The cold bites harder under the open sky.
Wind claws at his cloak, carrying the iron scent of his own crimes from the cave behind him. Each breath of the frigid air is a reminder that his lungs move out of habit, not need.
Snow stretches in every direction — dunes of white swallowing the horizon. Far to the east, the faint outline of Solitude's cliffs rises like a jagged crown. Elias trudges forward, boots sinking ankle-deep. His new body feels light, deceptively strong, but hunger coils in his gut like a living thing.
Blood Essence: 12 / 100.
The red glyph flickers in the corner of his vision, mocking him.
"Yeah, yeah… I'll eat soon enough," he mutters, the sound strange against the endless wind.
For the first hour, he moves on instinct — keeping to the tree line, avoiding the open plains. His eyes pierce the dark easily now; every branch and ripple in the snow shines with moon-silver clarity. He can hear life: a rabbit heart fluttering beneath the ground, the slow tread of a frost troll miles away, and… human voices.
He crouches behind a fallen log. Down the slope below, torchlight dances through the blizzard — a camp. Two men, one woman, wrapped in furs, gathered around a crackling fire. Hunters, by the smell of steel and sweat.
The hunger in him sharpens. His fangs ache.
He doesn't want to kill again. He wants to feed.
Target Acquired.
Potential Blood Essence: 6–8 units per human.
He clenches his jaw. "I need to live," he whispers — as if the snow might absolve him.
He descends silently, each step deliberate. The system whispers tiny notations across his sightline — wind direction, noise radius, body heat signatures. It's not omnipotent, but it's predatory, built for the hunt.
The hunters laugh softly around the fire.
"…swear I saw lights in that old crypt," one says.
"Volkihar territory," another answers. "Nothing good crawls outta there."
Elias steps from the dark just as the woman looks up. Their eyes meet. Hers widen — shock turning to fear.
He moves.
It's over in seconds. His hand closes over her mouth; his fangs sink in just enough to draw blood, not death. Warmth floods him — pure, pulsing vitality, sweeter than anything mortal. His Essence meter flares crimson.
Blood Essence: 36 / 100.
Drain Life I → Proficiency 62 %.
He withdraws before killing her, wiping his mouth with a shaking hand. The other two freeze, uncertain if they've seen a ghost or a nightmare. He tosses a glare their way — eyes burning red — and the men bolt into the woods, dropping their weapons.
The woman collapses, breathing but unconscious.
He stands over her for a long moment, watching the thin wisp of steam curl from the punctures on her neck.
I can control it.
I don't have to be a monster.
A laugh slips from him — half triumph, half madness. "Progress."
He searches their camp, taking a satchel of dried meat he can't eat, a short sword, and a rough map showing a path north toward Solitude.
More importantly, he finds a flask of blood — elk blood, probably for curing hides. He drinks it anyway. It tastes like mud and copper but dulls the hunger.
Hours later, he finds shelter in the hollow trunk of a dead tree. Snow drifts down softly, muffling the world. He leans back, staring through the cracks in the bark at the moonlit sky.
If this is real, then everything from the games exists — dragons, Daedra, Harkon, Serana…
I can climb this world's food chain the same way I did in the game — only now, every mistake means death.
He calls up the system again, testing thoughts like keyboard inputs.
[Status]
Name: Elias Cross
Race: Volkihar Vampire (Fledgling)
Rank: 0 — Starving
Blood Essence: 38 / 100
Abilities: Night Vision • Drain Life I • Vampiric Senses (passive)
Next Evolution: Requires Blood Essence 100 / 100 + Dominant Kill
"Dominant Kill," he repeats aloud. "So, I have to take down something stronger than me."
He imagines the possibilities: wolves, trolls, bandits. Maybe a dragon one day. The thought sends a thrill down his spine.
Wind howls outside. He closes his eyes — not to sleep, but to listen. The forest hums with a thousand heartbeats, all beating for him. For the first time since awakening, he feels almost… alive.
The next night brings snow heavier than before. He moves east, following the coast. The sea crashes against black cliffs, white spray freezing in mid-air. Hunger returns quicker now; the first feeding awakened something deeper. He needs blood every few hours, or the edges of the world begin to blur.
He keeps to animals — a fox here, a hare there — learning the rhythm of predation. Their blood is thin but still sustains him.
When dawn begins bleeding over the mountains, he hides in an abandoned watchtower. Sunlight is death — he's learned that twice already. Even reflected light burns faint scars across his skin. So he waits, wrapped in a torn banner of the Empire, whispering plans to himself.
"I need a base," he murmurs. "Shelter. Tools. A way to earn blood without being hunted."
The system answers with a faint pulse of red text:
Quest Unlocked — Survive the Second Dawn.
Objective: Endure three days without direct sun damage or blood starvation.
Reward: New Skill — Blood Shroud I.*
"Quests now, huh?" He smirks. "Guess I really am the protagonist."
The hours crawl. When night returns, he steps out again — stronger, hungrier, more certain of the monster he's becoming.
He heads toward Solitude's glow on the horizon, drawn by the promise of blood, civilization, and danger in equal measure. Somewhere out there, the Volkihar rule from their frozen castle. He'll find them eventually. Learn from them. Or destroy them.
For now, he walks alone beneath the moons, footprints vanishing behind him as if the world refuses to remember his passing.
At the edge of the forest, he spots a shimmer — eyes reflecting moonlight. A pack of wolves surrounds a carcass, growling low. Their leader, a massive frost-furred beast, bares its fangs
Elias grins. "Dominant kill, huh? Let's test that."
He drops his cloak, crouching low. The wolves circle. The alpha lunges, jaws flashing. Elias sidesteps, drives his claws into its neck, and drinks deep as the pack scatters.
Power floods him — wild, raw, bestial.
Blood Essence + 67.
Dominant Kill Achieved.
Evolution Possible.
A crimson light engulfs him, not bright but deep, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Pain wracks his body — bones grinding, skin tightening, senses exploding. He gasps, laughing through the agony.
When it fades, the snow around him is scorched black. His reflection in the ice shows sharper fangs, faint sigils glowing beneath his skin.
[Evolution Complete → Lesser Vampire]
New Ability: Blood Shroud I — envelop yourself in mist, reducing visibility and sunlight damage for short durations.
He exhales steam that smells faintly of iron.
Lesser Vampire, huh?" His smile widens. "Step one complete."
The forest is silent now. Even the wind seems to wait.
He looks up at the cold moons and whispers to the night, half promise, half prayer.
"I'll climb higher than Harkon, higher than Molag Bal himself. The world will kneel before blood."
Snow begins to fall again, burying the corpse at his feet, erasing the battle as quickly as it began. Elias pulls his cloak tight, heading east once more — toward Solitude, toward destiny, and toward the endless hunger that will one day crown him god.