Third Person POV
The boy woke with a start, his head throbbing as if a blacksmith were hammering his skull. He blinked, squinting against the dim light filtering through a cracked wooden shutter. The air smelled of stale ale, sweat, and something faintly metallic. He sat up, the rough straw mattress crackling beneath him, and froze. His hands—they weren't his hands. They were larger, calloused, with long fingers that didn't belong to the scrawny, overworked kid he'd been. His heart raced as he touched his face, feeling sharp cheekbones and a jawline that wasn't his own. A lock of black hair fell into his eyes, and when he caught his reflection in a nearby tarnished mirror, yellow eyes stared back.
"Where the hell…" he muttered, his voice deeper than he remembered. He was tall now, at least 5'10", and his body felt strong, wiry. He looked around the room—a small, dingy chamber with a sagging bed, a rickety table, and a single chair. This wasn't his cramped apartment in the city, nor the alley where he'd sometimes slept when money ran dry. This was… a tavern? The walls were rough-hewn wood, the floor strewn with straw, and the faint sound of raucous laughter drifted up from below.
He pressed his hands to his temples, trying to piece together how he got here. His last memory was crossing a busy street, the screech of tires, a blinding light, and then—nothing. His headache flared, and fragments of memory flooded back: the grind of his life as an orphan, the endless hustle for a corporate job that never materialized, the exhaustion of scraping by. And then… Truck-kun. He shouted the name aloud, the absurdity of it echoing in the small room. "You've got to be kidding me!"
He groaned, rubbing his face. Isekai'd. Of course. He'd read enough manga and webnovels to know the trope, but he never thought he'd be the one flattened by the infamous truck. His life hadn't been great—orphaned young, bouncing between foster homes, working dead-end jobs—but this? This was something else entirely.
His gaze drifted to the table beside the bed. A small glass vial sat there, its contents swirling with rainbow-colored liquid that shimmered unnaturally. Beneath it was a folded piece of parchment. He picked up the vial, turning it over in his hand. It felt warm, almost alive. He unfolded the note, his eyes narrowing as he read the elegant, looping script:
Dear Mortal,
My deepest apologies for my grandson's mistake. He was not meant to end your life so abruptly. As compensation, I have reincarnated you into the world of Westeros, you know from the TV series "A Game of Thrones." You are now in a new body, one suited to this harsh world. As a gift, drink the vial. It will grant you a power to aid your journey. Choose wisely, and may you find purpose in this new life.
—A Very Sorry God
He stared at the note, rereading it twice. Westeros? Essos? Game of Thrones? He'd watched the series enough to know it was a brutal world of backstabbing nobles, dragons, and endless wars. And now he was in it? He glanced at the vial, its rainbow glow casting flecks of color across the room. "No other option, huh?" he muttered. With a deep breath, he uncorked the vial and downed its contents. It tasted like honey and lightning, buzzing down his throat.
He closed his eyes, waiting for something to happen. A warmth spread through his chest, then a sharp jolt, like static electricity. When he opened his eyes, a translucent screen hovered in front of him, glowing with faint blue light. Words scrolled across it:
Welcome to the Gacha System!
Player Name: Not Assigned. Please name yourself to continue.
He blinked, his mind racing. A gacha system? Like in those mobile games he'd wasted pocket change on?
"Dominic Augustus," he said aloud.
The screen flickered. Player Name: Dominic Augustus. System Initialized.
Gacha System Rules:
Earn 1 Gacha Point (GP) per day.
3 GP required for a single roll.
Purchase 100 GP monthly for 1 Dragon (currency of this world).
Roll 10 times consecutively to guarantee at least one rare card.
Gacha contains Character Cards, Items, and Powers from all fictional universes.
Dominic's jaw dropped. This wasn't just a second chance—it was a cheat code. A gacha system that could pull from any fictional universe? That was insane. He leaned back, mind spinning with possibilities. What should he do first? Explore? Fight? Figure out where he was?
The screen shifted, displaying his status:
Name: Dominic Augustus
Race: Human
Age: 15
Character Assimilation: Fully Assimilated (New Body)
Powers: None
Equipment: None
Gacha Points (GP): 100
"One hundred points?" he exclaimed. That was enough for 33 single rolls or three 10-rolls with guaranteed rares. He grinned, the headache fading as excitement took over. "Let's see what this thing can do."
He navigated the glowing interface, selecting a 10-roll. The screen flashed, and a slot-machine-like animation spun, images of swords, glowing orbs, and shadowy figures blurring past. When it stopped, a list of rewards appeared:
Item: Standard Steel Sword – A well-crafted but unremarkable blade.
Item: Leather Boots – Durable, slightly worn.
Item: Waterskin – Holds enough water for a day.
Item: Iron Dagger – Small, sharp, good for close encounters.
Character Card: Toph Beifong (Avatar: The Last Airbender) – Can be assimilated to gain her earthbending abilities
Item: Rope (10 ft) – Sturdy hemp rope.
Item: Flint and Steel – For starting fires.
Item: Plain Cloak – Keeps out the rain.
Item: Small Pouch – Can hold small items.
Item: Bread Loaf – Freshly baked, slightly stale by tomorrow.
Dominic stared at the list. Toph Beifong? Earthbending? That was huge. The rest were basic, but a sword, dagger, and survival gear weren't bad for a start. He glanced around the room, wondering where the items had gone. A pile of gear had appeared by the bed—a sword in a simple scabbard, a pair of boots, a folded cloak, and the rest neatly stacked. The Toph card, a shimmering piece of parchment with her image, glowed faintly in his hand.
He rummaged through the room, hoping for more clues. Under the bed, he found a small sack containing 30 gold dragons—heavy, gleaming coins stamped with a dragon's head. "Not bad," he murmured, tucking the sack into his belt. He slipped on the boots, slung the cloak over his shoulders, and strapped the sword to his waist. The dagger went into his boot, and the rest of the items fit into the pouch.
Stepping outside, the humid air hit him like a wave. The tavern was in a bustling market street, lined with stalls selling spices, silks, and roasted meat. Voices haggled in a language he somehow understood—Valyrian, maybe? He caught snippets of conversation: "The Dothraki are moving west," "The price of slaves is up," Essos, definitely. But where exactly?
He wandered back to the tavern's common room, the smell of stew and ale thick in the air. He ordered a meal—bread, cheese, and a bowl of lamb stew—and sat near a grizzled man in a patched cloak. "Excuse me," Dominic said, keeping his voice casual. "Where exactly am I?"
The man raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of bread. "Pentos, lad. Where else?"
Pentos. Okay, that was a start. "And… who's sitting on the Iron Throne these days?"
The man snorted. "Robert Baratheon, the fat old stag. Been king for nigh on Thirteen years."
"What year is it?" Dominic asked, trying not to sound too ignorant.
"296 After Aegon's Conquest," the man said, giving him a strange look. "You been living under a rock?"
Dominic forced a laugh. "Something like that." He finished his meal, his mind racing. 296 AC meant Robert was still king, Ned Stark was probably still alive, and Daenerys was out there somewhere with her brother Viserys. He was early in the Game of Thrones timeline—plenty of time to carve out a place for himself.
Night fell, and after another meal, Dominic returned to his room. He sat on the bed, holding the Toph Beifong card. Assimilating it would give him earthbending, a power that could make him unstoppable in this world. But what would it mean to "assimilate"? Would he lose himself? The system said he was already "fully assimilated" into this body, so maybe it was safe. He took a deep breath and pressed the card to his chest, willing it to activate.
A surge of energy coursed through him, like roots burrowing into his bones. His senses sharpened—he could feel the stone floor beneath him, the vibrations of footsteps downstairs, the pulse of the earth itself. He stomped his foot, and the floor trembled, a small crack spiderwebbing across it. "Holy shit," he whispered, grinning. "Toph's powers are mine."
The system screen reappeared, updating his status:
Name: Dominic Augustus
Race: Human
Age: 15
Character Assimilation: Toph Beifong (Earthbending, Seismic Sense)(10%)
Powers: Earthbending (Beginner), Seismic Sense (Beginner)
Equipment: Standard Steel Sword, Iron Dagger, Leather Boots, Plain Cloak, Waterskin, Rope (10 ft), Flint and Steel, Small Pouch, Bread Loaf
Gacha Points (GP): 70
He flexed his hands, feeling the earth's rhythm through his feet. Seismic sense was like a second sight—he could "see" the shapes of people moving in the tavern below, their footsteps painting a picture in his mind. This was power, real power. But he needed to be smart. Essos was dangerous, and Westeros was worse. He had 70 GP left—enough for more rolls—but he decided to save them. He needed to understand this world better before gambling on more pulls.
Lying back on the bed, Dominic stared at the ceiling. He was no longer the orphan scraping by in a world that didn't care. He was Dominic Augustus, earthbender, gacha-wielder, and maybe—just maybe—a player in the game of thrones. Tomorrow, he'd explore Pentos, learn the lay of the land, and figure out his next move. For now, he closed his eyes, the hum of the earth lulling him to sleep.
The next morning, Dominic woke to the system's chime. Daily GP Earned: +1. Total GP: 91. He smirked—slow but steady. He spent the day wandering Pentos, using his seismic sense to navigate crowded markets and avoid pickpockets. The city was vibrant but chaotic, full of merchants, sellswords, and whispers of war. He overheard talk of Daenerys Targaryen, still a minor player in Qarth, and of unrest in Westeros. The gold dragons in his pouch bought him a proper meal, a map of Essos, and a cheap horse—a sturdy brown mare he named Ember.
Over the next few days, he practiced earthbending in secret, raising small pillars of stone in abandoned alleys and honing his seismic sense. It was clumsy at first—knocking over crates, cracking walls—but he improved quickly. Toph's instincts were part of him now, guiding his movements. He also rolled the gacha once more, spending 3 GP for a single pull. The result was a Healing Salve—a small jar that could mend minor wounds. Useful, but not game-changing.
By the end of the week, Dominic had a plan. Pentos was a start, but he needed allies, resources, and a goal. Should he head to Westeros and meddle in the Stark-Lannister feud? Or carve out his own empire in Essos? The gacha system gave him endless possibilities, but he'd need to be strategic. For now, he'd stay in Pentos, gather information, and build his strength.
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A/n: Give suggestions on gacha items