Reborn as Jon Snow with God System

Deep in the frozen wilderness beyond the Wall, Jon Snow trudged through the snow, his black cloak trailing behind him. The icy wind bit at his face, but he pushed forward, undeterred. This journey was one he had to undertake alone. Though he could have sent his wood clones to recruit the people he sought, Jon knew that this mission required a personal touch. There were some things no clone could accomplish—winning trust, forging bonds, and experiencing the wild, desperate lives of these people firsthand. He had left a perfect clone in Winterfell to manage things in his absence, but here in the unforgiving north, it was Jon himself who walked.

In the distance, the small camp of survivors came into view. The flickering glow of a fire danced amid crude tents, huddled together for warmth. Jon knew their story. This group had once numbered over 600 strong, but they had been devastated in a brutal battle with another wildling tribe. Only 120 remained, most of them children, women, and injured men. Survival beyond the Wall was a relentless struggle—each day was a battle not just against nature, but against rival tribes, beasts, and the specter of the dead. Jon had observed their defeat through the eyes of his eagles, soaring high above the chaos, and knew this group was on the brink of collapse. But it was precisely their vulnerability—and the number of children among them—that made Jon choose them.

Jon's plan was clear: he would invite these people to join him in building a new kingdom—a land where they could live free from fear and hardship. His vision wasn't just survival but growth, strength, and security. And the children of this group would be the key. Jon intended to take them into the *Training Dimension of God*, a mystical realm where time flowed differently. One second in the real world could equal an entire year inside the dimension. Within that time-warped space, he would mold these children into the greatest warriors the world had ever seen.

The children were ideal candidates for training. Young minds learned quickly, free from the rigid thinking that often plagued adults. A grown man might train for ten years and emerge old, weary, and limited by time. But a child, given the same years, would emerge in their prime—faster, stronger, and capable of wielding skills that could turn the tide of any battle. Jon envisioned an elite force: a more than hundreds of warriors so powerful that each could defeat a hundred enemies with ease. He would teach them breathing techniques from worlds unknown, techniques as powerful as the storms that swept across the North. He would teach them swordsmanship beyond anything the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.

But before any of that could happen, Jon had to gain their trust. And in this land, trust was earned through strength.

As Jon approached the camp, the wildlings spotted him. Their instincts, honed by years of survival, kicked in. Two men—the strongest left among them—grabbed their weapons. Their makeshift axes and stone clubs gleamed faintly in the firelight. They stepped forward with aggressive intent, ready to defend what little they had left.

"Who are you?" one of them demanded, his voice rough and suspicious.

"I come in peace," Jon said calmly, keeping his hands visible. But the men didn't wait for an explanation. Desperation and fear drove them. They lunged at Jon, attacking without warning.

Jon sighed. He had hoped to avoid violence, but in the north, the strong were the only ones respected. He reached for the twin swords sheathed at his side—blades he had forged himself in the *Training Dimension of God*. The weapons sang as they left their scabbards, gleaming in the dim light.

The two wildlings charged, but Jon moved faster than their eyes could follow. With a single, graceful sweep of his swords, he shattered their weapons as if they were made of glass. The men barely had time to react before Jon's boot met one of their chests in a powerful kick.

The force of Jon's strike sent the man flying backward, crashing into the snow with a dull thud. The second man swung wildly, but Jon dodged effortlessly and delivered another precise kick, sending him hurtling several meters away. Both men lay groaning in the snow, stunned and defeated.

The camp fell silent. Every wildling—man, woman, and child—stared in disbelief. They had just witnessed two of their strongest warriors subdued with minimal effort by a lone stranger. A single kick had sent them flying more than a meter. Such strength was beyond anything they had ever seen. To them, Jon Snow was no ordinary man.

Jon stood tall, his swords gleaming in the firelight. He sheathed them slowly, letting the weight of his presence settle over the camp. He knew that in this land, strength commanded respect. And now, he had their attention.

"I did not come here to fight," Jon declared, his voice clear and firm. "I came to talk."

He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the stunned faces of the wildlings. "You've seen what I can do. But I didn't come here to harm you. I am here to offer you something greater—a future."

The wildlings murmured among themselves, the fear in their eyes giving way to cautious curiosity. Jon raised his voice, addressing them all.

"I am Jon Snow.

He took a step closer to the fire, his presence commanding yet calm. "The gods have blessed me with knowledge and power, and I intend to use it to build a kingdom. A kingdom where you can live without fear. A kingdom where your children won't have to fight just to survive."

Jon gestured toward the children huddled near their mothers. "I will train them. I will take them to a place where time flows differently—a place where they can grow strong in a matter of moments. they will return as warriors capable of defeating any enemy that comes their way."

He looked around the camp, meeting the eyes of every man, woman, and child. "You have lived hard lives. I won't ask for your trust lightly. But I promise you this—if you follow me, I will give you more than survival. I will give you a future."

The camp was silent, the wildlings processing his words. Then, one of the elders stepped forward—a scarred, weathered man with years of hardship etched into his face.

"We've lived long enough to know strength when we see it," the elder said. "And you, Snow, have it. If what you say is true, we'll follow you. But know this—we will follow only the strong."

Jon gave a solemn nod. "Then I will show you what strength truly is."

And with that, the first steps toward Jon Snow's new kingdom were taken. A kingdom born not of fear, but of hope—and built by the hands of those who had once been left behind.