Erick remembered the gift box. He willed it open.
A gentle blue light flashed over the snow. The items appeared on the dry ground Erick had cleared, each one set out in a tidy row, as if someone had placed them there for him.
A single scroll, ANBU clothing with a cat-shaped mask, a short guardless wakizashi, and three books.
Erick blinked, eyes wide and mouth open, his face showing pure amazement.
He burst out laughing when he saw all the books were in English, his voice full of both relief and disbelief.
He crouched and picked up the scroll first. The wax seal broke under his thumb, and the parchment unrolled with a quiet sound. Three jutsu were written there in clear, bold strokes: Clone, Transformation, and Substitution. These were the Academy Three... simple but powerful jutsu, perfect for misdirection and survival.
"Useful," he uttered. "Very useful."
He set the scroll aside and deliberately reached for the clothing next.
The ANBU uniform was made of black fabric that felt both light and warm. Flexible armor covered the elbows and knees, and hidden pockets ran along the sleeves and waistband. It was a big step up from the rough wool Erick had worn. He changed quickly, shivering out of habit, and pulled on the black shirt and pants.
They fit just right... not too tight or too loose. It was as if they had been made just for him.
He flexed, twisted, and bent his knees. The fabric moved easily, silently, and smoothly.
Next, he turned his attention to the sandals.
The sandals were open-toed and thin, made from tough black leather. Faint glowing writing on the soles probably meant they were protected by seals. At first, they seemed useless for snow.
He hesitated, but put them on anyway.
Warmth spread from his feet up his legs. He wiggled his toes, surprised. Sealing arts, he thought. That was the only explanation for how these sandals stayed warm in a frozen forest.
He picked up the cloak, a warm gray blend of wool and silk, tightly woven but thin and sleek. He set his old garment aside. Hidden fastenings closed at the collar, and silver chakra-threaded embroidery lined the hem. He draped it over his shoulders. It settled perfectly, as light as air and as warm as fur.
Last came the mask.
It was a white porcelain cat mask with delicate black markings and faint channels engraved around the eyes and mouth. There were no visible straps or ties, and the inside was lined with cool, smooth leather for comfort.
If he was not wrong, it was the same design as Uchiha Itachi's ANBU mask.
He brought it close to his face.
It clicked into place with a soft thunk, fastening to his skin like a magnet. He breathed easily and could see as if the mask wasn't there.
After putting on the entire ANBU set, he realized this was more than a costume. It was real ninja gear.
He picked up the books last... guides to hand signs, basic academy taijutsu, and survival, all written by Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage.
He put the scroll, books, and short blade into his inventory with a thought.
The lost peasant was gone. Someone new stood in the clearing.
With chakra warming him from within and the ANBU cloak blocking the wind, Erick felt steadier than he had since arriving in this world. The cold no longer bit at his bones. Even the snow under his sandals seemed softer, as if the world itself had changed around him.
He knelt by the dying fire, letting the last embers fade into the snow. He didn't need it anymore. Now he had warmth from within.
He willed the map open.
A sphere of pale blue light unfolded in front of him, rotating slowly like a miniature planet suspended in the air. Erick's breath caught. He had expected a simple map of the North. Maybe Westeros. But this… this was the entire world of A Song of Ice and Fire.
Westeros, with all its Seven Kingdoms, was a thin sliver on the western edge... barely five percent of the total landmass. The rest of the world sprawled outward in vast, ancient continents and archipelagos.
Land of Always Winter beat softly. Icy blue lit the map.
Shadow Lands curled like a dark claw.
Lizard Isles shimmered in green and gold.
Even the distant, half-mythical Ulthos was visible, a dark smear on the edge of the map.
He knew most of this world wasn't described in the story, but its size amazed him. It was both terrifying and beautiful.
He zoomed closer.
The map folded in on itself until only the North remained. The Wolfswood spread across the screen... a dense, ancient forest of dark green and white. A small blue dot marked his location, west of the Deepwood Road, near the border of Tallhart and Glover lands.
Erick's memories flashed... a boy's memories... a wagon, snowy trees, his father's voice, and the Deepwood Road ahead.
They had left the Glover lands for Winterfell, hoping for a new life.
Erick exhaled slowly, forcing the memories back into place.
He toggled the Nearby Entities filter.
The forest lit up.
Red dots... Danger.
Yellow dots... Uncertain.
Green dots... Harmless.
Wolves prowled the southern fringe of the woods.
A bear lumbered near a frozen stream.
A cluster of red dots pulsed near the Deepwood Road... bandits...
A cold knot tightened in his stomach, sharp and bitter. But it was no longer fear. Now, anger simmered, heat rising to his throat and pounding in his chest.
He closed the map.
Before the System, the smartest thing to do would have been to find civilization. Reach Deepwood Motte or Winterfell. Seek shelter, warmth, safety.
But now?
Now he had chakra.
Civilization had its uses, but now he had other needs.
He needed isolation. Time to master his new abilities. Time to learn Jutsu.
He checked his supplies. Ten packs of dried meat. Ten bottles of water. Twenty days if he rationed carefully.
He gazed west, thoughtful and resolute.
Past the trees, beyond the rolling hills, beyond the cliffs, lay Sea Dragon Point... a remote, wild peninsula jutting into the Shivering Sea. Few lived there. Fewer traveled there. It was a location forgotten by lords and untouched by war.
It was the perfect place to train and disappear.
He scattered the last embers of the fire and covered them with snow. The forest grew dim, shadows stretching beneath the ancient pines. The wind whispered through the branches, carrying the distant howl of wolves.
Erick pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
He took his first step west, his ANBU sandals silent on the snow.
[Somewhere in West Wolfwoods]
Sea Dragon Point shone dimly on the map, marked with clusters of tiny symbols... ruins, old stone circles, collapsed towers, and strange spirals carved into the land. When Erick focused on one, a small window unfolded beside it, giving a description in clear white text.
Wind Breaker - Ancient Ruins - Legacy of the Warg Kings.
Estimated Age: 8,000+ years.
Purpose: Unknown.
Status: Abandoned.
He shivered... not from the cold, but from awe. The Warg Kings' legacy was something he had only read about in obscure lore threads.
Old tales of skinchangers who ruled the North... before the First Men, before the Starks, before even the Children of the Forest retreated into story.
And now, he was walking toward their forgotten domain.
As he moved west, the forest near him began to thin. Trees got shorter. The air got sharper.
With each hour, his body grew stronger, lighter, and warmer. The tingling from the chakra seed increased, humming under his skin like a second heartbeat. He could feel the Uzumaki Bloodline making him stronger by the hour.
He stopped beneath a crooked pine and opened his Status.
[STATUS]
Name: Darek (Erick Hayes)
Talent: Superior Chakra Control, Chakra Transfer Technique
Bloodline: Uzumaki
Title: n/a
Affiliation: n/a
Race: Human
Age: 8
Status: Hungry
Rank: E+
Chakra: 3,544
SP: 0
Three new entries were added to his status: bloodline, talent, and chakra.
He tapped mentally on the chakra.
Chakra Level: Low Genin.
Classification: 1,000 – 10,000
A small arrow blinked beside the text... he willed it open... the list unfolded:
Genin: 1,000 – 10,000
Chunin: 10,000 – 100,000
Jonin: 100,000 – 1,000,000
Kage: 1,000,000 – 10,000,000
Super Kage: 10,000,000 - 100,000,000
Sage: 100,000,000 +
List when on...
He hadn't known how much chakra he gained when he ate the seed. The warmth, the rush, and the transformation had overwhelmed him. Now, he could feel it clearly—a pool of energy in his center, swirling and growing.
And his body was adjusting to the Uzumaki Bloodline.
He can feel it in his bones... his muscles becoming denser, his heartbeat stronger, his lungs fuller, and his skin warmer. Each step felt lighter, as if gravity had loosened its grip.
He closed the panel and kept walking.
The forest floor crisped under his sandals, but the cold never touched him.
At the river, he saw his reflection. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Not a prince, but a good-looking lad.
He checked the map again.
The coastline was closer now... a craggy line of cliffs and rocky beaches. Sea Dragon Point stretched northward like a crooked finger, dotted with ruins and ancient markers. The ancient ruins glowed dimly on the map, each one a monument of a bygone age.
He concentrated on one.
Stone Circle - Warg Kings Era.
Purpose: Ritual site.
Warning: High concentration of residual magic.
This world was dangerous enough without adding ancient sorcery into the mix. But he wasn't planning to explore the ruins yet. Not until he had mastered the chakra. Not until he could defend himself.
He toggled the Nearby Entities filter.
Deer, foxes, rabbits, uncertain creatures, lone wolves, a few scattered predators, but none close enough to threaten him.
He could bypass all of them.
He walked for hours as the forest slowly gave way to rocky hills. The fragrance of salt drifted on the wind. The far-off cry of seabirds resounded through the trees.
He rested on a ridge overlooking the sea.
Waves pounded on black stone cliffs. The wind shrieked across the coastline. The sky extended wide and pale above him.
Erick crossed the invisible border into Sea Dragon Point, feeling the air shift as the forest thinned. The aroma of salt grew stronger. The wind felt harsher. The land seemed older and wilder, like stepping into an overlooked chapter of the world.
He opened the map again, letting the pale blue sphere unfold in front of him, and the coastline glimmered dimly. But something else caught his eye - a cluster of human signatures, far larger than anything he'd seen since entering the Wolfswood.
A settlement.
A big one.
He zoomed closer... sixty‑one people.
But what made his stomach convulse wasn't the size... it was the colors.
Twenty‑one red dots... hostile.
He tapped the settlement... and a small window unfolded beside it... showing alliance tags for each group inside.
Eight men carried the Ironborn tag.
That wasn't surprising... Ironborn raiders sometimes pushed this far north.
But the other thirteen…
Mormont men...
Erick froze.
House Mormont was loyal to the Starks. Fiercely so. Their women fought. Their men bled. Their honor was iron. Seeing their tag marked as hostile made something cold settle in his chest.
He zoomed further.
The map allowed him to see individual statuses - not full details, but enough to understand the situation.
The remaining forty people were labeled with... low health... hunger... weak... some with injured... others with exhausted.... but all of them had the tag... slave.
A sick feeling crawled up his spine.
This wasn't a village or a camp.
This was a slaver's den, a raider hold, or something even worse... a place where Ironborn and corrupted Mormont men worked together.
He didn't need the System to tell him what kind of settlement this was.
He crouched low, cloak fluttering quietly in the wind, and circled wide around the settlement. Every step was silent. His breath was controlled.
He checked the map again.
The red dots moved in consistent patterns - patrols, guards, men carrying weapons. The yellow dots were scattered - uncertain, frightened, probably the prisoners. The green dots were few - children, maybe, or those too weak to fight.
Erick's jaw stiffened.
He wasn't strong enough to help them... not yet.
But the sight of those low-health signatures stayed with him. The map didn't lie. Those people were suffering, starving, and slowly dying.
He forced himself to breathe.
Not now. Not yet.
But one day… when he had jutsu... when he had the power to make a difference.
For now, he slipped further into the forest.
Circling, he circled the settlement with the caution of a hunted animal. Every rustle of leaves made him tense. Far away, a howl made him freeze. But the map guided him, showing him where to step, where to hide, where to avoid... he moved like a shadow.
When he finally left the settlement behind, the tightness in his chest eased. The sea wind passed over him, chilly and keen, clearing his mind.
Erick chose the ruins long before nightfall.
They sat on top of a lonely hill, ten miles west of the strange settlement he had avoided—a jagged crown of broken stone and collapsed walls, half hidden beneath snow and time.
Whatever this place once had been, a hall, a gathering place, maybe even a dance floor - he did not know.
But the two surviving walls that framed the open floor gave him shelter from the wind, and that was enough.
He built a small fire between the stones and sat with his back against the taller wall, mask beside him and cloak wrapped tight. The ruins felt ancient in a way the Wolfswood never had. The air felt heavy, filled with a silence that pressed against his ears.
He didn't trust it.
So he slept with one eye open, the map hovering faintly in the corner of his vision, its hostile markers pulsing whenever something moved within a mile. Wolves. A lone bear. A few uncertain yellow dots. Nothing red. Nothing human.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled him into sleep. The day had simply been too much for his mind.
He slept for four hours.
He jolted awake with a sharp gasp, heart hammering, hand reaching instinctively for the short blade in his inventory. The fire had long since died, leaving only a faint ring of ash. The ruins were silent. The wind whispered through the broken stones.
And he wasn't cold.
Not even a little.
He sat there for a long moment, breathing slowly, letting the realization settle. This is real. This is my life now. The ANBU gear kept him warm even without fire. Chakra pulsed through him like a second heartbeat, steady and comforting.
He tore off a strip of dried meat and chewed slowly, washing it down with a sip of water.
He needed to understand this new body, this new power, this new world.
He stood, stretched, and stepped into the open space between the walls. Snow crunched under his sandals, but the cold never reached him. He took a deep breath and started the only structured training he knew... the One-Punch Man routine, the same one he had tried a few times when he was still a doctor.
It had been a challenge then.
Now?
He dropped into push‑ups.
One.
Two.
Three.
On the fourth push-up, he felt something... a spark, a pulse, a warmth flowing into his hands. Chakra. It was instinctive and subtle, as if his body knew what to do even if he didn't.
He pushed again.
His body felt stronger, and every movement was twice as easy.
He blinked, stunned.
He tried again, this time deliberately pushing a thin thread of chakra into his arms.
The effect was immediate.
His arms felt like pistons, his body rose effortlessly.
He laughed under his breath, breath fogging faintly in the cold air.
He moved on to squats. The same thing happened... a small pulse of chakra into his legs made the motion smoother and easier, almost spring-like. His muscles burned, but in a good way, showing he was growing, adapting, and getting stronger.
Then he ran.
He sprinted around ruins, sandels tapping lightly against snow. Halfway through the stride, he pushed chakra into his legs... just a little, just enough to test.
The world blurred.
He shot forward like a thrown stone, nearly stumbling as his body surged ahead faster than he expected. He skidded to a stop, panting, heart racing.
A grin spread across his face.
He tried again.
This time, he timed it - pushing chakra into his legs at the exact moment his foot left the ground. The burst of speed was incredible, almost intoxicating. He felt weightless.
He stopped only when his lungs burned, and his legs trembled.
He leaned against the broken wall, breathing hard, staring at his hands.
"This… this is insane." Erick, with astonishment, looked back on his training.
And he was only eight years old.
The second round of training hit harder than the first.
Erick pushed himself through the routine again... push-ups, squats, and sprints around the ruins. Each movement was sharper, cleaner, and more controlled than before. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold, and his breath came in steady bursts.
By the time the sun reached its highest point, he was panting, hands on his knees, cloak fluttering in the wind.
That was when the message appeared.
Glowing text hovered in front of him:
[Daily Reward Earned: +8 SP]
"Seriously?" he muttered. He accepted the reward, feeling humbled. He had worried about how to earn SP.
He exhaled slowly, grateful.
"There must be other ways to earn SP," he thought. "But that can wait. I need to learn the basics first."
He sat down on a flat stone, letting his muscles cool. The ruins around him were silent except for the wind. He reached into his inventory and pulled out the books and scrolls, laying them neatly in front of him.
Time to study.
He started with the hand sign book.
The cover was simple, and the pages were thick and slightly yellowed. The handwriting inside was elegant, precise, and methodical.
The first chapters explained the twelve basic hand signs... their shapes, their meanings, and their effects on chakra flow.
Erick read slowly... absorbing every detail.
Hand signs weren't magic gestures... they were chakra molds—physical triggers that shaped chakra inside the body.
The book repeatedly warned about the dangers of sloppy molding. A misaligned sign could twist the chakra the wrong way, causing internal burns, ruptures, or worse. Erick swallowed hard at that part.
Then came the examples.
The Tiger sign, associated with fire, didn't create flames by itself. Instead, it accelerated chakra in a specific pattern - speeding it up so intensely in a localized area that it generated heat. Add the Dragon sign, which infused more chakra into the mold, and the effect multiplied.
Heat, infusion, and release equal a fire jutsu. But if not performed carefully, it could mean losing your eyebrows at best, or at worst, melting your own face.
When Erick realized that, he gulped.
It wasn't magic.
It was physics with chakra as the fuel.
"So every sign has its own effect… and combining them creates new molds… which become jutsu."
It made sense, in a way.
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly.
Twelve signs... hundreds of combinations... thousands of possible jutsu.
No, as far as he could tell, Erick guessed there were an infinite number of combinations—an endless amount of possible jutsu.
The more Erick read, the more his mind spun.
The book wasn't long, but it was dense, with every page packed with meaning, technique, warnings, and subtle insights. By the time he reached the final chapter, his head felt ready to burst. So many ideas and realizations. It was almost overwhelming. His fingers tingled just thinking about the possibilities.
He closed the book gently.
That was when a system box appeared.
[New System Feature Unlocked: Library]
Erick blinked, then opened the new panel.
Inside, neatly cataloged, was the Hand Sign Manual he had just finished reading. Every page. Every diagram. All preserved perfectly.
A wave of relief washed through him.
He had been genuinely worried about the availability of inventory space. Books and scrolls took up precious slots. And he already knew he'd be collecting more. But now the Library would store anything he read, freeing his inventory for essentials.
He checked the inventory panel again.
There was an option to unlock more space, but the cost made him wince:
Unlock Additional Inventory Slots - 100 SP
He looked at the Library panel again, watching the single book glow softly.
In the hand‑sign manual, there were two techniques besides hand signs.
Two techniques... simple on the surface, but foundational. The kind of things every academy student learns before they ever touch a real jutsu.
Chakra Extraction Technique and Leaf Exercise.
Erick reread the chapter twice, absorbing every warning, every note, every careful explanation.
The book stressed that the best time to use the extraction technique was after physical exercise, when the body was warm, and the cells were active. That was when chakra flowed most naturally. But it also warned, again and again, that overdoing it could exhaust the cells, damage them, or even cripple a shinobi's future.
He wasn't going to ruin his new life on day one.
He sat cross‑legged in the ruins, the cold stone beneath him softened by the warmth of his cloak. His breathing slowed. His heartbeat steadied. He closed his eyes and focused inward.
Gently, carefully, pull from each cell—not too much.
A faint warmth stirred inside him, like tiny sparks waking up all across his body. He guided them upward, letting the chakra gather in his center. It wasn't painful - more like stretching a muscle he'd never used before.
Then the warmth spread.
A wave of chakra washed through him, invigorating, cleansing, almost electric.
He exhaled slowly.
"So this is chakra extraction…"
Still in his meditative posture, he reached down and picked up a dry leaf from the ruined floor. It was brittle, brown, and curled at the edges. He placed it gently on his forehead.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then he focused... just a small thread of chakra, directed upward, held steady.
The leaf stuck.
Not tightly, not perfectly, but enough to cling to his skin without falling.
Erick opened one eye and stared at it.
A quiet, breathless, disbelieving laugh escaped him.
It worked. It actually worked.
He knew it wasn't just skill. His Superior Chakra Control talent was doing half the work for him. But that didn't matter. A result was a result. And this exercise wasn't about power - it was about focus, about gathering chakra into a single point and holding it there.
The foundation of every jutsu.
His mind drifted, imagining the future.
Fire Release… Great Fireball Technique…
He could almost picture it - gathering chakra in his throat, compressing it, shaping it. The Tiger sign accelerates the air, heating it to the point of ignition. Then exhaling, releasing the molded chakra as flame.
A great fireball roared into the world.
He smiled faintly.
The leaf trembled, but it didn't fall.
Superior chakra control gave Erick a huge advantage, and he knew it. The leaf exercise came to him much more easily than it should have for a beginner. But even with talent, he understood something important... skill wasn't the same as instinct. He needed this to become second nature - something his body did automatically, without conscious effort. So he kept training.
At first, he balanced just one leaf on his forehead. Then two, then five. Soon, leaves covered his hands, shoulders, stomach, and even the back of his neck. Erick looked almost comical, covered from head to toe.
Every hour of practice sharpened his focus... every repetition made the chakra flow smoother.
Days passed quietly with discipline and repetition.
He trained his body in the mornings... read in the afternoons, and practiced chakra control until nightfall. He could feel himself growing stronger, but he didn't rush. He knew he could probably master the Academy Three on his first try, but patience was a shinobi's greatest weapon.
On the fourth day, he replaced the leaves with small stones. Harder. Heavier. Less forgiving. The first few attempts made his chakra wobble, but soon the stones clung to his skin as easily as the leaves had.
A few days later, something changed.
The chakra control exercise stopped feeling like work.
It felt as natural as breathing or walking... something his body simply did.
The difference was staggering. At first, he had to force himself to focus, gather chakra, hold it steady, and keep the rocks from falling. Now, the chakra moved on its own, flowing to the right places with barely a thought.
He was ready.
On the seventh day, he opened the three Academy Jutsu scrolls again.
He had read a scroll before... but this time he read slowly and carefully, absorbing every detail. For the first time, he understood why these three techniques were taught first—they were the foundation of everything that followed.
Transformation Jutsu - training the ability to mold chakra inside the body, altering one's form, weight, and appearance.
Clone Jutsu - teaching how to push chakra outside the body, attaching illusions to the surroundings.
Body Replacement - linking chakra to objects or people, the first step toward summoning, sealing, and storage techniques.
He sat... back against the cold stone wall... scroll resting across his lap.
These weren't just beginner jutsu.
They were the blueprint for everything a shinobi could become. Transformation taught internal molding. Clone external projection. Replacement connection.
Together, they formed the framework for all advanced arts, from elemental ninjutsu to sealing techniques, and from summoning contracts to storage scrolls.
Seven days of training... had changed Erick more than he expected.
His hand signs were still a bit clumsy, but the improvement was dramatic. What once felt like awkward finger movements now flowed with discipline, precision, and growing muscle memory. His fingers no longer fumbled, and his chakra no longer sputtered. He was starting to feel like a shinobi.
Time for the first real test.
The Transformation Technique.
He pictured the Third Hokage... as clearly as he could.
Wrinkled face, the sharp eyes, the robe, the hat.
The posture of a man who carried a village on his shoulders.
He molded chakra, steady and controlled, then formed the hand signs:
Dog - right hand in a fist, left palm resting over it.
Boar - palms down, fingers interlocked, bent inward.
Ram - index and middle fingers raised, right slightly lower than left.
A soft puff of white smoke burst around him.
When the smoke cleared, Erick looked down at himself and burst out laughing.
He had transformed into the Third Hokage - technically - but something had gone hilariously wrong.
For starters, the height... Hiruzen should've been around 5'5"... but now he stood at 3'7", same as his original height.
So instead of a dignified elder, he looked like a miniature, child-sized Hokage, barely taller than a toddler. And the clothes... oh gods, the clothes... were all white. Not off-white or pale, but pure white, like a ghostly version of the Hokage.
A tiny ghost Hokage... he doubled over, laughing... as the transformation flickered... dissolved with a puff.
"Okay… okay, that's fair... imagination matters."
He tried again.
The more he focused on imagining Hiruzen, the more the chakra responded. The book had been right... the secret of the Transformation Jutsu wasn't power, but imagination... the ability to hold an image so clearly that chakra obeyed it.
By the end of the day, he could transform into a passable version of the Hokage. Not perfect, but good enough that a casual glance wouldn't question it.
And he didn't stop there.
He practiced the Clone Jutsu, pushing chakra out of his body, shaping it into flickering illusions... Body Replacement, linking chakra to stones, branches, anything he could find.
By the time the sun set on the tenth day, Erick knew one thing with absolute certainty.
If he walked into a Konoha Genin Exam right now, he would pass—easily.