He woke up choking on snow.
It filled his mouth, froze his throat, and clawed at his skin like sharp little needles. Gasping, he shot up and coughed violently, spitting out half-melted flakes onto his fur-lined tunic.
Tunic? Fur?
His hands trembled as he looked down at them—thinner, paler, younger than they should've been. His chest rose and fell rapidly as fragmented memories slammed into him. His name, his world, the bus crash... and then darkness.
This wasn't Earth. It was Westeros.
Then came the voice:
[Simulation System Activated]
Host detected: Cregan Snow
Age: 14
Bloodline: Stark (Unacknowledged Bastard)
Status: Minor Household Member – Winterfell
One Simulation Per Day Available
Would you like to begin your first simulation? [Yes] [No]
He stared, heart thundering. A cheat. A system. A way out.
"Yes," he whispered.
The world slowed. A second screen appeared before his eyes, glowing golden in the snowy air.
Choose a Simulation:
[Train in swordsmanship with House guards.
Learn the basics of Northern history and ancient runes.
Spy on the meeting between Lord Rickon Stark and a southern envoy.]
He hesitated. Every option promised something valuable, but his instincts screamed for strength. Power. Respect. He needed something immediate, something he could use to not get crushed.
He selected Option 1.
[Simulation Running...]
You rise early and approach the Winterfell training yard. The guards laugh at first but allow you to pick up a practice sword. The wood feels awkward, but your body adapts. You spar, fall, rise, and repeat. You mimic their forms, observe their mistakes, and adjust.
By dusk, your muscles ache, but your stance is steadier. Your attacks—sharper. Even Ser Vayon, the grizzled armsman, offers a grunt of reluctant approval.
Simulation Complete.
Skill Gained: Swordsmanship (Basic) – You understand foundational footwork, timing, and strikes. Trait Gained: Adaptive Reflexes – Slightly improves ability to mimic and refine physical techniques. Progress Toward: Combat Proficiency Path (1/10)
Accept this outcome? [Accept] [Reject]
His fingers twitched with excitement.
"Accept."
The glow faded. And the ache set in. Phantom pain danced through his arms, his shoulders, as if his muscles remembered the effort they hadn't truly gone through.
He flexed his fingers. It felt... real. Like something had awakened in his body.
A snowflake landed on his cheek.
He stood up, brushing snow off his clothes. The walls of Winterfell loomed in the distance. The bastard of the North had no name, no claim, no allies.
But now?
He had something else.
Tomorrow, he would simulate again. And one day, when dragons came roaring from the South, the North would not kneel.
Not if Cregan Snow had anything to say about it.