Baeron silently examined the strange item in his hand.
He expected the system to immediately display information about it, but… nothing appeared.
?!
The system's detection function had failed?
According to the usual "laws" of time travel stories, the system should exist on a higher dimensional level — beyond the constraints of the world — capable of analyzing even a god's secrets. Yet here, it couldn't identify the most basic details of this thing.
Nightmare Fuel.
He knew it dropped from monsters that attacked in the dark. Those monsters themselves were spawned by the system's rules. If the enemies came from the system, then their drops should as well. Why, then, could the system not recognize it?
---
[Magic Value: 100 / 100]
Baeron had just replenished his magic by absorbing the ambient power around Vhagar, the great bronze dragon beside him. His reserves were now full, the energy flooding his body with a deep, satisfying warmth.
But the more he thought about it, the stranger it became. When the Nightmare Fuel had appeared, he hadn't felt any loss of mana at all. That was unusual. Every other magical synthesis material he'd obtained required at least some expenditure of power.
Testing further, he found that all his other inventory items were being detected normally by the system. The issue wasn't with the system itself — it was with this particular item.
The small, black, oily orb in his palm writhed faintly, almost as if it were alive. Baeron's eyes lit up.
If the system couldn't read it, that meant one thing: this item was special.
And it didn't even cost him mana to get.
---
From what he remembered of his previous life, Nightmare Fuel was a double-edged sword — capable of bringing both great fortune and terrible disaster.
As an advanced magical synthesis material, it could be used to create the Shadow Manipulator, unlocking a whole new tier of synthesis recipes. It could also be forged into devastating weapons and armor, though at the cost of the user's Spirit.
But for Baeron, all of that paled in comparison to the material's most valuable use: crafting the Amulet of Rebirth.
As its name suggested, the Amulet of Rebirth granted its wearer a second life upon death.
---
In the brutal, treacherous world of Game of Thrones, even the strongest, most legendary figures could die without warning — not from epic duels or heroic last stands, but from a single unlucky moment.
Take the example of Prince Aemon, heir to King Jaehaerys and father of Princess Rhaenys. His death had altered the course of the realm's history.
If he had lived and ascended the throne, perhaps the bloody Dance of the Dragons — the civil war that shattered House Targaryen's power — would never have happened.
Instead, he perished in a way that was as sudden as it was ignoble.
---
It happened during a campaign against the Myrish exiles who had seized the island of Tarth. The Iron Throne's council had considered the matter trivial — mere pirates, easily driven off.
Prince Aemon led the Blood Wyrm Caraxes into battle, while his son-in-law, Corlys "Sea Snake" Velaryon, commanded the fleet. The Stormlands' Lord Boremund joined with his own ships and men.
With a dragon and such naval power, the conquest should have been swift.
Aemon, eager to end the campaign, reached the island ahead of the fleet and met with Lord Boremund in a valley camp. While Caraxes feasted on goats, the smoke from roasting meat caught the eyes of two Myrish scouts.
From a distance of a hundred yards, one of them loosed a crossbow bolt meant for Lord Boremund. The shot went wide — and struck Aemon in the throat instead.
One cold, accidental arrow. A single unlucky moment. And the prince was dead.
---
Baeron knew that once he tamed Vhagar, he too would eventually step onto a battlefield. Fame and military merit demanded it. And on such battlefields, even if he was encased in steel from head to toe, a hidden arrow might still slip through at just the wrong moment.
Even avoiding war offered no guarantees. Death could still find him without warning.
That was why the Amulet of Rebirth was so important — a priceless safeguard.
---
To craft one, however, he would first need a Spirit Particle Decomposer, essentially a tier-three synthesis table — known among crafters simply as the "third book."
But to make the third book, he had to first build the first book: the Level One Synthesis Table.
Fortunately, the materials for that were easy to find. The real question was: how did one synthesize items in the first place?
---
Baeron frowned in thought.
He grabbed a handful of grass, trying to twist it into rope. Nothing happened.
Since gaining the system, he had always relied on its passive assistance — magic flowing naturally, without effort. But now his pride was stirred. He refused to believe he couldn't control his own magic directly.
Clutching the grass, he calmed his mind, trying to recall the exact feeling of channeling mana.
The salty sea breeze brushed his face, carrying the damp scent of waves. Slowly, a faint heat began to spread through his body.
It's coming!
He opened his eyes… only to see the grass lying limp in his palm, unchanged.
---
He glanced upward — and found himself staring straight into Vhagar's colossal nostrils, each the size of his thigh.
Baeron sighed. After so much time together, he had grown used to the great dragon's presence, no longer quite so cautious.
Bending down, he picked two tufts of grass from the moss-covered ground near Vhagar's side, along with another crushed bunch from where the dragon's bulk had pressed it flat.
Placing them together in his hand, he closed his eyes once more.
This time, as he pulled sharply on the grass, the system pinged:
[Magic Points: –1]
In that instant, the texture in his hand changed.
Opening his eyes, Baeron found that the separate blades of grass had fused into a tightly-woven straw rope.
---
Success!
Elated, he tried again. Three more strands, a pull, a spark of magic — and another rope appeared.
Unable to contain his excitement, Baeron hopped in place, his movements brushing against Vhagar's massive wing.
The dragon reacted instantly.
Her enormous head swung around, bronze scales gleaming, eyes narrowing dangerously. The force of her breath made Baeron's hair whip back.
Her glare seemed to say, Disturb me again, and I'll roast you where you stand.
---
Baeron froze. The sudden awareness of just how close he was to the top predator in this world sent a shiver down his spine.
Even without fire, Vhagar could kill him with casual ease — by rolling over in her sleep, or with a careless step.
He forced himself to speak calmly. "Easy, Vhagar."
The truth was, though they had an understanding, she was still a beast. A proud, dangerous one. And his Targaryen blood offered no absolute protection — plenty of his ancestors had died at the claws or flames of dragons.
For now, survival meant caution.
And ropes or not, he had no desire to test whether the Amulet of Rebirth worked quite yet...
more chapter available in p@tréøñ(Atoki_29)