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[PR: hibiki]

The adventurers met the stranger’s eyes, the light of curiosity and doubt flickering in the former’s gaze, while worry and panic flared in the latter’s.

“Please, let me out. I can help you with the temple. Even open that door for you,” Arvel begged like a poor, little peasant. His whole face was almost scrunched up as if he was trying his best to put on the act of a pitiable, ensnared man. Yet the strange man with a horned helmet shook his head and spoke in a language only he knew.

“If I save you, you’ll be my servant until I leave this world. No headshakes? Good, that’s a yes.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you? Why did you come to this place? And how did that spider catch you?” Flynn had his arms crossed, and he stared suspiciously at the stranger. He had a mousey face, jutting cheekbones, and a little mustache. How in Tamriel did this… strange man get past all those bandits and draugrs?

“P-Please let me out? I… I can’t breathe. S… Suffocating. Please!”

And his voice came to an abrupt halt. Arvel felt the strange man’s hand laying atop his head as he closed in. The master thief could see the witcher’s eyes—eyes of gold and silver gleaming bright.

As if electrocuted, Arvel stiffened up. Even his breathing stopped for a moment. A looming silhouette overwhelmed his mind, looking down at him as if he were nothing but a maggot. The silhouette looked just like a god. There was nothing in Its eyes. No sympathy nor scorn. There was only indifference. And a message.

Submit. Open your heart to me. Do not resist.

Crimson tentacles swayed and danced behind that silhouette, not unlike bloody boa constrictors eager to wrap him up like the prey he was. Arvel could see the sharp teeth gnashing in the suckers of the tentacles, and they were spreading fear and darkness. One glance at the horrifying creature, and Arvel felt his blood run cold. Suffocating him was the stench of blood arising from the abyssal crimson sea underneath him.

And in his mind, the same message played.

Submit.

Arvel never stood a chance. Roy possessed a far stronger will than the master thief could ever imagine. Any resistance Arvel tried to muster was crushed, if there was even any resistance in the first place.

The internal battle was, naturally, invisible to the Dragonborn. All he saw was his companion holding the head of this ensnared stranger, and the stranger spaced out all of a sudden. Then, he started convulsing, the look of fear etching itself deep in the stranger’s eyes. Veins on his neck and temples popped, and his breathing labored. Flynn thought the stranger must have seen the darkest horrors, and he gulped.

What’s Goldeneye doing? Is he… Is he reading the stranger’s mind? But I thought that spell was lost.

It was but an instant, but for Arvel, the horrors he saw seemed to last an eternity.

Roy finally let go of the thief and began cutting the cobwebs open. All of a sudden, the sweat-drenched stranger fell limp, free of the bindings that trapped him in this chamber. The stranger rubbed his wrists and ankles, checking himself to see if he was fine. Then he heaved a sigh of relief.

When the stranger turned his attention to the witcher again, there was respect and fear in his eyes. The same kind of fear a servant would have for their master. Hunching his back a little, the stranger quietly stood beside the witcher. He then cleared his throat and launched into a little introduction.

“Thank you for the save. I am Arvel the Swift, but you can call me Arvel. I’m a solo adventurer who’s always on the hunt for treasure. ‘Twas an ancient book that told me of this here temple, and so, my companions and I snuck in. You might ask how I managed to give the monsters a slip. Not to brag, but once I go into my stealth mode, barely anything can detect my presence. Eagles, hunting dogs, bats, you name it. But well, mistakes happen, and that blasted spider ensnared me in its web, and the rest is history.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You’re awfully cooperative all of a sudden.”

Roy telepathically told Arvel what to say, and the thief answered, “Well, you saved my life, and I always repay my debts. So now, I shall work with you and crack the mystery of this temple.”

At the same time Arvel was answering the Dragonborn’s question, he was quietly translating what the Dragonborn told him in his mind. All for his master, of course.

A strange feeling welled within Roy. He had a feeling Arvel could never disobey him. If Roy wanted him to take his own life, the master thief would do it without any question. If he tried to resist, his soul would be destroyed by the crimson will residing within Roy.

Tame was an unfair ability if used right. The ability to control the life of anyone was powerful, yet Roy would never try to control anyone if he could. He preferred a partnership. Like the one he shared with Gryphon back home.

‘Arvel

Age: Thirty-five years old

Status: Thief

HP: 80

Strength: 6

Dexterity: 8

Constitution: 8

Perception: 8

Will: 6

Charisma: 4

Spirit: 5

Skills:

War Cry, Frost Resistance, Basic Swordplay Level 5, Basic Archery Level 4, Blessing of the Stars—The Thief, Horseback Riding Level 5.

Stealth Level 4: This ability allows the user to quieten their movements and steer clear of enemy sights. High-level Stealth allows the user to blend into their surroundings. Some can even stand right in front of their enemies and remain undetected.

Lockpicking Level 4: A master lockpicker can pick even the most intricate of locks with nothing but a set of lockpicks.

***

“A wise choice. We’re here for a dragonstone. Know where it is?”

“I reckon it’s behind that Golden Claw Gate along with the power of the ancient Nordlings.” Arvel took a torch and burned away the cobweb before him. He bent down and advanced into the next chamber. A similarly claustrophobic chamber with barely any lighting.

“What kind of power?” Flynn quickly followed after the thief.

Arvel asked for Roy’s permission to answer that question. Once his master gave his blessing, Arvel explained, “The power the heroes used to defeat the dragons.”

“They’ve defeated dragons?” Flynn shook his head in disbelief. “That’s a joke. Have you ever even seen a dragon? They’re as big as mountains, and their hides are tougher than granite. Nothing can pierce them. And they can breathe fire. Turns their enemies to ash like nothing. Can even summon a hail of meteors, too. We saw that not too long ago, and Helgen’s already a town of flames now. And now you’re telling me these ancient Nordlings defeated a monster like that? That’s just a legend.”

Despite all his denial, a voice in the Dragonborn’s head was confirming the thief’s story. And it urged him to gain that power as if it was in a great hurry. As if that power was his birthright.

Roy brushed his finger across his blade, injecting his mana into the rune of Conjure Familiar. Once again, another hell hound leapt out of the gateway and scouted ahead for the adventurers.

“The legends are no lies. Once we open that gate, we’ll find all the answers we want,” Arvel promised. “And I have the key to unlocking it.” From his knapsack, he whipped out a curio, golden and in the shape of a dragon claw.

Then he handed the claw to Goldeneye, much to Flynn’s surprise. Everyone loves Goldeneye, I see. Dang. I hoped he’d have given that to me.

Roy caressed the claw and turned it around. There on the claw were engravings of animals. From bottom to top, they were a bear, a moth, and an owl. The sight of these engravings reminded him of the lever puzzle. Wonder if this is a clue to another puzzle.

“Where did you find this?”

“It’s not my proudest moment, but I stole it from Riverwood’s general store’s keeper. Just a habit I picked up from my job.”

***

With the thief by their side, the adventurers found their journey to be far smoother.

The draugrs were remarkably powerful and were immune to pain. Those that wielded two-handed weapons were especially threatening. One clean hit was enough to send shudders down their enemies’ spines, and these draugrs still possessed the same level of skill they did in life.

If Roy were to face these creatures in close combat, he would very quickly find himself in trouble. Alas, despite their numbers, these creatures were moving too slowly to even threaten the witcher and his companions.

The five of them—two familiars included—easily overwhelmed the draugrs. Illusion Roy would fire off at the draugrs, while the real Roy stood before the entrance of a passage, cutting down the oncoming monsters with his energy slash. Arvel and the Dragonborn took up the position of rear guard, picking off any enemies that Roy might have missed.

Despite his profession, the thief was a better swordmaster than both Roy and Flynn. The draugrs rained down a barrage of attacks at the thief, and yet he managed to escape them all, although barely. Then he would go on the offensive, exploiting the openings of the draugrs after their assault as he thrust his blade into their necks and eyes, claiming their lives in a single blow.

Flynn had picked up a shield somewhere. With a blade and his new protective gear in hand, the Dragonborn held his own, suffering barely any injuries.

Two hours and a few dozen draugrs later, the adventurers finally came to the gate, hardly a scratch on them.

The gate was gleaming golden, but it was sealed. Intricate patterns slithered all over it like vines climbing around a tree. In the center of the gate were three small holes, perfectly aligning with the golden claw.

The claw was the key, but that alone wasn’t enough. Three stone wheels were attached to the gate, each with animals engraved on them. The adventurers must find the correct combination of animals, and only then would the key unlock this gate.

“So all we have to do is spin these wheels so the patterns align with the ones on the claw?” Flynn asked. “The answer’s right here. Why’d they go to this much trouble making a puzzle if they’re just gonna hand us the answer right away? They might as well ditch the whole thing.”

“True.” Arvel said, “And the lever puzzle’s really simple, don’t you think? Anyone could’ve solved it. All they have to do is look. Well, anyone but idiots, really.”

Flynn blushed and argued, “No. That lever puzzle is a lot harder than this one.”

“This puzzle isn’t some kind of lock.” Roy thought he figured something out, and Arvel translated his thoughts for the Dragonborn. “It’s just something to confirm that those who stand before this gate are still alive. Only the living can easily crack these puzzles. The dead… Well, you’ve seen the draugrs. They’re no different from idiots.”

***

Arvel was surprised, but he thought Roy had a point. “So this puzzle is just a little something to keep the draugrs out? Well, whatever the reason, the treasure is ours now. Ready, you two?”

Dust rained down as the gate yawned open for the adventurers. Behind the gate stood a spacious chamber, and at its end was a stone wall filled with markings that resembled claw marks and lightning bolts.

In front of that wall slept a black sarcophagus. An excited Flynn was about to approach the wall, but Roy held his shoulder. He cast Clamp once more and summoned his clone. Armed with a hand crossbow and Dragon’s Dream, the clone approached the sarcophagus, and a hell hound followed suit.

A few moments later, the clone opened up the sarcophagus as ordered. Within the sarcophagus slept a draugr. An axe and a shield were lying atop the monster’s chest, and the light of magic swirled around them.

Noticing the disturbance, the monster opened its eyes. Like all draugrs met by the adventurers thus far, it had icy blue eyes. It growled like an enraged beast and held the sides of its sarcophagus as it slowly sat up.

But before it could even do anything, the clone shattered its tomb. The tendrils of smoke within slithered around the corpse, and the clone darted back. At the same time, the hell hound spat a blast of flames at the corpse, igniting it.

A pillar of fire roared into the air, rumbling the chamber. Stalactites rained down like pellets of hail, and miniature mushroom clouds sparked and shone.

The clone fired two bolts into the cloud of flames, and blood burst into the air. The bolts’ impact staggered the draugr, forcing it to take a few steps back. A furious roar escaped its throat, and it held up its shield. Without fear, it stepped through the wall of flames, gleaming crimson like a demon from hell.

With a single strike from its axe, the clone was vanquished, but the witcher quickly cast another Clamp. Another clone leapt into existence and did battle with the Draugr Overlord.

The witcher tossed a fireball and a bolt of electricity at the same time. The spells hit the Draugr Overlord squarely in the chest, slamming it sideways.

The bolt of electricity slithered into the monster’s armor, electrocuting it for a moment. For a split second, it froze, and the clone and hell hound regrouped with Roy right away. The trio formed a triangle and barraged the monster with a flood of attacks.

Flynn watched in awe as his companions fired off simultaneous lightning bolts, fireballs, and crossbow bolts at the Draugr Overlord.

Draugr Overlord, huh? More than twenty points in Strength and nearly thirty points in Constitution. Max level in One-Handed Axe Mastery, but it’s slow. If it can’t get near us, it can’t do any damage.

The battle lasted for a mere fifteen seconds. For a moment before the overlord’s death, it stood tall within the wall of flames, its eyes going wide. The monster held its weapons by its side and took one deep breath. And then, it charged, bellowing to the heavens.

Roy thought he heard something strange echoing through the air. It felt like something was burning that very air, creating a current.

“Fus!”

And then everything around Roy seemed to change. The roar he heard contained enough power to smash boulders and tear through the heavens. Even the earth rumbled, heralding the coming of an immense force. The force turned into a gale of air that could tumble anything and anyone that stood in its way.

And the clone was the first to be hit. It was sent into the air and torn apart by the power contained within that shout.

Roy quickly snapped out of it and fired off two bolts at his target. That, finally, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. With the flames in its eyes extinguished, the Draugr Overlord finally fell.

‘Draugr Overlord killed. EXP +260. Level 12 Witcher (5400/12500).’

Even in death, the Draugr Overlord held on to its axe and shield tightly, never to let them go.

***

“Crisis averted.” Arvel gave his master a look of deep respect. “Let’s go, people. Time to collect our earnings.”

“Hold up. Did you hear that shout just now?” Flynn approached the wall, his cheeks tinted with a hue of crimson that almost looked sickly. And he felt his heart thumping with such force, it was almost deafening. “Such power… I remember that shout. The dragon in Helgen produced the same sound.”

***

The adventurers found their dragonstone lying near the sarcophagus. It was the shape of a hand, and an intricate map was engraved upon it. Lying idly nearby was about a hundred coins and another lesser soul gem.

There was also a one-handed axe with a hilt wrapped in leather, making it easy to hold.

‘Ancient Nordling Honed War Axe of Cold

Type: One-handed axe

Components: Steel ingot, leather, logwood, soul gem.

Specs: Weighs 2.06 pounds, hilt measures 20 inches…

Affix:

Frostbite: Target takes a minor amount of cold damage. Target has reduced reaction and movement speed.’

***

A delighted Roy thought, Wonder if I can upgrade my weapons with this. He tucked the war axe into his inventory space and looked at Flynn. The Dragonborn was standing before the stone wall, staring dumbly at the writing upon it.

The stone wall was reacting to his presence. Strongly. Runes shone as brightly as the sun and flew off the wall. In the air they danced and swirled before they swam into the Dragonborn’s body.

There was a solemn and determined look on Flynn’s face. A frown creased his forehead as he concentrated on something. Something holy. Something only he could hear.

What’s happening to him? The witcher turned his sights to the wall and cast Observe, but he received a message instead.

‘Your Observe does not meet the requirement needed to view this information

-1 skill point

Observe Level 2 → Level 3.’

Right after Roy leveled up, his character sheet was flooded with new information.

‘You have Observed a special Word Wall. In it records a tonal magic by the name of Unrelenting Force (Force [Fus]).

You are not a dragon, nor are you a Dragonborn. You are unable to understand Dragon Tongue, but your soul is powerful enough to learn this magic. Your Elder Blood (the blood of space-time) shares some similarities with the bloodline of dragons (the shards of time).

You may attempt to Observe the Word Wall and how the Dragonborn absorbs the Word of Power by spending 2000 pure souls (EXP). You may memorize the Word of Power and understand Unrelenting Force this way.’