DEV was annoyed.
The cheap laptop had one job: open a browser and let him rewatch that one glorious Jon Snow moment in Game of Thrones. The one where Jon faces off against the army of the dead, sword drawn, alone. That perfect shot. But no. The screen stayed black, the fan whined once, then died with a wheeze.
"Not again," he muttered, tapping the keyboard as if sheer irritation could will it back to life.
The power button blinked once. Then nothing.
DEV leaned back on his creaky chair, sighing. "Should've backed up my bookmarks."
The irony wasn't lost on him. A fanboy trying to rewatch Jon Snow... only to die to his own electronics.
Then it happened.
A sudden jolt ran through his spine. Not pain. Something deeper. Like falling asleep instantly but backwards.
When he woke up, he was cold.
Not the 'forgot the blanket' cold, but the 'why-is-the-air-made-of-ice' kind of cold. He gasped, a sound barely escaping his tiny throat.
Tiny?
His fingers felt wrong. Small. Squishy.
His arms? Short.
He was lying on a stone floor.
Above him, torches flickered, casting long shadows against stone statues. Wolves. Knights. Old Kings.
The moment he sat up, his head throbbed.
And then it all came back.
Ned Stark. Winterfell. The Wall. Ygritte. Betrayal. Longclaw. Daenerys. That THRONE.
The death.
The cold.
The pain.
Jon Snow.
He remembered everything. As if the memories had waited for his five-year-old brain to unlock them.
"...Holy shit."
The word echoed in the crypts. Not exactly highborn language, but fitting.
He stumbled to his feet, heart hammering like a Blacksmith's forge. He knew where he was.
The crypts of Winterfell.
Why here? Why now? Why him?
He placed a hand on one of the stone sarcophagi, grounding himself. He looked at his pale hand.
"So... I'm Jon Snow."
A pause. Then a grin tugged at his lips.
"...And I get to change that ending."
Another pause.
Then the anxiety.
"Wait, wait, wait... is this a full isekai? Do I get a cheat? A gift? Do I have plot armor?"
His voice dropped.
"...Status."
There was no flash of light. No dramatic music. Just a soft "ding" in his mind.
[Initializing Basic Training System...]
Hello, User. You are now connected to the Basic Learning & Training System. As a modern mind in a brutal world, your survival chances are slim without guidance. This system exists to help you learn about your powers, develop your potential, and train effectively. Magic, if accessible, must be learned and practiced through effort. There are no freebies. No divine blessings. No god mode.
He stared at the glowing panel floating gently in his mind. It looked like a menu from a medieval RPG.
Well, that's... sobering.
No overpowered strength? No instant magic? No one-shot kills?
[Reminder: The system's purpose is to guide your training. No more. No less.]
"So... a glorified tutor?"
[Correct.]
"Great."
Still... something stirred in him. Not despair. Not disappointment.
Relief.
This wasn't someone else's life he was stealing. He was Jon Snow. Sort of. The memories of Dev from Earth were there, like an old dream. Familiar. But the pain of losing that life? It didn't exist.
Instead, he felt a burning desire.
"Alright then. No overpowered powers. Just me."
He looked up at the stone ceiling of the crypt.
"Let's do it better this time."