Time had no meaning in the void.
There was no sun to rise.
No stars to chart.
No heartbeat to measure passing seconds.
Only awareness.
And hunger.
The mercenary—no longer truly a man—floated through the endless expanse of the omniversal void like a newly born god still learning how to breathe.
Except he did not breathe.
He did not sleep.
And he could not die.
He simply existed.
At first, that realization had terrified him.
Now it merely unsettled him.
Because existence here was not passive.
It was consumption.
The fragment inside him—what remained of Amatsu-Mikaboshi, the primordial avatar of Oblivion—had a nature that could not be denied.
Everything was food.
Souls.
Fragments.
Memories.
Broken worlds.
Even concepts seemed fragile here.
Floating.
Shattered.
Waiting.
The mercenary drifted through the dark ocean of existence, watching the currents of lost realities swirl around him.
They were not random.
Not entirely.
Once his mind stopped resisting what he had become, his perception sharpened.
The void was structured.
Layered.
Stratified like the deep sea.
Some regions were thick with wandering souls.
Others were filled with shattered fragments of entire universes—cosmic wreckage drifting like the bones of extinct galaxies.
He passed one such fragment now.
It was enormous.
A broken piece of reality the size of a continent, slowly rotating through the darkness.
Within its cracked surface flickered echoes of a long-dead cosmos.
Mountains made of crystalline energy.
Cities suspended in fractured time.
A sky permanently frozen in twilight.
Memories leaked from it like smoke.
He could taste them.
And the hunger inside him reacted instantly.
But this time, he didn't devour it.
Not yet.
Instead, he observed.
Learning.
Adapting.
Because the mercenary had realized something important.
Power without direction was just chaos.
And chaos alone led to extinction.
Even the Chaos King had been defeated.
That memory lingered inside him now—one of many fragments inherited from Amatsu-Mikaboshi.
Entire pantheons devoured.
Cosmic gods erased.
Yet even that unstoppable force had eventually been sealed away.
Destroyed.
Defeated by beings who refused to disappear.
That lesson mattered.
The mercenary intended to avoid repeating that fate.
Which meant planning.
The devouring had changed him more than he first realized.
Not just mentally.
Fundamentally.
His essence had evolved into something strange.
Three forces now intertwined within his soul.
The first was his human consciousness.
The mercenary.
The man who had lived, fought, and died with a rifle in his hands.
His memories grounded him.
Anchored him.
Without them he would have become a mindless devouring force long ago.
The second was the legacy he inherited from Adrian Tepes, better known as Alucard.
That soul had not disappeared quietly.
It had integrated.
Merged.
Its vampiric essence now flowed through the mercenary's existence like dark wine through blood.
Strength.
Longevity.
Magic.
Regeneration.
But more importantly—
Humanity.
Compassion.
A lingering instinct to protect rather than simply destroy.
That influence surprised him.
Because without it…
The third force inside him would have already taken control.
The fragment.
The shard of primordial darkness belonging to Amatsu-Mikaboshi.
It was ancient.
Older than stars.
Older than life.
It whispered constantly at the edge of his thoughts.
Devour.
Erase.
Return everything to nothing.
The mercenary had quickly learned that resisting it directly was impossible.
But it could be guided.
Redirected.
Like a raging river forced through channels and dams.
Which was exactly what he was doing now.
He was growing.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Each soul he devoured strengthened his existence, expanding the scope of his perception.
He could now feel entire universes drifting through the void like distant islands.
Some were intact.
Others were cracked and bleeding fragments into the emptiness.
Many were unfamiliar.
Alien.
But a few…
He recognized.
And that realization sparked the first real idea he had since his death.
If this void connected everything—
Then he could choose where to go next.
The omniverse was vast beyond comprehension.
Even with his expanding awareness, he could barely perceive a fraction of it.
Still, patterns emerged.
Universes clustered together like galaxies.
Groups of realities connected by shared metaphysical rules.
He sensed realms of pure magic.
Others ruled entirely by advanced technology.
Some dominated by cosmic entities so powerful their presence warped nearby dimensions.
He avoided those.
For now.
Instead, he focused on observation.
He discovered something interesting while drifting through the currents of existence.
Souls weren't the only things here.
Entire stories existed as fragments.
Ideas.
Myths.
Legends.
Every fictional world humanity had imagined seemed to exist somewhere within the omniversal structure.
Some were powerful realities.
Others barely held together.
But they were real enough for him to reach.
That discovery ignited something in the mercenary's mind.
Because if he could enter those universes…
Then he could rebuild himself.
Not as a drifting soul.
But as something greater.
Something alive again.
The Need for a Body
Even with all his growing power, the mercenary recognized a simple truth.
A body mattered.
Without one, his ability to interact with physical reality would remain limited.
He could influence fragments.
Manipulate drifting souls.
But living universes required more structure.
More stability.
And if he wanted to truly grow stronger, he would need something else.
A bloodline.
A foundation.
A biological anchor capable of supporting the monstrous power developing inside him.
Fortunately, his memories offered many possibilities.
Thousands of fictional worlds.
Each with unique genetics, magic systems, and supernatural traits.
He considered several.
Worlds filled with superheroes.
Others dominated by powerful sorcerers.
Some ruled by alien species with godlike abilities.
But many of those options had one major flaw.
They attracted attention.
Too much power too quickly would paint a target on his back.
And even now, he was not ready to challenge the strongest beings in existence.
He needed a quieter beginning.
A place where he could grow.
Build.
Prepare.
Eventually, one universe rose above the rest.
A world he had loved when he was alive.
A brutal land of politics, dragons, and ancient magic.
A world known as A Song of Ice and Fire.
The decision made sense for several reasons.
First, the power scale of that universe was relatively low compared to many others.
Magic existed.
But it was rare.
Mysterious.
Poorly understood.
That meant he could hide there.
Grow without drawing immediate cosmic attention.
Second, the bloodlines in that world possessed interesting potential.
Two families in particular stood out.
The ancient rulers of the North.
And the dragonlords of Valyria.
The houses of House Stark and House Targaryen.
Even in the original stories, those bloodlines carried strange qualities.
The Starks possessed connections to ancient magic tied to the land, wolves, and the mysterious power of the old gods.
Warging.
Greensight.
Deep spiritual bonds with nature.
Meanwhile, the Targaryens carried the legacy of dragonlords.
Blood that seemed intertwined with fire, dragons, and prophecy.
Resistant to heat.
Linked to creatures of flame.
Those two bloodlines alone offered an exceptional biological starting point.
But the mercenary intended to take things much further.
Because his new soul was not human anymore.
It was something far stranger.
A fusion of dhampir power, devoured souls, and primordial chaos.
Whatever body he created would need to handle that.
Or it would tear itself apart.
A Child of Ice, Fire… and Night
The idea slowly formed.
A new body.
Born into both bloodlines.
A Stark father.
A Targaryen mother.
Such a union was rare but not impossible within the timeline of that world.
Especially if he manipulated events carefully.
Once born, his soul would inhabit the child's body from the beginning.
Growing naturally.
Adapting.
Blending supernatural forces with human genetics.
His vampiric nature—derived from Alucard—would integrate with the body slowly rather than violently.
Meanwhile, the fragment of Amatsu-Mikaboshi would remain dormant.
Hidden.
Waiting.
Over time, he could cultivate abilities unique to that world.
Warging.
Dragon bonding.
Blood magic.
And eventually…
Much more.
The mercenary felt something unusual stirring inside him.
Excitement.
It had been a long time since he planned for a future.
War had trained him to think tactically.
To evaluate terrain, resources, and threats.
Now the battlefield was the omniverse itself.
And he intended to win.
Before leaving, he drifted deeper into the omniversal sea.
He wanted to understand the environment he would eventually return to.
More fragments passed him.
Some held echoes of worlds he recognized.
Others were utterly alien.
One fragment contained the remnants of a universe filled with titanic creatures battling beneath red skies.
Another held the silent ruins of a galaxy-spanning civilization.
The hunger stirred again.
But he resisted.
For now.
Instead, he focused on a distant glow within the void.
A cluster of realities connected by faint metaphysical threads.
Among them was the universe he sought.
The world of A Song of Ice and Fire.
Compared to many others, its presence was small.
Fragile.
But it burned with a strange intensity.
Stories always did.
They were powerful things.
Especially ones that captured the imagination of millions.
That belief alone strengthened their existence.
The mercenary studied the universe carefully.
Its timeline unfolded like a vast tapestry.
Thousands of years of history.
Kings rising and falling.
Dragons conquering continents.
Wars that shaped entire civilizations.
He began searching for the perfect entry point.
Somewhere early enough to shape events.
But late enough that the bloodlines he wanted still existed.
Eventually, he found it.
A moment where destiny hung delicately in the balance.
Where the houses of Stark and Targaryen still held their power.
A moment where one small change could reshape everything.
The mercenary smiled.
Or at least, he felt something like a smile.
He gathered his essence.
Pulling his consciousness inward.
Condensing the chaotic energy swirling within his soul.
The fragment of Amatsu-Mikaboshi resisted slightly, eager to continue devouring.
But he forced it into submission.
Control mattered.
He would not become a mindless force of destruction.
Not yet.
His vampiric nature steadied the process.
The calm discipline inherited from Alucard helped shape the transformation.
Slowly, his formless soul began compressing into a smaller, denser structure.
Preparing for incarnation.
Before crossing into the living universe, he looked once more at the endless void behind him.
The omniverse stretched infinitely in all directions.
Worlds beyond counting.
Souls without number.
Eventually, he would return here.
Stronger.
Far stronger.
But first…
He needed a beginning.
A life.
A kingdom to grow within.
And perhaps one day—
Dragons.
With that final thought, the mercenary launched himself toward the glowing thread of reality.
Toward a cold world of wolves, crowns, and fire.
Toward rebirth in the universe of A Song of Ice and Fire.
The void watched him go.
And somewhere deep inside his soul, the ancient hunger waited patiently for the day it would be unleashed again.