A sharp, needle-like pain jolted Lynn awake.
The last thing he remembered was sitting in front of his computer, watching the Game of Thrones series finale. Then, without warning, the screen had burst into blinding white light, followed by a dizzying whirl — and darkness.
Now, agony gnawed at his body as if ants were eating him alive.
Suddenly, something cool slid down his throat, pulling him back to consciousness.
A pair of violet eyes was watching him closely.
"He's awake!" a timid voice called out.
Before him stood a girl, no more than thirteen or fourteen, with long, silvery-gold hair. She looked frail but undeniably beautiful.
"Daenerys! Don't waste your precious water on a stranger!" snapped a young man with the same silver-gold hair as he strode over.
Lynn froze. That face — he knew it.
Viserys Targaryen.
The Beggar King. The arrogance. The satisfying end he met on-screen.
So it was true—he had somehow crossed into this world, into the harsh exile of the last Targaryens.
"He's not dead, brother," Daenerys replied meekly. "Mercy is a virtue a ruler should have."
"Ruler?" Viserys let out a shrill, grating laugh.
"When I reclaim the Iron Throne, I'll show mercy to everyone. But for now, this man either walks on his own… or stays here as food for the vultures."
He cast Lynn a disgusted glance, the kind reserved for worthless things, and stormed off to the front of the caravan.
"That bastard… seeing him up close, you can really feel how rotten he is," Lynn muttered, gritting his teeth as he tried to stand — and failed.
Ignoring her brother's fury, Daenerys knelt beside him. "Don't be afraid. Can you walk? We have to keep up with the group."
With her help, Lynn forced himself up. Each step sent pain shooting through his body, like walking on blades. Maybe this was some kind of price for crossing worlds — even his skull felt like it had been split open.
The traders and Dothraki riders nearby eyed him curiously. His East Asian features made him stand out among them like a misplaced traveler.
When night fell, the desert heat gave way to bitter cold. Daenerys secretly saved him some bread and dried meat, slipping them into his hands. It wasn't much, but it was something.
After eating, Lynn found a corner near the campfire, wrapped himself in a rough piece of cloth, and tried to sleep. If he strayed too far, the cold would kill him before dawn.
Then, deep in his dreams, a voice whispered—
> "Traveler from another world… awaken."
Lynn's eyes shot open.
He was standing on a glassy black surface that rippled like liquid under his feet. Above, a starless night sky stretched endlessly.
In front of him, a dragon crouched.
Its golden slit eyes stared down at him—cold, ancient, terrifying.
> "Mortal…"
The voice didn't come from its mouth but exploded directly inside his mind.
> "I am Alduin, the End-Drake."
Alduin's gaze bored into him.
> "Your presence is a flaw in the weave of fate. Time and space twist around you. The walls between worlds grow thin. Things that should never exist smell the breach."
> "Balance is breaking. The old cycle is undone. New calamities rise. This is not the end I foresaw."
Lynn's throat was dry. He struggled to speak.
"W-what do you want? What does any of this have to do with me?"
> "Do with you?" the dragon's voice thundered.
> "The disturbance began with you. Cause and effect bind you. You cannot run. When the unknowable entities consume this reality, all things will fall to chaos."
The dragon lowered its massive head until its breath surrounded him like fire and thunder.
> "You have no right to refuse this fate. But I can grant you the strength to bear it."
Before he could react, flames burst from the dragon's eyes—two searing orbs that shot straight into his own.
Lynn screamed.
Fire flooded through him, tearing through every vein like molten steel. His blood boiled and changed — refined, branded with the mark of the dragon.
He collapsed, writhing, gasping, his cries buried by pain.
The blood of the dragonborn fused with his being.
Time lost meaning. Then, suddenly, the pain ebbed away, replaced by a tremendous power that filled him to the core. His heart thundered like a dragon's, his senses sharpened beyond human limits, and he could feel energy flowing in the air itself.
An invisible force radiated from him — dragon's might, a primal pressure that could make any living creature tremble.
He lifted his head to face Alduin once more.
> "The threads of destiny are woven," the voice rumbled.
> "Go now, Dragonborn. Fight, witness, and in this collapsing world, find the meaning of your existence — or perish with it."
The voice faded, and the great dragon dissolved into shadow.
Lynn gasped awake.
"Damn it! This feels… awful!" he cursed, clutching his trembling hands.
Everyone else who crossed into another world got some kind of cheat or a system. And him? A dragon just force-fed him raw energy like a science experiment gone wrong!
Days later, recovering bit by bit, he leaned against a rock, staring at his hands. The pain had dulled, but the strange energy still churned inside him like a restless beast.
"Who are you?" Daenerys's soft voice brought him back.
"Lynn…" he began, then paused — a surname was needed.
He barely knew enough about this world to think of anything fitting.
Then Alduin's voice echoed faintly in his mind once more.
> "Lynn Auger."
"Auger…" Daenerys repeated quietly. She'd never heard the name before, but every time she whispered it, her heart skipped a beat — an inexplicable mix of awe and fear.
"It sounds like a strong name."
Strong? Lynn gave a wry smile.
He could barely stand without losing control of the power inside him. And somewhere out there, a massive black dragon had already dumped destiny's burden on his shoulders.
"Well," he sighed inwardly, "what's done is done. No going back now. Might as well make the most of this power…"
At the very least, he thought, he wouldn't let the girl who saved his life die before she even reached the Iron Throne.