The system had brought Rayder into this world—and it was nothing short of a nightmare.
Aside from a strange system in his head, his starting point was practically identical to that of Zhu Yuanzhang: dirt-poor, abandoned, and burdened with an ominous destiny. Even the body he now inhabited, a boy named Rayder, seemed utterly unremarkable at first glance—ordinary to the point of being forgettable.
But it was only after sifting through the original owner's memories that he discovered something incredible: this body belonged to a direct descendant of the Ancient Valyrian Dragon King Bloodline.
Without that knowledge, Rayder would have assumed he was just another unlucky transmigrator tossed into the wilderness with nothing but rags for clothes and a growling stomach. And even now, three days after crossing into this new world, he still struggled to accept reality.
His stomach rumbled like thunder, sharp and painful. He couldn't help but long for the peaceful days back home—days filled with phone scrolling, binge-watching dramas, and drinking sugary "happy water." Even working as a low-level security guard wasn't bad in hindsight. He could sit in the booth all day, reading web novels on his phone, occasionally chatting with younger girls. Sometimes, he'd help them out—giving them rides home and grumbling afterward that his back wasn't as strong as it used to be.
Who could've imagined that after lying in bed one night, playing folding games with the girls online, he'd suddenly transmigrate into this hellhole?
Looking at his current state—tattered clothes, skin covered in dirt, hair caked with dust—Rayder looked more like a caveman than someone from a noble bloodline. He had survived the past three days in the wild purely by willpower and the faint hope provided by the system. Without it, he might have already hurled himself off a cliff to escape this nightmare.
After all, he had no survival skills whatsoever. Eating wild herbs and drinking muddy water had become his daily reality. It was unbearable.
As he dug deeper into the original owner's memories, the tragedy of the boy's past became clearer.
Born of the ancient and once-mighty Valyrian Dragon King lineage, Rayder's ancestors had long been cast out of Valyria for reasons lost to time. Their surname stripped, their dragons taken, they were reduced to wandering outcasts. Even their right to possess dragon eggs was revoked. They were nothing but shadows of a fallen dynasty.
Then came the Doom of Valyria.
The world-changing cataclysm should have ended everything—but for Rayder's family, it only made things worse. Once respected, even feared, the remaining Valyrian bloodlines became objects of curiosity—and commerce. Nobles, scholars, and madmen across the continents wanted to understand the secrets of dragon-riding, of magic infused into the very blood of the Valyrians. In the past, no one dared touch that knowledge. Now, with Valyria in ruins, the floodgates had opened.
Rayder's ancestors had lived their lives on the run. One generation after another fell in anonymity, hiding from those who sought to exploit them. Eventually, his parents—likely several generations removed from the Dragon Kings—died quietly from illness. The boy, too, succumbed to sickness.
But then, something incredible happened.
Rayder—our Rayder—awoke in this body. The original soul was gone, and the transmigrator had taken his place.
The system introduced itself quickly—cold, mechanical, and emotionless. Through a few stiff quest prompts, Rayder learned that he had entered the world of Game of Thrones.
The problem?
He barely knew anything about it.
Sure, he had seen memes and clips here and there. He knew there were dragons, political backstabbing, and a girl named Daenerys. But his knowledge was shallow at best. He didn't know the timeline. He didn't know the major events. And he certainly didn't know how to survive in such a brutal world.
All he had now was the system.
But it wasn't exactly helpful.
It lacked intelligence, had no voice, and didn't even offer suggestions. All it had were two simple features: a personal status panel and a quest panel.
Sighing, Rayder summoned the interface with his mind. Instantly, two high-tech ice-blue panels appeared before his eyes—visible only to him.
On the left was the personal panel:
[Personal Status]
Name: Rayder
Gender: Male
Age: 11
Bloodline Talent: Ancient Valyrian Dragon King Bloodline (Dragonrider)
Status: Hungry, Weak, Mentally Fatigued, Malnourished
And on the right:
[Quest Panel]
Quest: Travel to the Ruins of Valyria
Reward: Kidora
Rayder's heart sank.
The quest seemed simple enough—go to the ruins. But the reward? Kidora? He could barely process the meaning behind that name. Was it referring to King Ghidorah, the legendary three-headed dragon? That would be absurd. Would he really receive such a monster as a companion?
Still, he couldn't ignore the possibility.
If it was true, the reward could completely change his fate. But reaching Valyria—through volcanoes, storms, wild beasts, and whatever else—would be a Herculean task for a malnourished eleven-year-old boy.
Still, quitting wasn't an option.
Rayder gritted his teeth and started walking again, trudging toward the horizon.
Ahead of him, jagged mountains loomed, smoke and fire rising from their peaks. That was his destination—the Ruins of Valyria.
His legs ached. His body was on the verge of collapse. But he kept moving, pushing forward, step by step.
He walked until his soles blistered, until the sun began to sink behind the mountains. His only goal was to reach the outer edges of the ruin before nightfall.
Finally, as twilight bled across the sky, he caught sight of a broken landscape in the distance—a continent torn apart by fire and death.
The terrain was shattered and rugged, as if a titan had stomped through the land and ripped it asunder. At the center, volcanoes fumed constantly—some rumbling with molten fury, others silent and sleeping like ancient giants.
The air was thick with sulfur and smoke, making every breath feel like inhaling poison. Rayder coughed hard, pulling up his tattered sleeve to cover his nose.
Beneath his feet, rivers of lava flowed through cracked volcanic fissures, their red glow lighting the ash-choked air. They roared and hissed, spitting heat like angry serpents.
Above him, gray volcanic ash drifted endlessly. The sky, darkened and heavy, looked like a lid trapping heat and smoke inside a giant furnace.
The occasional tree poked through the wasteland—blackened, half-dead, their twisted branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. These trees were survivors, much like Rayder himself, clinging to life where none should exist.
He moved carefully, each step raising a puff of ash that settled like snow around his ankles. The terrain was treacherous; one misstep could mean falling into a crevice or burning in molten rock.
Then, ahead, he saw something—ruins.
Massive stone structures rose from the scorched earth, their grandeur worn down by centuries of decay. Even in ruin, they were majestic, remnants of a long-dead empire that once commanded dragons and dominated continents.
But this wasn't a silent graveyard.
It was a twisted nest of grotesque life.
Rayder froze.
In the distance, a snake—long and bloated—slithered through the ash. Its flesh was half-rotted, parts of its ribs visible, and a noxious stench hung in the air like rot.
The boy gagged, backing away slowly. It wasn't just snakes. He could hear the rustle of strange things—twisted creatures born of chaos and magic. The ruins of Valyria were cursed, and now, he stood at their threshold.
And yet, Rayder didn't stop.
His lips were cracked. His stomach was empty. But his eyes were filled with resolve.
Because beyond this nightmare, Kidora awaited.
And maybe—just maybe—his legend was about to begin.
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