[Special] A Visit from Another World – Pt. 2/2
"SU GRAH DUN!"
Miraak and Einar shouted almost simultaneously, invoking the Shout of Elemental Fury. In an instant, their greatswords gained the speed of the wind, and their bodies moved with the same ferocity.
Both vanished from their initial positions, reappearing face-to-face, their blades colliding with such brutal force that the shockwave uprooted trees and shattered the rocks around them.
The clash of steel and soul echoed throughout the region. The smiles on their faces were genuine—true Nordic smiles, born from the joy of a battle worthy of their legends.
"STRUN BAH GOLZ!" roared Miraak with all his might. Instantly, the clouds darkened, and the sun was devoured by the storm. Within seconds, a rain of fire and stone fell from the sky like a meteor shower, obliterating everything in its path.
Unlike the technique he had used against Echidna, this one was far more devastating. The meteorites were five times larger, all striking the point where Einar and Miraak clashed.
"STRUN BAH QO!" responded Einar, raising his gaze to the heavens before shouting with the same ancient power. His voice tore through the clouds, and they began to spew lightning alongside the falling fire, as if the very weather itself had become their battlefield.
Now the sky rained both fire and lightning. Thunderbolts struck the meteorites midair, shattering them into fragments, turning the fiery storm into a rain of burning shards that fell upon the entire forest.
The environment itself groaned under their fury.
Trees burned, mountains cracked, and not even frozen time could contain the destruction they were unleashing.
And the worst part was… they still weren't fighting at full power.
"Hahaha! This is what I was talking about!" roared Miraak with excitement as his sword clashed once more against Einar's. The sparks born between them looked like tiny stars being born with every strike.
Einar, though quieter, bore the same exhilarated smile.
Both leapt backward, landing on the fractured earth, measuring each other with the eyes of hunters.
"Enough games!" shouted Miraak, his voice charged with adrenaline. "It's time to get serious."
He reached for his neck, preparing to release all his strength.
Einar watched him calmly, as if already knowing what he was about to do. Slowly, he removed the pendant hanging from his ear and tossed it aside.
"MUL QAH DIIV!" they both roared in unison.
The entire continent seemed to tremble.
The waves of the Shout expanded beyond the mountains, and hundreds of divine gazes turned toward them.
Yet neither of them flinched.
Among those watching, one presence in particular seemed thrilled—almost ecstatic—to see the souls of fallen dragons, once absorbed into their weapons, now swirling around them and merging with their own spirits.
Golden scales began to spread across Einar's body. His hands turned into claws, and a pair of golden, almost divine wings unfolded from his back. His eyes gleamed with impossible brilliance, while two massive silver horns emerged from his forehead, each splitting into twin tips. His entire body was wrapped in scales that burned with the glow of eternal fire.
Miraak, on the other hand, became darkness itself. His scales were black as the deepest night, and his back and arms were covered in jagged spikes that looked like living obsidian. Two pitch-black horns rose from his head, curving backward like a beast from the void.
Einar observed his transformation with interest. Miraak's draconic form reminded him too much of an ancient enemy—the dragon he had struggled so much to defeat in the past, the very being destined to devour the world.
Alduin.
The World-Eater.
The one who could not be destroyed, only delayed.
And seeing him now, Einar understood—it was no coincidence. Miraak was the first Dragonborn, the beginning of the bloodline destined to bear that burden, that fate sealed from birth.
Einar smiled with genuine excitement.
He let his sword fall, vanishing into his inventory with a flash of light, while Miraak tossed his own weapon aside, as if he no longer needed it.
Both vanished at the same time.
And their fists met right in the center.
The impact was so devastating that their previous clashes seemed like mere games of children.
Light and darkness collided and split apart, creating a line across the sky that divided day and night.
The ground was pulverized instantly, and a shockwave swept outward, carving a crater so vast that, without realizing it, both had destroyed half a country with a single blow.
"YOR TOOR SHUL!" roared Miraak, his words rumbling like the growl of a volcano. Fire erupted from his mouth, a torrent of infernal flame that illuminated the world.
Einar ducked at the last moment, narrowly dodging the blast as it tore through the air.
Everything around him melted—rock, earth, and molten metal flowed like rivers. The fire advanced in a straight line, scorching everything in its path, and from the ashes rose draconic figures formed of pure flame.
Einar paid them no attention.
As he crouched, he aimed at Miraak and shouted with all his might:
"FO KRAH DIIN!"
The pure Frost Shout burst forth, flying straight toward Miraak's chest.
He responded with a perfectly executed "WULD NA KEST," darting away at impossible speed.
Einar's icy roar continued forward, freezing the horizon and spreading a new era of ice in the direction it was unleashed.
And so, while fire and frost divided the world, the two Dragonborn fought in a battle that even the gods watched with fear.
Miraak, rising into the sky, stared down at Einar before him.
Both ignored the devastation they were causing upon the world.
Unlike their battle in Apocrypha, where destruction meant nothing, here…
had humans not been frozen in time, they would have believed that the apocalypse itself had descended upon them.
Each time their blows met and destruction spread, a faint golden aura appeared over the battlefield—only to fade instantly, as if someone were intervening to keep this war from spiraling out of control.
The two warriors fought in the air, clashing amid lightning and fire,
while hundreds of divine beings could only watch helplessly
as an entire nation was annihilated before the combatants struck once more—
and vanished into the skies, their battle continuing beyond mortal reach.
Meanwhile, high above in the sky, a red-haired giant stood atop a chariot pulled by two goats.
He was so excited that he seemed just about ready to hurl himself into the battle.
However, an old man beside him—shorter in stature, with a cold gaze and a single eye visible beneath his patch—stopped him with just one look.
"Hahaha! It looks so thrilling! A real battle, the way they should all be!" shouted Thor, watching the destruction caused by Miraak and Einar with unrestrained enthusiasm. His grin was so wide it made him look like a child before a feast.
"Do not interfere," said his father firmly, his tone calm yet analytical.
Odin observed the battle with a dangerous composure.
He could feel the power both were unleashing; they were not far from the level of the gods themselves, though still short of a true higher deity. Even so, they easily stood among the lesser and middle gods.
His gaze shifted toward a distant mountain—one that only divine eyes could perceive.
There, a colossal golden dragon-shaped shadow held the flow of time with ease.
Its presence was so vast that it even kept the Greek gods and others from interfering.
For a brief moment, a golden gaze turned toward Odin, sensing his observation.
Then it ignored him and returned its attention to the battle.
"A being comparable to Cronos… or Chaos itself," murmured Odin, crossing his arms.
"It makes sense that neither of the Dragonborn could be bound by fates outside their own world—especially with that being's blessing upon them."
His raven landed on his shoulder, cawing anxiously. Odin stroked it gently.
"Do not worry. From the moment they arrived, their battle was destined to be lost in time," he said in a tranquil voice.
And he was right. Even the combatants themselves seemed to know it.
That was why they held nothing back. That was why they did not fear unleashing their power.
Miraak and Einar, after countless clashes, were still smiling with that same fierce Nordic joy.
"Come on, son of Akatosh! Now we stand as equals! No one will interfere this time!" shouted Miraak with euphoria. He remembered perfectly how their last battle had been interrupted by the betrayal of Hermaeus Mora.
Einar shared the same thought, and both of them paused, preparing for what would be their final confrontation.
The air around them vibrated with divine energy. The world trembled.
The land, the sky, and the seas seemed to hold their breath for what was about to come.
It was a clash at the level of the gods, one that few across the cosmos would dare to replicate for fear of destroying their own realms—or vanishing in the process.
But before they could charge, a black portal suddenly opened in the middle of the battlefield.
From it stepped a demonic figure with crimson skin, elegantly dressed in a butler's suit.
He walked calmly through the chaos, bowing first to Einar with respect, then to Miraak with the same courtesy.
Miraak raised an eyebrow, ready to tear him apart, but Einar lifted a hand to stop him.
"My lord," said Dred with complete composure despite the raging destruction around him,
"your wives are looking for you. They sent me to inform you that you must return immediately; it seems the little masters are about to take their first steps, and their beloved mother wishes for their father to be present."
Einar nodded calmly, a faint amused gleam crossing his face.
His body began to revert to human form.
His clothing, completely destroyed, was replaced by a new outfit through an automatic enchantment, while healing magic wrapped around his wounds. Though it would take a little time to fully regenerate, he didn't seem to care.
Miraak frowned, irritated by the interruption.
But Einar's next words stopped him cold.
"We'll meet again, Miraak. Perhaps even our children will face each other one day… in a friendly battle," said Einar with a serene smile, gazing toward the horizon,
where a majestic mountain rose among golden clouds.
Suddenly, an immense golden aura swept across the world.
Everything began to move backward through time.
Ruins rebuilt themselves, destruction unraveled, and the devastated landscape regained its form.
The world was slowly restoring itself, as if nothing had ever happened.
Einar gave Miraak one last look.
"After all… being a father isn't so easy, is it?" he said softly before the golden radiance enveloped him completely, and he vanished.
Miraak remained still for a few seconds.
Those words echoed in his mind more than he would have liked to admit.
For a moment, an image of a green-eyed brat crossed his thoughts before he shook it off with annoyance.
He raised his hand, and the greatsword he had thrown during the battle returned to his grasp, floating through the air as if drawn by an invisible force.
"My disciple will kick the ass of anyone you bring along," he said proudly as he turned away.
The world around him continued to repair itself, time returning to its natural flow.
And just as the last fracture in time sealed shut, the heavens roared.
The lightning that had built up during the battle fell like torrential rain, reducing the original cave to ashes.
No one remained to take the hit; it was merely the fury of the world releasing itself.
From his chariot, Thor looked down with a wide grin, while Odin watched him with a mixture of amusement and reflection.
The god of time, who had restrained the divine forces during the battle, disappeared;
and immediately, the gazes of the gods turned toward Miraak, filled with hostility.
Powers from multiple pantheons began to gather, ready to annihilate him.
But before they could act, a new roar shook the planet.
It was not Akatosh.
No, this time it was another.
A presence so ancient and powerful that it rivaled the dragon god himself.
Miraak felt it.
It was the roar of a dragon… yet one unlike any he had ever faced. Equally primordial. Equally immense.
And as that sound tore through the heavens, the intentions of the gods vanished.
All the gathered powers dissolved instantly, as if terrified of awakening something far worse.
Elsewhere, Einar walked down a white corridor, accompanied by a man in golden armor.
His gaze was cold, his eyes identical to Einar's—his face imposing yet serene.
Einar paused for a moment, glancing back with a quiet smile.
"Heh… quite an interesting place to end up in," he murmured before continuing forward.
After all, his family was waiting for him.