The mead hall of Jorrvaskr was louder than usual. Tankards slammed against wooden tables, warriors roared out their victories, and the smell of roasted meat filled the air. Yet, in the middle of the rowdiness, the young man sat stiffly, still unsure if this was truly happening.
Skjor placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You've proven yourself, boy. Not many outsiders earn the Companions' respect so quickly. From this day forward, you fight under our banner."
A murmur swept through the hall. Some men cheered. Others scoffed. A few looked on with quiet suspicion.
The young man clenched his fists under the table. Accepted… into the... Companions huh? What even is that? At least... I finally belong somewhere.
But before he could savor the moment, a sharp, metallic chime echoed inside his skull. And an invisible wave seemed to ripple from his body.
[System Activation Complete]
His body tensed and his eyes narrowed. Words appeared before his eyes, faintly glowing as though written into the air itself.
Name: [???]
Rank: The Turned (Next rank at Lv.10)
Level: 1
XP: 20/100
SP: 0
HP: 100/100
Energy: 35/50
Strength: 30
Defense: 22
Agility: 26
Skills:
Feral Sprint (Lvl. 1) – Gains a short movement speed boost.
Shop Available – [Functionality locked]
Huh?
The words faded in and out, waiting for him to accept them. His pulse thundered. He had heard legends of men blessed by strange powers, but to see something like this? This felt like a game system from his previous life... But I'm not a console!
"Are you alright?" Skjor frowned, noticing his distant look.
"Y-Yeah," he muttered quickly, forcing a nod. No one else can see this… it's only me.
As if to answer his thoughts, the System whispered again:
[Companions' acceptance has bound you to the Path of the Beast. Greater trials await.]
The hall roared as a toast was raised. Tankards clinked. Flames danced in the great firepit. Yet beneath the laughter and warmth, unease settled in his chest.
'The name is blank... Is it because I don't have one in this world?'
'I remember I used to be called Kael in the past.'
[Name "Kael" Registered]
'Oh!'
* * * *
Far away, beyond the walls of Whiterun, shadows stirred. Cloaked figures circled ancient artifacts, whispering in an ancient tongue, their voices like cold ash. Their sleek fangs caught the light as their chants grew louder and louder until it became almost audible.
"...and so... unto... Lord over... Mehrune Dagon!"
As the last word was uttered, the group of cloaked figures slit their wrists, letting blood cascade like a waterfall into an engraved circle of intertwining fire on the floor. Within the circle, was another group of people—uncloaked, naked.
And deeper still, something darker was being born, the very first... of its kind.
* * * *
The fire in Jorrvaskr's great hall had long since died down. The rowdy laughter of the Companions faded into quiet snores and the occasional creak of timber. For the first time since entering Whiterun, Kael had silence to himself.
His boots scraped lightly against the wooden stairs as he followed one of the handmaids who had shown him to his quarters. It wasn't much—just a small room tucked at the end of the hallway, with a single bed, a chest for belongings, and a cracked window that looked out over the sleeping city. But to Kael, after the ordeal he just went through, it was more than enough.
The woman left him with a polite nod. He dropped onto the bed, exhaling deeply. The springs creaked. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling.
"Companions, huh?" He muttered to himself. "And that… thing. What the hell was that system window?"
The glowing interface that had popped into existence after Skjor clasped his shoulder still lingered in the back of his mind, as if it were burned into his vision. As he thought about it, he unconsciously willed it to appear.
A faint chime rang in his ears.
Name: Kael
Rank: The Turned (Next rank at Lv.10)
Level: 1
XP: 20/100
SP: 0
HP: 100/100
Energy: 35/50
Strength: 30
Defense: 22
Agility: 26
Skills:
Feral Sprint Lv.1
Kael sat up straight, heart pounding as the glowing screen hovered in front of him.
"This… is real?" His voice cracked in disbelief. "Stats, skills… HP? Energy? What am I, some character out of a bard's drunken tale?"
But the numbers were there. His hands trembled as he lifted them, flexing. The strength in his fingers suddenly felt quantifiable. STR 30. Not much, maybe, but it meant something.
"Alright…" He muttered, rubbing his temple. "Let's test this out."
He closed his eyes and focused on the first skill, well... the only skill. Feral Sprint
His body immediately reacted on instinct and dashed forward colliding head first with the wall.
"Yeah... I should probably learn how to use this properly. Eurrgh."
Still, his lips curled into a grin. "This is insane. But… gods above, it's real."
Excitement boiled in his chest. He turned to the Shop, but as soon as he willed it open, the glowing panel flickered into existence with a harsh red lock symbol across most of the items. Still, he could see faint silhouettes of skills and abilities blurred out waiting behind the seals.
SHOP (Locked – Requires SP)
– Wolf's Pounce [10 SP]: Leap great distances to strike an enemy.
– Life Leech [10 SP]: Temporarily enhance claws allowing some percentage of life-leech
– Howl of the Alpha [Requires Lv. 50] [30 SP]: Boosts allies' morale, weakens enemies' resolve.
– Iron Hide [20 SP]: Increases DEF temporarily....
....
– ??? (Requires Dragon Heart) [Locked]: ???
Kael's eyes widened at the last one. "Requires… Dragon Heart?"
His throat went dry. 'He' had only ever heard of such things in myths and old Nordic carvings. Dragons were long extinct, weren't they? Still, the possibility burned in his mind.
[A/N: When I refer to him having knowledge of the world before his arrival, please understand that the soul of his prior life and the current life fused. Thank you!]
He sat there for a long time, staring at the glowing screen until his vision blurred. He let it fade, collapsing back onto the bed. His mind raced with questions, but those would have to wait till another time when he had more knowledge.
The only thing that was certain was that he seemed to be the only one with this system in Skyrim.
Sigh
He wished he had at least played the game when it came out back then. At least, he would not be as lost as he currently was...
A soft knock came at his door. Kael quickly dismissed the screen, his heart still hammering.
"Come in," he said, trying to sound casual.
The door creaked open, revealing a tall figure with wolfish eyes glinting in the dim light. It was Skjor.
"You settling in, pup?" His voice was low, almost a growl, but not unfriendly.
Kael nodded. "Yeah. Thanks"
"Good. Rest well tonight. Tomorrow, the real training begins. And trust me…" Skjor's lips curled in a knowing smirk. "You'll need every ounce of strength you've got."
When the door shut, Kael lay back again, staring at the shadows in the ceiling. His fists clenched tight.
"Strength, huh?" He whispered. "Fine. With this system… I'll have more than just strength. I'll carve my own path."
And in the quiet of the night, as Whiterun slumbered, Kael drifted off into uneasy dreams of his first encounter in the woods.