—Igris's Perspective—
Hahaha! Finally! I've finally rid myself of that woman! My dear brother, my dear sister… I swear, next time we meet, I'll make sure you taste every single meat dish I know from the modern world. But for now, I must press on. I know your strength well; Katarina doesn't stand a chance against the two of you. If nothing goes wrong today, I'll be free of that woman for the rest of my life.
I turned back to the group and spoke calmly.
"Let's keep moving."
Bilbo looked at me, his expression filled with uncertainty.
"But… aren't we going to help the werewolves? Aren't they your siblings?"
"There's no need, Bilbo. In our current state, we'd only get in their way. Besides, the two of them are incredibly powerful—and there's no way they're traveling alone. If the heir of the Great Alpha himself is on the move, it means they're on a hunt. They'd have brought at least nine elite warriors with them. And with Kaelan's wife, Lyrra, also present… there's probably a twenty-strong hunting party behind us. Katarina will likely die—and if she's lucky, maybe she'll survive. But I do hope this plain becomes her grave."
Never in my life have I hated a woman this much. Not even Elise, who poisoned me, earned such hatred. This woman has hunted me down eight times already. Having a stalker is absolute hell. If she weren't a sadistic vampire with a harem of men, I might have considered marrying her. But she's the kind of person I'd rather see dead than alive. If I were to marry her, I could never face my ancestors.
We have an unwritten code, woven into both our beliefs and our very blood:
"Stand with the oppressed, stand against the oppressor." For most of us, this principle is practically in our genetic code—and it's also the root of our greatest hardships. This is why we've clashed with many of the world's powerful states. We're a threat to their colonies and exploitation.
Bilbo continued to look at me, hesitant. Even the dwarves seemed uneasy. Then Dwalin glared at me and spoke sharply.
"We cannot turn our backs on those who've aided us!"
Gloin nodded in agreement.
"He's right. In such situations, dwarven tradition demands we offer help."
The other dwarves murmured in support. I sighed and explained,
"I understand. Those out there are my sworn siblings. But as we are now, we'd only be a burden. Besides… Katarina's elites weren't even here. If they had been, we wouldn't have escaped so easily. I'm sure you all noticed that."
The dwarves fell silent. I continued.
"Also, Nori and Bifur aren't doing well."
The group turned to look at the two dwarves. Their faces were pale, like walking corpses. Tension spread through the group. Thorin, gripping his belt tightly, spoke up.
"Let's keep moving. If the heir of the Great Alpha is here in person, then there's no cause for worry. Igris is right—we'd only hold them back."
I nodded in agreement. With Thorin having spoken, the other dwarves didn't object further. We pressed on. I cast one final glance behind us, then turned my eyes forward and kept moving.
Beneath me, Shadowmane was probably the happiest horse in the world right now.
"Finally free! Kaelan and Sister Lyrra will take care of everything!"
I chuckled at his words. Shadowmane still feared Lyrra—and truth be told, so did I. She's probably the only person I truly fear.
"Yes. Hopefully, this plain becomes Katarina's grave."
We kept a steady pace, finally feeling some relief, though we still needed to tend to our wounds. Just in case, we had to put more distance between us and the Blood Rose Knights. We'd need to travel for several more hours. Hopefully, from here on out, Thorin's enemies—not mine—would trouble us. I've already filled my three-year quota of nemeses.
As I thought this, an old and weary voice spoke to me.
"How is it that a Dunedain like yourself became sworn siblings with the heir of the Great Alpha—the werewolf whose very name silences the entire White Council?"
I turned to look at Gandalf and shrugged.
"A bit of luck, a bit of cooking, and a bit of trust. Before I knew it, he wanted to become my brother. You know what they say—the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Though in this case, perhaps 'woman' would be more fitting."
The mention of "woman" wasn't a joke. Kaelan and I bonded over conversations, shared humor, and our mutual love for combat and adventure. It didn't happen overnight; I lived with them for over a year and a half. We ate, drank, hunted together… days I'll never forget.
But my relationship with Lyrra was… different. She's currently the tribe's strongest warrior and de facto commander. Technically, Kaelan holds command, but he'd sooner raid the vampire capital alone than oppose Lyrra. She's authoritative and terrifying. Kaelan is stronger, yes, but he lost to her for a simple reason: love. The hopelessly head-over-heels kind. Without me, it would've taken Kaelan a century to marry her. He owes me—but that's a story for another time.
Lyrra's heart was won over by my cooking. She became addicted to my spicy meat dishes. I had to write down several detailed recipes and even train a few wolves to prepare them—or else they'd have held me hostage. Lyrra even tried to marry me off to some wolf girls.
For the record, it's strictly forbidden for werewolves to marry outside their kind, especially hybrids like me. Not because they're racist, but because of the risk of unpredictable offspring. In werewolf history, there was once a child born of a hybrid and a wolf woman. During his coming-of-age ceremony, he lost control of his bloodlust, injuring and killing many children in attendance. The Great Alpha of that era had to intervene personally to put the young man down—and even he struggled. Since then, unions with non-wolves have been absolutely forbidden. There have been a few exceptions, but even so, they remain extremely cautious.
Gandalf was studying me intently, likely reevaluating me. And deep down, I had a nagging sense that someday Gandalf would try to use me. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I needed to set boundaries now—I wouldn't let my friends be endangered because of me.
"Gandalf, let me be clear. If you call on me for a mission, I'll gladly answer. But don't expect me to rally others to your cause—especially the werewolves."
Gandalf regarded me silently for a moment, then sighed and spoke in a weary tone.
"I understand. Forgive an old man his habits."
"No problem. I just wanted to warn you. I won't let my friends be put at risk for my sake. When you call for aid, it's never for something simple. It means there's a dangerous task ahead. I enjoy such perilous undertakings, but that doesn't mean I'll endanger those who trust me. Depending on the mission, I might find capable people—but forget any alliance between the White Council and the werewolves. I can't help you there. If Saruman hadn't insulted them and Galadriel hadn't called them 'wild and mindless,' perhaps it could've been possible. But the werewolves are a vengeful people."
What can I say? The White Council brought this on themselves. True, the Great Alpha still occasionally converses with Lord Elrond, but the other council members? If the wolves even heard they were coming, they'd probably start a hunt. Whatever was said to them back then… it's clear their fury hasn't faded, even after all these years.
Gandalf gave a small nod, though he didn't seem well."Gandalf, are you alright? You look like you might collapse any second."
"I'm fine… The magical duel with the Red Lady drained me. Luckily, the drink you gave me contained some rare herbs. It's helped me recover a bit of my mana. But yes… I need some rest and time to think."
"I understand."
As Gandalf lit his pipe, he drifted a little farther away from us, giving me space. I took the opportunity to approach our new members—my new companions—and properly greet them. Some of them bore injuries, though none appeared too serious. The warriors from Vaegir may only be third-tier, but they hailed from a continent ravaged by endless wars. Handling the Blood Rose Knights must have been child's play for them. The same could be said for the Khuzait people, who had grown strong surviving the bandits, harsh climates, and wild lands of the steppes.
I approached the Vaegir veterans and raised a hand in greeting.
"Greetings, lads! Apologies for not welcoming you earlier. I was… occupied. I'm Igris. Pleased to meet you."
The Vaegir warriors regarded me for a moment, some chuckling softly, before the eldest among them stepped forward, extending his hand.
"I'm Fin. Leader of this small group. And these are my men…"
He introduced the four warriors in turn. I greeted each one before letting out a small laugh.
"I'm sure you were all expecting a palace—or at least a castle—but I haven't even decided where to establish our kingdom yet. For now, our current mission will help greatly. Trust me on this. Over two hundred men await us in the region, making preparations. Most are Swadians, but a few Vaegirs may have joined them by now as well."
At the mention of Swadia, I caught the slight furrowing of brows. They said nothing, but I could feel the discomfort in the air. Vaegir had long been at odds with both Swadia and the Nords—and let's not forget the Khergit Khanate.
In other words, my army wasn't just a mix of cultures and timelines. It was an army with centuries-old grudges and bitter rivalries. My head ached already. If they couldn't set aside their differences amongst themselves, how would we ever stand against enemies like Sauron or the vampires? This would be a challenge unlike any other.
My ancestors founded countless empires and states. On my world, no other people created as many kingdoms and institutions as mine. Yet my people never sought to assimilate the lands they conquered—they merely ruled over them. Under our governance, people of diverse ethnicities and cultures lived safely and freely.
I only hope I can establish the same system here. If I succeed, Middle-earth could see the rise of a powerful kingdom—or even an empire. I still have no hunger for vast territories, but if I've taken on this task, then I must bear the responsibility. So many crossed entire universes to help me found a nation. I will give them the safe, warm home they desire.
That is my vow.
Taking a deep breath, I shed my playful demeanor. I needed to have a serious conversation with these people now. I don't work with the unwilling. A kingdom built on half-hearted loyalty wouldn't last two centuries. It was time to draw a line.
"Listen. I understand the issues you've had with other kingdoms in your own world. But everyone who has come to me seeks a second chance—or to be reunited with their families. Every single soul who came here has a life filled with tragedy or ruin. I won't tolerate unnecessary hatred or vengeance here. I understand your grudges, but I won't try to change your hearts. Your personal lives aren't my concern.
However, within the people I govern, I will not allow internal strife or treachery. To me, such acts are crimes worthy of execution. No one will divide this kingdom or endanger its people. After this mission, I will decide on the capital, and your families will be brought into this world. If, after that, you still can't let go of your hatred, come to me. I'll give you enough gold to start over elsewhere.
But I don't work with unwilling hearts. And keep in mind—this world is far more dangerous than Calradia. I can arrange an escort to a human kingdom for your safety. But beyond that, you'll be on your own. You don't know me yet—but you will. I am not like anyone you've ever met. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must speak with the other group. I'm barely holding myself together as it is. We'll talk more in Rivendell."
I gave them a respectful nod. They returned it, their expressions pensive. Urging Shadowmane forward, I moved on toward the Khuzait warriors.
My system doesn't work like those fanfics I used to read—it doesn't brainwash people into absolute loyalty or worship. It merely brings them into this world. Which means I can't fully trust every man here. There's always a chance of betrayal. I know Halt and Gilan's characters; I'd trust them with my life. Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin, and his company? I can rely on them too. Perhaps in the future, Legolas or Aragorn as well.
But this Middle-earth isn't the one I used to watch as a boy. I must remain cautious. I enjoy forging friendships, but I'll never forgive betrayal unless it's justified.
I'm not dissatisfied with my system's approach. Programmed loyalty and affection disgust me. True loyalty born of blood, sweat, conversations, and shared adventures—that's worth far more. A warm, heartfelt bond of trust… Hah. Let's see what time brings.
I approached the Khuzait warriors slowly. A group of both men and women—true children of the steppes.
"I'm Igris. Pleasure to meet you. I would've come sooner, but I was… preoccupied. Beating people up is exhausting."
They looked at me and chuckled. The one with the sharpest eyes spoke.
"I'm Altay. It's an honor to meet you, Igris Khan. And these are my people…"
He introduced each one in turn. Two names caught my attention."So, your names are Bamsi and Dogan. Familiar names… Interesting."
Bamsi studied me for a moment before breaking into a hearty laugh."İgris khan, I like you. You're clearly a formidable warrior. Let's have a sparring match sometime—I'm looking forward to it. I already love this world! So much fighting and brawling!"
Dogan sighed deeply.
"Bear-wrestler… would it kill you to think about anything other than fighting for once?"
"You're wrong, brother! I do think about other things besides fighting."
Dogan raised an incredulous brow.
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
Bamsi grinned proudly, drool escaping his mouth as he rubbed his stomach in excitement.
"A big, juicy, golden-roasted lamb! My mouth's watering just thinking about it! I could eat two whole ones right now!"
I struggled to suppress my laughter. This man was definitely my kind of person. Dogan almost fell off his horse at the response. After regaining his balance, he shot Bamsi a glare and began muttering in irritation—but I could tell he was smiling.
"Your food, your fights, you yourself… bah, never mind. What was I expecting from a bear-wrestler like you?"
Bamsi paid him no mind, continuing to laugh heartily.
"HAHAHAHA! BUT I'M NOT LYING, BROTHER! THERE'S NOTHING BETTER AFTER A BATTLE THAN FILLING YOUR BELLY WITH HOT, JUICY MEAT! HAHAHAHA!"
"SHUT IT! YOU'RE EMBARRASSING US!"
I couldn't hold back anymore and burst into laughter. My cracked ribs and wounds protested, but I didn't care. These two reminded me of home. Back then, I was the same with my friends—after a good brawl, we'd have similar conversations. I miss those days, even if only a little.
Altay covered his face with his hand in exasperation. The other Khuzait men chuckled, while the women rolled their eyes. One of them, likely Nilay, muttered in embarrassment.
"Men…"
Another woman, probably Umay, whispered back with a mischievous grin.
"But they're cute. Bamsi's big and cuddly like a bear. Makes you want to hug him."
"Shh! They'll hear us."
I stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow. Interesting group… very interesting. After clearing his throat, Altay shot Bamsi a sharp look—though Bamsi remained utterly unfazed—then turned to me.
"Apologies, Igris Khan. These two are… peculiar. Mischievous, but good warriors."
I waved my hand dismissively—a mistake. Pain flared through my body, forcing me to pause before speaking.
"No need to apologize. I like people like them—the kind of warriors I'd want at my side in battle. Seems we'll have plenty of stories to share… but for now, let's keep the introductions brief. I need to speak with the leader of this campaign. First, though, a little information."
I shared with them what I had told the Vaegirs, adding a few more details. Altay seemed thoughtful, while Bamsi began celebrating. Seeing the resignation on Dogan and Altay's faces made me grin, while the others laughed softly.
"Perfect! Plenty of places to fight! I'm with you, Igris Han! Dragons, bampires, orgs—bring them on! My two swords are ready! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Dogan, sighing but grinning nonetheless, replied.
"You said it wrong, bear-wrestler. It's vampires and orcs."
"Fampires and orrks?"
"VAM-PIRES and ORCS!"
"That's what I said! Maybe it's your ears that are the problem, Dogan."
Dogan muttered under his breath with weary amusement.
"Why do I even bother? Fighting's easier than dealing with him."
I chuckled softly, then spoke.
"Anyway, I need to speak with the campaign leader now. We'll have plenty of time to talk once we reach Rivendell. Consider my offer and let me know your thoughts later."
Altay nodded at me.
"Understood. We'll think it over. But it hardly matters right now—we're traveling with you and we'll judge for ourselves. If you truly are as we've been told, know that we'll stand with you."
"Got it. Then if you'll excuse me—Bamsi, Dogan, let's chat sometime."
I steered Shadowmane toward Thorin. I already liked this group. They warmed my blood. Unconsciously, I chuckled. Shadowmane looked at me.
"Strong men and fools… just like you."
"Yes. That's why I feel a kinship. I haven't seen people like this in a long time."
"The dwarves?"
"Well, yes… but not quite the same. Anyway, remind me later to roast a lamb. I'm craving it now."
Shadowmane rolled his eyes, then glanced back happily.
"Do you think those two crazy women will die here? Will we finally be rid of them for good?"
"I don't know, my friend. I trust in my brother and sister's strength, but never underestimate vampires. They'll most likely die… but let's assume they survived and escaped. We'll talk about it with my brother when we meet again. For now, let's keep moving. We'll stop for a break in a few more hours. We need to tend to our wounds."
"You're right. Best not to get our hopes up without certainty. How are you holding up? How far has the poison spread?"
"…Believe me, I'm standing right now purely through sheer willpower. My head is spinning. The poison is spreading slowly. For now, I'm suppressing most of it—I'm protecting my heart and my head—but it's still creeping through my system. This is likely the venom of a Red-Horned Giant Serpent… or perhaps another type of serpent. Maybe Imogi venom. I'm not entirely sure. If I were an ordinary Dúnedain, I'd already be dead. You know my poison resistance is unusually high."
I grinned as I turned my gaze to Shadowmane.
"I told you this training was necessary! And you called me insane."
Shadowmane rolled his eyes and replied in a disgruntled tone.
"Only a madman injects poison into his own body! You even secretly gave me poison for a while! I thought I was going to die! Worse—I feared I'd end up sterile!"
"So… for you, being sterile would be worse than dying?"
"Isn't it for every male?"
"…Fair point."
'Why do I always lose arguments with my own horse? If he could speak human tongues, I'd make him my vizier! Probably the first time in multiversal history… or maybe not. No—bad idea. If I made this crazy stallion my vizier, he'd have all the male horses in my kingdom gelded, and the mares would only bear his offspring. I can't let that happen. I'd be creating a tyrant! Life was so much simpler before…'
I let out a deep sigh as I approached Thorin at the front of the group. He looked exhausted too. I spoke with a hint of mockery.
"You look terrible."
"And whose fault do you think that is?"
"That's unfair! I never wanted any of this. That woman's the queen of lunatics."
Thorin shot me a sharp glare, then sighed.
"At least we were lucky. Her elites weren't here. We survived thanks to her arrogance."
He turned his eyes to me, curiosity flashing in them.
"How did you become a brother to the Silver Lightning Kaelan and his wife, the Wild Warrior Lyrra?"
"That's a long story. I'll tell you in Rivendell. Right now, I'm dead tired."
The mention of Rivendell made Thorin's brow furrow. He still felt uneasy and distrustful. I should change the subject. Thorin may be as stubborn and hard-headed as his film counterpart, but he isn't unreasonable. He understands our situation and knows that without a healer, Nori and Bifur will die. But it's best not to provoke him. If he suddenly changed his mind, we'd be in deep trouble.
"Thorin."
"Yes?"
I smirked.
"I have a feeling we're about to encounter only your enemies from here on."
Thorin glared at me and raised his hand, counting on his fingers as he listed them.
"Jim, one of the twin assassins. Jumba the Marauder. Elise, the Slave Queen. That bastard with the cleaver—I don't know his name. The Blood Rose Knights and their two commanders, Anton and Marcus. And finally, the Red Lady! I'm sorry, Igris, but you're a major criminal. Even if Azog himself appeared, he wouldn't measure up to all of them combined!"
His victorious grin made my eyebrow twitch wildly. Azog? Doesn't measure up? Azog—the leading general of Sauron's armies? Commander of entire Orc legions? The foremost warrior among the Frost Orcs? He's less of a threat than these guys? If Azog heard this, he'd collapse laughing. But I couldn't blame Thorin. To him, Azog's just another roaming Orc.
I wonder how calm you'll be at the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin Oakenshield. Still, I can't let this slide!
"The Red Witch and the Blood Knights don't count! My sworn brother and sister personally intervened. That neutralizes them! Invalid enemies!"
Thorin shot me a sharp look again, then sighed, speaking in an exhausted tone.
"Your logic is beyond me, Igris. I'm too tired for this. Think whatever you want, but let's stay quiet for a while. My head's pounding."
And so, the group pressed on. Behind us, the sun was setting. I cast one last glance toward the region where I suspected the wolves to be. I saw flickers of crimson light and felt traces of dark mana. Looks like my brother and sister are having a lot of fun out there.
But something was nagging at me. Why were the wolves there? What did Katarina do to provoke them? The thought planted seeds of unease in my heart. I hoped it wasn't as serious as I feared. But if it was… and a war with the vampires broke out, I'd have to establish my kingdom quickly to support my siblings.
The vampires are far stronger than they were 1,500 years ago. The wolves haven't been idle either, but the vampires have the advantage in numbers. Even though most of them are young, they're still formidable…