Back in his own spartan quarters, Alaric collapsed onto the narrow straw pallet. He lay there in the encroaching grey light of dawn, his body heavy with the exhaustion of the night. His muscles felt like lead, and his skin still carried the faint scent of lavender mingled with the salt of hers.
"System," he rasped, his eyes fixed on the timbered ceiling. "Show me what I bought with tonight's blood and sweat."
The translucent interface flared to life, pulsing with a triumphant, gold-rimmed light that flooded the dim room.
[MISSION ACCOMPLISHED]
Objective: Seal the Sovereign Bond with 'Sansa Stark.'
Status: COMPLETE
Bond Established: Level 1 (Sansa Stark)
Affection/Loyalty: 100/100 (Unwavering Devotion)
Effect: Genetic Siphon Initiated. First Men bloodline successfully harvested.
[REWARDS GRANTED]
Ability Unlocked: Winter's Skin
Effect: Permanent +20% Physical Strength; Immunity to extreme cold.
Monarch Point Gains:
Mission Completion: +500 MP
First Claim Bonus: +250 MP
Target Satisfaction: +100 MP
Current Balance: 1,449 MP
Alaric stared at the scrolling text, a dark, jagged grin spreading across his face. He could feel the Winter's Skin taking hold; the freezing draft whistling through his window, which would have previously made him shiver, now felt like a summer breeze against his bare chest.
He ran a hand over his shoulder, tracing the deep bite marks Sansa had left in the heat of the moment—a physical brand of his victory.
"System," he muttered, a sharp glint in his eyes. "Open Blood Summoning. What did Sansa's blood unlock for me?"
The blue screen shimmered, reorganizing itself as it processed the data from the newly sealed bond.
[BLOOD SUMMONING: UNLOCKED]
Source: Legacy of the First Men
Available Units:
Ancient Dire-Wolves (800 MP): These are not wild pups, but apex predators forged by the System. Genetically engineered for massive scale and hyper-aggression, their fur is as resilient as iron mail, and their bite can crush plate armor like parchment.
Blood Scout (300 MP): Specialized soldiers with near-perfect stealth, mentally linked to the Monarch.
Alaric's breath hitched as he read. The thought of a beast capable of tearing a knight from his horse, or scouts who could haunt the shadows of the Red Keep and report directly to his mind, changed everything. The path to the throne was no longer a desperate dream; it was becoming a mathematical certainty.
He looked at his 1,449 MP—a king's ransom. He had enough to summon a monster to guard his path or a squad of ghosts to watch his back on the treacherous road south.
"The road to King's Landing just got a lot shorter," Alaric smirked, his thumb tracing the jagged bite mark on his shoulder.
Alaric's smirk faltered as the logistical reality of an elephant-sized wolf set in. It was a weapon of mass destruction, certainly, but he wasn't a king with a fortress yet; he was a man about to travel the Kingsroad in the company of vipers and high-born fools.
"System," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low rasp. "If I summon a beast the size of a mammoth, how am I supposed to hide it? Every lord from Winterfell to the Red Keep will see it as a challenge—or a prize. I'll have every assassin in the Seven Kingdoms trying to slit my throat just to claim the beast."
The blue interface flickered, scrolling with a clinical efficiency that ignored his tension.
[SYSTEM QUERY: LOGISTICAL CONCEALMENT]
1. Sanguine Compression (Passive Extension)
Cost: 200 MP (One-time unlock)
Description: Since your summons are birthed from Bloodline Essence, their physical forms are mutable. This allows the Dire-Wolf to "collapse" its mass, shrinking to the size of a standard hunting hound.
Note: In this state, power is suppressed to 70%, but the beast can "Burst" to full size in under three seconds upon a mental command.
2. Integration Protocol: The "Foreign Sellsword" Facade
Cost: 0 MP (Strategic Advice)
Description: Unlike the beasts, Blood Scouts appear entirely human. They possess forged identities and memories. The System recommends introducing them as sellswords or distant kin. Their mental link ensures they will never betray this cover.
Alaric leaned back against the headboard, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. "A pocket-sized monster. Clever."
He ran the numbers: 1,449 MP. If he bought the Sanguine Compression and one Ancient Dire-Wolf, he would be down to 449 MP. That would still leave enough for one Monarch Scout to act as his eyes and ears in the camps of his enemies.
His gaze darkened as he thought of the lenisters. Cersei and Jaime weren't just guests; they were predators who had spent years turning the Red Keep into a slaughterhouse for anyone in their way.
"Points are worthless to a corpse," he muttered, the logic cold and undeniable. "If I go south with nothing but a title and a sword, I'm just a lamb walking into a den of lions."
Alaric focused on the interface, his mind made up.
"System," he commanded. "Unlock the Sanguine Compression, summon one Ancient Dire-Wolf, and one Monarch Scout. Do it now."
The room didn't just glow; it seemed to bleed. The golden-rimmed light of the interface began to pool on the floor, swirling like liquid mercury before taking shape.
[TRANSACTION COMPLETE]
Deduction: 1,300 MP
Remaining Balance: 149 MP
Initiating Summoning...
From the shadows of the spartan room, two figures began to manifest. One, a man with a nondescript face and sharp, observant eyes, knelt in the corner—the Scout. But it was the other shape that drew Alaric's breath away.