I Level Up Alone

The moment Emma left, I turned my full attention to the status window.

I tapped the [Claim] button floating in midair.

Click.

The system notifications came one after another.

I narrowed my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes.

"Ho? So I jumped two levels in a single stroke?"

When I tapped the Stats tab at the top, a translucent information window unfolded before my eyes.

Bzzt—

A rush of heat surged up through my body. It felt as though every last cell was opening its eyes, and my awareness of everything around me sharpened to a fine edge.

"So this is what leveling up does..."

I walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and studied my reflection.

"...Wow."

The admiration slipped out unbidden.

"Holy shit, I'm handsome."

The original Bran Stark had been a considerable looker to begin with, but the level-up effect made that beauty blaze all the brighter. His features had grown sharper, and his gaze carried a new, unfathomable depth.

But what drew my eye even more was—

"My cock's even bigger than it was before I fucked Emma?"

Alongside the newly defined muscle, my cock and balls had grown a full size larger. I ran a hand over the hard ridges of my abs and marveled.

"Practically fitness-model material."

And I was only level 3. If this was the change at level 3, I couldn't begin to imagine how far it would go with every level after.

A satisfied smile settled on my lips.

Then—

Ding—

"Another reward?" I muttered, startled.

"This game is a straight-up jackpot."

"Hmm. Coins... now what are these for?"

I swiped through the menu ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the top of the status window.

"Looks like currency for the Shop..."

But at that very moment—

Before I could even pin down a use for the coins, a different, oddly out-of-place button caught my eye.

My eyebrows shot up on their own.

"GPT?"

Don't tell me—the AI I actually knew. "You mean that chatbot GPT from the modern world?"

Bzzt—

There was no reason to hesitate. "Yes."

Click.

In an instant, the entire interface of the status window transformed. And unbelievably, it looked just like the chatbot GPT I'd used until I was sick of it back in my engineer days in the modern world.

Still only half convinced, I threw a question at the empty air.

"GPT, tell me what I can do with coins."

The small circular icon spun round and round, then a neatly formatted answer appeared.

"Wow."

Admiration burst out of me. To meet a familiar AI helper in this fantasy world of all places—it was like running into an old friend in a strange land. Welcome, and reassuring.

"Alright then—given my current situation, what's the most efficient way to spend my coins?"

It felt like having my own personal consultant.

"Alright, let's start with swordsmanship, then."

I tapped straight into the [Shop] and entered the swordsmanship category. A vast list of sword arts filled the screen.

A hollow laugh escaped me at the absurd price.

"...Are you kidding? Ten thousand coins?"

Only after scrolling a long way down did the beginner sword arts—things I could actually afford with my 50 coins—begin to appear, and there was quite a variety of them.

"GPT, pick out the one that suits me best right now."

"Three Talents Swordsmanship... and it says it pairs well with the Stark family's swordsmanship?"

GPT's analysis sounded solid. I turned the description over in my head, then made my call.

"Alright! This is the one!"

I immediately pressed the [Learn] button.

Click.

Watching the progress bar climb, I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.

"Finally... I'm about to learn a sword art I'd only ever seen in fantasy novels. I wonder what it'll feel like?"

At that exact moment—

My whole body was bathed in dazzling blue light, an intense effect like starlight pouring down from the night sky.

And then—

Whooooosh!

A vast torrent of information came flooding into my head.

The fundamental principles of the sword, the precise movements of every stance and technique, the feel of a blade and the breathing that guided it—even the theory of applying it all in real combat. It was force-fed into me like a high-capacity file downloading straight into my brain.

"This is... swordsmanship?"

At first the pressure made it feel like my skull might split open.

But soon—

The stances and movements of the Three Talents Swordsmanship carved themselves into my body as naturally as breathing, as though the memories and muscle of a veteran swordsman who had swung a blade his whole life had been grafted onto me.

I walked slowly to one side of the room, to the sword scabbard hanging on the wall.

The moment my fingers touched the hilt, a strange intimacy passed between us.

"Alright, let's see what you can do."

Shff!

The instant I drew the sword, my body dropped into the basic stance on its own. My spine straightened and the angle of my wrist aligned itself perfectly—no movement I had made consciously.

It was a stance my body had found all by itself. I stepped to the center of the room and drew in a deep breath.

"Three Talents Swordsmanship, First Technique..."

My body flowed like water. The blade cleaved through empty air.

SWISH!

BOOM—!

An unexpected shockwave. Blue energy burst from the edge of the blade, and the sword wave tore through the middle of the room—

Crash!

The distant mirror burst into glittering fragments. I swallowed hard.

"...This is a hell of a lot stronger than I expected?"

Eyes wide, I stared at the sword in my hand.

Dawn, the next day. I rubbed my eyes and pushed myself up in bed; beyond the window it was still dark.

"First time I've been up this early since high school."

The ironclad rule of House Stark, a house renowned for its sword—and before that discipline, not even the lord's own sons were granted exceptions.

"Well then. Time to start living as the real Bran Stark."

When I stepped into the training grounds, the young soldiers were already hard at their sword practice.

"Haaap!"

"Extreme Night Sword, Second Technique! Shadow Cleave!"

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Flawlessly drilled movements. Every time a blade cut the air, a crisp ring rolled across the yard.

As expected of a renowned sword family.

Then—

The gaze of a woman standing on the platform bored straight through me. It was Brienne, the Training Commander.

For a woman, she stood well over 180 centimeters tall, and her muscled, battle-hardened frame marked her as a genuine master at a glance.

"Young Lord Bran. How rare of you to show up without skipping out today. Though late, I might add."

A chill ran beneath Brienne's gaze. From the Training Commander's standpoint, Bran—who dodged practice at every turn—was a standing irritation.

Well, nothing to be done about it now. Bran built up quite a debt of karma over the years.

I offered no excuses and silently took an empty place in the formation. The stares around me pricked at my skin; I could half-hear the soldiers sneaking glances and murmuring under their breath.

Right at that moment—

"Well, well. Did the sun rise in the west this morning?"

A voice thick with mockery sounded right beside me. I turned my head to find a bear-sized soldier, shaggy with hair, looking down at me from an angle.

"What an honor, truly—to witness our noble youngest young master deign to grace the training grounds with his presence."

A common soldier daring to mock a son of the house to his face. It was a scene that said everything about just how lowly Bran had been regarded.

The brute added, loud enough for the men around him to hear.

"I take it the red-light district was closed for business yesterday?"

Several soldiers around him burst into open snickering.

I know my standing's in the gutter, but still...

There was exactly one reason they could square up to me this brazenly.

Victor Stark. My second brother.

Those men were surely sheltering under Victor's wing. The father's favored second son believed that every time his younger brother Bran was cut down a peg, his own footing grew that much more secure.

That's why the soldiers can pull stunts like this without a second thought...

But—

I was no longer the Bran of the past.

...I can feel exactly where his skill sits.

Perhaps it was the effect of last night's level-up. His stance, his breathing, his raw strength—even the qi stirring inside him. Everything was laid bare at a glance.

In other words, I'm stronger than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he is.

As it happened, the timing was perfect. I'd been needing an example—something to prove beyond argument that I had changed. The corner of my mouth curled up on its own.

"Hey. You there, you hairy ape."

The noise around us died as if by magic. The rowdy training grounds went quiet as the dead.

At the word ape, the face of the hulking soldier—who had been sneering until the second before—froze solid. Flushing scarlet, he clenched his fist tight.

"Wh... what did you just say?"

He ground the words out through clenched teeth. The surrounding soldiers stared in astonishment, eyes darting between me and him.

"Even for the young lord, you cannot hurl such insults at a soldier sworn to this house."

His voice trembled with fury, but there was bewilderment threaded through his eyes as well—because the Bran of old would never have drawn a reaction like this out of anyone.

"What, does it sting?"

I asked, wearing an easy smile.

"Then how about you face me in the sparring drills that come next?"

With that, I slowly drew my sword from the scabbard at my hip.

Shing!

In an instant, every eye on the training grounds locked onto the two of us. Even the soldiers mid-drill froze and turned to stare.

"The young lord... and me, you say?"

"What's the matter? Afraid?"

I kept my leisurely bearing as I pressed on.

"You were barking so grandly just a moment ago—yet now that it's time to actually cross blades, it seems fear has found you."

He let out a derisive snort, as if the notion were beneath him.

"Afraid? Don't be absurd! I'm merely concerned the young master's body might come to harm—!"

Right at that moment—

Commander Brienne, who had been watching from the platform, strode over in long, heavy steps and planted herself between us. Puzzlement and wariness warred across her face.

"Young Lord Bran. What is the meaning of this, all of a sudden?"

I offered a light smile. "Nothing at all, Commander."

And then I added, with due courtesy.

"I merely wish to take my training seriously from today onward. And sparring that mirrors real combat is the finest training there is, wouldn't you say?"

Brienne's eyes wavered, if only for an instant. Surprise. And suspicion.

After studying me a moment longer, she turned her head toward the hairy soldier.

"Jackal."

"Yes, Commander."

"The young lord requests it. Accept the duel."

The soldier called Jackal hesitated for a breath, then drew his sword.

Snk.

"I shall obey your command, of course, but..."

Sarcasm still hung thick in his voice.

"This being a formal duel, I'm afraid I cannot promise to perform the part of going easy on you. Will that be acceptable?"

At his words, laughter erupted around the training grounds once more.