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Aegon Baratheon Targaryen king of two worlds

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The Limbo The void was cold. But not the cold of snow — the cold of absence. No sound. No light. No memory, except... pain. Robert Baratheon was dead. The wine. The spear. The boar. The regret. "You failed." The voice came from all directions. Feminine. Burned. Old and young. "Everyone fails," he replied, tired. "I was king." "You never wanted to be." "Being king didn't stop me from losing everything." "What if you could try again?" Silence. Then a bitter laugh. "With the same rotten bloodline? The same golden lions lurking in the shadows?" "No." The darkness pulsed. "In another life. With the blood of the dragon. Before the war. Before the fall. Before the winter." "What if I don’t want to be king?" "Then be something better. A king who doesn’t want the throne... perhaps that's the only one worthy of it." Visions cut through the void: A throne of burning swords. A dragon sleeping beneath ruins. A girl with lilac eyes. A white wolf howling at the moon. Robert closed his eyes. Or opened them. He no longer knew. "Then send me back." "What will you be called?" "Aegon." "The world will not remember Robert." "But it will never forget me."
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I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Across the vast convolution of worlds, divine beings rule as absolute sovereigns—each god assigned dominion over a singular realm. Skirmishes are inevitable, whether for power, amusement, or sheer pettiness. One such battle, between Nexus, the God of Trickery, and an aging, senile deity, resulted in an anomaly… A soul misplaced. Elliot, an ordinary man, was never meant for Ul’Tra-el. But fate, or perhaps a cosmic prank, had other plans. Unlike other worlds, Ul’Tra-el is an aberration—one that developed a voice. A voice that diverged from the natural order. A voice that changed everything. Its foundation cracked, leaking dimensions into one another. Rifts tore open like festering wounds, vomiting forth unspeakable horrors—monsters not meant to exist. But the world did not sit idly by. In response—perhaps an act of self-preservation—the world gifted its inhabitants power. Talents awakened, granting people extraordinary abilities. And for every rift sealed, the Voice of Ul rewarded them generously. Survival was simple: fight, grow stronger, and close the rifts… or die trying. In this ruthless, blood-soaked reality, Northern—a white-haired boy burdened by his past life—was reincarnated. But unlike the chosen heroes, he awakened as a talentless nobody. No power. No strength. No future. And when death loomed over him—when despair clawed at his soul and the cold grip of the failure threatened to take him— A Voice responded: [System Notice] [Your Soul cannot take a form.] [Searching for a Unique Pattern Ability…] [Searching…] [Search Found.] [A Unique System Ability has been detected.] [You Can Copy And Evolve Talents] ... Follow Northern through his journey as he becomes the pinnacle of this world. This a story about a white-haired boy’s rise from rubbles!! Note: This is an overpower genre but MC does not just start off like that. Even though MC can copy talents he doesn't just jump around copying talents because there's a limitation. However, his rise to strength is depicted and is an experience to enjoy. The first few hundreds would be frustrating to follow because MC is weak but that makes the experience all the more interesting when MC finally gets freaking strong and starts wiping the floor with everyones asses.
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