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ASOIAF: Celestial Conqueror - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 18:00:10 +0000 UTCA Bastard’s awakening!
POV: Jon Snow
Arriving in front of Lord Stark’s solar, the eight-year-old boy stopped in place. His chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing. Nerves crept up on him, but he forced himself to take a long, deep breath, as if that alone could calm the storm inside him.
“Calm down, Jon. This isn’t your first sales pitch. You’ve been doing this for ten years. You can handle it.” The boy repeated the words silently, his lips barely moving as he gathered his courage.
Most people would find it ridiculous. How could a child, barely old enough to hold a sword properly, claim to have ten years of sales experience? It didn’t make sense at all.
The truth, however, was simple. Jon Snow wasn’t an ordinary child. He was a reincarnator, someone who had brought the memories of his previous life into this one.
Why that happened, he had no clue.
His old life had never been extraordinary. He hadn’t been a hero, a prodigy, or a billionaire. He had simply been a normal man who worked hard. Still, he had achieved a fair amount for his age. Years of studying in school and university eventually paid off, and by his early thirties, he was working as a Sales Manager in a mid-sized company. That position put him in charge of an entire sales team, and although stressful, it was a role he had earned through persistence.
Looking back, he often thought his life had been plain but steady. His work ethic had been strong, but it came at a cost. Free time was almost non-existent. Climbing the corporate ladder required not only skill but also social connections, so he spent much of his life balancing both. Hobbies and entertainment had always been pushed aside in favor of networking, late-night meetings, or studying new strategies.
Of course, there were brief moments when he indulged. He had gone to the cinema every now and then, caught a few TV shows here and there, but it was always shallow. Never enough to really enjoy or sink into.
His parents had drilled into him the importance of studying and working hard. He followed their advice to the letter. It worked, too—he had a promising career path, the possibility of reaching upper management someday, or even retiring early at fifty. On paper, his future looked secure.
But everything ended far too early.
A car accident robbed him of that life. The memory was sharp in his mind: bright headlights, the screech of tires, and then nothing. No pain, no long farewell. Just sudden darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer a man. He was a newborn child, his body helpless and slimy from birth. Everything felt strange—wet, cold, and overwhelming. His first hours were nothing but blurry sensations, muffled sounds, and vague shapes.
Slowly, things improved. His body adapted, his vision cleared, and his hearing sharpened. Soon enough, he was once again aware of the world around him.
Those early months of his new life were spent in constant travel. He was carried from place to place, usually in the arms of men clad in armor and leather. The sound of hooves striking dirt roads became familiar. The rhythm of being rocked back and forth while on horseback was something he would never forget.
Many of his earliest memories blurred together. He saw a tall tower in the distance once, passed through small medieval villages, and spent time in castles that smelled of smoke and sweat. There was even a city they visited that reeked so badly it left an impression in his mind. At one point, they traveled with a full army, soldiers moving in large groups, banners fluttering in the wind.
One thing, however, he remembered clearly: the climate. Jon had been born in a land where the sun burned hot and the air was heavy with warmth. As they traveled, the temperature dropped steadily. The winds grew colder, the nights harsher, until eventually the air bit at his skin with freezing sharpness.
When the cold became unbearable, the army split apart. Soldiers scattered into smaller groups, each heading toward different strongholds across the northern lands.
Among all of this, one figure stood out—the man who took the most care of him. That man was introduced as his uncle, Eddard Stark. At first, the name only tickled at the back of Jon’s mind, something faint and familiar. The realization only struck him much later, when they finally reached the place that would become his home.
Winterfell.
It was in that moment everything came together. The name Stark. The castles. The northern lands. Jon realized where he was.
That was also when regret began to creep in. He had spent his entire previous life ignoring entertainment, brushing aside novels, games, and TV shows in favor of work. Now, that choice came back to haunt him. Because if he had enjoyed them more, he might have been better prepared for what was happening.
Instead, he was reborn in a fantasy world that he only vaguely recognized.
He had been reborn into a popular fantasy TV show from his past life, but the problem was simple—he didn’t really know much about it. Recognizing names and places was one thing, but having no real knowledge of the story left him half-blind in a world full of dangers.
Sometimes Jon wished he had wasted more time on entertainment in his old life. If he had indulged in TV shows, movies, or games instead of pouring all of his hours into work, he might have had something useful to fall back on now. Maybe he could have carried over some kind of cheat-like advantage, the way characters in stories always seemed to.
Unfortunately, all he had were scraps. Random conversations at the office were the only reason he knew anything at all. His subordinates had loved talking about this series during lunch breaks or after meetings, and Jon had half-listened while focusing on work. Thanks to them, he remembered a few key events.
There was something called the Red Wedding, supposedly infamous for turning into a bloody massacre. A war between five kings would break out, though the details were fuzzy. Dragons existed somewhere in the world, and at some point, there would be an invasion of ice zombies.
That was the full extent of his knowledge. Nothing else came to mind, no characters, no timelines, no politics. Barely enough to be useful.
It wasn’t really a cheat at all—other than the vague warning that, eventually, some sort of zombie apocalypse might sweep across the land.
At least he still had his adult mind. Decades of life experience, years of responsibility, and the ability to think ahead gave him some advantages over the other children.
That much was true. Unfortunately, the usefulness of an adult’s mindset was limited in a society where swords, horse riding, and physical combat defined nobility. His knowledge of mathematics, economics, and business strategy might be leagues ahead of anyone here, but none of that mattered. Why? Because he was a bastard. That single word carried a stigma that erased most of the advantages his education might have brought him.
Another issue came from his own mindset. Being born with a adult 21st-century outlook meant he was already set in his ways. Learning swordsmanship or horseback riding wasn’t natural to him—it wasn’t something he grew up with, but something he had to painfully adapt to. His few weeks older brother, born and raised in this world, approached combat training with ease. For him, it was second nature. For Jon, it felt awkward and forced, and his older mindset made him slow to change.
At least he had one clear advantage. Studies came easily to him. Letters, numbers, reading, and writing—he mastered them far faster than any child his age. That could have opened the path to becoming a Maester someday, a scholar serving noble houses.
But the problem with that path was obvious. Maesters swore an oath of celibacy. For Jon, that was an immediate deal-breaker. No thank you.
So where did that leave him? Perhaps he could use fragments of modern knowledge to build something, to carve out a business or reputation of his own. But when he actually considered it, the reality was discouraging.
What did he know, really? A general idea of how a water wheel worked? Useless—this world already had those. Beyond that, his grasp of old technologies was shallow. He had gone through history classes in school, sure, but who memorizes the precise mechanics of inventions from centuries ago? Nobody studies that in detail unless they plan to be an engineer or historian. And certainly not someone who thought they would live their whole life in the modern world. It wasn’t like anyone could anticipate being reborn into a medieval society where people still dumped waste into buckets.
The printing press occasionally came to mind as a possibility. That could change things. But even that was mostly wishful thinking. The obstacles were too many. First, he didn’t have a blacksmith capable of forging precise movable type. Second, the initial costs would be overwhelming. Ink and paper were already expensive luxuries, and building the press itself would drain enormous resources. Third, the customer base was limited. With literacy rates this low, the only potential buyers were maesters, priests, nobles, and wealthy merchants. All of them looked down on him for being a bastard. His parents not being married meant he carried a permanent stain in their eyes, especially among the nobility.
That reality placed him in a strange position. Born among the highborn, yet treated like common folk. His bastard status stripped away much of the respect he might otherwise have earned, making every path to power narrower and steeper.
In the end, Jon had accepted the most practical option. His best chance for survival and influence was to remain close to his brother, to stand at his side, and eventually serve as his right-hand man.
That had been his plan.
At least, it had been—until last week.
———
< A week earlier >
It started out as an ordinary day in Winterfell. Jon had gone through the usual morning chores—feeding the hounds, checking the stables, and hauling water—before heading to the yard for training under Ser Rodrik Cassel, the Master-at-Arms. The drills were routine, the kind Jon had done countless times before, yet the clatter of blunted steel and the shouts of boys made the air feel more alive than any chore ever could.
“Come on, Snow! Show me what you’ve got!” Robb’s voice rang out, full of energy and challenge. He lunged forward with his practice sword, the wooden blade whistling through the air. Jon barely managed to raise his own weapon in time, the impact jolting through his arms.
Robb pressed forward, the grin on his face showing that he was enjoying every second of it. Jon, on the other hand, struggled to keep his footing. His block had been sloppy, too slow, and Robb was already readying another swing.
And then it happened.
Something inside Jon seemed to snap into place. His body moved before his mind had the chance to think. The weight of Robb’s strike, instead of crushing him, flowed to the side as Jon shifted his stance. His sword slid along Robb’s with surprising ease, freeing his own blade in the same motion. With a twist of his wrist and a push from his shoulder, Jon sent Robb stumbling backward, nearly losing his balance.
Both boys froze, eyes widening at the sudden shift. Robb looked more surprised than angry, while Jon’s heart pounded in his chest, unsure of what he had just done.
That was when he heard it.
The voice.
Celestial Dojo, Online
For a moment, everything around him blurred, and his head felt strangely heavy. The sudden Voice threw him off enough that he didn’t notice Robb had already recovered. With a swift motion, Robb struck again. The blow hit Jon squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the cold, snow-covered ground. All the while, the Voice—whatever it was—kept whispering in the back of his mind, quietly working its influence.
[ Combat Prodigy ] - 200 CP (Free Starting Gift)
Source: Feng Shen Ji
You have become proficient in the ways of battle both armed and unarmed, enough to take down the average combatant with little trouble. You can compress your field of combat to gain expert levels of skill (needing a group of average combatants to be a challenge); unarmed combat goes into either striking or grappling techniques while armed combat goes into melee or ranged combat. You can further compress your expertise to attain mastery in one aspect of your chosen field of combat (becoming a one-man army of your field): striking would let you choose punching, kicking, pressure points, and other striking methods (including elbows, knees, or head strikes); grappling lets you choose throws, jointlocks/submissions, and pinning techniques; for the melee and ranged weapon you would choose a singular type of weapon to excel at, from swords to guns. You also gain relevant knowledge towards whatever field you choose (training, techniques, and maintenance), as well as a propensity for learning additional skills in your chosen field. You may purchase this perk multiple times, and if chosen as the discounted perk all purchases are at discount.
Jon’s mind raced faster than he could follow. It felt as though years—maybe even decades—of memories and experiences flooded into him at once. Every technique he had ever learned, every combat drill he had practiced, came rushing back. His mind ran through hand-to-hand martial arts, then moved to weapons: swords, spears, daggers, axes, clubs, and countless other forms of melee combat. The sequence didn’t stop there—bows, crossbows, and even throwing knives passed before his inner eye like a rapid slide show.
Then, without warning, the memories shifted. They narrowed and focused, moving from general mastery of combat to the pure, unrelenting dedication of swordsmanship. Every motion, every stance, every strike he had ever studied or imagined surged through him. His body knew how to move before his mind could even think, and for the first time, he truly understood the weight and balance of a sword. Years of experience, painstaking practice, and endless repetition seemed to awaken inside him all at once.
“Jon. Jon! JON!”
The voices tore through his thoughts, yanking him back from the flood of memories. His vision cleared, and he realized he was lying in the snow, looking up at two worried faces: Robb’s wide-eyed concern and Ser Rodrik’s stern but worried expression.
“Uhhh… what happened?” Jon asked, his voice small and uncertain, still trying to piece together what had just occurred.
Robb crouched down beside him, offering a hand to help him to his feet. “You… you just froze up for a moment. I got a clean hit in,” he said, his tone laced with worry. “Are you okay?”
“I… I think so?” Jon replied, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him. The strange, electric feeling in his mind—the same one that had gripped him moments ago—resurfaced, tugging at him, instinctively he held onto his Brother.
Celestial Forge, Online.
[ Lore of the Lost Homeland ] - 300 CP (Free Starting Gift)
Source: Lord of the Rings - Twilight of the North
Though in these days much has been lost of the lore of Numenor, even from the days of Elendil, you now possess such knowledge as was available during the days of the ending of the Second Age and as such can be considered one of the most learned in those subjects of any living Man. Indeed, such lore as the waybread and drinks used on the march and held in need-wallets that are like to the elven lembas and miruvor but less potent. The knowledge used in the making of the Othram, the great outer wall of Minas Anor, its outward face hard and dark and smooth, wrought of the same black stone used to construct the tower of Orthanc. Unbreakable by any means available to Men. The lore used in the making of such weapons as the barrow blades, or the fine armor of the Nmenorean lords. Even the knowledge of ship-lore and building. The various architectural and engineering wonders of the early years of Arnor and Gondor are yours to know.
Once again, his mind drifted, this time to a far-off civilization he didn’t recognize—neither from Earth nor from any records in this world. The closest comparison he could make was Atlantis. This civilization, Numenor, had also been swallowed by a cataclysmic wave that drowned the island nation.
The knowledge flooding his mind was staggering: Smithing, Architecture, Shipbuilding, Navigation, Construction, Engineering, and countless technologies far beyond anything in Westeros—or even Essos. Exactly what he had been missing. Real, usable knowledge that could give him an edge.
Numenor’s society had been more advanced than anything on Planetos, roughly at Earth’s Renaissance era up to Industrialization—but without cold weapons or electricity. A strange, advanced civilization that had developed along a completely different path than humanity on Earth.
Instead they had developed skills and techniques in Medicine and the Mind that resembled Magic quite a lot. Even their Craftsmanship contained elements almost Magical in nature.
But Jon couldn’t dwell on that now. He had more pressing questions. What was happening? How had he suddenly gained all this knowledge? And what was that Voice?
Could it be that he had awakened a Cheat? Jon wasn’t completely ignorant of entertainment or fiction. He’d overheard enough to know that a common theme in isekai stories—ones he technically fit into—is that the protagonist often gains a Cheat.
As if in answer, the Voice echoed again inside his mind.
Celestial Grimoire, Online.
[ Artificer ] - 200 CP (Free Starting Gift)
Source: Magic The Gathering - Iconics
Mechanical wonders and magical items of grandeur! Artifacts are powerful tools for people, wizards and Planeswalkers alike and you have a very potent knack for them. Creating artifacts comes naturally for you making you both an excellent craftsman and an intuitive inventor. It would not be difficult should you spend some time to start making artifice creatures of decent power. Within a scant few years you would even be able to devise inventions worth showing at Kaladesh’s technology fair, assuming you have been studious. In addition to this, you also become more capable of making personalized artifacts that are imbued with your powers.
This time, it was undeniable. This had to be a Cheat. The previous visions had shown him knowledge within human limits, but this—this was pure magic.
Visions of studying sciences unfolded before him, familiar and yet completely different. Magic and the use of Mana—energy drawn from the land—and Aether—a force existing between realities—were at the core of it all.
The memories shifted. Lecture halls and classrooms faded, replaced by years spent in workshops. Jon saw himself tinkering, building machines and gadgets that felt both strange and oddly familiar.
And then, something changed inside him. He could feel magic stirring in and around him. Alive. Real.
He had magic.
But it didn’t end there. The Voice came again, echoing in his mind.
Celestial Reliquary, Online.
[ The New Ring ] - 600 CP (Free Starting Gift)
Source: Shadow of Mordor
Your own strength has been used in its creation, rendering it free of others influence, yet you are not diminished or limited for it. Should you allow it to be taken from you, something that is not possible against your will, you can cause its influence to wear away at the minds and souls of those who foolishly dared to lay claim to your treasure. Or you could lend it as a gift, knowing its wielders cannot use the might it grants them against you. Made with the intent of rivaling Sauron’s own One Ring, it bestows upon its wearers the power of Domination, allowing users to force their will upon other life forms susceptible to its immense magical power. This effect is not absolute, as sufficiently powerful beings can potentially resist its power and break free of it. The mentally weak and broken are more prone to its influence, whilst those with a will of iron have a chance of denying it altogether. You can also sacrifice your own followers, causing their heads to explode in an attempt to intimidate your enemies, or provide aid by healing those within close range at the expense of your own health and extending your own life. Additionally, you can restore your own wellbeing by draining others of theirs. Can be used to free others from mental control and contamination, as well as releasing those bound to undeath and letting those forced to remain lingering amongst the living to pass on. Like other Rings of Power, it grants augmentative effects to those who wear it, enhancing their existing abilities to new heights.
There were no memories. Nothing. Just a vague sense of an object, and nothing more.
Then, as Jon’s vision cleared, he felt something small in his pocket. He didn’t have time to check it. Both Robb and Ser Rodrik were staring at him, worry etched on their faces, while he leaned on his brother for support.
“I’m fine,” Jon said quickly, trying to steady himself. Everything looked normal again—except he now knew a lot more than before.
“You don’t look fine, lad. I think you’ve had enough for today. Take some rest. I’ll inform Lord Stark that you should be relieved from your duties to recover,” Ser Rodrik said firmly.
“Fine,” Jon sighed. He didn’t mind. There was plenty he still needed to do. The sudden influx of knowledge meant he had a lot to prepare and plan.
“Come on, I’ll help you to your room,” Robb offered.
“I’m fine. Really,” Jon replied quickly. “I’ll just go to the library and read a bit. Maester Luwin will be nearby if anything happens.”
