GOT: A Transmigrator's Conquest

Stannon couldn't help but feel a bit dazzled as he thought about Robert Baratheon's abilities. As someone who had lived in his late twenties before transmigrating into this body, Stannon knew Robert's story well from watching Game of Thrones. He had expected him to be powerful, but seeing Robert's skills laid out by the system made it clear how truly remarkable he was.

Robert's strength, warhammer mastery, battlefield tactics, and even his Berserker Rage were freaking legendary.

'One day, I will drain him dry,' Stannon thought as he dreamed of future where he would copy all of Robert's abilities.

As he was fantasising about the future, a heavy thought struck him. Robert's death wasn't far off. Based on what Stannon remembered from the timeline, Robert was fated to die early in the seventh or eighth episode of the first season. And that would happen in a decade or so if everything went on just like it did in the show.

Of course now that Stannon was here, he definitely wouldn't sit back and watch the plot go in the same direction as usual. Robert had to live long enough for Stannon to survive and become stronger, so Stannon would do his best to keep him alive.

As they sat by the fire, Robert suddenly turned to him and asked, "What do you want for your name day?"

The question caught him off guard. Stannon thought for a moment, then replied, "I'll think about it, Father." He didn't want to ask for something without considering its usefulness.

Robert smiled, his voice warm and tired. "Take your time, boy. Whatever it is, I'll make sure it's something worth remembering."

The both stood side by side for a while without saying anything. Robert, enjoying the company of his son while he was still here. And Stannon thinking about his future in this world.

For now, though, Stannon had to focus on the present. He was still weak, and his path to strength would take time. Winterfell, where his father had decided to send him, would be the first step.

Winterfell wasn't just the home of the Stark family—it was a place of honor, discipline, and combat skill. His uncle, Eddard Stark, was known for his integrity and swordsmanship. Stannon knew he could cop...learn much there. It was also far from the dangers of King's Landing, a safe place to grow stronger.

There was another reason Winterfell mattered. The North was harsh and unforgiving, shaping its people into survivors. Even if Stannon had the system and stuff, he was still a guy from the Earth who had led a peaceful life. However in this world, their was danger on every step he took. No matter whether he had the adaption ability or not, his mindset still needed to be changed to fit this unordinary world.

If he was to survive the dangerous years ahead, he needed everything the North could teach him.

"Father," Stannon suddenly said, his young voice breaking the silence in the room.

Robert turned, his expression softening as he looked at his son. "What is it, boy?"

Stannon said firmly, "I want to make you a promise before I leave."

Robert raised an eyebrow, curious. "And what promise is that?"

"I'll return stronger," Stannon declared trying to earn some affection points. "Stronger than anyone expects. I'll make you proud, Father."

Robert laughed, the sound deep and hearty. "You already make me proud, boy," he said, ruffling Stannon's hair. "But I'll hold you to that promise. The North will turn you into a man worth respecting, of that I'm sure."

As their conversation ended, Stannon's thoughts continued to churn. His journey would begin in Winterfell, but it wouldn't end there. Every lesson learned and skill copied would prepare him to change his future—and the future of the Seven Kingdoms.

He thought about Robert's abilities again. They were powerful but also revealed his weaknesses. Berserker Rage was deadly but uncontrollable. Obsession drove Robert forward but often blinded him to the consequences.

But with his adaptation ability, he might be able to accomodate these abilities without facing any sort of backlash. But for that he needed to upgrade this particular ability of his.

As Stannon left the hall, he looked back at Robert. The king stared into the fire, either too tried from fuc*ing a whore or sad because his son was leaving. Stannon couldn't exactly telling what this man was thinking, but he had a feeling that it won't matter even if Robert survived in the future unless he changed his ways.

'What should I do?' Stannon thought as he walked towards his room.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he reached his room in no time. He entered and quickly shut the door behind him and walked to his desk. On it lay a knife in its sheath—a gift he had received from Jaime Lannister on his sixth name day. Stannon picked it up, feeling its weight in his hand. Back then, he had seen it as a fascinating toy, but now he understood its true value as a weapon.

Unsheathing the blade, he studied it for a moment before turning to the wooden dummy that was built for the previous Stannon with the help of the castle's carpenters, just to satisfy his curiosity.

It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough for practice. Stannon moved to the dummy, adjusted his grip on the knife, and took a deep breath. The knife in his hand felt familiar as if he was using it for a long long time. He let out another breath and decided to start the training.

He began to train, starting with slow, deliberate movements. A quick slash to the dummy's side, a precise thrust to its center—each strike was measured and controlled. Stannon then practiced blocking imaginary attacks, sidestepping invisible opponents, and counterattacking with the speed and precision he had been developing.

After a while, he stopped to catch his breath. His arms ached, and sweat dripped from his forehead. He stepped back and summoned the glowing system panel in his mind, eager to see if his practice had made a difference.

The panel appeared in front of him, and Stannon's eyes focused on the experience bar under his skill, Basic Knife Combat.

Knife Combat ★

EXP: 09/100.

A small smile bloomed across his face. His experience had increased by four points since he started. When he had copied the skill it had already 5 exp points. It wasn't much, but it showed that his efforts were paying off. The system rewarded hard work, and every point brought him closer to mastery.

But he had a feeling that if he went through the normal way, he definitely wouldn't be able to progress this fast. All this may have been possible because of the presence of the system.

Encouraged, Stannon wiped the sweat from his forehead and continued his training. This time, he focused on speed and smoothness, making each movement faster and more fluid. He imagined real enemies in front of him—bandits, knights, and even wildlings—and pictured how he would counter their attacks. His strikes became quicker, his movements sharper.

Time slipped away as he practiced, his focus so intense that he didn't notice how long he had been training. This discipline and focus that he had obtained was due to the years he had spent in the gym in his previous life.

The wooden dummy now bore fresh marks and scratches from his knife, a clear sign of his work. He tried new ways, testing different angles and combinations, always pushing himself to improve.

Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him. His arms felt heavy, and his legs wobbled slightly. Stannon sheathed the knife and sat on the edge of his bed, breathing hard. He opened the system panel again to check his progress.

Knife Combat ★

EXP: 13/100.

Another four points. He was thrilled by how he had progressed by eight points and not even a day had passed. Stannon closed the panel and leaned back against the cold stone wall, letting his body rest while his mind raced with thoughts.

Knife skills were only the beginning. If he wanted to survive and succeed in this world, he needed to master every form of combat—swords, bows, and even fighting on horseback. But fighting alone wouldn't be enough. He also needed to learn strategy, leadership, and the dangerous game of politics.

After resting for a bit, Stannon stood up and walked towards the door. He opened it to find Jory, his loyal servant, standing watch outside. The tall, stern-faced man had been dutifully guarding Stannon's chamber without question. Stannon looked at him and, without wasting time, gave his orders.

"Jory, I need you to find someone who can provide me with different species of insects, birds, and animals by tomorrow. I want a variety—everything from the common to the rare."

Jory looked at him, a brief flash of confusion passing through his eyes. It was an odd request, but the prince's orders were clear. Nodding respectfully, he said, "At once, my prince." He didn't question the reasoning behind it. He was just a servant to the prince, and unless there was immediate danger, it wasn't his place to inquire.

Stannon nodded back, his mind already back on his training. He watched Jory leave before he turned and closed the door, heading back to the desk where his knife lay waiting.

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