Darkness. Cold. Silence.
Then… breath.
Aegon Stark gasped, his chest convulsing as air flooded his lungs. It wasn't the slow, rattling, shallow inhale that had marked the last decades of his old life. This was different—clean and sharp, like inhaling knives of ice.
The ground beneath him was damp soil, rough with tangled roots. The air smelled of rain-soaked earth and ancient moss, damp with age and life. Somewhere beyond the thicket of trees, an owl hooted low, then another answered from further away.
"I… what?" His voice cracked.
The last fragments of his memory returned: collapsing in his chair, the dull hum of a failing heart, the weary relief of a long life ending. He remembered surrender. He remembered death's embrace.
And yet, here he was. Alive.
The System
A metallic chime echoed inside his skull without sound waves piercing the air. It was something deeper, vibrating in his very soul.
[System Activated]
User: Aegon Stark
Unique State: Immortal (Bound)
Magic Core: Rank E (Dormant)
Growth Cycle: Power increases proportionally with lived years
Lifespan: Infinite
Quests: None detected
Hidden Mission: Survive. Adapt. Create Legacy.
Aegon's lips parted in disbelief.
A system…? Like in those novels?
His heart raced. In another life he had devoured stories like this—tales of transmigration, isekai, systems granting power. They had been fantasies, something to pass the time whenever reality pressed too heavily on his aging body.
Now he was living it.
"Alright," he whispered, steadying his voice. "Let's test this."
First Taste of Magic
He extended his hand hesitantly. The forest was filled with moisture in the air, a fog that clung heavy to the trees. Aegon focused, imagining it bending, curling to his will.
For a moment, nothing.
Then—subtle sparks of blue gathered around his fingertips. He gasped as spirals of mist dragged into his palm, condensing unnaturally. Gooseflesh rippled across his arm as warmth spread inward, igniting something long dormant inside him.
"Magic…" His voice trembled with awe.
Not wands. Not incantations. Not potions. Raw magic obeying his will.
He clenched his hand, and the energy scattered back into the air.
This was real.
He could live forever. He could grow stronger endlessly. The realization was both intoxicating… and terrifying.
The silence of the forest broke.
Twigs cracked. Leaves rustled. A beast approached.
Aegon turned—and froze.
A fox entered the clearing. Sleek and black as shadow, but behind it trailed three long tails, each tipped with shimmering silver. Its golden eyes glowed unnaturally, intelligent and feral.
The creature stared at him as though weighing judgment over his existence.
Slowly, it growled, lowering onto its haunches.
Aegon's breath hitched. "You're not just some animal, are you?"
The fox sprang forward with impossible speed, a blur of shadow and light.
"STOP!" Aegon shouted desperately, thrusting both hands forward.
Blue sparks surged with uncontrolled force, striking the fox mid-leap. The impact threw it across the clearing, where it landed on its paws with feline grace. Its tails lashed once. Twice. Then with a flicker of ethereal shadows—it vanished.
Aegon stood trembling, chest heaving, sweat dampening his brow.
He had survived his first magical encounter.
But then—voices.
From the trees came four figures, cloaked and powerful, each radiating presence that shook the very air.
The first carried himself like a knight, broad-shouldered and noble, a sword strapped at his waist. His crimson robes shimmered faintly like firelight. Godric Gryffindor.
Beside him strode another, dark-haired and sharp-eyed, his expression severe, features handsome but cold. He moved like a serpent through grass, robes deep green and silver. Salazar Slytherin.
A raven-haired woman followed, satchel heavy with scrolls, ink stains marking her fingers. Her eyes gleamed with endless curiosity, sharp with knowledge. Rowena Ravenclaw.
And last, a gentle presence. A woman whose smile radiated warmth even in the dim forest, her golden robes slightly dirtied from helping those less fortunate. Helga Hufflepuff.
Aegon nearly fell. The Founders. This is the era of the Founders of Hogwarts.
Godric's gaze swept the clearing, pausing on him. "This is where the surge came from." His hand brushed his sword hilt. "Are you wizard or beast?"
Aegon's throat constricted. His voice was hoarse but steady. "Wizard."
Rowena's sharp eyes studied him intently. "Strange clothing. Stranger aura. What manner of wizard are you?"
Salazar's suspicion was a blade. "I smell deceit already. No man alive radiates such unstable power unless dabbling in forbidden arts."
Helga interjected softly but firmly: "Hold. Perhaps he is lost. Let us not judge by fear alone."
The four argued with silence, a perfect balance of tension and curiosity.
Aegon's System chimed faintly.
[New Quest Unlocked]
Survive the scrutiny of the Four Founders.
Reward: +10% Magic Reservoir.
Failure: Death.
Aegon inhaled slowly, steadying himself. Perhaps fate—or the System—had cruelly thrown him into the hands of legends.
But he did not bow. He did not plead.
Looking into the eyes of Godric Gryffindor, Aegon Stark spoke clearly, his words resonant in the timeless forest:
"My name is Aegon Stark. I awoke in this world with magic running through my veins. I know not why Destiny chose me, but I will not kneel to fear."
The forest stilled. The Founders' expressions shifted—from suspicion to interest, curiosity… and the faintest trace of respect.
Aegon Stark's immortal journey had begun.