Solo Leveling in Westeros

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Lhazar 

A city of shepherds, nestled in the rolling grasslands of Essos, far removed from the brutality of Westeros. The air smelled of fresh earth, of livestock and the faint scent of cooking fires. The mud-brick homes stood simple yet sturdy, their thatched roofs swaying under the evening breeze. 

For a moment, as Aeron entered the outskirts after a quick journey from Astapor, it almost felt peaceful. 

Almost. 

Because peace was a fragile thing in this world. And as he walked deeper into the city, that fragility shattered. 

It started with distant screams. 

Then, the thunder of hooves. 

Aeron exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he turned his gaze toward the horizon. There, like a storm rolling over the plains, came the Dothraki. 

A khalasar, easily over a hundred strong, galloped toward the village, their horses whipping against the wind. The sun, now dipping below the horizon, cast their approaching figures in a golden light. It would have been beautiful...if not for the terror they carried with them. 

The Lhazareen had already noticed. 

Shepherds dropped their staffs and ran. Women clutched their children and hurried toward their homes, bolting doors, praying to their sheep god. Others fell to their knees, pleading for mercy that would never come. 

Aeron sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued walking through the chaos. 

"So this is what the system meant, huh?" he muttered under his breath. 

Aeron hadn't paid much mind to it at the time. Now? It made sense. 

The Dothraki stormed into the city with ruthless efficiency. Riders swung curved arakhs, cutting down any man who tried to fight back. Others laughed as they set fire to homes, the flames licking hungrily at the dry straw roofs. 

It was a slaughter. 

Aeron, however, simply walked through it. 

A man sprinted past him, tripping over himself as a Dothraki rider bore down on him. The moment the arakh swung, Aeron grabbed the man by the collar, yanking him out of harm's way with ease. The blade whiffed through empty air. 

The Dothraki warrior yanked the reins, his horse skidding to a stop as he turned toward Aeron with a snarl. 

"this one dares?! He steals my kill?!" 

Aeron arched a brow. "Steal? Come on, it's just one guy. You'll live." 

Before the rider could react, the khal bellowed from atop his massive stallion. 

"Surround him." 

And so they did. 

Over a hundred Dothraki encircled Aeron, their horses pacing in tight circles, their eyes gleaming with amusement and bloodlust. Their khal a broad-shouldered warrior with a jagged scar across his chest...narrowed his gaze. 

Aeron stood in the center, arms crossed, expression bored. 

One rider spit on the ground. "He does not wear our braids. He is no rider. No warrior. And doesn't look like he is from around here." 

Another snorted. "He looks soft. Like the sheep-fuckers." 

Laughter erupted among the riders. 

The khal, however, silenced them with a single look. His eyes raked over Aeron, analyzing, measuring. Then, in a voice deep and commanding, he spoke. 

"Take him. He will fetch a fine price." 

Two riders dismounted, stepping toward Aeron with iron shackles. 

Aeron let them come. 

Step by step, they drew closer, their grips tightening around their weapons, their smirks widening as they reached for his wrists. 

And then... 

He spoke. 

"Indeed, I am not from around here." 

The words left his lips in perfect Dothraki. 

The effect was immediate. 

Some gasped. Others stiffened, eyes widening in disbelief. The two warriors in front of him halted mid-step, staring as if they had just seen a ghost. Even the khal himself straightened slightly, his interest suddenly piqued. 

Aeron smirked. 

"And I was looking for a warm-up." 

The earth beneath him shifted. 

A dark mist coiled around his feet, slithering like living shadows, stretching outward like grasping fingers. The temperature dropped ever so slightly, and for the first time, the Dothraki felt fear. 

The horses snorted, restless. A few reared back, their riders struggling to control them. 

The khal's expression hardened. His instincts screamed at him...this was no ordinary man. 

Aeron tilted his head. "Shall we begin, ''warriors' ?" 

For a moment, there was only silence. 

Then, the first Dothraki charged. 

The system notification flickered in Aeron's vision. 

[Kill the hostile savages.] 

For a brief moment, he raised a brow. 'A different quest ?,' 

But he pushed the thought aside. Right now, there were more pressing matters—like the horde of bloodthirsty Dothraki circling him, blades gleaming under the setting sun. 

Aeron exhaled slowly. His fingers flexed. 

"My soldiers..." his voice was low, almost a whisper. 

The ground beneath him shuddered. 

And then, darkness erupted. 

Dozens of figures burst forth from his own shadow, silent as death, their glowing eyes flickering like embers. Soldiers clad in jagged black armor, monstrous creatures with elongated claws, and a Giant that should not exist in this world, yet they all do,all of them rose in a twisted, eerie unison. 

The Dothraki hesitated. 

"Dark spirits!" One of them shouted in sheer horror. 

Too late. 

The first shadow lunged, slicing clean through a rider's throat with a single motion. Blood sprayed the air like mist as the man toppled from his horse, dead before he hit the ground. 

Aeron moved next. 

He didn't waste time. 

With a flick of his wrist, Direfang materialized in his grasp. His sword gleamed under the twilight, its edges thirsting for blood. 

A rider charged straight for him, swinging his arakh in a deadly arc...only for Aeron to vanish in a blur of speed. 

Before the Dothraki could react, Aeron was already behind him. 

SHINK! 

Direfang cleaved through his spine with ease. The rider's body split apart grotesquely, his upper half sliding off his horse while the lower half twitched helplessly in the saddle. 

Aeron didn't stop. 

He spun, Ruler's Authority activating. The air compressed, and with a mere flick of his fingers, an invisible force ripped three more riders off their horses, hurling them into the ground with bone-crushing force. 

Screams filled the night. 

His shadows swarmed the battlefield, tearing through the Dothraki like wolves in a herd of sheep. One shadow knight impaled a warrior straight through the heart before tossing his lifeless body aside. A ShadowCat pounced on a struggling rider, its massive jaws snapping his skull like brittle glass. 

It was a massacre. 

Aeron barely broke a sweat. 

Two warriors rushed him from both sides, their arakhs aimed at his throat and ribs. 

Aeron caught one blade between his fingers, twisting it violently shattering the metal like brittle ice before driving Direfang into the man's chest. 

The second attacker barely had time to react before Aeron's Ruler's Authority slammed him into the dirt with such force that his entire body caved in on itself. 

Blood pooled beneath his corpse. 

The battle lasted minutes, but for the Dothraki, it felt like an eternity of slaughter. 

And then, there was only one left. 

The khal. 

He had dismounted, his legs trembling slightly. His once-fierce expression was gone—replaced by something else. 

Pure. Unfiltered. Fear. 

Aeron's shadows surrounded him, a living sea of black steel . The world had gone quiet, the only sounds the distant crackling of flames from burning homes and the dying groans of his fallen men. 

The khal's chest heaved. His lips parted as he stared at the monstrosity before him. 

"This..." he muttered in disbelief. "This is not… human…" 

Aeron tilted his head, his own violet gaze glowing ominously in the dim light. 

He smiled. 

"Oh? So even a Dothraki khal can feel extreme fear?" Aeron responding in perfect Dothraki.

The khal flinched. 

Aeron didn't need to hear an answer. 

With a simple gesture, he signaled. 

The massive, ShadowCat "Fang" emerged. Its body was wreathed in swirling darkness, its glowing eyes locked onto the khal with a predatory hunger. 

It pounced. 

The khal barely had time to scream before the shadow-cat's jaws closed around his head...and with a sickening CRACK, it bit down. 

Blood sprayed across the ground as the khal's lifeless body thumped into the dirt, his head no longer attached. 

Then, silence. 

Aeron exhaled, shaking his head. "Pathetic." 

A familiar notification appeared before him. 

You have leveled up! 

You have leveled up! 

You have leveled up!

You have leveled up! 

You have leveled up! 

The sheer number of Dothraki he and his shadows had slaughtered had granted him a surge in power. 

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