Levi sat against the old stone wall, his legs stretched out, his back aching, and his pride somewhere at the bottom of the tower where he'd slipped like an idiot. Dust clung to his shirt and pants, and a faint sting pulsed in his lower spine.
"Ow… damn it," he muttered, grimacing.
He had decided, for once, not to laze around. After all, he was currently squatting in Moat Cailin, a fortress that looked like it had been hit by every storm in Westeros—and then some. Though, of course, he still didn't know this was Westeros. To him, it was just Generic Medieval Ruins #47.
He'd told himself he'd explore a bit. Stretch his legs. Maybe learn something about this place. That was the plan. The execution? Well, it ended with him slipping on a moss-covered stone in a ruined tower and falling squarely on his butt like a sack of potatoes.
The wind carried the scent of mildew and ancient damp. A part of the tower above creaked ominously, and a bird squawked somewhere in the rafters.
Levi sighed, shifting his hand to steady himself—and that's when it happened.
A faint ping buzzed in the back of his mind.
For a moment, it felt like déjà vu. Not the kind that made you say "I think I've been here before," but the kind that made the hairs on your arm stand up. A memory not quite remembered, like something knocking faintly at the doors of his brain.
He blinked.
There it was.
A faint shimmer, almost like a ghost of a screen hovering just at the edge of his vision. Nothing flashy, no dramatic system fanfare, just the cold, classic utility layout he remembered all too well. A list of tabs in small, simple font:
File | Edit | Table | D3D | Help
And beneath that, a memory view bar. No game UI. No in-world overlay. Just a… folder path.
He stared.
His breath caught.
"Is that—?"
His eyes scanned the screen quickly. There it was, plain as day:
Saved Files > Levi > Stronghold Crusader Context.
"Oh god…" His voice trembled with anticipation, realization blooming in his chest like fireworks.
He opened the folder.
Inside were a few entries—hex values and quick-edit lines. One of them, clearly labeled:[Gold=100000], [Food=Max], [Weapons=Yes], [Materials=Overflow].
"Yessssssss," he hissed under his breath, dragging out the word like a prayer, eyes wide, chest heaving. "Finally. A future."
It was the file. The file. The one he had saved out of pure laziness—because manually tweaking resources every time he loaded a new game of Stronghold Crusader was too much work. It was a cheat compilation, a convenience folder, nothing more.
But now?
It was here.
In this world.
The implications hadn't fully formed in his mind yet, but they were starting to. If this worked—if the values inside this file could affect something here—then he might be able to manifest resources. Maybe not instantly. Maybe not like magic. But he had something now. A foothold. A crack in the wall.
Something real.
A way forward.
A future.
He was still grinning like a lunatic, half-sprawled on the stone floor, when a soft, unimpressed voice cut through the air behind him.
"…Are you quite finished trying to break your spine?"
Levi froze.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
He turned his head slowly to see Lady Lyanna Stark—yes, he finally learned her name that morning thanks to a passing soldier—standing behind him with her arms folded, one eyebrow raised, and an expression that made her look far older than her years.
"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, attempting to regain some dignity while brushing dust off his shirt. It didn't help that he was still sitting on the ground like someone who lost a fight with gravity.
"Long enough to see you fall, groan, sit there muttering like a madman, and then shout 'Yes' like someone just gave you your own castle."
"Ah. So... the whole thing then."
"Every clumsy moment," she said dryly.
He coughed. "Right. Good. Fantastic."
Lyanna stepped closer, peering at him like one might observe a strange animal in the road. "You're very strange."
"I've been told that a lot."
"I thought you were sick in the head when you first screamed in the village," she said, completely unbothered. "Now I'm starting to think you'll kill yourself before anyone else gets the chance."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Levi muttered.
She crouched near him, curious now. "You're not from around here."
"Nope."
"Are you some lord's fool? Or maybe a jester who got lost?"
"Closer to fool than lord."
She squinted. "You keep talking to yourself. And muttering things like… files and storage?"
He raised his hands. "I'm just… weird. Accept it now. It'll make both our lives easier."
She shook her head. "Well, try not to get crushed by stones or fall into a pit. If you die on my family's land, I'm not digging a grave."
"Noted. I'll die somewhere scenic."
She gave him one last skeptical look before turning and walking away, her braid swaying behind her.
Levi exhaled and let himself fall back onto the ground, staring at the ancient beams above.
Stronghold Crusader Context.
The file was there.
And if it was there—if he could find a way to anchor it into this world—then maybe… just maybe…
He had a shot at surviving.
Finally.
A future.