reincarnated in GOT with a down graded Cheat engine.

The sky hung low over Bogwater as the twenty-one young men gathered once more at the training grounds.

There was no day of rest this time thanks to Ser Sedge he had made that clear. The boys were sore, their muscles hardened by the sword and survival training of the previous season, but none dared complain.

At the edge of the field stood a new figure. Tall, lean, with a bow slung across his back and a sharp look in his eyes, Rann.

He was one of Ser Sedge's guards, usually silent and observant. But today, he stepped forward as the instructor. His presence was quieter than Sedge's, less commanding but no less firm. There was a calm to him, like a hunter who had waited hours in stillness for the perfect shot.

He glanced over the group, his gaze landing on Levi briefly. Something flickered in his eyes approval, perhaps. He saw what happened in Levi's clash with Ser Sedge, and Rann, though he didn't speak of it, had found it... satisfying. Maybe it was that flicker that made him decide to teach more than just technique.

"Today," Rann said, "you learn the bow."

He gestured to the simple wooden bows and quivers laid out on a tarp beside him. Each young man stepped forward and picked up their weapon. The weight was unfamiliar. The string tight, the wood firm.

"We don't use crossbows here. We use the old way. The bow you hold is a partner it breathes with you. Treat it like a stick, and you'll miss every shot."

They formed lines, three rows of seven. Rann moved through them, adjusting elbows, correcting grips, demonstrating the smooth draw and release. No dramatic flourishes, just clean, efficient motion.

Then, he led them to the edge of the field, where wooden dummies and hay targets were set up.

"Precision," he said. "Not strength. A sword kills in chaos. A bow kills with patience."

Their first attempts were wild. Arrows flew sideways, dropped to the mud, or vanished into the reeds. Jory grumbled that the bow hated him. Arl laughed when his arrow smacked a dummy in the groin, and Munty didn't laugh at all, already narrowing in on the center of the target.

Rann never raised his voice. He simply corrected them again and again, his calm tone somehow more terrifying than Sedge's bark.

"Draw slower. Hold the breath. Aim with both eyes. Loose when your heart stills."

They drilled through the day. By evening, some had hit targets. Others had hit everything else.

As the sun lowered, Rann did something unexpected. He sat down on a stump and waved for them to do the same.

"You want to know why we train with the bow?"

He gestured behind them to the swamp.

"Because out there, things watch you. Things you won't always see. You won't always hear. But they'll know when you breathe. They'll know when your foot breaks a twig."

The boys listened, tired, but drawn in.

"There's a beast in those waters. Call it the Hollowback. Half eel, half crocodile. It can slide through the mud without a sound, and when it opens its mouth, it can swallow a boar whole. I saw one once. Took down a deer and dragged it into the water like it weighed nothing."

He looked around.

"There's birds too. Not the singing kind. The Weepcaller. It perches in the trees. Cries like a baby. And when you follow the sound, thinking some poor child is lost you disappear. Just like that. Some say it eats your bones. Others say it just lures you to the Hollowbacks."

Jory gave a low whistle. Kell looked nervously toward the trees. Even Lyle seemed uneasy.

"Out there," Rann said, "you need silence. And speed. And a bow that can kill before the thing knows you're watching it."

That night, none of the boys laughed. They cleaned their bows and checked their strings. Even Arl, usually loud and careless, tied his quiver carefully.

The days passed.

Rann took them into the swamp in small groups, hunting frogs, snakes and birds whatever they could shoot and bring back. He showed them how to climb trees without breaking branches, how to breathe through reeds, how to spot unnatural ripples in the water.

"Your eyes will lie to you," he said. "So listen to your skin. When the hairs rise, something's close."

Levi improved slowly, his aim sharpened not just by practice but by watching the others. He noted who hit cleanly. Who flinched. Who breathed wrong.

By the second moon, they no longer wasted arrows.

By the third, they hunted in silence and came back fed.

On the final day, Rann stood beside a straw dummy hung between two trees. He handed Levi an arrow.

"Hit the heart."

Levi took the stance. Drew. Held his breath. Released.

The arrow struck clean center of the chest.

Rann smiled, faintly.

"You're ready."

He turned to the others. "You all are."

He said nothing more.

He walked off into the swamp.

And the boys now men stood in silence a true victory.

Three seasons done. One remained.

And it would be the hardest of all.

Survival, in the wild. With no teacher to guide them.

That would be their final test.