Reborn as Jon Snow with God System

Jon stood by the nest, his eyes locked on the two eagle eggs as they trembled. He could sense it—it was time. The warmth of anticipation filled the air as the first crack appeared on one of the eggshells. With a small burst of energy, the egg broke open, revealing a tiny, fragile baby eagle. Moments later, the second egg followed suit. Two eaglets, chirping softly, stared up at Jon, who couldn't help but feel an odd sense of responsibility.

"I guess you're mine now," he murmured, kneeling beside the nest. He gently touched the downy feathers of the eaglets, realizing the long journey ahead of raising them. "It'll take time for you two to grow strong."

Jon sighed, already thinking of the work it would take. "Well, I have plenty of time," he said, turning his gaze toward the northern horizon. His thoughts drifted to his wood clones, far beyond the walls, exploring the North. It had been over fifteen days since he'd sent them out, and he wondered if they had found anything of value.

As Jon's mind wandered, deep in the frozen wilderness beyond the Wall, one of his wood clones was perched on a ridge, observing a sight no living man had seen up close: the Night King and his army of the dead. Thousands of wights moved slowly through the snow, their eerie blue eyes glowing in the fading daylight. The Night King, silent and imposing, led them, raising more dead each day as they slaughtered wildlings in their path.

The wood clone watched closely, keeping its distance. There was a strange sensation—a knowing—between the clone and the Night King. The Night King seemed to sense his presence but made no move to destroy him. It was almost as if they both understood something unspoken.

"He knows I'm here," the clone thought, but there was no fear. The Night King's army was vast, but their progress was painfully slow. By the clone's estimation, it would take more than a decade—perhaps even fifteen years—before they reached the Wall. Still, the threat loomed large in Jon's mind.

"I need to let the original know," the clone decided. Quickly, he formed a shadow clone. With a thought, the shadow clone dispersed into nothingness, carrying with it the memories of everything the wood clone had seen.

Back in Winterfell, Jon was in his room when a sudden rush of memories flooded his mind. It took him a moment to process them, but when he did, he realized that one of his clones had found the Night King and his army.

"He's moving," Jon muttered to himself. "The army of the dead is growing, and they're slowly making their way south."

He paced the room, deep in thought. "What should I do about this? If they're heading this way, it's a problem I'll eventually have to face." Jon's mind raced. "I want to build a kingdom beyond the Wall, but the Night King… he's the main threat."

Jon's instincts told him that the Night King had sensed his clone but hadn't acted. "Is he afraid of me?" Jon wondered. "Or is he just waiting for something?" Either way, Jon wasn't eager to confront the Night King just yet. He wanted to see how the rest of the Seven Kingdoms would deal with the threat without his intervention.

"If they attack, I'll destroy them," I alone can destroy them without any difficulty. Jon decided. "But if they ignore me, I'll ignore them. For now."

As time passed, Jon's other wood clones continued their search in the North, each one creating shadow clones and dispersing them, sending their findings back to Jon and his original clones. The knowledge of the vast northern territories began to accumulate in Jon's mind, giving him a clearer picture of the land beyond the Wall. It was a harsh, unforgiving place, but Jon knew it held potential for something great—his future kingdom.

Meanwhile, Jon spent his days quietly in Winterfell, cooking in solitude. He had a gift for cooking,

He was working on perfecting a cooking technique inspired by Joichiro Saiba, the legendary chef whose template Jon had acquired from his system. So far, Jon had completed Arthur Dayne's template, gaining the renowned swordsman's skills, and now he was focusing on Joichiro Saiba's culinary prowess.

The system's gifts were useful.

As the weeks passed, Jon's eagles grew quickly under his care. He fed them, trained them, and played with them, watching as they became stronger and more agile. But Jon knew that if they were going to serve him in battle or as scouts, they would need more than just food and care. They would need magic.

"It's time," Jon said one evening, standing before the now-teenage eagles. He had been preparing for this moment—a powerful ritual to enhance their size and strength, to make them fierce and formidable creatures capable of defending his future kingdom.

The air crackled with energy as Jon began the ritual, drawing on the ancient magics he had learned from his system. The winds outside howled, and the sky above Winterfell darkened as the power surged through him. The eagles stood tall, their eyes glowing with a new intensity. As the ritual reached its peak, the birds grew larger, their wingspan expanding, their talons sharpening into deadly weapons.

When it was over, Jon stood back, admiring the creatures before him. The two eagles were no longer mere birds—they were majestic, powerful beasts, capable of carrying out his will across the skies.

"Perfect," Jon whispered, a smile creeping across his face. He had taken his first step toward building his kingdom beyond the Wall. The Night King was coming, but Jon was preparing, and when the time came, he would be ready.

For now, though, Jon would watch and wait, his wood clones scattered across the North, his shadow clones constantly feeding him new information. The kingdom he dreamed of would rise in time, and if the Night King dared to challenge him, Jon would ensure that the dead stayed dead.