Deep in the North, Jon Snow stood among 120 ragged wildlings in their camp. They were a broken people—hungry, cold, and desperate. Their original group of 600 had been decimated in battle, leaving behind only the weakest: children, women, and injured men. Among the survivors, 52 were children, some as young as five. Life beyond the Wall was merciless, and their struggle for food was endless, especially with most of their strongest hunters lost.
Jon knew these people needed more than just words—they needed hope. They respected strength above all, and strength was something Jon intended to show them. But the power he carried was not just ordinary strength. The wildlings believed it was a gift from the gods, but Jon knew the truth: his abilities came from the **system**—a force he didn't fully understand but one he had come to wield with purpose.
Jon had promised them a kingdom. A kingdom where hunger was a thing of the past, where survival would no longer be a brutal struggle. And now, it was time to demonstrate his power.
He stood at the edge of the camp, the wildlings following close behind, curious to see what their new leader intended. In his hand, Jon held a single apple seed, small and unimpressive to the untrained eye.
"This," Jon said, holding the tiny seed between his fingers, "is a gift from the gods. And I will show you what that means."
The wildlings watched in silence, skeptical and desperate, their eyes fixed on Jon as he crouched down and pressed his hand into the frozen earth. Closing his eyes, Jon summoned the power he had received—the power of **wood style**, a gift he claimed came from the gods but which he knew was far beyond anything divine.
The ground beneath his hand began to tremble. A pulse of energy spread outward, and suddenly, the snow-covered soil shifted, as if breathing. The seed, small and fragile, burst with life. Shoots erupted from the ground, rapidly twisting and thickening into saplings. In mere seconds, the saplings grew into towering trees, their branches spreading wide and laden with vibrant red apples.
Fifty trees stood before the astonished crowd, each one dripping with ripe, glistening apples. Some trees carried over a hundred apples, their branches weighed down by the abundant fruit. The barren white landscape had transformed into a grove of life, the vibrant red of the apples contrasting sharply with the snow-covered ground.
The wildlings stared, mouths agape. They had lived in a land where nothing grew, where hunting was their only means of survival, and yet here, before their very eyes, trees had sprouted from the frozen earth in seconds.
"This is the power of the gods!" Jon declared, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "And it is through this power that I will build a kingdom—a kingdom where no one will go hungry, where no child will cry for food. Eat your fill, for in my kingdom, hunger will be a thing of the past!"
The wildlings hesitated for only a moment before rushing to the trees, grabbing as many apples as they could. Some of the children, who had never seen an apple before, bit into the fruit eagerly, their faces lighting up at the taste. Sweetness exploded on their tongues, a sharp contrast to the roasted meat they had lived on their whole lives.
Many of the wildlings were overcome with emotion. Tears streamed down their weathered faces as they savored the fruit, realizing they no longer had to fight for scraps of food. Mothers wept as they watched their children eat to their hearts' content. Men who had been hardened by years of survival stood silently, unsure whether they were witnessing a miracle or magic beyond comprehension.
After filling their stomachs, the wildlings gathered around Jon, awe in their eyes. One of the older men stepped forward and asked, "Are you a god?"
Jon laughed, shaking his head. "No. I am not a god. But I have powers greater than those of the gods." He gestured toward the trees. "These gifts are mine to wield, and with them, I will build a kingdom. Join me, and no one will starve again."
The wildlings knelt before him, believing they had found a savior, a man truly blessed by the gods. Jon quickly raised his hands. "Stand up," he commanded with a grin. "The free folk bow to no one, not even kings. You are not my subjects. You are my people."
There was a ripple of laughter through the crowd, a rare moment of joy among a people who had known nothing but hardship. It was the first time in a long while that they had something to hope for.
After the feast, Jon used his wood-style powers again to create wooden boxes for each person. The boxes were filled to the brim with apples, ensuring the wildlings would have food for their journey. With the group's spirits lifted and their bellies full, Jon knew it was time to move. He had been keeping an eye on another group of survivors—wildlings scattered across the harsh wilderness—and now, with his two eagles scouting ahead, it was time to unite them under his banner.
He stood at the edge of the camp, watching as the wildlings carefully packed the apples and gathered their belongings. For the first time in days, there was life in their movements—a spark of purpose.
As they prepared to leave, Jon looked out across the snowy horizon, his mind set on the task ahead. His goal was clear: to gather all the survivors, to unite the free folk, and to build a kingdom unlike any other—a kingdom where strength ruled, but no one starved.
With his newfound power, Jon Snow would carve a path through the wilderness and lead his people toward a future where hunger was no longer a foe they had to fight. And with every step, the legend of Jon Snow, the man blessed by the gods, would grow.
Together, they marched toward destiny, the scent of apples lingering in the air, a promise of abundance in a land that had known only scarcity.