Reborn as Jon Snow with God System

Jon Snow, now standing in the middle of the woods, felt a deep presence tugging at his senses. The air was thick with something beyond the natural world. His senses, honed through years of training in the training dimension, detected a greater concentration of magic. He followed this surge through the forest until he stood before a massive weirwood tree. The weirwood's bark was bone-white, with red leaves fluttering gently above, and carved into its trunk was an ancient, solemn face—eyes dark and unblinking.

This tree was no ordinary tree; it was the heart of Winterfell's godswood, the symbol of the **Old Gods of the Forest**. The power emanating from it was unmistakable, ancient, and primal. Jon stood still, inhaling the air thick with magic, more than he had ever felt in his brief time in Westeros. In the ten years he had trained in the divine realm, only ten minutes had passed in this world, but now, at 17 years old, his powers were far beyond what anyone in Westeros could comprehend.

He could feel the magic around him, but unlike chakra, which was part of him, this magic was foreign—yet deeply rooted in the land. It pulsated from the weirwood like a beating heart. "The Old Gods..." Jon murmured to himself, piecing together his fragmented knowledge. "But who are these gods? Why do I feel their presence so strongly here?"

Jon shook his head. "When I watched the Game of Thrones series, there was hardly any mention of the Old Gods. The Faith of the Seven, sure. The Lord of Light, maybe. But Old Gods? Never really explored." He felt a shiver run through him. This world wasn't like the stories he had seen; this world had layers he had yet to uncover.

His mind, now sharp from years of intense training, began racing. "I need to understand who these gods are. Why is their magic so strong here? Are they responsible for the presence that tried to breach my mind?"

Jon closed his eyes and smirked to himself. "Fortunately, I have the perfect way to find out."

He sat down beneath the weirwood, his back resting against its ancient trunk, and entered his mindscape. The **Library of Knowledge**, gifted to him by the system, appeared before him in his mental domain. It was infinite in scope, containing every piece of information from every world, dimension, and reality. He had only scratched its surface during his training, but now, it was time to use its full potential.

"Library of Knowledge," Jon commanded, "show me everything about the gods of this world."

After a brief pause, a massive tome materialized before him, glowing with ethereal light. He reached out, touched the cover, and the knowledge began flowing into him. He learned about the **Old Gods of the Forest**, worshipped by the Northmen and Free Folk, their power tied to nature and the weirwood trees. These gods were ancient and faceless, spirits residing in the trees, watching over the land. The **Old Gods** were primordial forces, deeply connected to the essence of the world.

"They don't have temples or priests," Jon mused. "Just the trees. That's why the magic is so strong around the weirwood. The gods watch through these carved faces."

His mind continued absorbing more knowledge. The book shifted, revealing the **Faith of the Seven**, the dominant religion in most of Westeros, especially in the south. These "New Gods" were brought by the Andals during their invasion and consisted of seven distinct aspects of one deity: the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger. It was an organized religion with temples and a powerful clergy, including septons and septas. It was far more political than spiritual, Jon realized, with its influence spread across the southern lands.

As the knowledge poured into him, he stumbled across something darker and more dangerous: the **Lord of Light**, R'hllor, worshipped by those who believed in fire, magic, and the eternal battle between light and darkness. This god was powerful, his followers capable of immense feats—resurrection, prophecy, and fire magic. Jon had heard of R'hllor's followers before, particularly Melisandre, who had once been an ally to Stannis Baratheon. But the more he read, the more he realized how dangerous the followers of the Lord of Light were. They believed in a war against the **Great Other**, a god of darkness and cold.

"This... could be the one who tried to breach my mind," Jon thought grimly. "The Lord of Light has powerful followers, and I'm sure they would take an interest in someone like me."

The book shifted again, showing him the **Drowned God**, worshipped by the Ironborn of the Iron Islands, a cruel deity of the sea and shipwrecks. His followers believed in strength through hardship, that death by drowning was a sacred path to join the god in his watery halls.

The knowledge kept pouring in: the **Great Stallion**, worshipped by the Dothraki as a horse god, and the **Many-Faced God**, the Braavosi god of death worshipped by the Faceless Men, who believed all gods of death were just facets of one deity. Jon's mind raced as the information solidified.

"So many gods, so many different beliefs... but one of them is trying to breach my mind. Is it the Lord of Light? Or the Old Gods? Are they all real? Or are they just reflections of something greater?"

Jon opened his eyes, now fully aware of the deep complexity of the world he was in. He looked back at the weirwood tree, now understanding its significance even more. "Whatever gods tried to interfere with me, they don't know what they're up against. I have more power than they can imagine. And now... I have the knowledge too."

He rose to his feet, his mind fortified with new mental barriers and countless techniques from the Yamanaka clan, ready to face the gods of this world—whoever or whatever they may be. The trees around him rustled as though they were watching, but Jon knew one thing for sure: he would be the one to shape his own destiny, gods or no gods.