Metalborn in Skyrim

Hello everyone! I apologize that I haven't been publishing on time like I usually do. Work and school have been really busy so I have been falling behind in writing. Ill try my best to get back on track! I will be publishing 2 chapters today as an apology.

Thank you for reading!

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As the Avatar of Mehrunes Dagon emerged from the tree line, its massive, molten form loomed over the battlefield like a nightmare given flesh. Standing over eight feet tall, its obsidian armor pulsed with infernal energy, cracks along its body revealing the molten core beneath. Its eyes, fiery embers of pure rage, locked onto Kael as if sensing the one warrior capable of stopping it.

Kael didn't hesitate. Burning steel, he launched himself toward the monstrosity, weaving between burning corpses and shattered weapons. The Avatar swung a massive, jagged cleaver, the force of its strike splitting the ground open in an eruption of fire and stone. Kael narrowly avoided it by steel-pushing off a discarded shield, propelling himself higher into the air.

His strikes were like lightning, steel metalmind-enhanced speed allowing him to dance around the Avatar's brutal attacks, but his blade barely left a scratch against the beast's armor. Its Daedric nature made it nearly impervious to conventional attacks. Even his steel-infused coin shots barely slowed it down.

Then, as the Avatar reared back for a devastating swing, Kael stored into his newly made Voidiron metalmind for the first time.

The world around him darkened. Shadows clung to him like living tendrils, and for a brief moment, he felt weightless, slipping between the fabric of reality. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced—a cold nothingness that gripped his very essence. As the Avatar's massive sword came down, Kael didn't dodge.

He phased straight through the colossal blade.

It was like sinking into a void. The world outside faded into muffled echoes, and for an instant, he existed between light and darkness. His senses warped, his perception shifting as though he was caught between two realms. He continued forward, his form slipping past the molten cracks and Daedric runes of the Avatar's armor.

Then he hit the core.

The moment he passed through it, Kael felt everything.

A tidal wave of raw dread and unbearable heat washed over him, it seemed to sear his very soul. The core of the Avatar wasn't just power—it was pure chaos, a writhing mass of divine destruction tethered to Mehrunes Dagon himself. The force of it pressed into Kael like an endless abyss, as if the very nature of the Daedric Prince was watching him.

Kael's vision blurred, his lungs burned, and for a fleeting second, he felt as though something in the darkness had reached for him.

He emerged on the other side, stumbling, his form flickering as he broke free from the Avatar's molten body. The suffocating pressure vanished, but the aftershock of the encounter left him gasping. He collapsed to one knee, his limbs trembling.

The Avatar turned, its fiery gaze locking onto him again. It was aware of what he had just done.

The great beast let out a deep, rumbling growl, a vibration that rattled the very earth. The fires across its armor burned hotter, the cracks along its molten core glowing brighter. Kael could feel its fury, its hatred, and more than anything else, its understanding. He had touched something beyond mortal comprehension, and the Avatar would not let that go unanswered.

Kael forced himself to his feet, swallowing down his pain. His mind was racing. The sensation he had felt—the raw connection to Mehrunes Dagon's essence—it was tangible. And that meant it could be disrupted.

A desperate idea formed in his mind. It was reckless. It was insane. But if he could sever the connection to Dagon, then the Avatar would fall.

Kael reached into his pouch, fingers closing around a gold metalmind bead. He swallowed it in one motion, feeling the familiar warmth settle in his stomach. He was going to need it.

——————— POV change

The clang of steel against steel rang through the streets of Markarth, but to Varek, it sounded distant, like a storm raging beyond a mountain. His breathing was ragged, his arms ached from the weight of his sword, and sweat mixed with the blood that splattered across his face.

Varek had always known war, but this? This was different.

He had joined the city guard as a way to escape the harsh life of a laborer. Born in the slums outside the city walls, he had spent his early years working the silver mines, watching as his father and older brothers coughed their lungs raw from the dust. The pay was barely enough to keep food on the table, and the thought of spending his life clawing at the earth for scraps had filled him with dread. The city guard had seemed like salvation. A steady wage, a bed in the barracks, the promise of steel and honor.

But honor meant little when your enemy refused to die like a man.

The Forsworn had always been a menace, striking from the shadows, retreating into the hills, using fear as a weapon. But now? Now they were different. The ones that attacked the city weren't just wild raiders—they were something more.

They fought like demons, their strength unnatural, their eyes glowing with some hellish light. A single one of them took the strength of three trained soldiers to bring down, and even then, they fought with a ferocity that bordered on madness.

Varek wiped his brow and gritted his teeth. The gate had nearly been breached earlier in the night, Forsworn scaling the walls, fighting tooth and nail to open the doors for their kin. Soldiers had died in droves pushing them back, and the bodies of both friend and foe now littered the streets. He glanced around. The other soldiers looked just as exhausted as he felt, their once-polished armor now slick with sweat and blood.

Then came the next wave.

A Forsworn warrior charged at them, bare-chested and covered in blood-soaked war paint. His axe was crude but deadly, and his eyes burned with an eerie red light. Varek's grip on his sword tightened. He wasn't alone. Two other guardsmen, Calder and Jorin, stepped into formation beside him.

The Forsworn lunged, faster than any man should have been. Varek barely brought his shield up in time to deflect the first strike. The impact sent a shock through his arm, his bones rattling. Calder moved in from the side, swinging his sword at the Forsworn's ribs, but the warrior twisted unnaturally, dodging the blade and kicking Calder back.

Jorin took the opening and stabbed forward, his blade sinking into the Forsworn's thigh. A normal man would have fallen. This one snarled and grabbed Jorin by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease.

"Jorin!" Varek cried, stepping forward, but the Forsworn threw his comrade like a ragdoll against a stone wall. Bones cracked on impact, and Jorin crumpled, unmoving.

Calder roared in fury and attacked again, hacking at the Forsworn's exposed side. This time, the blade bit deep. The warrior howled, turning his fury on Calder. In a single, brutal motion, the Forsworn grabbed Calder's sword arm and wrenched it violently. The sickening snap of bone echoed over the battlefield.

Varek lunged, putting all of his strength into one desperate strike. His sword sank deep into the Forsworn's back, cutting through muscle and bone. The warrior coughed up blood, staggering, but still didn't fall.

A gnarled hand clamped down on Varek's wrist, squeezing tight enough to make him cry out. The Forsworn turned, his face twisted into something monstrous, his teeth bared in a savage grin.

This is it, Varek thought. This is how I die.

But then, like a storm sweeping through the battlefield, the guy named Kael arrived.

Varek barely had time to register the blur of movement before Kael was upon them, his sword flashing through the air like a streak of silver. A single, precise strike—faster than Varek could even track—stabbing through the Forsworn's chest.

The warrior let out a choked gasp, his grip on Varek loosening as blood spurted from the wound. Another strike followed, severing his spine. The Forsworn finally collapsed, twitching in the dirt.

Kael didn't stop moving. He darted past Varek, already engaging another group of Forsworn further down the street. His movements were a blur—inhuman, effortless, like a wraith dancing through the chaos. He burned through his metals with terrifying efficiency, flaring pewter to overpower his enemies, steel-pushing to send weapons flying, and zinc to sow confusion among the enemy ranks.

Varek stumbled back, his heart hammering in his chest. He had seen Kael fight before, but never like this. This wasn't just a skilled warrior—this was something beyond mortal.

He turned to Calder's broken form. The man was still breathing, barely. Jorin was gone. Varek swallowed down his grief and forced himself to move, hoisting Calder's arm over his shoulder. He wasn't going to let another man die tonight if he could help it.

The battle still raged on, and Kael fought like a force of nature, cutting down Forsworn like they were nothing. But for every one that fell, another seemed to take its place.

He wasn't going to die. Not tonight.

——————————— POV End