1 Chapter 1

"This is it!" A voice exclaimed, accompanied by laughter, breaking the serenity of the Wolfswood, "My new adventure!" Amidst the tranquility of the snowy expanse, punctuated only by the occasional wolf's distant howl or the rustle of unseen creatures, the excited shouts are in contrast to this peace. 

The voice originates from a man, a relatively tall man, standing at 197.5 cm (6 foot 5), wearing a light blue t-shirt and navy blue pants. He seemed impervious to the icy surroundings he found himself in, and the snow constantly falling around him. 

—

"Well, you know the drill!" I sprinted towards the nearest tree, and luckily, wherever I found myself, had no shortage of trees. 'Can't ask for a better start,' I mused to myself. After a brief moment of contemplation, and hesitation, I executed the quintessential move recognizable to any Minecraft player – I punched the tree.

"What the hell?" The block I struck vanished instantly, and the once normal tree was now floating and seemed oddly out of place in the non-Minecraft reality. "But where's the wood?" Not only did the block disintegrate without a trace, but it failed to drop a single wood block. "Wait a minute..." I muttered to myself, a realization dawning, "No way, right?"

Normally, pressing 'E' on a keyboard would summon the inventory screen, but lacking a keyboard in this peculiar setting, I hoped an alternative method would suffice. 'Inventory' I thought to myself, and to my delight, a screen materialized before me. However, what I saw next left me astounded. Instead of the familiar survival inventory screen featuring my avatar, it was the creative inventory.

Tentatively, I reached out and selected an oak plank from the screen. Lo and behold, the oak plank appeared in my hot bar. Placing it on the ground, I noticed that the quantity in my inventory remained unaffected, and as I tapped the planks, watching them vanish, I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"I'm in creative mode! This is incredible! Wait, can I fly?" With a jump, I attempted to leap again mid-air, and a broad smile spread across my face as, just a few feet above the ground, I found myself levitating. Recreating the sensation of jumping, I felt my elevation increase, and in no time, I could see vast stretches of forest enveloping me. "Hahahaha! Is this how those Targaryens felt riding their dragons?" I exclaimed before a brief pause led me to ponder, 'Are the Targaryens still reigning? Or perhaps I've arrived before the conquest? Hmmmm, usually, this would be cause for concern, but hey, I'm in creative mode, bitches!'

—

Rickard Stark found solace in the Wolfswood, a haven for peace and quiet that he often sought when he wished to distance himself from the happenings in Winterfell. Seated on the ground, meticulously cleaning Ice, his ancestral Valyrian Greatsword.

The tranquility surrounding him was abruptly shattered when he was able to hear sounds of hushed whispers echoing from a few hundred meters away. Intrigued and somewhat concerned, he rose to investigate the source of the disturbance.

As he got closer he could make out a few words, and as he broke through the last few trees he rubbed his own eyes multiple times, for he could not believe what he was seeing. A man, clad in a t-shirt and blue pants, which was already surprising enough considering the cold bite of the North, but what was even more surprising and unbelievable was that this man was flying! Flying in circles like dragons of old, and not only that but he looked to be spawning stone from gods know where.

"Should I make this bigger? Yeah, I think so." the man said, 'bigger?!' Rickard exclaimed to himself, the outline he seemed to be making was already several times bigger than Winterfell, and he wanted it bigger?! "Oh, a person…" Rickard in his disbelief seemed to forget his bearings, and he quickly put a hand on the sword by his side, before mustering as much authority as he could.

"I am Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. State your name and purpose here, stranger." Despite his outward composure, it was challenging to maintain confidence when addressing a man hovering over 5 meters in the air. In response, the man abruptly descended, effortlessly reaching the ground from a height that would have injured most. He then approached Rickard.

"Hey, my name's Atlas, also I'm just building here." Atlas appeared pleasantly surprised, for reasons unknown to Rickard, his manner of speaking caused Rickard to be a little bit off put, as it was much more informal than he was used to. However there were much more pressing concerns than this.

"Ok Atlas, tell me how in the name of the Old Gods were you flying, and where the hell did all of that stone come from?" He said, and in response, the man turned around and looked at his building before saying. 

 "Oh, it's just something I can do." Before turning back around towards Rickard and finishing "Can you tell me what year it is if possible?" Rickard was upset at his response, but he realized he didn't have much power here. If the man can fly and summon blocks from nowhere, what's stopping him from flying away and summoning stones above his head and crushing him?

 "264 AC." He simply said, and he noticed the stranger begin to nod to himself, before looking to Rickard with a smile, before speaking,

"I see, well Rickard Stark, I have a few gifts for you if you would wish." This caused Rickard to immediately be on guard, his grip on Ice tightened, and he began to creep into a fighting stance. Atlas noticed his guardedness and chuckled a bit before saying, "No need to worry, these gifts will in no way hurt you, they will help you quite a bit."

"Gifts of what sort?" Rickard asked, still on guard. The man smiled even more before simply waving his hand and out of nowhere three items appeared. A pile of… Glowing books? An anvil, a set of armor and… Gods was that Valyrian Steel? The man seemed to not realize the value of these items as he simply grabbed books and the armor, which disappeared without a trace, and went towards the anvil and started… touching it?

The glowing books appeared, as did the armor, and he heard the sound of a hammer hitting the anvil though the stranger held nothing in his hands, and he was sure nothing hit the anvil. This repeated a few times before the stranger nodded, as if satisfied, and the armor once again appeared in front of Rickard. Rickard also watched as the man struck the anvil which…disappeared? 

"Here you go." The stranger said, "It will serve you well." The previous Valyrian Steel armor was now glowing similarly to the books, and Rickard was dumbfounded by the events that just unfolded in front of his very eyes, as well as the casualness as this man offered him a priceless gift, which the entirety of the seven kingdoms would go to war over without hesitation. 

"I…cannot accept such a gift," he said, each word hurting him deeply as he knew such gear would make him nearly invincible on the battlefield. His honor told him he could not take this from a man who seemed to not realize its value. His more logical side as well did not want to be indebted to the man this heavily, especially as he has no clue who the man is and what he is doing here.

"The honor of the Starks stands true." The stranger said, once again smiling, as if unperturbed by his refusal, "I ask for you to take it, Rickard Stark, in exchange I ask for you to allow me to finish building here, it shouldn't take more than a few days." The man did not allow Rickard a chance to even respond as Rickard quickly disappeared. In less than a second, he found himself back inside Winterfell, in his study, with the armor he was just gifted lying on the floor next to him. 'By the Gods, what just happened?' He thought to himself.

—

 '/tp is so useful' Atlas thought to himself as he smiled once again, and went back to building his castle.