Chapter 7: Chapter 6
Alone in his room, Jon found himself consumed by a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. With Ser Arthur away, busy preparing for their journey to Castle Black, Jon was left to ponder the challenges that lay ahead.
As he paced the room, Jon's mind raced with possibilities. There were so many variables to consider, so many potential outcomes to weigh.
As Jon reflected on the events of the day, he realized that he had not only made progress in honing his skills but had also gained valuable allies along the way. Meeting Lord Howland Reed and Ser Arthur Dayne had not only enriched his journey but had also earned him 10 Gacha Points each, a welcome reward for forging new alliances.
Accepting Ser Arthur's pledge of fealty had been a momentous occasion, solidifying their bond and paving the way for a strong partnership. And with it came an additional reward of 100 Gacha Points.
As Jon tallied up his gains, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the opportunities that had come his way. He now had a total of 450 Gacha Points and it had only been 3 days since he came into this world.
Lost in his thoughts, Jon found himself drawn to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds of Winterfell below. The familiar sights and sounds of the castle grounds offered a sense of solace amidst the uncertainty that loomed on the horizon.
But even as he sought refuge in the familiar comforts of home, Jon knew that he could not afford to remain idle. There was much to be done, preparations to be made, and plans to be finalized. Ser Arthur's absence presented an opportunity—a chance for Jon to take stock of his situation and strategize hisnext move.
With a determined set to his jaw, he reached into his List of Unused Cards of pulled out the Kaer Morhen Armor from The Witcher 3.
As he donned the armor, Jon felt a sense of empowerment wash over him. The sturdy plates encased him in a protective shell, providing both physical defense and psychological reassurance. With each strap fastened and buckle secured, Jon felt a newfound sense of confidence coursing through his veins.
The Kaer Morhen Armor was more than just a suit of protective gear—it was a symbol of resilience and determination. And as he stood before the mirror, clad in the armor, Jon knew that he was ready to face whatever dangers awaited him on the journey to the Wall.
With his Castle-Forged Sword securely strapped to his side and his cloak billowing behind him, Jon made his way purposefully to the stables, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors of Winterfell. As he approached the stables, he could hear the sounds of bustling activity and the soft nickers of horses.
But what he found inside took him by surprise. Standing before him were not only his family, but also Ser Arthur, disguised as Ser Donnel, as well as their horses saddled and ready for the journey.
"Ser Donnel?" Jon exclaimed, his eyes widening in astonishment at the sight of the knight in his new guise.
Ser Arthur, now Ser Donnel, offered Jon a nod of acknowledgement, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Aye, lad," he said, his voice pitched low. "Your family wishes to bid you a safe journey."
Jon and Ned exchanged knowing glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and approval. It seemed that Ser Arthur's disguise had caught them off guard as well, but they seemed to accept it without question.
"Ser Donnel, we're glad to have you with us," Ned said, clapping the knight on the shoulder. "Your presence will be invaluable on Jon's journey to Castle Black."
Jon's astonishment lingered as he processed Ser Arthur's transformation into Ser Donnel. The knight's disguise was remarkably convincing, and Jon couldn't help but admire his adaptability.
As Jon bid farewell to each member of his family, he felt a bittersweet tug at his heartstrings. Sansa's standoffish demeanor did not go unnoticed, but he understood her reservations as she still thought of Jon as a Bastard.
"Nice Armor, Jon!"
When Robb commented on Jon's new armor, a proud smile graced Jon's lips. "Aye, it's a gift to myself," he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of satisfaction. "I saved up my allowances for quite some time to have it made. Figured it was about time I treated myself."
Robb's eyes widened in admiration as he examined the finely crafted armor. "It's impressive," he remarked, a touch of envy evident in his voice. "You'll certainly make quite the impression at Castle Black."
Jon nodded, a sense of pride swelling within him.
As Jon turned to say farewell to Arya and Bran, they clung to him. Jon felt a pang of sadness tug at his heartstrings. He knelt down, wrapping his arms around them both, comforting them as best he could.
"I wish I could take you both with me," Jon murmured, his voice soft with regret. "But you know I have to go. But I will finish my task as quickly as I can, and come back to you."
Bran's grip tightened, his eyes pleading with Jon. "But what if something happens to you?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear.
Jon offered Bran a reassuring smile, brushing a lock of hair from his brother's forehead. "I'll be careful, Bran," he promised. "And I'll come back as soon as I can. You have my word."
Arya, ever the spirited one, spoke up next. "Can't I come with you, Jon?" she asked, her eyes shining with determination. "I'm not afraid of anything beyond the Wall. I can fight just as well as any man!"
Jon's heart swelled with pride at Arya's bravery, but he knew that it was too dangerous to bring her along. "I know you're brave, Arya," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "But this journey is too perilous for you. You need to stay here, where it's safe."
Arya's expression fell, disappointment clouding her features. But she nodded in understanding, knowing that Jon was right.
With a heavy heart, Jon embraced Arya and Bran once more, lingering in their embrace before finally pulling away. "I'll miss you both," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'll be back before you know it. Until then, take care of each other, and know that I'll always be thinking of you."
As he turned to leave, Jon felt a lump form in his throat. Saying goodbye to his siblings was never easy, but he knew that their bond was unbreakable, even in the face of adversity. And as he set out on his journey, he carried their love and support with him, knowing that they would be waiting for his return, their hearts forever intertwined.
—
As they rode along the winding road, Jon couldn't shake the curiosity burning within him. With the comforting rhythm of hoofbeats beneath them, he turned to Ser Arthur, his voice gentle yet eager.
"Ser Arthur," Jon began, "tell me about my father, Rhaegar Targaryen."
Ser Arthur's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. "Your Grace," he began, addressing Jon with reverence, "Rhaegar was a man of great wisdom and courage, beloved by many and feared by few. He possessed a rare blend of strength and compassion, a true leader in every sense of the word."
"Please, Ser Arthur," Jon interrupted gently, "call me Jon. We're equals on this journey, and I would prefer it if we kept up appearances."
Ser Arthur nodded in understanding, a small smile touching his lips. "As you wish, Jon," he replied, his voice warm with affection. "Your father was a man of many talents—a skilled warrior, a brilliant strategist, and a devoted husband and father. He had a vision for the realm, a dream of a brighter future where peace and prosperity reigned."
Jon listened intently, hanging on Ser Arthur's every word. There was so much he longed to know about the father he had never known, the man whose legacy loomed large over his life.
As they continued on their journey, Jon found solace in Ser Arthur's tales of his father.
As the day drew to a close and the sun dipped below the horizon, Jon and Arthur made camp for the night, the crackling of the fire providing a comforting backdrop to their surroundings. With the night settling in around them, Jon turned to Arthur, a determined glint in his eyes.
"Ser Arthur," Jon began, his voice firm with resolve, "would you spar with me? I wish to improve my skills as a swordsman, and I can think of no better teacher than you."
Arthur regarded Jon with a thoughtful expression, his gaze steady. "Of course, Jon," he replied, a hint of approval in his tone. "But remember, our journey to Castle Black is fraught with danger, and your safety is paramount. We must be vigilant at all times."
Jon nodded in understanding, his determination unwavering. "I understand, Ser Arthur," he said, his voice steady. "But I believe that sparring with you will only serve to strengthen my abilities and better prepare me for the challenges that lie ahead."
As Jon faced off against Ser Arthur Dayne, he drew upon the Taskmaster's superior combat abilities, channeling their essence in his every movement. With each strike and parry, he sought to emulate the legendary knight's skill and precision, his determination unwavering as he sparred with his mentor.
As they clashed swords, Jon felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through him, his senses heightened by the intensity of the moment. He watched closely as Ser Arthur moved, committing every detail of his opponent's technique to memory. With each exchange, Jon's mind raced, processing the intricate patterns of Ser Arthur's movements and formulating his own responses with lightning-fast reflexes.
But as the spar continued, Jon sensed a shift within himself, a subtle awakening of something deeper—a connection to the Taskmaster's Photographic Reflexes. With each repetition of their movements, he felt the boundaries of his own abilities expanding, his muscle memory growing more attuned to the nuances of combat.
As he sparred with Ser Arthur Dayne, Jon knew that he was one step closer to achieving his goal. With each passing moment, he felt the Taskmaster's abilities coursing through him, guiding his movements with a precision and grace that surpassed even his own expectations.
As they continued to spar, Jon knew that the journey to unlock the Taskmaster's Photographic Reflexes would be a long and arduous one. But with each day that passed, he grew stronger and more determined, fueled by the knowledge that he was on the path to mastering the art of combat and becoming the warrior he was destined to be.
As Ser Arthur Dayne sparred with Jon, a sense of familiarity mingled with curiosity coursed through him. Jon moved with a grace and precision that reminded Ser Arthur of the finest knights he had ever faced, yet there was something different, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
As their swords clashed and sparks flew, Ser Arthur found himself analyzing Jon's every move with a mix of awe and perplexity. There was a fluidity to Jon's movements that belied his age, a confidence that spoke of years of training and experience. But there was also a hint of something else—something elusive and intangible—that set Jon apart from any opponent Ser Arthur had faced before.
With each exchange, Ser Arthur's curiosity grew, his mind racing to make sense of Jon's extraordinary abilities. What was the source of his seemingly limitless skill? How was it possible for someone so young to possess such mastery over the art of combat?
As the spar between Ser Arthur and Jon reached its conclusion, Ser Arthur emerged victorious, his skill and experience prevailing over Jon's formidable abilities. But as the clash of swords came to an end, Ser Arthur found himself overcome with exhaustion, his muscles aching and his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Despite his victory, Ser Arthur couldn't help but feel a sense of weariness weighing heavily upon him. The intensity of the spar had taken its toll, pushing him to the limits of his endurance and leaving him drained both physically and mentally.
As he lowered his sword and took a moment to catch his breath, Ser Arthur cast a glance towards Jon, his gaze filled with respect and admiration. Despite his defeat, Jon had proven himself to be a worthy adversary, his skill and determination a testament to his strength of character.
With a weary sigh, Ser Arthur sheathed his sword and turned to Jon, a weary smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well fought, Jon," he said, his voice tinged with fatigue. "You have a natural talent for combat, one that I have no doubt will serve you well on your journey."
Jon returned Ser Arthur's smile with a nod of gratitude, his own breathing labored from the exertion of their spar. "Thank you, Ser Arthur," he replied, his voice tinged with respect. "You are a formidable opponent, and I am grateful for the opportunity to spar with you."
As they stood together beneath the moonlit sky, their bodies weary but their spirits undaunted, Ser Arthur couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in Jon's abilities. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, he knew that Jon possessed the strength and determination to overcome any obstacle in his path.
And as they prepared to rest for the night, Ser Arthur resolved to keep a close eye on Jon, knowing that their journey ahead would require every ounce of strength and resilience they possessed.
With a sense of determination fueling him, Jon took a moment to check his stats, confirming the progress he had made. With his assimilation of the Taskmaster's abilities now at 18%, he knew that he was making steady strides towards mastering their formidable powers. Furthermore, he had gained another 50 points for sparring with Ser Arthur, bringing his grand total to 500.
Satisfied with his progress, Jon prepared to tuck in for the night, his body weary but his mind ablaze with possibility. As he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges and opportunities for growth. But with each passing day, he grew stronger, more skilled, and more prepared to face whatever trials lay ahead on his journey.
---
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