The sun had barely crested the horizon when he awoke. The desert heat seeped through the thin canvas of his tent, warming the ground beneath him. The tiny dragon hatchling, curled against his chest, chirped softly, opening one silver-glinting eye before nestling back into his warmth. For a moment, he just lay there, feeling the pulse of life beneath him, the first real sign that he was not alone in this strange, harsh world.
He rolled to his side and sat up, stretching stiff muscles that still felt foreign. His mind replayed the events of the previous day—the attack by the three mercenaries, the discovery of the dragon egg, the thrill of seeing it hatch. All of it had happened within hours, yet the memories felt heavier than weeks. The system had activated almost immediately, guiding his body through instinctive combat maneuvers, unlocking skills he had never imagined possessing.
> [Skill Status: Close Quarters Combat Lv.1 — 85% mastery]
[New Skill Available: Basic Strategy — Locked]
[Dragon Bond: 15%]
He exhaled slowly. There was still so much he did not understand. So much to learn. Essos was vast, dangerous, and completely alien. The path ahead was unclear, but the system, the dragon, and his own knowledge from another world gave him tools most here could never hope to wield.
---
Stepping outside, he observed the camp of the Dying Spear Company. Mercenaries moved with practiced precision, sharpening blades, cleaning armor, and exchanging quiet words. Eyes turned toward him more than once—some curious, some wary. He had survived alone, fought skillfully, and now carried a dragon in his arms. That was enough to make men notice.
Kharis, the grizzled commander, approached. "You've got skill," he said bluntly. "But skill alone doesn't feed you. Money, connections, and intelligence keep you alive here. You understand?"
"I understand," he replied. His mind already turning over possibilities. Money and influence… yes. That I can control.
The system pinged, drawing his attention.
> [Faction Influence Detected: Local Mercenary Guild]
[Potential Ally: Hidden]
[New Skill Unlocked: Observation Lv.1]
Observation. He needed to watch, learn, and calculate. Every movement in the camp, every trade at the nearby village, every whispered conversation could be exploited.
---
By mid-morning, Kharis led him to a small village market a few miles away. The streets were alive with color and motion—merchants shouting, animals braying, locals moving with the constant tension of a place where trust was rare. He observed everything. The tradesmen, the prices, the skill with which some could lie, cheat, and get away with it. It fascinated him.
Among the marketgoers, he noticed something else—dirt. Caked grime on the hands of blacksmiths, the sores of children, the smell of neglect. He remembered the crude soap he had made yesterday. A small, simple solution that could earn him attention and coin. The plan formed quickly. Small. Useful. Profitable.
"Here," he said, offering a bar of rough herbal soap to a weary mercenary collecting supplies. "Try this."
The man sniffed it skeptically, rubbed it between his fingers, and then washed his hands. Relief spread across his face almost comically. "This… this works."
Three coppers changed hands. Word spread quickly. Soon, more mercenaries and even a few villagers were curious. His small enterprise began to grow, powered by necessity and novelty.
> [Crafting Skill: Lv.2 — Soap Making]
[Profit Gained: 12 coppers]
He smiled faintly, but there was no time for celebration. Survival was never just about money. Essos was full of dangers he could barely yet perceive: rival mercenary bands, bandits, slavers, even predatory animals. Knowledge of the land, allies, and the positions of enemies would outweigh gold long before coin ever did.
---
Returning to the camp, he spent time with the hatchling. Its scales glimmered black with silver streaks, wings too small to fly yet, eyes glowing faintly in the evening light. It chirped, rolled onto its back, and nuzzled his chest. Each moment they spent together strengthened the bond, and he realized that raising it would require patience, care, and perhaps more control than he currently possessed.
> [Dragon Bond: 25% — responds to commands]
Evening brought the first real test. Dust rose on the horizon—scouts, or perhaps rival mercenaries checking the camp. The system pinged urgently:
> [Enemy Presence Detected — Risk: Low-Moderate]
He observed the movement, analyzing the approach. Quick steps, synchronized formation, signs of training. Not a random bandit raid. Someone was testing the waters.
"Who are they?" Kharis muttered, squinting.
"They're scouting," the young mercenary replied confidently, though his heart beat faster. "We'll see if they attack or retreat."
The dust continued to rise. They were close enough for him to make out details: banners faded, symbols unknown, but the threat was real. He prepared himself, checking the hatchling, feeling its heartbeat against his chest. This was the first time he felt the full weight of leadership—not commanding armies, not yet—but deciding how to survive and protect what he already held.
---
Night fell, and the camp settled uneasily. He sat alone outside his tent, thinking. His mind raced with calculations: soap production for profit, potential allies in the mercenary guild, careful observation of threats, and the future strength of the dragon. He could see the shape of the path ahead, but the details remained hidden, waiting for him to act.
> [New Objective: Increase Resources and Influence]
[Secondary Objective: Train Dragon Hatchling]
He whispered to the hatchling, "You and I—we survive, and then we grow. One step at a time." The dragon chirped, as if understanding, and curled closer.
He considered the world beyond the camp. Across the Narrow Sea, Westeros stirred with its own troubles—Starks marching, Lannisters plotting, Daenerys waiting for dragons that had not yet hatched. But he did not dwell on that. Essos demanded his attention, and here, every action had consequences.
Tomorrow, he would venture further into the city, learn more about commerce, test the waters with rival factions, and grow stronger. Every interaction, every coin earned, every small victory was a step toward power. The system whispered constantly, guiding him, unlocking knowledge and potential he had yet to understand.
---
Hours passed, and the desert winds carried away the heat of the day. He finally laid down, the dragon nestled against him. Thoughts of gold, survival, strategy, and conquest swirled together. He had survived death once. Now he would survive Essos, and one day, he would shape it to his will.
Fire, blood, and conquest were not distant ideas—they were inevitable.
And he, reborn in this harsh land, would be at the center of it all.