Reborn as Jon Snow with God System

My name is Jon Snow. A year has passed since I began my quest to reshape the North. With every passing day, the vision I hold grows closer to reality—a kingdom deep in the True North, beyond the reach of the dead, a sanctuary for the freefolk. This dream was born from necessity, but it has become a shared purpose, uniting over 100,000 wildlings under one banner, bound by hope and trust in me.

In the past year, I have wandered the harsh, frozen lands of the North, seeking out survivors of the wildling tribes. They were scattered and broken, remnants of families who had lost everything to the dead and the cold. Many were women, children, and injured men—those who had no strength to fight back against the cruelty of the wilderness. I healed their wounds, mended their spirits, and gave them a cause worth following.

To expand our reach, I created wood clones imbued with my powers. These clones ventured to the farthest corners of the North, bringing back every soul they could find. My clones mirrored my conviction, and soon, even they began recruiting survivors, multiplying our efforts. One by one, the wildlings came together, a vast tide of humanity rising against the odds. By the end of the year, our numbers had swelled to more than 100,000.

It wasn't just humans who joined my cause. The wolves of the North, ancient guardians of the wild, had also heeded my call. Twenty-two Direwolves had come to me, not as mere beasts, but as allies. Some I tamed; others chose me, drawn by the blood of the Stark lineage that flows in my veins. My bond with them was deeper than any other. Through my Warg abilities, I could connect with all animals, but the Direwolves were special—they understood my purpose as if it were their own.

They prowled at the edges of our caravan, their howls carrying through the icy winds. They were protectors, companions, and a reminder of the untamed power of the North. My two majestic eagles, soaring high above, watched over us from the skies. They had grown larger and stronger through a magical ritual, becoming more than just scouts. They were symbols of our resilience, guiding us with their sharp eyes and keen instincts.

The people revered me, though I did not ask for it. They saw the powers I wielded—powers they could not comprehend—and believed me to be a god. I healed their wounds, conjured food from the barren ground, and wielded abilities that defied nature. Their faith was a responsibility I bore with care, for I did not see myself as a god but as a leader, a guide through the storm.

Food, once a constant struggle for the wildlings, was no longer a concern. With the powers of Hashirama Senju, I could grow crops anywhere, even in the frozen wilderness. The people marveled at the fields of grain and vegetables that sprouted from the snow, their hunger replaced by hope. Every act of kindness, every display of strength, deepened their loyalty. They believed in my vision of a kingdom where no one would starve, where no one would be left behind.

Training the Future

Survival was not enough. To truly thrive, my people needed to fight, to defend themselves and the kingdom we would build. I trained them in the art of war, teaching them how to wield swords, bows, and shields. Among them, certain individuals stood out.

Tormund Giantsbane, a fierce warrior with untamed strength, had become my closest protégé. Though still young, he learned quickly, mastering techniques that would make him one of the finest swordsmen in our kingdom. His loyalty and determination inspired others, and I knew he would one day be a pillar of our defense.

Then there was Ygritte, a remarkable eight-year-old girl with an uncanny talent for archery. Her precision and focus were unmatched, even by adults. I took her under my wing, helping her refine her skills. She practiced tirelessly, her small hands steady as she nocked arrow after arrow. In her, I saw the future of the North: sharp, unyielding, and full of potential.

The Promised Land

Our journey was not aimless. A year ago, my clones discovered a land deep in the True North, near the ocean. It was untouched by the dead, a place of relative safety. Though the land was barren, covered in snow, I knew it could be transformed. With my powers, I would turn the lifeless soil into fertile ground, capable of sustaining our people.

The biggest challenge lay not in the land, but in the weather. The True North was unforgiving, its icy winds and relentless storms a constant threat. Yet, I was not deterred. Once we reached the land, I would find a way to tame even the weather, bending nature to our will. This was our promised land, and I would not let anything stand in our way.

The journey was arduous, but our spirits were high. The Direwolves guided us through the treacherous terrain, while the eagles scouted for dangers. The people moved as one, a vast sea of humanity defying the elements. Every step brought us closer to the land where our kingdom would rise.

The children played in the snow, their laughter a stark contrast to the grim reality of the North. The women sang songs of hope, their voices carrying over the howling wind. The men, once broken and defeated, walked with purpose, their eyes fixed on the horizon.

I led them, not from a place of superiority, but as one of them. I walked alongside them, sharing in their struggles and triumphs. They looked to me for guidance, for protection, and for the promise of a better future. I would not fail them.

In a month's time, we would reach the promised land. There, we would begin the arduous task of building our kingdom. Stone by stone, we would create a sanctuary where the freefolk could live without fear. The Direwolves would patrol our borders, the eagles would guard our skies, and the people would stand together, united and strong.

I could see it in my mind: a thriving settlement, its walls rising high against the cold, its fields lush and green. The people would no longer be wildlings, but citizens of a kingdom built on hope and resilience. It would be a kingdom unlike any other, forged in the harshest of lands by the strongest of people.

As we marched forward, the future stretched out before us, a beacon of light in the frozen darkness. The North would rise again, and I, Jon Snow, would lead it into a new era. The True North was calling, and we were ready to answer.