The sight of Rodrik on his knees, pledging himself to me with that unsettling devotion, hit me like a slap. For a moment, I froze, my brain working overtime to process what I'd done. What kind of monster had I just unleashed? I'd been too caught up in the role, too lost in the rush of power, to think about the consequences. Now, staring at Rodrik's bowed head, I understood. This wasn't a game. This was something far bigger.

And then, the avalanche started.

It began slowly. One by one, the others followed Rodrik's lead, falling to their knees, heads bowed, hands pressed together as if in prayer. First, a few soldiers. Then, the peasants. Men, women, young, old. All of them bent before me, as if I had suddenly become a god walking among them. Even Meera Stark, normally so composed and unshakable, sank to her knees like she'd been struck by lightning. Lysa Mormont stood deathly still – as though she was frozen. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, the realization hitting her like a hammer to the skull.

I stood there, at the center of it all, watching as the whole courtyard bowed to me. Not out of respect or duty, but out of raw, unfiltered belief. They believed in me. They feared me. I could feel it - their faith - and it pulsed through the air like static electricity. It wasn't the same as the necrotic energy I drew from corpses. It was weaker, diluted, but it was still there. I could taste it, feel it tingling in my fingertips.

I hadn't expected this. In all my wildest fantasies of power and conquest, I hadn't considered the possibility of worship. I wanted to be powerful, yes. I wanted to explore this world, to conquer its challenges, to live out the kind of grand, epic life I'd always dreamed of. But I hadn't wanted to be... this. I hadn't wanted to be someone's god.

And yet... now that it was happening, now that I felt their faith flowing into me, I couldn't ignore the possibilities. This was power. Real power. Power I hadn't anticipated, hadn't even considered. The ROB who'd thrown me into this world never mentioned anything about being able to harness faith. He'd given me a set of skills, sure, but this? This was something else entirely.

I looked around, taking in the faces of those kneeling before me. They weren't thinking, not really. They weren't analyzing or questioning. They had no reason to. In their eyes, I was something beyond human. I commanded dragons. I controlled the dead. I had an Other, a creature from their darkest legends, standing by my side. And in their simple, uneducated minds, that could only mean one thing: I was divine.

The realization sank in. Westeros wasn't some civilized, rational place. It was a land steeped in superstition and religious fervor. These people were desperate for something to believe in, and now they'd found it. They'd found me.

And if I played my cards right, I could use that. I could use them.

I glanced at Halga. She was the only one standing, aside from Lysa, as unfazed as ever. She gave me a shrug, as if to say, "Well, what did you expect?"

Of course, she wasn't surprised. Nothing seemed to surprise her. Halga wasn't like the others. She didn't care about gods or faith. She didn't care about grand plans or philanthropy. She just cared about the game, about the chaos. She'd follow me anywhere, not because she worshiped me, but because she wanted to see what would happen next. And also because we were friends.

But the others? They were mine now. Whether I wanted them or not, they were mine.

I took a deep breath and let the weight of it all sink in. My plans had changed. Before, I'd wanted to explore, to fight monsters, to crush my enemies, and maybe save a few damsels along the way. Westeros was just a stop on the way to bigger things. Essos had always seemed more interesting. But now... now I had a reason to stay. Now I had something more to fight for.

Because I could build something here. Something far greater than just power or wealth. I could build an empire. No, I could build a religion. And religious paths were usually the best way to win any Grand Strategy Game. I wouldn't be going wolololololo anytime soon, but this was bound to get wacky and crazy. I'd be a mega-church pastor, but with dragons and undead armies and shit.

What could possibly go wrong?

I raised my hand, and the crowd shifted, their heads lifting just slightly, their eyes wide and hopeful. I could feel them waiting, expecting something grand, something divine. I could feel their fear, their awe, their reverence. I could feel it all.

I smiled.

"Rise," I said, my voice echoing in the silence.

The word rippled through the crowd, and slowly, hesitantly, they began to stand. Rodrik was the first, his face still full of that blind, unshakable faith. The others followed, rising to their feet, but their heads remained bowed, their eyes still cast down in reverence.

I let them stand in silence for a moment, enjoying the power that came with it. The power of their belief. I could feel it growing, spreading, like a fire catching in dry grass. This was something new. Something I hadn't planned on. But now that it was here, I was going to use it.

I turned to Halga, who was watching the whole thing with an amused grin. "Figured this was bound to happen, sooner or later. I just didn't think it'd start with the nobles."

"We've got work to do," I said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Work?"

I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. "If I'm going to be a god, I might as well do it right."

Halga smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "And what exactly does that mean? Gods usually never do anything right."

Huh, she had a point there. I looked out over the crowd, at the faces of the people who had just given themselves to me. Their belief was raw, unshaped, like clay waiting to be molded. And I was going to mold it.

"It means," I said, "I'm going to build a kingdom."

No. Not just a kingdom.

I was going to build a cult.

And then, I was going to rule the world.

Lysa Mormont walked up to me. Her face was flat, neutral. I had no idea what the heck was going through her mind and I couldn't blame her. This whole thing happened so suddenly that even I wasn't entirely sure how I was supposed to go about doing this. I usually wasn't the man with the plan; I kind of just vibed through life in general. She stopped in front of me, right beside Rodrik. "Lord Jason... what exactly are you planning?"

I grinned right at her. "Just between you, me, and Halga? I have no fucking idea."

Lysa sighed, but otherwise nodded. "Vows between men are not nearly as strong as the vows between men and gods. And I vow, here and now, to stand by your side, Lord Jason, even if I must break my oaths to House Stark."

And so I stayed. Bear Island would become my power base. But that also meant that I'd have to make sure that it was as developed as possible. I also needed to ensure the faith of every single person here and if reading about messianic bullshit has taught me anything, it's that healing people of their ailments usually did wonders. "Round up all those who are sick and bring them to me."

This was also a good way to really start leveling up my Restoration Spell Tree, because the later spells were absolutely bonkers and I wanted those if I was gonna roleplay as Paul Atreides and the Lich King at the same time.

Lysa nodded. "By your will, Lord Jason."

The idea of being a god still felt weird, but screw it. Things were already headed in this direction, and there was no point fighting the inevitable. If the world wanted to treat me like some divine figure, I might as well roll with the madness. Life, after all, was about enjoying the journey. And this journey was turning out to be anything but sane.

Once I realized the villagers were terrified of me, I knew I had to change that. Fear wasn't going to cut it in the long run. So, I decided to work some healing magic, and then hit them with a few speeches. Charisma was key, and while I wasn't exactly a master orator, I figured copying a certain Austrian with a funny mustache wouldn't hurt. And just like that, the tide started turning. Villagers who once pissed themselves at the sight of me began to see me differently. After all, how could they deny my godhood when I was throwing around healing magic like candy at a parade?

Sure, they were scared at first. Who wouldn't be when faced with magic that shattered everything they thought they knew about the world? But that fear didn't last long. Once they realized I had dragons at my command and a literal Other who obeyed my every word, they started to believe. They started to really believe. Their fear melted away, replaced by awe and reverence.

Speaking of the dragons, I put them to work. Bear Island was a rocky, barren place with terrible farmland, but that was nothing a little dragon-assisted terraforming couldn't fix. I had White-Shadow, my larger dragon, carve out new farmlands, smashing hills and mountains into dust. Meanwhile, Nightfury took care of the trees, burning them to ash so that the soil could grow rich and fertile. I remembered something from an old National Geographic episode about forest fires and how the ashes were good for the environment, so I figured it couldn't hurt to give it a try here. The villagers weren't exactly botanists, but they seemed to appreciate the effort.

Of course, the results wouldn't be immediate. It would take time for the soil to become healthy again, but I had time. Beyond that, White-Shadow and I cleared huge chunks of forest to create dirt roads connecting the settlements. The land was flat now, ready for whatever future projects I had in mind. I wasn't exactly a city planner, but even I knew the growing city around Mormont Keep would need space to expand eventually. No sense in waiting for that problem to rear its ugly head.

Lysa Mormont's maester, however, wasn't impressed. He kept giving me dirty looks, clearly not a fan of me playing the role of some messianic figure. I could practically see the doubt written all over his face. He probably thought I was Lisan al-Gaib or some nonsense like that. But I didn't care what he thought. Unless he came to me with something useful or constructive - or tried to kill me - he was irrelevant.

The people I helped, though, they didn't care about the maester's opinions. The ones I healed, especially those with lifelong injuries or diseases that no one else could cure, were the first to start building shrines in my honor. Little by little, these shrines popped up all over the island. Some were small, simple things, with crude carvings of my face or likeness. Others were more elaborate, with offerings left at the base. It was surreal, watching it all unfold.

Of course, not everyone was on board. Meera Stark and her retainers were caught in the middle, torn between their loyalty to House Stark and the fact that they'd drunk the religious Kool-Aid like everyone else. I couldn't blame them. Their oaths to House Stark ran deep, and they couldn't just walk away from that. But even they knelt before me when the time came, conflicted as they were.

Meera, in particular, seemed determined to reconcile her loyalty to the Starks with this new reality. One day, she approached me, offering to arrange an audience with Lord Stark. She didn't say much about what she expected from the meeting, but I figured it couldn't hurt to go along with it. Nothing could go too wrong, right?

I shrugged and agreed. If nothing else, I was curious to see how someone like Lord Stark would react to what I had become. Would he bow, like the others? Or would he stand in defiance, clinging to his honor and the old ways? Either way, I was ready for whatever came next.

AN: Chapter 45 is out on (Pat)reon!