I Woke Up Inside My Friend's Video Game

[Arc 2] Chapter 31. Crimson Dawn

Arc 2. Face Your Death with Courage

The wind carried the stench of smoke and death as we moved cautiously through the remnants of a once-thriving village. I tightened my grip on the hilt of my blade, my senses heightened, attuned to every whisper of the broken landscape. My heart pounded in my chest, a familiar beat of caution and purpose as I scanned the ruins around us. The charred remains of homes and the scattered bodies of Dark Elves and Argonians painted a grim picture—one that reminded me of too many tragedies from my past.

Ahead of me, Nikolai led the group, his curly hair bouncing with every step, though his usually light-hearted demeanor had been replaced with a taut intensity. His eyes, usually sharp and full of life, now held a fire of their own—one kindled by the injustice we had stumbled upon. Jordis kept close to his side, her broad frame cutting through the ruins with a steady, grounded presence, her hand never far from her sword. Her eyes, blue like steel, surveyed the scene with a cold determination that mirrored my own.

I could feel the tension between us all, as though the air itself had thickened with the weight of what we were seeing. Belrand walked slightly behind me, his gaze distant, lost in thought, though his hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, ready for anything. He had the look of a man who had seen too much, whose heart had been calloused by war but still held some small hope in the world. Aldis, wiry and quick, moved like a shadow, barely making a sound as he navigated the ruins. His dark eyes flickered from side to side, always searching, always calculating. Titus, his massive frame nearly dwarfing the rest of us, hesitated for a moment, glancing around before following our lead. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by something quieter, something more cautious.

The devastation we passed was a chilling reminder of how low humanity could sink. We had expected to encounter Stormcloaks this close to Riften, but we had not expected this. The village had been pillaged, but not because of the war. This was something else. Something darker.

Then, the Night came. As we navigated through the moonlight landscape. Nikolai came to a sudden halt, his eyes narrowing as he motioned for us to stop. There, not far ahead, was a Stormcloak camp. My pulse quickened, the sight of the blue banners catching in the breeze setting off alarm bells in my mind. My grip tightened on my bow, my fingers itching to notch an arrow, but I held back.

We crouched low, moving silently through the remnants of the village until we could hear their voices. Laughter—cruel, harsh, the kind that sent chills down your spine. I could hear the snap of a whip, followed by the anguished cries of men in pain.

I felt my blood turn cold as I caught sight of the scene before us. The Stormcloaks, a group of half a dozen men, were torturing captives—two of them Argonian, the others Dunmer. They were bound, bruised, and bloodied, their once-proud faces now masks of pain. One of the soldiers kicked a Dark Elf in the ribs, laughing as he groaned in agony.

"Look at them," one of the soldiers sneered, his voice thick with scorn. "Monsters. All of them."

Another soldier, a brutish man with a scar running down his cheek, joined in the laughter. "Be thankful you're human," he spat at one of the prisoners, "compared to those monsters we killed."

I felt a sharp intake of breath from Nikolai beside me. His face twisted in a mask of barely controlled rage, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles straining beneath his skin. The sight of the enemy soldiers—the men responsible for this atrocity—had lit something dangerous in him.

"They killed them on purpose," he muttered, more to himself than to us. His voice was low, but I could hear the tremble of fury in it. "The Argonians... the Dark Elves... they weren't just casualties. They were slaughtered because they weren't human."