The hound chased after him on horseback. His sword gleamed in the torchlight. Mycah ran with all his might. His heart pounded as the sound of galloping hooves drew closer. His lungs screamed for air as he pushed his body to the brink.
A man can't outrun a knight on horseback. Poor Micah didn't have a prayer. The hound was too good. As adrenaline pushed through Micah's body, he searched for a tree, a lake, or a ditch to leap into. Even as he searched, he knew his time was coming short. The executioner's axe was falling. Soon Mycah would be no more.
He never heard the sword like he did in his dreams. The world was muted to him like it always was when he was awake. He heard the pounding of hooves, the flutter of bat wings, and the pounding of his own heart.
In his dreams he was more than a butcher's boy. He was a warrior who wore armor greater than any knight. His sword could cleave through anything. Why did he play at being a knight with Arya? Well he made the decision because he wanted to live his dreams.
The blade struck as it might have always been meant to do. His heart stopped as it was cleaved in two. It was driven so hard it pierced his sternum and pushed out three inches. The blade lurched free and Mycah fell. His life blood flowed out. As his mind went muddled, he held on to the dream. He wanted to live it even a butcher's boy dreamed of being a knight.
"Sorry boy, you weren't fast enough." The hound said.
Mycah felt his body turn and spasm. Something was happening to him. Whatever it was, it was gold. A hard-heavy golden substance began pouring into him. Soon enough of it was collected. His body shook and his bones cracked. Another blade sliced into his throat and opened it. His blood poured out as his heart began to beat again.
The wound on his neck began to rapidly close. More of the substance entered his body and he felt another crack. Bones, muscles, and tendons they were all changed by the substance.
Pain unlike any he'd ever felt shot through his body. He opened his mouth and screamed. His vocal cords tore, healed, and tore again. Memories of the dreams came to him in more detail. That wasn't all. He experienced a world with a school full of monsters. Knowledge flowed into him; he was once called Morpheus. He was the wielder of the sword oblivion. This was aura resonance.
Filth poured off his body flowing like thick mud from his pours. Clegane raised his sword and chopped at Mycah's throat. Sparks flew off but his neck didn't cut. Mycah or Morpheus it was indivisible. In that moment, the qi he'd absorbed from the world condensed and his foundry lit. A golden aura flew from his body as he roared into the air. His feet left the ground.
"Piss on this." Clegane said and ran off. People had come and gathered around to watched the spectacle.
His control returned to its former high foundry level. As far as the cultivation world was concerned, he was fairly weak. In this world of swords and horses. He might as well be a god.
He flew to a nearby river on the trident and began washing the filth from his body. Guards stood on the edge of where he bathed himself.
"Hey let me through he's my friend." Arya called out.
The northmen refused to let her through. Lord Stark and his father were present. Neither man knew what to do. He was basically clean. The filth from his body was gone. He felt better to be clean. This world was Yokai and he wasn't bound as he was before. These people were sheep and if he wanted his weapons and armor in a timely fashion, he'd need to be their Shepard. That was a good name. He'd be their golden Shepard.
He stepped from the river naked as the day he was born. It was a fitting entrance as any. His body rippled with energy. Mycah raised a hand and focused on the fire. Slowly, his consciousness and aura altered the very laws of reality. All to do something simple. A bit of friction was created, oxygen was fed into the spark, and a flame emerged.
Tentacles emerged that were fleshy, full of nerves, and infinitely dexterous. They fanned out and collected brush, twigs, and a solid log. Once the brush was collected, he lit it. Then he slowly added the twigs until the fire was strong enough for the log.
The tentacles retreated and the fire rose. Mycah stood by the fire warming up. He shook trying to get the excess water off himself.
"Father, do I still have an extra set of clothes." Mycah called from his fire. The guards stared in shock.
"Yes, I'll go get them for you. Lord Stark," His father bowed.
Author's Note: This is going to be a bunch of crackish civilization building nonesense with lots of lemons. Please leave a review