◉◉◉◉◉
What happened in Aguadilla was ugly. And of all people to get dragged into it, it had to be Jimmy. Quiet, low-profile, and inconveniently important.
People whispered the same question in private.
You are that rich, Would it really kill you to travel with a security team?
He lived modestly, went out alone, and avoided attention. And yet, despite how many internal briefings now carried his name, not a single clear photograph of Jimmy ever reached the news.
Publicly, he remained a shadow.
Officially, he was collateral damage. But the incident still served as a warning to the wealthy. From then on, bodyguards multiplied overnight. Security budgets doubled, The outrage was unanimous.
Condemn Aguadilla. Demand answers. Order the intelligence agencies to investigate.
Investigate?
Absolutely not.
Who would want that assignment?
Dig where. How.
Those people were local power players out of Tampa. Real predators. Go digging and the dirt lands right on your own desk. No one was stupid enough to volunteer.
And look at the reason for the attack.
A retired undercover agent.
His entire family was wiped out.
No retaliation. No public justice. Not even meaningful coverage.
Frank Castle's family was gone, and it barely earned a mention. A tiny article buried in the back pages. Smaller than the ad next to it.
Meanwhile, Jimmy had pages of coverage. Interviews. Sympathy. Analysis.
A Playboy's nephew being frightened mattered more than a man losing everything.
How could that not chill someone to the bone?
But none of that concerned Jimmy anymore.
He had an instance to clear.
Leveling came first.
---
Jimmy thought it through carefully.
If he wanted to enter an instance and disappear for a while, there was no better place than the untouched wilderness. Somewhere remote enough that vanishing could be mistaken for survival training.
The harsher the environment, the easier it was to shake surveillance.
Complicated terrain favored him.
The decision came quickly.
The Amazon.
The lungs of the planet.
He booked a ticket and resumed a journey he had never finished.
---
"He left again," an agent reported. "Destination shows the Amazon, Should we follow?"
Phil Coulson barely glanced at the file.
"No, too expensive, too risky. Personnel requirements are excessive, He is not a priority target. Passive observation only."
"Yes, sir."
Coulson had no idea what he had just let slip past him.
---
After landing, Jimmy rested briefly, then followed the river downstream, stepping into the Amazon rainforest.
Seven days passed.
Seven days of isolation.
Once Horus confirmed from above that no one was tracking him, Jimmy finally relaxed. He built a small camp, lit a fire, and opened the interface.
---
Name: Jimmy Houst.
Level: 15 (17 percent).
Age: 2.
X-Gene Rank: 2.
Abilities: Enhanced Regeneration, Feral Perception, Heightened Olfactory Sense, Unarmed Combat Mastery, Bladed and Claw Weapon Proficiency.
Secondary Ability: Absorption (Damaged).
Equipment: Memory-Edged Adamantium Alloy.
Yellow Gemstone (Unslotted).
Level: 12.
Weapon Effect: Lightning Damage.
Shield Effect: Electrical Resistance.
Attributes:
Strength: 60.
Mental: 55.
Available Stat Points: 0
Skill Points: 1
---
Jimmy stared at the panel, the firelight flickering across his face.
The jungle breathed around him.
It was time.
The instance awaited.
Jimmy rubbed his hands together and activated the instance scroll.
---
[System Notification: You have arrived on the continent of Westeros.]
[Primary Objective One: Without altering the main storyline, eliminate the Night King.]
(An overgrown frozen corpse dares to call himself a king. Kill him. Make sure he stays dead.)
[Primary Objective Two: Without altering the main storyline, save House Stark.
Rewards will be issued based on the extent of success.]
(Same wolves. Same blood. How can you stand by and watch? Note: Wolverines count as wolves.)
[Warning: Westeros contains entities on a god-tier level. Survival is the priority. If something has a visible health bar, you can kill it. If it does not, do not get arrogant.]
---
Jimmy stared at the panel.
So it really followed what I wrote.
Second instance, Game of Thrones.
He equipped his armor, strapped his blade in place, then pulled a handful of gold coins from the Horadric Cube. With a pinch of his fingers, he flattened the stamped designs.
Looking toward the forest road, he muttered to himself.
"First thing is figuring out where I am."
"Horus, take to the sky, look for any nearby villages or towns."
"Got it. I will be back soon."
Horus beat his wings and rose into the air.
He barely got altitude before dropping back down.
"No need to look, there is a merchant caravan coming from behind. Fairly large. We can blend in."
Jimmy paused.
With the way I look, blending in will get me mistaken for a bandit and chopped to pieces.
A merchant needed goods. He had armor, A sword, Nothing else.
Then he remembered something.
He opened the Horadric Cube and pulled out twenty-three longswords, all with scabbards, Weapons he had forged during downtime.
Someone once claimed that smithing helped calm the mind.
Jimmy had believed it.
The result was a pile of swords and daggers and absolutely zero inner peace.
He tied the twenty-three blades together and slung them over his shoulder, heading toward the approaching caravan.
Horus settled on his shoulder, calmly preening his feathers.
Soon, the sound of voices and wagon wheels reached him, Jimmy stepped to the roadside as dust rose into the air.
"Hold, Knight, are you from Highgarden? That pattern on your armor…"
Jimmy glanced at the decorative markings he had added for convenience. They did look vaguely vine-like.
That explained the mistake.
"No, I am a merchant, from Pentos. My ship was lost, I barely made landfall with my goods, Paid my taxes. Then I found that the lord of Dragonstone could not afford my wares."
He sighed.
"I could not even buy a horse to travel with. So I am trying my luck elsewhere."
Earlier, Jimmy had overheard their complaints. The group had been loudly mocking the poverty of Dragonstone. A lord with a title and nothing else.
They complained about the food most of all. Bread that tasted like salted fish.
His words immediately struck a chord.
Still, suspicion lingered.
"A merchant. What are you selling? And that armor…"
"As you can see, I only have twenty-three swords left."
Jimmy shrugged.
"As for the armor. You know how it is. Pentoshi merchants who travel unarmed do not live very long."
◉◉◉◉◉
~Support with 200 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
◉◉◉◉◉
For early access to advanced chapters on P-atreon:
P-atreon/iamxeno
(Just remove the - hyphen to access Patreon normally)
Thank you so much for your support and for reading!