The village had barely begun to breathe again when danger struck.
Two days had passed since the raid. The villagers patched walls with whatever they could scavenge, dug graves in silence, and forced themselves to keep going. Kael spent those days training quietly.
Every night, that fragmented message of the system pricked his brain:
Bloodline detected. Aberration… preparing for evolution…
He didn't know what it meant. He didn't dare ask.
And he had started to even suspect this whole storyline of Skyrim. It was common knowledge that it was supposed to be the Dragonborn fighting Dragons and trying to stop Alduin.
Where did mutants and aberrations come from? He hadn't even seen a single Dragon since he reincarnated. Not that he was trying to rush to his death, but still…
That morning, Skjor ordered the rest of the Companions to stay and guard the village while Kael, Elara and the circle, scout further east. The village chief's report had come in. The morning scouts had detected strange movements along the old road, where not even bandits usually dared to tread. Kael walked beside Elara, who had insisted on coming despite protests that this would be a very dangerous mission that a tired mage wasn't built for. She wasn't the same girl anymore; after fighting, after surviving, her eyes had hardened, along with her head.
The path led them into a ruined fort, the stone walls were cracked and covered in vines.
The stench hit first—iron, rot, blood. Kael's senses prickled as they moved deeper. At the gate of the fort, a blood-red circle was engraved with thorns curling around the circumference. The mark of a flame was crested within the circle.
"Magic, ancient..." Skjor said, tracing the edges of the circle with his fingers.
"Why would raiders be dabbling in the mystic arts?" Elara questioned, bending down to have a proper look. Then she suddenly shut up and took three hurried steps backwards.
"What is it?" Skjor asked as he instinctively also backed away, the rest of the companions immediately drawing their weapons.
"The markings... They're daedric, one of the markings read, 'destruction'."
Immediately, Aela looked at Skjor then at Farkas and nodded once.
"Stay sharp," Skjor growled before smashing down the door of the fort.
Then they saw it.
At the center of the courtyard, chained to a massive iron stake, was a werewolf. But not like any one they've seen. Its body was bulkier, unnaturally swollen with muscle, its fur matted with runes glowing faintly in blue light. A muzzle of silver clamped its jaw shut, etched with spells that crackled. Its eyes—bloodshot and furious—locked onto them instantly. It snarled, jerking against its bonds
Elara gasped, stepping back. "That—what is that creature?!"
Before anyone could speak further, movement erupted from the shadows. Figures emerged—raiders. But not the usual rabble. These ones wore darker armor, their movements sharper, disciplined. And among them, pale faces, crimson eyes gleaming in the half-light.
Kael froze, he could smell them. Irritating like a damned itch in his nostrils.
Vampires…
Skjor's voice dropped into a snarl. "So that's it… damned bloodsuckers. They've bound a werewolf to their leash."
The raider leader, a scarred man with a twisted grin, raised his weapon. "Kill the Companions! Leave no one alive!"
The vampires hissed, their fangs gleaming.
The battle erupted.
Every member of the companion rose to meet their own opponent, but Kael saw Skjor running at him with unbelievable speed like he was going to ram into him.
"What the..."
Then out of nowhere a black-cloaked vampire emerged from the void swiping his claws at Kael's neck but Skjor had already arrived. Grabbing the man by the wrist, he swung him over his shoulder, slamming him into the floor.
A sharp thud resounded along the battlefield and Kael could've sworn he heard dozens of bones break.
Skjor plunged his sword into the vampire's heart, ending its miserable life early.
"What are you doing?! Don't just stand there, use your nose!" he hollered before moving to support Aela.
Arrows whistled through the air, some coated with silver dust. Kael ducked, rolling behind a cracked wall before bursting out with a snarl. His claws ripped into one raider's throat before he even had time to scream.
That was when Kael noticed they smelled differently, like an irritating itch he couldn't quite scratch and utterly unpleasant.
But these enemies weren't fools. A vampire met Kael head-on, blade clashing with his claws, sparks flying. The vampire moved faster than the others, its strength almost matching his own.
Behind him, Elara scrambled to stay alive. She pressed her hands against a Companion's wound, pouring every ounce of healing energy she could muster. As much as she hated to admit, she was almost useless in this fight. She just added one more target to protect.
Skjor spun, delivering a kick that crushed a vampire's skull and pressed forward, only to be forced back as the muzzled beast roared, shaking the earth. The raiders yanked at its chains, forcing it forward like a living battering ram.
Kael barely dodged a vampire's clawed hand, feeling it rake across his armor. His body screamed with the rush of adrenaline, his vision sharpening unnaturally as if something deep inside was stirring. His eyes glowed a very deep gold.
But Elara—Elara still didn't understand.
She fought desperately, lips trembling as she muttered healing incantations, her hands glowing to seal the Companions' wounds, while another cast a protective ward on Aela who was dealing with three vampires. "We can't win this! That beast—they're not even human! Why the hell are we not retreating?!"
Kael grit his teeth, cutting down another raider. Her words pierced him. She didn't know. She couldn't know. Not yet.
But keeping the secret could come at the cost of a life.
But the enemy was overwhelming. Every second, more of them pressed forward, the vampires striking like shadows, the muzzled werewolf dragging them closer to death.
Farkas cried out as he was flung aside like a ragdoll. The ground shook beneath the beast's chained steps and more vampiric energy blasts flew across the battlefield. Then—
Skjor's voice thundered over the chaos.
"Enough!"
His eyes blazed. His blade dripped with blood. He turned toward his warriors, his voice carrying the weight of command.
"Companions—let it out!"
The battlefield froze for an instant. Elara's head snapped toward him, confusion and shock widening her eyes.
"...let it… out?" she whispered.
Kael's body tensed, his heart slamming in his chest. Heat surged through his veins. An excited grin plastered itself on his face.
The Companions roared as one, their forms trembling, muscles twisting, bones shifting—
And the forest was about to drown in something far more terrifying than men or vampires.