GOT: The Ice King

I didn't know how long I'd slept after going through the tunnel of light, and when I finally woke up, I found myself once again in another sea of darkness.

I thought I was going to heaven, or paradise, or a beautiful afterlife filled with warm, everlasting light. But I guess I wasn't going to be that lucky.

I didn't get to walk through the pearly gates, but at the very least, from what I could tell, this wasn't hell—and that was certainly better than nothing.

Still, where I was... was strange. Almost as strange as where I last found myself. The place was warm—a very comfortable and soothing warmth I'd never felt before. It was also small, tight, and slimy.

It was as if I was wrapped inside a cocoon, being held in place by something I couldn't identify. There were tremors in the space, movements that swayed me this way and that. And then there were sounds—soft, muffled, and distant, like echoes underwater.

I couldn't see anything, but this time, at least, I could feel, and with these sensations came the realization that I had a body now. A very small and weak body with sluggish limbs and sensitive skin.

It didn't take long for me to deduce that I was a baby. The old me would've fought hard to deny this, clinging to the facets of science to try to explain or disprove what was happening to me.

But after all that I'd been through so far, I didn't even try to fight it. I had died, and somehow, I'd found myself reincarnating as a baby with all my memories.

I would've scoffed if I could. It was just like one of those weird isekai stories Vic—a past friend of mine—liked reading.

I never really liked those stories, finding the whole concept of reincarnation nonsensical and unrealistic. It went against everything I believed in.

As a scientist, my understanding was very simple and logical. You live, you die, you decompose if buried, with the help of some microorganisms and maggots, and then your dead organic matter goes on to nourish and sustain the growth of new life.

It was a natural cycle of give and take. There was no life after death, no heaven or hell, and certainly no rebirth. Just an exchange and recycling of resources. It was a very simple, realistic, and logical philosophy.

But here I was, dead and rebirthed. With another life, in possibly another world or time. It was humbling, experiencing death and having your most basic beliefs shattered right before you.

And all I could do was accept it and move on. There was nothing I could do to change it, and if life had taught me anything at all, it was to be adaptable and make the best out of your situation.

I didn't know who did this to me—giving me another chance at life, providing me with a clean slate, even after all that I'd done—and I didn't really care. I was grateful.

I had no idea where or when I'd reincarnated. It could be anything from an alternate Earth to another timeline.

From the medieval times, where life was cheap, to a universe where Nazi Germany won the Second World War. But I didn't care. All I knew was that I had another life to live, and that was what I was going to do. No matter what.

Nothing was going to stop me from fulfilling my dreams and living the life I wanted to live this time. Absolutely nothing. I'd do whatever it took—even if I had to sell my soul to do it.

...Consequences be damned.

Suddenly, a tremor rippled across the womb, drawing me out of my dark brooding. It started with a squeezing—a push I couldn't escape.

The walls of the womb started pushing against me, the space constricting tighter and tighter until my comfort shifted and morphed into pain. It overwhelmed me, and I would've screamed if I could as the walls pushed me downwards forcefully.

My whole body felt like it was being crushed into a pulp, and there was a ringing in my ears—the pounding and chaotic tempo of rapid heartbeats that increased with my rising panic.

The muffled sounds outside became louder, and I could hear what could only be screams and grunts as my body was gradually being pushed and squeezed downwards.

I was being born. That was the only explanation I could think of based on everything that was going on, and it was the only thing that made sense.

I never imagined I'd be coming out this early. After all, to me, I'd only just gotten here, and I wanted more time to think and acclimatize to my new reality.

But at that very moment, as my tiny head and frail body were being squeezed through what only felt like a grinder, I wanted nothing more than to claw my way out of this place with everything that I had.

It took a while. The squeezing paused, continued, and paused again, in an almost never-ending cycle of pain. Eventually, after what seemed like days, my head and half of my body were finally squeezed out of the womb.

And then, there was light. A blinding, searing light. Even though my eyes were closed, it still pierced through my eyelids like spears and assaulted them with a brightness that burned.

My skin, once clothed in the soothing warmth of the slimy, wet womb, was exposed to the world. And the world was cruel, as cold, freezing air seeped into my skin and bit into my bones.

I felt rough hands grasping and pulling the other half of my trembling and slick body out of the womb, hurriedly wrapping me in a bundle of thick, soft fabrics, protecting my body from the cold.

My chest burned as the chilly air invaded my lungs for the first time, and no matter how hard I tried to hold myself back, I couldn't help but let out a loud cry of pain.

"Bless the old gods. You've got yourself a boy, Verda. A strong, heavy, and healthy boy. And from the sound of it, quite the weeper," a soft, feminine voice said with a weird English—or possibly Scottish—accent and chuckled.

The sound was sharp and loud in my ears, and as other chuckles sounded from all over the place, it only became worse. They were deafening in my ears, as if I was in the middle of a concert with loudspeakers booming all over.

What the hell was wrong with these people!? Why in God's name were they shouting all over the place!?

"Waaaa!" It hurt my ears and irritated me so much that I yelled for them to stop, but the only words that came out of my mouth were unintelligible cries as I flailed my small, awkward limbs in protest.

"Hoh? Looks like our little warrior doesn't want us laughing at him," the soft voice snickered playfully, pinching my nose lightly. "You ashamed 'cause I called you a weeper, little one?"

Laughter rang in the air once again at what the person said, ringing loudly in my ears. I knew the person cradling me was just joking or playing around, and normally, I would've taken the jest in good spirits.

But to me, all she was doing was making and encouraging noise—noise that was pissing me off with every second that passed.

At the moment, all I desperately wanted to do was wrap my arms around her neck and squeeze it to shut her up.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do that, so I settled for just being able to see her face so that I could at least imagine myself choking the life out of her.

So despite the pain in my eyes, I forced them open. Immediately, the pain vanished, and I saw what I wanted to see—and much more.

The woman holding me above her chest had a pale, round face with thin, dark eyebrows crested above small, pale blue eyes adorned with crow's feet, a pointed nose, a wide forehead, and small, dry pink lips stretched into a smile.

She had long, dark brown hair that fell on her shoulders, and she was wearing layers of black fur with a necklace of small bones hanging from her neck. She was an average-looking woman who appeared to be in her thirties.

The moment she saw my eyes, her smile vanished, and her clear blue eyes widened in shock and... fear. I was confused as to why she was looking at me like she'd just seen a ghost, but when I saw the reflection of my eyes in hers, I understood why.

My pair of eyes were pure white—as white and as clear as snow. They had no irises, no pupils, and absolutely nothing that normal eyes were supposed to have.

It was as if my sclera had decided not to share any part of my eyes and thus had spread itself throughout the length and breadth of them, conquering every last inch of the organs.

With no pupils and irises, I wasn't supposed to be able to see. But I could. And amazingly, I could see better than I ever did in my past life.

Everything was bright and vivid, as if all the colors of the world had been magnified and fine-tuned. I could see the tiny pores in her face, the tiny motes of snow scattered in the wind, and all the wrinkles on her face that were hidden.

It was as if I'd now gotten eyes and was seeing everything for the very first time. Everything was so clear and sharp, like I was watching a movie in 4K ultra-high definition.

It was utterly amazing, and once again, my mind couldn't make leaps or bounds as to how this was happening. It just didn't make any sense as to how I could even see—and see this clearly.

And to top it off, I'd seen eyes like this before. Not in real life, but on a television screen. They looked very much like the eyes of a powerful clan of ninjas from a very popular anime that my insufferable roommate forced me to watch a long time ago.

They looked just like the All-Seeing White Eyes of the Hyūga clan, famously known as the Byakugan—a pair of very powerful eyes that, in the real world, would make anyone seem like a god.

...And it seemed like I now had them. But that was impossible, right?