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[PR: Ash]

The dragon lay in a pool of its own blood, not breathing nor moving. A mysterious power was guiding Flynn toward the beast’s corpse, and he charged ahead. A surge of desire welled in his heart, and the dragon’s corpse became something of a feast to the Dragonborn, inviting him to dig in. He gulped and looked at his companion who was standing in a pool of blood. “Are you alright, Goldeneye?”

“Aye,” said Roy, though he wasn’t fluent in the language. He then tensed up. As Flynn drew near, he noticed a gust of green wind flowing out of Mirmulnir’s corpse. There were countless ancient runes hidden within it, and they flew right into the Dragonborn’s body. This was just like the scene back in Bleak Falls Barrow.

Flynn stood in silence and closed his eyes, then he opened his arms like he was enjoying this. Like he was embracing his power.

Roy was reminded of what Balgruuf told him. That only Dragonborns could truly kill dragons and solve their problems. “So he was saying that the only way to truly kill a dragon is to consume its soul? I was the one who killed it, and I got badly hurt because of it, but Flynn gets all the reward instead?” Roy wiped off the blood from his lips and clenched his fists. “Why wouldn’t the character sheet work on the dragon?”

His refusal to accept this truth changed something. Something in the air crackled, and as an arc of crimson lightning danced, a red octopus the size of a lion leapt out of the void, bobbing around. Quickly, it wrapped its tentacles around the dragon’s head and pulled its soul out. The dragon’s soul was a lot smaller than its body, and it looked almost ethereal under the sunlight. Its eyes were devoid of its venom and fury, replaced by an empty look. It felt like the soul had accepted its fate and gave up struggling.

Two forces were fighting over this soul. One came from the Dragonborn, turning the soul into runes, absorbing them into itself. The other came from the octopus. Its tentacles covered half of the soul, devouring and swallowing its pieces.

Irileth and her soldiers carefully approached the scene and saw Roy and Flynn standing beside the corpse quietly. They seem to be in some sort of weird state. “Is the dragon still alive? What are they doing?”

“Silence.” A hint of surprise and doubt appeared in Farengar’s eyes. “Do not disturb them. A Dragonborn is… absorbing the dragon’s power.”

***

Ten seconds later, the dragon’s soul was shrinking quickly. Roy had consumed one-third of the soul, and the Dragonborn had consumed the same amount. The witcher wished to continue, but then his heart was filled with great fear. The air around him seemed to turn into a vacuum, and he couldn’t breathe. Everything around him, even space and time, seemed to see him as an enemy, telling him that he was making an enemy out of this universe just because he was consuming a dragon’s soul.

Even without turning around, he could feel a pair of gigantic, golden eyes staring at them through the void. When it looked at Flynn, there was approval in its gaze, but when it turned to the witcher, there was warning and threat in those eyes. The gaze pricked the witcher, and pain enveloped him. A cold, invisible hand pierced his skin and flesh, holding his heart tightly. Every cell in his body was shivering in fear, and he had only felt this fear once: when he Observed the statue of Melitele in her temple, and she stared back at him. So who’s the one warning me? A Prince, or a Divine? Is this scene of Flynn absorbing the dragon’s soul something out of its arrangement?

Realization filled his heart. He knew that if he were to keep taking from the Dragonborn, this hand would destroy him. Very well. This is the world you made, so I’ll follow your rules, but I’ll get back at you someday, and I’ll start with your precious Dragonborn. Roy heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, then he slumped.

The octopus got its command, and it let go of the soul before disappearing into the air. The glitch on the character sheet finally came to an end, and a message popped up. ‘You have killed a legendary creature—Mirmulnir the dragon. You have devoured part of the shards of time. +5000 EXP. Level 12 Witcher (7300/12500). You now understand more about the power of time. Unrelenting Force’s cooldown is now 21 minutes. Your Elder Blood is slightly affected by this change, but not enough to cause a great shift.’

Roy heaved a sigh and opened his eyes, then he noticed he now had a special connection to Flynn. He could find Flynn’s position anytime he wanted. How did this happen?

***

A few moments later, the dragon’s soul was all absorbed by the Dragonborn. Once the soul was consumed, the dragon’s corpse underwent a great change. Decades, if not centuries, seemed to pass in what were mere moments. The scales and flesh decayed and disappeared along with the wind, leaving only a great skeletal structure behind. The skeletal structure of a winged lizard.

Roy calmed down and observed the dragon bone, memorizing each and every detail of this construct so he could meditate even better next time. At the same time, he touched the skeleton and carefully tucked the bones and scattered scales into his inventory. A while later, he was delighted to find himself in the possession of a dragon tendon. It was more than sixteen feet long and had the girth of an adult’s forearm. The tendon looked yellow and was resilient to the touch. Alright. Got myself another upgrade material for Gabriel. He happily tucked the tendon away in his inventory space.

Flynn opened his eyes. For a moment, his eyes looked like ones only a dragon would have. The look within them was cold, majestic, and arrogant, but the eyes turned back to normal in a moment, though they still shone like the sun. Flynn was absorbing the soul slowly, and all his stats increased a little. The increment would continue until his body was done absorbing the dragon’s soul. “Hey, guys. I… I think something popped up in my head again.”

“What is it, Flynn? How are you connected to the dragon anyway?” Vilkas, Farkas, Torvar, and Arvel stared at the bemused Dragonborn. “Are you really the legendary Dragonborn?”

They didn’t expect the fledgling adventurer whom they easily defeated in training every day to be the legendary Dragonborn himself.

“He must be.” Farengar nodded. Everyone noticed Flynn absorbing the dragon’s soul, but no one saw the octopus that appeared. “Only a Dragonborn can absorb the strength of a dragon and turn its body into nothing but skeletal remains.”

What? But I’m just a regular guy. I can’t be a Dragonborn. Flynn looked at his excited comrades and stared up into the sky. For some reason, his throat started itching, and the itch grew uncontrollably. There was no way to stop it, and a surge of warmth flowed through his veins. He opened his mouth and, as if driven by instinct, roared at the skies, “Fus!”

The air exploded as he shouted, and everyone’s hearts skipped a beat. A shockwave radiated from the Dragonborn and shot up high into the air, as if it would crush the sky.

“By the Divines, that’s a Shout. The very same the dragon used. The one Ulfric used to kill the High King!” A soldier gasped, and his hand trembled.

Farkas and Vilkas huddled around the Dragonborn and touched him all over.

“Hey, what are you doing? I’m not a girl.”

“Just trying to see how different a Dragonborn is from us. Feels the same to me,” Farksa said proudly. “Um, now that we’ve killed a dragon, what should we kill next? Nothing stronger than a dragon.”

“We can always kill a stronger dragon. We have a Dragonborn on our side.”

Arvel suddenly went down on his knees, his face trembling, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He roared, “Do you see this, my girl? I did it! We killed a dragon! That’s a Shout! The same Shout Olaf used to slay a dragon! The legends are true! To Oblivion with the Burning of King Olaf!”

“By the mercy of Talos, Kynareth, and Arkay. We had a Dragonborn with us all along? Wait, I was fighting with him?” Another soldier gushed, “The Divines have blessed us! This victory was already certain!”

“We’ll kill any dragon that tries to attack us!”

Everyone was red with delight.

“We shall be known as dragonslayers from now on!”

“The Dragonborn isn’t the only one to thank.” Arvel wiped his tears away. “Goldeneye.” He stared at the witcher with worship, and Roy quickly stopped collecting his loot. “We only managed to kill it because he took it out of the skies and injured it enough.”

Roy gulped his blood back and said with stiff empire tongue, “It’s… all… everyone’s effort.” Without the sacrifice and them whittling down the dragon, he couldn’t have taken down the creature, much less killed it. It could’ve killed him instead.

“Well said. Don’t just lay all the compliments on them. This victory belongs to all of us, especially the fallen! May they rest in peace!” Irileth turned around, looking at the charred and bloody remains of the fallen. With sorry, she said, “You’ve honored your souls with the slaying of a dragon. Sovngarde… No, the Hall of Valor will open its doors for you!”

Forty-three warriors joined this battle, and yet only eighteen remained, most of them injured too. More than half of them died in this battle alone, and their enemy was the weakest type of dragon.

“I shall be reporting this to the Jarl. Every warrior who has taken part in this battle shall be greatly rewarded.” Irileth looked at the dragon’s remains. “But now, we must collect our comrades’ remains and give them a proper burial. They deserve that much. And then, we shall haul the skeletal remains of this beast back as proof of our victory.”

The survivors, despite their sorrows, perked up and carried out their orders. Roy was impressed. Nordlings really are born for battle. He seized this chance to quickly collect more bones and scales. Not even my energy attack managed to cut it. This is going to be the best crafting material I could ever hope for.

Farengar was doing the same thing too. He touched the dragon’s skeleton, and one of its bones disappeared, then he stared at Roy and whispered, “Goldeneye, are you a believer of Dagon? Or Vaermina?”

Arvel translated that for Roy, and the witcher realized that Farengar must’ve seen the whole battle, including the part where the octopus showed up, so he shrugged.

Farengar sighed. “I saw what you did, and you were the reason we even won the battle in the first place. We could all be dead if not for you. I am indebted to you, and you can employ my services for free once we get back. Only once, however.”

***

Dusk had descended when the soldiers returned to the keep, and darkness draped over the buildings. Most people had gone to sleep, but the soldiers carried on, bringing the mangled remains of their comrades into the Hall of the Dead. Some went to inform their families of the sad news, while some returned to the watchtower to bring the dragon’s bones back. No Jarl worth their salt would leave something this valuable lying around unattended.

Irileth led Farengar, the Companions, and the trio into Dragonsreach.

“You did well. Killing a dragon and recreating the feat only Olaf had managed. This is a miracle!” Balgruuf paced around quickly, and his voice was trembling with excitement. He looked almost sorry he couldn’t join the fight himself. “You saved the keep, and for that, you shall be handsomely rewarded. Goldeneye, Arvel, and Flynn. Ever since you stepped foot in the keep, you’ve been working tirelessly to deal with the dragon crisis. I hereby decree that you three shall henceforth be the Thanes of Whiterun. You may employ your own servants, but if you can’t find any good ones, you can come to me. I’ll get a few for you, though you’ll have to pay them from your own pockets. And there are three empty houses in The Wind District. They now belong to you. Your thousand-coin reward also awaits you there.”

The trio exchanged a look. Roy looked calm, since the house wasn’t useful to him anyway. Arvel and Flynn’s breathing got heavier, however, and they were delighted. They now had a big house in the center of the keep and were made Thanes. It was like a dream come true, but not even this was comparable to the title of Dragonslayer.

Nordlings respected the strong. With that title, they could go anywhere they wanted in Skyrim, and everyone would respect them.

Balgruuf was happy that the trio was satisfied. He gave them a lot, but as long as he could keep these three in the keep, they would be bound to come in handy. Not to mention they were neutral. Unlike the Battle-Borns or Grey-Manes, these three wouldn’t fight among themselves. “Vilkas, Farkas, and Torvar, thank you for your help. My men shall take the rewards to the mead hall.”

The Companions bowed and smiled at the trio. “Come over for a drink or two tomorrow. We have a lot to talk about, especially about the battle.” The Companions left in a hurry, refusing to stay in the fortress.

“Irileth, the compensation for the family of the fallen will be increased by half. Make sure they receive the coins.”

“Thank you, Jarl.”

“They deserve it. They laid down their lives for the keep, and we will not let their families suffer,” said Balgruuf. “They are heroes, and Sovngarde will be more than pleased to have them.” He stood with his head hanging low. Everyone was silent for two whole minutes.

“And I have a question. I heard we have a Dragonborn among us?”

Farengar looked at Flynn. “Jarl, he absorbed the dragon’s soul at the very end, and he performed a Shout.”

“I see. I knew there was something about you when I first saw you, lad.” Balgruuf looked at Flynn with approval. “Did you hear a summon when you first killed the dragon?”

“A summon?” Flynn scratched the back of his head. When he came back to the keep, he once again heard a thunderous shout, just like he did the first two times, and it called him… “Dovahkiin?”

“Yes, that is it. Dovahkiin. I see.” Balgruuf returned to his throne. “The Greybeards are summoning the Dragonborn.”

Roy was interested, and his gut told him to listen in. At the same time, he told Arvel to translate every single word.

“What’s that?” Flynn asked.

“The Greybeards are a small hidden community of scholars specializing in the art of Thu’um, and they only teach very few people that art.” Balgruuf explained patiently, “They reside in the most secluded area of the world—High Hrothgar. I shall provide you with the map soon.”

“Why’d they summon me?”

“Don’t you understand?” Balgruuf said sternly, “Dragonborns are born with unique talents. They can channel their energy into Thu’um and unleash powerful Shouts. That’s why you learned the Shout faster than anyone could. They’re summoning you so they can teach you how to use your talents.” He said, “The dragons have returned, and one just tried to attack the keep. The Dragonborn is our only hope to quash this crisis before it can get any worse. The Greybeards are duty-bound to teach the Dragonborn how to use Shouts, and you, Flynn, are the only Dragonborn since Tiber Septim. We have gone hundreds of years without a Dragonborn, and now is your time to fulfill your destiny.”

Flynn was shocked and horrified. “But Jarl, that’s a bit too much. You’re painting me like I’m a savior.” He looked at Roy sheepishly. “Goldeneye’s ten times stronger than I am.”

“Do not discount yourself, Dragonborn. You are still young, and there is much potential within you to be discovered,” said the Jarl. “Once you have rested up, I suggest you travel to High Hrothgar at your first convenience. No one can resist the call of The Greybeards. This is an honor.”

Reminiscence filled his eyes. “But be prepared for a seven-thousand-step ascent. I tried to pay them a visit in my younger days, and the ascent alone took my breath out of me. Spent a few years trying, but alas, I failed.”

“Um…” Flynn hesitated for a moment, then he looked at Roy and Arvel. “Can I take a few people along with me?”

Roy gave him a look of gratitude. Good show, lad. Looks like I didn’t give up that soul for nothing. Still, I can’t go with you. Sorry.

“You’re a good friend indeed, Dragonborn.” The Jarl smiled with approval. “You can bring some friends along should they desire, but be warned. High Hrothgar might not be a blessing for regular humans. That’s all I can say. You must be tired after the battle.” Balgruuf shot the Steward a look, and he handed three keys to the trio. “The deed and coins will be waiting for you right after you enter the house. They are all equipped with the furniture you might need. Tell me should you need anything more.”

“Now, Thanes, return home. Your beds are waiting.” Proventus smiled, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. “And the houses are right beside one another. You shall be neighbors from now on.”

Arvel and Flynn looked at Roy, and the witcher nodded. He was checking out his inventory. This battle gave him a lot of useful items. Dragon bones, dragon scales, dragon tendon, dragon soul, and most importantly, the blood that filled up half of his inventory.

He had prepared the sorcerer’s blood (he got it from Coral), the essence of a higher vampire (that was from Gruffyd), and everything else he might need to strengthen his Elder Blood. He then started going through the potion recipe given to him by the Master of Mirrors. Time to make the potion and level up my Elder Blood. “Hang on, you guys. Coral, Letho, Ciri, Geralt, Triss… I’m coming home.”