Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls or A Song of Ice and Fire. All rights belong to their respective owners.

Chapter 3

Beyond the Wall 296 A.C.

The tranquility reigning in one of the mountain regions known as the Frostfangs was abruptly shattered by a thunderous explosion. The detonation caused the entire terrain to tremble, as if an earthquake had been unleashed upon the place.

"Ah, ah, ah." Jon gasped, breathing heavily.

"You've done well so far, Jon." said Edzard, who stood several meters away from his apprentice. With a simple gesture of his hand, Edzard unleashed a new attack. Hundreds of hardened magma spikes emerged from the ground, advancing rapidly toward Jon.

Seeing the attack approach, Jon tightened his grip on his practice sword and, focusing all his senses, launched himself to meet it. Anyone witnessing the scene would have thought Jon was insane, charging directly at a threat that could easily kill him. However, the son of Ned Stark wasn't impaled by the spikes. In the last instant, when the attack was mere meters away, Jon began to dodge them with surprising agility.

Edzard observed how his apprentice easily avoided the spikes. When Jon successfully evaded the entire attack, Edzard raised his other hand, holding a sword, and moved it swiftly. Jon had closed the distance between them with remarkable speed. Their weapons clashed forcefully in the air.

Jon's movements mirrored Edzard's almost identically. With a quick motion of his right hand, Jon executed a powerful diagonal cut, which was effortlessly blocked by his master. After this attack, Jon was forced into a defensive position as Edzard initiated a relentless counterattack.

'Aghh. Edzard's attacks are still as swift as ever. I still can't fully keep up with them.' Jon thought as he felt his defense being breached. In the blink of an eye, he received four consecutive blows. His master's practice sword struck both shoulders, then a rib, and finally, Edzard spun one hundred and eighty degrees to deliver a powerful blow to Jon's chest.

The force of Edzard's attacks sent Jon hurtling toward some rocky outcrops. However, before crashing into the rocks, Jon maneuvered in mid-air and landed on his feet. Although he avoided colliding with the stones, the speed at which he was propelled forced him to drive his sword into the ground to stop. The blade left a furrow in the earth until he finally managed to halt his momentum. Once he stopped, Jon began to rise, using his sword for support.

"We'll leave it here for today, Jon." Edzard said as he approached his pupil.

"Agreed." Jon replied, extracting the sword from the ground in one swift motion.

'It seems he has adapted to his new physical strength.' Edzard thought as he watched Jon effortlessly retrieve the buried sword. 'His body has assimilated the Nirmnian blood better than I expected.'

Jon's body had been magically modified by Edzard during a special ritual, conducted a year after his training began. The ritual involved having Jon's body assimilate a small amount of Edzard's blood, which had been stored in a special vial. The process was lengthy and arduous, lasting over seven days during which Edzard altered Jon's body to make it stronger, more resilient, and imbued with attributes akin to the inhabitants of Aurbis.

When the ritual concluded, Jon suffered several days of intense fever. As the fever subsided, the young son of the Warden of the North was no longer an ordinary mortal. The proof of his transformation lay in his eyes, which, though still purple, now glowed with an unnatural radiance.

'Several years have passed since I began his training, and with each passing day, he adapts better to his new senses and abilities. Fortunately, I managed to resolve the issue he had with using magic.' Edzard thought as he looked at his pupil, then called out to him. "Jon!"

The young man turned his head and looked at his master.

"Go fetch provisions from the forest."

Jon nodded and headed toward the camp.

The camp they lived in appeared to be a simple cave, but the reality was quite different. That cave was an extensive complex of tunnels. Originally, it seemed to have been a copper or tin mine, used in ancient times by the First Men when bronze was still their metal of choice. Upon entering the cave, Jon took one of the tunnels leading to his room. Once inside, he removed his training clothes a simple black short-sleeved shirt and brown woolen pants, along with black leather boots.

After donning a fresh pair of pants, Jon passed by an enchanted ice mirror. The reflection made him smile. His figure, once small years ago, now hinted at what a warrior should be. Rigorous physical training had sculpted his body into an athletic form, though he wasn't yet heavily muscled. Some scars were visible, but apart from that, there was nothing particularly remarkable. Well, that wasn't entirely true on the right side of his torso, a black Nordic tattoo depicted a wolf howling at a star.

Shaking his head at the sight of his tattoo, Jon put on a long-sleeved tunic and, after adjusting a cloak, left the room. As he walked through the tunnel toward the exit, he passed the armory and picked up a cast iron bow. Checking its resilience, he ensured it was in good condition. Satisfied, he grabbed a quiver of iron-tipped arrows and stepped out of the cave. When the cold air hit his face, Jon looked ahead and headed toward the Enchanted Forest.

'I hope I don't encounter any wildlings.' Jon thought as he passed by his master and bid farewell. Once he was about a hundred meters from the camp, he started running and soon disappeared among the trees.

The night had fallen, and an intense snowstorm raged outside the camp, the wind seeping through as if it were the howl of a wolf. While the storm continued to unleash its fury, Jon was in one of the cave chambers, focused on his studies of poisons and potions.

"So, the best way to know what a plant does is to eat it?" Jon asked, looking at his master skeptically.

"That's right. After all, what better way to understand the effects of something than by experiencing them firsthand?" Edzard replied with an unsettling calm.

"Are you crazy?! By the old gods, why on earth would I eat something I know will make me sick?!"

Edzard merely stared at him, as if Jon had just said the most absurd thing in the world.

"Then tell me, how would you know what effect that plant would have on a person?" Edzard inquired, never breaking eye contact with his pupil.

"Well… I have absolutely no idea." Jon admitted, prompting Edzard to facepalm with his hand.

"Sometimes I think you're an idiot." Edzard sighed, visibly annoyed. After that resigned sigh, he decided to continue the lesson, which extended for several more hours.

Once the alchemy class concluded, the enchantment lesson began.

"Remember, Jon, each rune must be placed in a specific order." Edzard said, observing as Jon arranged the runes to enchant a simple iron knife, forged by the young man himself.

"I know, Edzard. First come the power runes, which determine the type of enchantment whether it's strengthening or weakening. Then, the essence runes follow, providing the specific effect of the enchantment. And finally, the aspect runes define the enchantment's power level." Jon recited as he aligned the runes on his enchanting tablet. "Alright, it's ready. Now to proceed with the enchantment. Jejora (Raise), Rakeipa (Fire), Denata (Superior)."

As Jon pronounced the rune words, the iron dagger, placed on a simple wooden table, began to levitate. The runes inscribed on a special stone tablet started glowing in different colors. The light generated by the runes floated slowly toward the dagger, infusing it with power. This process lasted a few minutes until the magic was fully absorbed into the blade, which fell with a dull sound onto the table.

Edzard approached the dagger, examining it closely. With swift movements, he hurled the dagger at a nearby piece of wood. The blade embedded easily, but that wasn't what the son of Akatosh wanted to verify. The real test occurred a few seconds later.

"It seems you're now capable of performing decent enchantments, Jon." Edzard commented as he watched the wood begin to burn, reduced to ashes in less than three seconds.

Jon blushed slightly at his master's praise. "Thank you, Master."

Edzard observed his apprentice and, giving him a gentle pat on the head, offered a smile before offering advice. "Jon, remember something crucial. The power and ease of enchanting objects depend not only on the runes you use but also on the amount of magic present in the location where you perform it."

"I understand. I suppose enchanting something here isn't the same as doing it in Winterfell." Jon replied, grasping his master's message.

"Exactly. Although your childhood home holds much magic within its walls, it doesn't compare at all to the magic present in this place."

Edzard's words made Jon start thinking about places where significant concentrations of magic might exist. After a few minutes, he remembered one.

'Surely in Valyria, enchantments would be much more potent.' Jon thought, unaware of how accurate he was.

Valyria, despite being destroyed and cursed, was a place where magic permeated the air. However, venturing into those lands was not a brilliant idea for most mortals in this world. If the beasts dwelling there didn't destroy you, the stone men would; and if you survived that, the mist enveloping the place would eventually devour your soul, leading you to hallucinate about futures that would never materialize mere projections of a mind succumbing to imminent destruction.

"It seems it's quite late, Jon." Edzard said as his figure began to fade, becoming translucent a sign that he was about to return to the collar. "See you tomorrow."

"Yes. See you tomorrow." Jon replied, watching Edzard disappear.

Left completely alone, Jon headed to his chambers to rest.

Beyond the Wall 297 A.C.

The noonday sun illuminated the mountains known as the Frostfangs, and in some remote corner of those rugged peaks, Edzard sat on a rock, observing his pupil as Jon trained his magical and swordsmanship skills.

'The way he fights reminds me of the "Dragon Knights" among the Akaviri soldiers.' Edzard thought as he watched Jon transform his bastard sword into a whip of fire, then launch it to shatter a medium-sized rock.

'Over the past year, Jon seems to have honed many of his abilities. He's now capable of using some high-level spells, although his casting time is still slow something expected in someone who has become a hybrid artificially. As for weapon combat, he's more than competent with the spear, halberd, pike, axe (whether one-handed or two-handed), mace, and, of course, war hammers. But where he truly excels is in blade weapons: the dagger, short sword, longsword, bastard sword, and, of course, greatswords. In those disciplines, he won't find many rivals in this world.' Edzard reflected while glancing at his hand, noticing how it began to fade slightly as a mild ache coursed through his body. Taking a deep breath, the last son of Akatosh began to absorb some of the ambient magic. 'Time is running out. It's time I start resolving my affairs in this world. I don't want to leave anything to chance.'

With that resolution in mind, Edzard stood up and approached his apprentice. Upon reaching Jon, he saw him sprinting toward a group of wooden and straw dummies arranged to simulate enemies surrounding someone. Edzard observed how Jon, upon arrival, wielded his bastard sword with both hands and, with a powerful 180-degree spin, cut down all the dummies around him.

"Looks like those dummies are already dead." Edzard commented with a smile, catching up to his pupil.

Jon lowered the sword and, looking at his master, returned the smile playfully.

"Yeah, they didn't stand a chance."

"Heh, heh. Seems that way." Edzard replied, contemplating how his pupil had changed over the years. Young Jon had grown, becoming slightly taller than average for his age, but the most notable change was in his personality. He was no longer as reserved; now he often made sarcastic remarks or pointed out the obvious just to exasperate others. 'I fear his personality resembles that of someone I always wanted to punch… although, if I recall correctly, I did punch him. Although I can't quite remember when that was… Ah, sometimes I hate having so many thousands of years under my belt it makes my memory fuzzy in certain parts.'

"So, Edzard, what do you need from me today?" Jon asked, resting his sword on his shoulder.

"I need you to fetch a few things." Edzard said, proceeding to list the specific objects he required.

"Hmm… why do you need so many things?" Jon asked curiously, as the list Edzard provided was long and very specific.

"For some matters." Edzard replied with an enigmatic smile.

"I see. Well, I won't ask further; I'll find out eventually anyway."

Edzard smiled as he watched his pupil depart to retrieve the requested items.

Jon was training with a greatsword, cutting through several oak logs. These logs were arranged as if they were soldiers in formation. Although they should have been stationary, they were enchanted and connected to a device that made them move randomly, thus increasing the training difficulty.

'It's been three weeks since Edzard asked me for those materials.' Jon thought as he cleaved a log that had been launched toward him at high speed. 'I have no idea what he's up to. He requested various types of wood, iron ore, plants that could be turned into fiber for ropes, and some materials suitable for making waterproof resins.'

Refocusing on his training, Jon sliced through four logs that appeared in his field of vision, moving his greatsword in a horizontal arc. Increasing his speed, he leaped and transformed his greatsword into a whip of fire, incinerating several logs that had been arranged in a phalanx formation. He landed gracefully and continued his training, cutting through all obstacles in his path.

After finishing, Jon took a deep breath, recovering his breath after the long session. He rested the greatsword on his shoulder and began heading back to his shelter to freshen up and see what Edzard was working on. However, after a few steps, he had to react quickly to defend against an attack that came from behind. The assailant didn't appear human; it was a humanoid shadow, enveloped in a black miasma that absorbed sunlight. Its face was unrecognizable, covered by a black mask with two tusks resembling those of a mammoth.

'He's strong.' Jon thought as he noticed how the enemy's blow had sent him sliding several meters backward.

"Who are you? Why are you attacking me?" Jon asked, gripping his greatsword with both hands.

The shadow didn't respond and simply assumed a combat stance with its own weapon a nearly translucent white greatsword.

Realizing he wouldn't get a verbal answer, Jon wasted no time and launched an attack. His opponent did the same, and they met in the center of the field. Face to face, they began exchanging rapid blows with their weapons, sparks flying due to the force they exerted.

Jon moved his greatsword diagonally to deflect the consecutive attacks from his opponent, seeking an opening to defeat them with a single strike. However, until that moment, he hadn't found one. Determined to change the situation, Jon employed a magical technique. He leaped, spun 180 degrees, and transformed his sword into a whip of fire, which he hurled toward his opponent. Unfortunately, the attack failed as the shadow moved its weapon in a way that prevented the whip from reaching it.

'Damn.' Jon thought as he realized the failure had left him completely unprotected.

The lack of defense resulting from the failed attack allowed his enemy to deliver a powerful kick to his stomach, sending Jon flying several meters.

While airborne, Jon clutched his stomach, feeling the internal damage caused by the blow. His greatsword began reverting to its original form, and Jon thanked the gods for it, as his enemy wasted no time and lunged at him again.

When the shadow caught up, a new exchange of swordplay began, this time dominated by the shadow, which landed another blow to Jon's abdomen. Unlike the previous one, this assault didn't stop there, and the shadow continued striking Jon repeatedly.

'Damn. This guy is strong.' Jon thought as his vision began to darken. It was the next blow that finally plunged him into unconsciousness.

Author's Note:

To those who have made it this far, thank you for reading. To be honest, my English writing skills are not strong, and I'm relying on Google Translate and the dictionaries that come with Office 2019.

Well, chapter 3 is already translated.

I apologize for the delay, but I'm extremely short on time. If I'm lucky, I'll have time to translate more during the summer, but as I mentioned at the beginning, this will be translated at its own pace.

Well, we see part of Jon's training, and in the future, we will see some references to the training as flashbacks or mentions in thoughts

I apologize for any spelling errors. Please don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter, or if there's something that needs improvement, or if you have any questions about the story. Any constructive advice is welcome. With nothing more to say, see you in the next chapter.