> [Survival Instinct: Active]
The Host is currently vulnerable. Seek shelter. Seek resources. Seek identity.
He stood, wiping dust off his torn tunic. His body moved instinctively, ready, balanced, combat-aware.
Whatever life this body once had—it wasn't peaceful.
As he stepped out of the alley, the marketplace erupted around him. Traders shouted in a dozen languages. Crates of dyed cloth, butchered goats, cheap pottery, and half-rotten fruit lined the street. Slavers advertised "healthy stock" beside chained rows of trembling men and women.
A sick twist formed in his stomach.
He knew where he was now.
Not just Essos.
Not just some fantasy world.
This was Game of Thrones.
And he had been reborn here.
---
A test of instinct
A sudden scream snapped his attention to the left. A street urchin sprinted past him clutching a stolen pouch. The merchant behind him roared, reaching for a cudgel.
Before the boy knew what he was doing, his body reacted.
He pivoted.
Stepped forward.
Blocked the thief's escape with his leg.
Elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
The child collapsed, wheezing.
A ping chimed:
> [Skill Acquired: Basic Combat – Lv.1]
[Skill Progress +1]
The merchant ran over, panting. "You! You stopped him?"
He nodded silently.
The man shoved a copper coin into his hand—payment, thanks, or a bribe to keep quiet, he couldn't tell.
But it was his first coin.
And the system reacted:
> [Resource Obtained: 1 Copper]
[Economy Pathway… Unlocked]
He exhaled slowly.
This world was dangerous—but also ripe with opportunity.
---
First night: the Egg
By sundown he located an abandoned storage warehouse near the docks. The place smelled of dust, dried herbs, and old fish—but it had a roof, walls, and silence.
As he explored the dim interior, something in the corner caught his eye.
An object.
Round.
Black.
Veined with faint silver lines like living fire.
An egg.
He knelt beside it, hesitating before brushing off the dust. Warmth pulsed through his fingertips, growing stronger, almost alive.
A massive notification exploded in his vision:
> [Dragon Egg Detected]
[Bloodline Resonance: 74% Match]
[Hidden Trait Unlocked: Blackfyre Ancestry]
His breath froze.
Blackfyre.
The exiled cadet branch of House Targaryen.
Dragons. Ambition. Rebellion. Fire and blood.
The system continued:
> [Your lineage resonates with the egg. Hatching potential increased.]
He stared at it, awe and terror clashing inside him.
He wasn't just reborn.
He wasn't just a random orphan in Essos.
He was a lost Blackfyre.
And this egg—this was his dragon.
That night, he pulled the egg close, letting its warmth lull him into uneasy sleep. Outside, the slavers' bells jingled, and distant voices drifted across the desert winds. But inside the warehouse, destiny began to breathe.
---
Day 2: Becoming more than a survivor
The next morning he forced himself into the flow of Lhazar's routine, observing people, supplies, prices, and patterns.
His childhood memories—if this body had any—were gone. But his old world knowledge remained.
Soap.
Almost nobody here used it.
The bathhouses stank. Even the rich didn't have good hygiene.
He smirked.
I can sell this place cleanliness and get rich doing it.
He bargained for animal fat, cheap oils, old herbs, broken clay bowls. People looked at him strangely, but they sold. Back in the warehouse, he boiled and mixed, stirring the crude ingredients into the first batch of primitive soap.
It smelled sharp, not pleasant—but it worked.
He tested it on his own hands.
Clean.
Smooth.
Better than anything in Lhazar.
The system agreed:
> [Crafting Skill Unlocked]
[New Item: Rough Lhazareen Soap]
Value: 2–3 coppers per piece
He grinned.
A small beginning—but a beginning nonetheless.
---
Joining the mercenaries
That evening, after selling half his soap to dockworkers (who were shocked by the results), he approached a group of mercenaries practicing in the alleyways. Their mismatched armor, weathered skin, and ruthless expressions marked them as professionals.
A grizzled man—Karo—looked him over.
"You fight?"
He nodded.
Karo spat. "You look like you fight goats."
"Test me," he replied calmly. "If I lose, I walk away."
The mercenaries laughed.
But when the test came, everything changed.
His reflexes were quick.
His movements precise.
The system guided him subtly, nudging his instincts.
He wasn't amazing—but he was good.
Good enough.
Karo grunted. "You've got a place. Low rank. Low pay. But a place."
> [New Role: Mercenary Recruit — Karo's Company]
[Faction Standing: Neutral → Friendly]
For the first time in this world, he had an identity.
---
The dragon stirs
Late that night, when he returned to the warehouse, the egg trembled.
He froze.
A hairline crack appeared.
Then another.
Then—
Crk—crrrrrk!
Light spilled out.
Soft, warm, silver and black.
A small snout emerged.
Then wings.
A tiny body, trembling and wet, unfolded shakily.
A hatchling dragon.
Black as starless night with glowing silver eyes.
It peeped softly, instinctively nuzzling his chest.
> [Dragon Companion Acquired]
Name: Undetermined
Hatchling Stage]
Bond Strength: 12%
Emotion overwhelmed him.
Awe.
Shock.
Terror.
Wonder.
The dragon curled against him, warm and trusting.
He whispered:
"Welcome to the world… little one."