Solo Leveling in Westeros

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Aeron exhaled sharply, watching the last of the massive ice bear slump into the snow, steam rising from its wounds. Its thick white fur was stained crimson, its heavy breath rasping as life drained from its body. 

It had taken hours to track this one, longer than expected. Even with Garm's nose and his own heightened senses, the beast had been elusive, blending into the frost-covered wilderness like a ghost. It had led him on a relentless chase through the mountains, forcing him to push himself harder than necessary. 

But in the end, it fell like all the others. 

Aeron strode forward, Direfang still humming with dark energy in his grip. He pressed the tip of his blade against the dying bear's chest, purple mist swirling around him like a cloak. 

"Arise." 

The ground trembled. Shadows slithered like tendrils of ink, wrapping around the beast's corpse, The ice bear convulsed one last time before a Great shadow bear emerged from it now glowing with an eerie violet light. 

Aeron crossed his arms, surveying his newest addition with satisfaction. "Only two bears…," he muttered to himself. His lips curled into a smirk. "Well, it should be enough." 

With a wave of his hand, a system window flickered into existence before him. 

[AERON GRIM] 

Job: Necromancer 

Title: All-Knowing (Instantly understand new concepts, +50% learning speed, Automatically identify items, creatures, and magic.) 

Level: 20 

Fatigue: 20 

HP: 1550 MP: 2500 

Strength: 49 → 57 

Health: 27 → 39 

Agility: 21 → 29 

Intelligence: 30 → 58 

Sense: 21 → 29 

Passive Skill: 

Tenacity Lv.1 

Skills: 

Ruler's Authority 

Perception (+10 Sense when analyzing or strategizing) 

Job specific skills : 

Shadow Extraction (Limit: 50 Soldiers) 

Shadow Exchange 

Monarch's Domain 

??? (Unawakened Skill) 

Inventory: 

Direfang 

[SHADOW ARMY] 

5 Shieldmen 

5 Pirate Brutes 

10 Archers 

3 Knights (2 assigned to Jon and Raya) 

1 Giant 

Garm (Direwolf) 

4 Wolves 

Fang (Shadowcat Leader) & 4 Shadowcats 

2 Ice Bears 

[Total: 38/50] 

Aeron rolled his shoulders, his body still thrumming with the aftereffects of battle. He lifted his head, purple eyes glowing in the dim light of dusk. 

"Come out." 

A ripple passed through the air. 

From the darkness, they emerged. 

His entire army materialized in an instant—figures of pure shadow standing motionless yet radiating raw power. The archers lined up in formation, bows at the ready. The shieldmen and knights loomed like immovable sentinels. The pirate brutes, scarred and imposing, rested their massive weapons against their shoulders. all kneeling. 

Then came the Giant, its massive undead form towering over the others, mist curling from its lifeless mouth. 

Garm sat beside Aeron, his jet-black fur blending with his Lord, eyes fixed on his master. Fang and the shadowcats prowled around the ice bears, their steps soundless on the snow. 

Aeron observed them all, taking in the force he had built with nothing but death and willpower. His heart pounded—not with fear, but with something close to excitement. 

He grinned. 

"I'd say it's not a bad army to start with." 

Then, suddenly—a sharp tug at his chest. 

His smirk faltered. His mana was dropping. 

Aeron stiffened, eyes narrowing as he opened his status again. His MP was draining—slowly, but steadily. Not enough to be alarming, but just enough to be felt. 

He frowned. "Jon?" he muttered. No it's not coming from him… . He focused. It was far. Very far. His eyes darkened as realization hit. "Raya!" 

Aeron's fingers clenched around Direfang. "Exchange." 

**** 

(Winterfell) 

Chaos was in the yard. 

Steel clashed against steel, the screeching of boots on blood-soaked stone, the screams of dying men filled the air; and amidst all that-the lone Shadow Knight, enveloped by blades, his blackened armor pierced in a dozen places, would not fall. 

But the swords sank in his body and cut deep and then stitched back in an instant. The Ironborn men stood shocked as their steel did absoulotley nothing, and their blows seemed useless against this dark forc. 

"What the fuck is this thing?!" one screamed, stumbling back. 

The answer came with the knight's blade. 

He moved like a ghost, his sword carving through flesh and bone with terrible precision. He cut one down, another, his relentless movements. Men screamed. They tried to run, but the shadow hunted them down. 

Theon watched, palms sweating. This wasn't a battle anymore. It was a massacre. 

Then his eyes snapped to Raya. 

"It's her," one of his men spat, fear lacing his tone. "She's a fucking witch!" 

Another caught at his arm. "She summoned that thing! We must kill her!" 

Theon looked in horror, pride clashing with his fear in this moment, clearly couldn't comprehend what is happening before him. 

his hand gripped his sword tighter "Kill her." 

Raya's breath hitched. She didn't even have the time to react. 

Two men lunged toward her—then suddenly the knight stopped regenerating. The black mist stitching his wounds vanished. 

Ironborn hesitated, confused for a moment, before something else emerged. 

Aeron. 

One second, the Shadow Knight was there. The next, Aeron Grim stood in his place. 

His purple eyes burned like fire in the dim torchlight, his presence swallowing the space around him. 

Theon barely had time to process what was happening before everything fell apart. 

Aeron moved. 

Fast. 

The first man didn't even see the strike that split his skull open. Blood sprayed, hot and wet, across the stone. Aeron twisted, parrying a sword swing without even looking, then buried Direfang into another soldier's chest. 

A scream. A gurgle. Then silence. 

He flowed between them like death itself, effortless and brutal. A backhanded slice across the throat. A quick thrust through the gut. Every movement was clean. Precise and Merciless. 

One man tried to run. Aeron flicked his wrist—Ruler's Authority snapped the man's neck before he could take two more steps. 

The fight was over before it even began. 

Now, only Theon remained. 

He barely had time to turn before cold steel kissed his throat. 

Aeron stood behind him, so close Theon could feel his breath on his ear. 

Direfang's edge pressed against his skin, sharp enough to draw blood with the slightest movement. Not the first time in his life, Theon Greyjoy feeling completely worthless, but this time it was greater. 

Aeron leaned in, his voice low, cold and final. 

"This is the best you could do, Greyjoy? Stealing castles, your own brother's castle no less, executing girls? while they are out there fighting a great war just so you prove your little worth to your father ?" 

He pressed the blade closer. "You're not a prince. You're a fucking disappointment." 

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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC

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If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at 

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