Solo Leveling in Westeros

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The forest stretched endlessly before them, dark and cold, with only the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the distant howling of the wind to accompany them. Jon walked slightly ahead, his cloak pulled tightly around him, Ghost padding silently at his side. Aeron followed, his gaze sharp, his thoughts unreadable. 

The silence between them stretched for a while before Jon finally spoke, his voice low but firm. 

"Why do you want Craster dead?" he asked without turning. "'I don't like him' didn't cut it for me." 

Aeron smirked slightly. He had expected Jon to ask again. The boy had a stubborn sense of honor, an unrelenting need for truth. 

"I'm sure you've already heard the stories about him," Aeron said, stepping over a gnarled tree root. "His multiple daughter-wives. The way he treats them. The men at the Watch despise him, even if they don't say it outright." 

Jon exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. He had heard the stories. Some of the older brothers whispered about it, though others dismissed it as none of their concern. It wasn't like Craster broke his 'deal' with the Watch. 

"The Old Bear calls him a friend," Jon muttered. 

Aeron let out a dry chuckle. "He calls him that, but do you think he likes him? Do you think he trusts him?" He shook his head. "No, he doesn't. Craster is useful, nothing more." 

Jon didn't argue. He knew it was true. 

"But the big fucking issue," Aeron continued, his voice dropping slightly, "isn't just that he's a monster to his own kin." He glanced at Jon. "Tell me, have you ever wondered why he doesn't have sons?" 

Jon frowned, turning his head slightly. "What?" 

Aeron met his gaze. "He sacrifices them to the White Walkers." 

Jon stopped walking. 

The wind howled through the trees, rustling the branches, but all Aeron could hear was the sound of Jon's breath hitching slightly. 

"You're lying," Jon said, though his voice lacked conviction. 

Aeron shook his head. "No. Why do you think I came all this way? There's a war brewing, one that will consume all of Westeros, but that?" He pointed north, deeper into the darkness. "That's the real problem. The conflicts of men are too easy for me. Petty kings fighting over a throne made of swords child's play." 

Jon's grip tightened around Longclaw. He wanted to argue, to deny it. But Ghost suddenly let out a low growl, his red eyes locked on Aeron, as if he could sense the truth in his words. 

Aeron's vision flickered as the notification appeared before him, glowing softly in the cold northern night. He glanced at it, his lips curling into a smirk. 

[Quest: Kill the Minions of the False Monarch of Death] 

Objective: Eliminate the wights under the control of the False Monarch. 

Rewards: Shadow Exchange (Level 1) 

He let out a breath, the cold misting in front of him. Shadow Exchange, huh? That could be useful. If it worked the way he thought it would, traveling would become a lot easier. No more trudging through endless snow or waiting for slow-moving caravans. He could go wherever his shadows were. 

"Very well," he murmured to himself, swiping the notification away. "At least this will be beneficial for travel." 

With that, he pulled up his status screen, scanning through the details carefully. 

[AERON GRIM] 

Job: Necromancer 

Title: All-Knowing (Instantly understand new concepts, +50% learning speed, Automatically identify items, creatures, and magic.) 

Level: 12 

Fatigue: 15 

HP: 950 

MP: 1100 

Strength: 49 

Health: 27 

Agility: 21 

Intelligence: 30 

Sense: 21 

Available Ability Points: 21 → 0 

Passive Skill: 

Tenacity (Level 1) (Increased endurance and resistance to pain) 

Skills: 

Ruler's Authority 

Perception (+10 to Sense when analyzing or strategizing) 

Job-Specific Skill: 

Shadow Extraction (30 Soldier Limit) 

Shadow Exchange  

Unawakened Skill: ??? 

Inventory: 

Direfang Sword 

Aeron allocated his available ability points swiftly, distributing them where they would give him the most immediate benefit. Strength was already his highest stat, but Intelligence and Sense would be crucial in battle. This should be good to go, he thought, flexing his fingers as he felt the subtle rush of power settle into his body. 

"Aeron." 

Jon's voice cut through his focus, and he blinked, looking up. 

"You with me?" Jon asked, his brow furrowed. "I've been talking for a while now." 

Aeron chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just thinking." 

Jon didn't seem entirely convinced, but he let it slide. Ghost, however, kept his eyes locked on Aeron, as if sensing something different about him. 

"Thinking about what?" Jon pressed, adjusting Longclaw on his back. 

Aeron only smirked. "we must catch up with the rest". 

**** 

The night was eerily still as Jeor Mormont and his men approached Craster's Keep. The torches burned low, casting flickering shadows across the frozen ground. The scent of blood reached them before they even stepped through the open gate. 

The first to react was Dywen, his experienced nose wrinkling as he spat into the snow. "That ain't the smell of a fresh hunt." 

Jeor narrowed his eyes. "Weapons out." 

The men of the Night's Watch drew their swords, advancing carefully. The gate creaked as it swayed in the wind, but no one came to greet them—not Craster, not his women. 

Then they saw the body. 

Craster lay in a pool of blood, his head missing. His chest was torn open, deep gashes covering his arms and torso. The corpse was twisted at an unnatural angle, like something had thrown him aside with monstrous strength. 

Ser Jaremy Rykker muttered a curse under his breath. "The fuck happened here?" 

The women of the Keep huddled near the entrance of the longhall, wide-eyed and trembling. Some clutched children to their chests, while others simply stared at the corpse with something that looked disturbingly close to satisfaction. 

Edd Tollett broke the silence. "Well. That's one way to avoid his generosity." 

No one laughed. 

Jeor stepped forward, looking at the eldest of Craster's wives. "What happened here?" 

She hesitated, her voice hoarse when she finally spoke. "A shadow came in the night." 

Jeor frowned. "A shadow?" 

The woman nodded. "It was dark.. It did not speak. It moved like death itself. It took him before we could scream!, and then it tore him apart!" 

Muttering spread through the Night's Watch men. A few scoffed. 

"A shadow killed him?" one ranger whispered. 

"Sounds like some wildling tale," another muttered. 

Jeor didn't look convinced, but his gaze lingered on the body. Something about it was off. "Did you see where it went?" 

The old woman shook her head. "It disappeared into the night." 

Jeor sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Great. Just what we needed." 

Before anyone could say more, a sound carried through the trees footsteps approaching. 

"Commander!" one of the sentries called. "someone's coming!" 

The men immediately turned toward the entrance, hands gripping their weapons. Within moments, two cloaked figures emerged from the darkness, their steps sure and steady. 

Jon Snow and Aeron Grim had arrived. 

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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC

AND 

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