In Game of thrones with Sci fi Military system

Chapter 1:

Alex's eyes fluttered open, a dull ache throbbing in his temples. His surroundings were unfamiliar—stone buildings rose high above him, their uneven facades reflecting the soft, rippling glow of water. The air smelled of salt and brine, mingled with the faint tang of fish and damp wood. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, its somber chime cutting through the cacophony of bustling voices and creaking boats.

"What the...?" Alex muttered, pushing himself upright.

The last thing he remembered was speeding down the highway on his motorcycle, the thrill of the ride rushing through his veins. Then came the blinding headlights, the sickening crunch of metal, and... darkness.

Now, he was here—wherever here was.

He glanced down at himself. His leather jacket was gone, replaced by a rough tunic and breeches that itched against his skin. His sneakers were missing too, replaced by scuffed leather boots. Panic bubbled in his chest as he stumbled forward, his mind racing for answers.

"This has to be a dream," he whispered. "Or maybe I'm in a coma?"

A sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "Watch where you're going, fool!"

Alex turned to see a grizzled old man carrying a basket of fish scowling at him. Before Alex could respond, the man brushed past him, muttering curses under his breath.

As Alex took in more of his surroundings, the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He recognized this place—the narrow canals, the crowded streets, the towering Titan statue in the distance.

"Braavos?" he breathed. "This... this can't be real. It's from a TV show."

Before he could process further, a strange sensation flooded his mind.

Welcome, Alex. Initializing System...

Synchronizing host to environment... Complete.

Designation: Sci-Fi Military Command System. Status: Active.

A metallic, emotionless voice echoed in his head, and a translucent interface flashed before his eyes. Alex stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, waving his hands through the air, but the interface remained, hovering in his vision.

Mission: Ensure key events align to stabilize this timeline. Immediate Objective: Protect Daenerys Targaryen from imminent danger.

Location: Braavos, Year 297 AC (Approx. One Week Before Daenerys Targaryen's Sale to Khal Drogo).

Alex blinked at the words, his heart pounding. "Protect... Daenerys? Are you kidding me?"

Affirmative. Failure to complete objectives may result in timeline collapse and host termination.

"Timeline collapse? Termination?" Alex shook his head, trying to make sense of the impossible situation. "This has to be some kind of messed-up joke."

Host resources unlocked. Synchronizing inventory... Complete. Access granted to: Advanced Tactical Suit, Pulse Rifle, and Support Drones. Usage restricted to authorized missions.

The air around Alex shimmered, and with a faint hum, a sleek, futuristic rifle materialized in his hands. He nearly dropped it in shock, but instinctively gripped the weapon, its weight reassuring in his trembling hands.

"What kind of insane sci-fi mashup is this?" he muttered, inspecting the rifle.

Before he could dwell on the absurdity of his situation, the System spoke again.

Alert: Target Daenerys Targaryen located. Threat assessment: High. Intervene immediately.

The interface shifted, displaying a glowing map that directed him toward a large mansion near the docks.

"Guess I don't have a choice," Alex muttered, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. With a deep breath, he set off toward the mansion, weaving through the crowded streets.

As he approached the destination, Alex spotted a group of well-dressed men haggling over a young girl with silver hair. Daenerys. She looked frightened, her hands clenched into fists as she stood beside her brother, Viserys, who wore an arrogant smirk.

"You'll get your price, Magister Illyrio," Viserys said, his voice dripping with disdain. "The Dragon's blood is worth more than gold."

Alex's grip on the rifle tightened. The System's voice echoed in his mind once more.

Host discretion allowed. Neutralize threats as necessary. Ensure target safety.

"Right," Alex whispered. "Time to change the game."

Stepping into the open, Alex raised the rifle, its futuristic design drawing stares from the surrounding crowd.

"Viserys Targaryen," he called out, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling in his mind. "Step away from her. Now."

All eyes turned to him, confusion and fear flickering across their faces.

"Who dares—" Viserys began, but his words faltered as Alex took aim, the rifle's hum cutting through the air.

"I said, step away," Alex repeated, his voice cold and unwavering.

For the first time since waking in this strange world, Alex felt a surge of clarity. Whatever madness had brought him here, he had a mission now—a purpose.

And he wasn't about to let Daenerys Targaryen become a pawn in someone else's game.