Jon was walking.
One hand held his phone to his ear, the other buried in the pocket of his jacket as the cold evening air of 2026 brushed against his face. Neon lights reflected on wet asphalt, the pedestrian signal glowing green.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll call you back once I cross," Jon said lazily, half-listening to the voice on the other end.
A horn blared.
Too close.
Too loud.
Jon turned his head.
Headlights filled his vision.
A massive truck swerved out of control, tires screaming against the road, metal groaning as gravity and momentum conspired against him. There was no time to react. No heroic dive. No last words.
Only impact.
Pain exploded—then vanished.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Cold.
That was the first thing Jon felt.
Not the artificial chill of air-conditioning or winter air brushing against skin—but true cold, biting and alive, sinking into his bones.
His lungs burned as he sucked in air, choking violently.
"Gah—!"
Jon shot upright, coughing, his body screaming in protest. The world spun as white and gray blurred together. Snow. Sky. The scent of earth and horse sweat filled his nose.
His head throbbed like it had been split open.
What…?
He looked down.
Small hands.
Too small.
Thin, pale, trembling.
His clothes were rough—wool, leather, and something heavy clinging to his shoulders. When he tried to move, sharp pain shot through his ribs and back.
"Ugh…!"
A shadow loomed over him.
"Gods be good—Jon!"
A familiar voice. Deep. Gruff. Concerned.
Jon blinked, forcing his vision to focus.
A bearded man stood above him, broad-shouldered, clad in fur and dark leather. Snow clung to his boots.
His face…
Jon's breath caught.
Eddard Stark.
No.
That's impossible.
"This… isn't funny," Jon whispered hoarsely.
His voice sounded younger. Cracked. Wrong.
"Easy now," the man said, kneeling. "You took a hard fall. I told you not to push the horse."
Horse?
Memory slammed into Jon's mind like a blade.
Riding.
Snow-covered grounds.
A startled horse.
A slip.
A sickening fall.
Then—nothing.
Jon's eyes widened.
Wait…
This body—
Panic surged.
He raised his hands again, staring at them as if they belonged to a stranger.
Ten years old.
This body was ten years old.
His heart pounded.
No. No no no—
His gaze snapped up again, locking onto the man's face. The scar. The solemn eyes. The unmistakable presence.
Lord Eddard Stark.
Winterfell.
Game of Thrones.
His breath came shallow.
I died.
The truck.
The impact.
And this body… Jon Snow…
A horrifying realization settled in.
The original Jon Snow—the child—had fallen from the horse and died.
And now—
I'm here.
A modern man from Earth, 2026, had awakened inside the bastard of Winterfell.
His stomach churned.
Transmigration.
Not reincarnation.
Not a dream.
A full replacement.
He squeezed his eyes shut, memories flooding in—two lives colliding.
Modern Earth. Smartphones. Cars. The shows he'd binge-watched late into the night.
Game of Thrones.
House of the Dragon.
He knew this world.
He knew its secrets.
The Wall.
The White Walkers.
Dragons.
The Red Wedding.
Jon Snow's true parentage.
The wars yet to come.
This world is hell.
And he was trapped inside it.
"Jon?" Ned Stark's voice pulled him back. "Can you hear me?"
Jon swallowed hard and nodded slowly.
"Yes… my lord," he said.
The words came naturally.
Too naturally.
Ned's expression softened with relief. "Good. We'll get you inside. Maester Luwin will see you."
Strong arms lifted him, and Jon let his head rest back, staring at the gray sky as snowflakes drifted down.
I'm really here.
Westeros.
As they moved, something strange happened.
A sharp pain stabbed behind his eyes.
Then—
[DING!]
A mechanical sound echoed inside his mind.
Jon stiffened.
What?
The world froze.
Snow hung motionless in the air.
Sound vanished.
Time itself had stopped.
Before his eyes, glowing blue text materialized in the air.
[Transmigration Confirmed][Host Body: Jon Snow | Age: 10][Status: Original Soul—Deceased]
Jon's breath caught.
"…A system," he whispered.
The text shifted.
[Unique System Detected: Monarch Ascension System][Compatible Soul Identified][System Binding in Progress…]
A cold, overwhelming pressure washed over him, like an invisible crown settling onto his head.
[Binding Complete][Welcome, Player.]
Jon's heart raced.
Solo Leveling…
This wasn't just a system.
It was that kind of system.
Power. Growth. Evolution.
In a world where strength decided life and death.
The interface expanded.
Name: Jon SnowLevel: 1Class: UnassignedHealth: 100/100Stamina: 80/80Strength: 6Agility: 7Endurance: 6Intelligence: 10Willpower: 12
Jon stared.
These are real.
A new notification appeared, pulsing faintly.
[Tutorial Quest Available]Quest: Survive the NorthObjective: Live past your tenth namedayReward: System Unlock + Skill SelectionFailure: Death]
Jon exhaled slowly.
A thin, dangerous smile tugged at his lips.
"So that's how it is," he murmured.
He knew this world.
He knew what was coming.
And now—
He had a system that allowed him to grow beyond kings, beyond legends.
The snow began to fall again.
Time resumed.
Jon closed his eyes, letting the cold seep into him.
Westeros…
You're not ready for me.