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Perseus12: Thanks.

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Renashi-RE012: Well, I hope you like this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroinu: Kedakaki Seijo wa Hakudaku ni Somaru or Skyrim/The Elder Scrolls. All rights respectively go to Liquid, the studio who created Kuroinu, and Bethesda Studios, the gaming company who made The Elder Scrolls series.

It was a festive mood inside the Black Dog camp that night. Men were cheering, drinking, and just being merry as they celebrated a major victory over the Dark Fortress's forces. Everywhere one looked, they could see the smiles and grins of the mercenaries who had fought in the 'Battle of the Kestat Plains'. Sure, some were more subdued than others, having lost a friend, comrade, even a brother in the battle, but such was the nature of war. Such was the life of a mercenary. Despite this though, everyone was still in celebration.

All save for one.

Sitting by a campfire some distance away from the rest of the camp sat a lone figure, who was busy running a sharpening stone over the edge of one of his swords.

Daemon carefully and meticulously ran the stone across the blade of his sword, the very weapon he had used in battle. The blood had been washed off, and the water cleaned off with a towel. Now Daemon sharpened his blade, even though it's make would ensure it never got dull when piercing through the flesh of his enemies, but he needed something to do, and he wasn't exactly in the same mood as the other men celebrating over this battle they were in.

As he sat there, Daemon wondered why he entered himself into the battle and fought off those creatures. Maybe he was still stuck to the idea of being a hero. Back in Skyrim, he did everything there is for someone like him to do. He slayed the World-Eater, he killed Harkon, he killed the First Dragonborn, he became Arch-Mage to the College of Winterhold, he became Harbinger of the Companions, he became the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, he became the Guild Master of the Thieves Guild, he ended the Civil War between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials. He became Thane of the holds, was seen as a legendary warrior amongst the people of Skyrim.

There was nothing for him to do.

So, he left Skyrim to seek more adventure in his life, and thus he heard of the war the land of Eostia was in. A land ravaged by war, infested with dark creatures. And so, the Dragonborn had decided to involve himself. He couldn't live without the action it seems.

"Hey, Hero! What'cha doin' sitting here all on your lonesome?"

Daemon turned to look and found two individuals walking up to his campsite. The first was a young man with slicked-back brown hair wearing opened front vest and black trousers. He also had a small black pouch strapped to his left arm. The other man wore the robes of a mage and had slightly curly brown hair and a pair of glasses on his face. The two men walked over to the fire and sat down across from the young Witcher.

"I'm not one for parties." Daemon said, returning back to sharpening his blade. "Had too much trouble with drunkards."

The mage scratched his chin as he laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, that's true. Things can get a bit rowdy with the ale floating around. But can you blame them for drinking? We just won a big victory. And it's all thanks to you."

The other guy nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah. I mean, you saved the day. You just popped up out of nowhere, saved Volt, and started slaughtering Orcs left and right before killing their leader."

"I've faced worse odds." Was the cold response from the Dragonborn. "And Orcs? Those creatures are called Orcs? They are much different from the ones in Skyrim."

"S-Skyrim?!" Hicks asked in shock as he shared a look with Kin before both looked at the Dragonborn. "You come from Tamriel?"

"Aye." Daemon said without looking up from his work.

"If you're from there, what brought you here?" Kin asked.

"I had done everything there is for me to do in Skyrim, but I still wanted more. I heard of the war this land was in and came to help in any way that I can. I've already ended one war; perhaps I can end this one." Daemon said.

Hicks scoffed. "This war's been going on for hundreds of years, mate. I doubt one man can end that."

"I'm not just any man." Was the cold, chilling response from the Dragonborn.

"Yeah, no normal man could... shout and send Orcs hurtling through the air like you did, nor could they shout fire from their mouths... unless you're a mage." Kin said, cupping his chin.

"How I did what I did... is none of your business or concern, so i suggest you stay out of that which don't concern you." Daemon said, his tone taking on a warning as he looked up at them from sharpening his blade. "Just because I saved your leader does not mean I'm going to be friendly and tell you everything about me. You'd have to earn that, and right now... you aren't doing much to do so."

"That so?"

The three turned their heads to find a man wearing plate mail armor with a large claymore strapped to his back over his cloak with the image of a black dog painted on an armor piece on his left shoulder.

"Volt." The two men greeted their leader.

The dark-haired scared man walked up and sat down near Daemon as he gave the young man a grin. "Hey there, kiddo. I just wanted to thank you again for saving my ass back there. I'm indebted to ya."

Daemon just grunted in response as he returned to sharpening his blade.

"So, you from Skyrim huh? Never been there, but I've heard of the place." Volt looked at Hicks and Kin. "A land filled with many creatures like orcs, bears, elves, werewolves, vampires, even dragons! A dangerous land, indeed. Not as dangerous as this one, though."

"So, I see." Daemon said without looking up.

"Well you helped us win the battle, and a lot of good men lived because of it. I owe you for that." Volt remarked with a grin "I don't think we have been properly introduced yet. The names Volt, commander, and leader of the Black Dog Mercenaries. I assume these two have already introduced themselves."

Daemon looked at the two nervous men. "They failed to do that. These two simply sat down and started talking."

Volt rounded on the two with a glare. "What? You two numbskulls didn't even bother telling him your names?"

The two rubbed the backs of their heads nervously. "Sorry, Volt. It kinda slipped our minds." The mage said as he turned back to the ashen-haired man. "The name's Kin, and this here is Hicks." The mage gestured to his right as the vested man nodded in greeting.

"Daemon." Was the Dragonborn's response as he put his sword down, seeing as it was sharpened enough.

"So, what were you doing, Volt?" Hicks asked his leader curiously.

"Sending a letter back to the Seven Shields and the Goddess about this guy." Volt said, jerking a thumb at Daemon who raised an eyebrow at the mentioned of seven shields and a goddess, but he ignored it. "I also got word of Ostagoth being next for an attack. We'll go there before the Dark Queen's forces get there and defend it, understood?"

"Yes sir." Hicks and Kin said.

Volt looked at Daemon. "You in, Daemon?"

Daemon was silent for a good while before he looked at Volt and nodded. "Yeah..."

It was raining when they got to Ostagoth, but Daemon was never bothered by the rain. He stood on a small platform with Hicks and Kin, watching as Volt stepped forward to address the rest of his men.

"All right, listen up!" The man boomed. The murmuring of the crowd stopped instantly at Volt's command, all looking up their employer. "You men may be green as grass, but you're Black Dogs now! That means you're part of the best damn mercenary company there ever was! We, who have triumphed on behalf of the Seven Shield Alliance time and time again against the demon scourge, welcome you new-bloods as our brothers-in-arms!"

His words were met with an uproar of cheers and applause, whose fervor only stopped when he began to speak again.

"Now, it's time to prove yourselves worthy of our name! The Dark Queen's forces are coming here, to Ostagoth, to pillage the settlement! But we won't let them! These are OUR lands, OUR people, and like hell we'll just let them shit all over what is OURS! We're not just going to win; we're going to make them regret ever being born into this world! We'll show them that WE are the true demons!"

The resounding roar of approval proved nearly deafening. The men jostled each other in their excitement, whooping and howling as adrenaline pumped through their veins. Daemon was silent, and wasn't really feeling any inspiration from Volt's words, but he did get a thrill at the killing that was about to come. Maybe it was the dragon within him, enjoying the thought of blood and carnage.

"Black Dogs, LET'S HUNT!"

The Black Dogs were in formation, eagerly awaiting their foes to cross the horizon. They did not have to wait long, for they felt the earth rumble beneath their feet, quaking from the mass of Orcs that soon came into sight. Despite lacking armor, an orc's hide was thick and hard to damage. Their great strength allowed them to wield large, heavy weapons with ease. The recruits grew nervous, their earlier eagerness leaving them in droves. It was the Black Dog veterans that bolstered them, reassuring the new-bloods that they had their backs.

Daemon stood on the front lines, with Volt right in front of him. The man looked particularly bloodthirsty, grinning with excitement at the inevitable engagement. Just then, someone broke through the ranks, falling to his knees beside Volt.

"C-Captain! Enemy forces to the East!" The messenger cried through staggered breaths.

"What?!" Volt yelled at the man, who cowered before his captain.

"A-A flanking force, sir! They forded the river and hope to decimate our right flank!"

"Damn it!" Volt's gaze turned back to the enemy in front of them. They were approaching slowly, but steadily. There would be no running from them now.

"I'll handle the flanking force." Daemon said, causing Volt's gaze to snap to him.

"You what?!" He shouted in shock.

"I said I'll handle the flanking force." Daemon said, unfazed by Volt's outburst.

"Kid, that's too many for one man to take on!" Volt pointed out.

"I've faced worse odds." Daemon said coldly before he moved to intercept where the flanking force would come, unsheathing his swords in the process and rolling his head and shoulders.

"He's a confident one." Hicks remarked to Volt.

"Yeah. But after what I saw he can do... maybe he can handle himself." Volt said, watching the Dragonborn go.

Roughly fifteen minutes passed for Daemon before he saw his target: A sizeable contingent of orcs and imps. In contrast to the towering orcs, the imps were around the size of a child. They were fast, cunning creatures that, in conjunction with the strong, yet dull orcs; made for a dangerous combination.

Daemon rolled his shoulders and cracked his head left and right, his grip on his swords tightening. Seeing only one human standing against them, the Orcs and Imps laughed and cackled, but Daemon was unfazed, instead he just gave them a 'bring it' gesture. The Imps began to scowl at the defiant human and ordered the Orcs to charge. With a ferocious roar, the Orcs obeyed, stampeding towards the lone human that stood against them.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!" Daemon shouted.

From his mouth, even though he wore the Daedric helmet, fire burst out and passed through the helmet without harm, travelling towards the shocked Orcs and Imps before the charging Orcs were hit first and set on fire, their screams filling the air as they burned, the smell of burnt flesh filling the nostrils of many. As the burnt Orcs fell to the ground, the rest of the flanking force looked to the one who was responsible for it in shock.

"FUS RO DAH!" Daemon shouted again, this time unleashing something different, something that incinerated a few Orcs and Imps, and destroyed some others. Seeing the flanking force caught off guard and so stunned by this power, Daemon charged and was on them like a predator, slashing through orc and Imp with each swing of his swords, not breaking his pace as he spun, hacked, slashed and sliced, blood coating the ground and Daemon's swords, as well as splashing onto his armour, to which he was thankful he had a helmet as Orc blood stinks along with Imp blood.

One Orc tried to impale Daemon from behind with a spear, but the Dragonborn whirled around, swung his two swords and decapitated the Orc in a cross-swing motion, then kicked the corpse down before moving onto the next. Orc after Orc, Imp after Imp, all fell to the Dragonborn's blades as he cut them down with no mercy, no hesitation, no remorse.

More kept coming, so Daemon sheathed his swords and conjured fire in his hands, causing the enemy to halt in surprise and confusion for some as they didn't know humans could do that. Daemon took advantage and started to burn them with fire, spinning in a circle, listening to the anguish screams of the burning creatures before he got rid of the fire in his hands and unsheathed his swords. He narrowed his eyes as he watched an Orc commander step forward, he knew it was a commander considering it was similar to the Orc Daemon killed to save Volt two days ago.

The orc bellowed, pointing its weapon at the Dragonborn, clearly challenging him. It even mocked him for how it was bigger than him and making a motion of easily decapitating him due to the size difference.

"You'll be looking me in the eye as you die." Daemon promised.

The combatants charged each other, roaring ferociously. The orc swung first, hoping to cleave the Dragonborn in two as it had others. Daemon leaned back and bent backwards to avoid being decapitated, then stabbed one of his blades into the Orc's side, causing it to roar in pain before Daemon slashed it across the chest, causing blood to gush out and decorate the already blood-stained ground even more. The Orc held it's bleeding wound before charging, raising it's weapon. Daemon ran and aimed for an area that will bring the Orc to its knees.

He stabbed the Orc right between the legs and through its cock.

The Orc howled in agonizing pain as Daemon ripped his swords out, sending the Orc's... bits everywhere, all bloodied and bits of flesh. The orc fell to its knees, clutching the area shakily. Daemon twirled his swords around before thrusting one forward and impaling the Orc right through the heart, looking the Orc right in the eyes.

Just as he said. the orc would be looking into his eyes as it died, even though Daemon wore a helmet but... semantics.

Daemon pulled his sword out and watched the corpse fall onto its front. Daemon looked up and saw there was still some left of this battalion, all just ready to be slaughtered.

Daemon moved to do so.

The rain had stopped. Dark clouds dispersed as the sun's rays beamed down upon them. The Black Dogs had claimed victory over their enemies.

"Think Daemon survived?" Kin asked, nursing a few injuries from their battle. It was hard-fought, and many of their recruits perished in the conflict.

Hicks gave him a look. "One man couldn't have survived against a flanking force."

Volt said nothing, marching in silence. The rest of the Black Dogs followed behind, with the heavily injured returning to camp to rest and heal. They soon came upon the battlefield and were shocked to see a very large pile of Orcs and Imps and standing atop the pile was none other than Daemon.

"Well shit..." Kin said in shock and awe.

"He actually did it." Hicks said, equally shocked and amazed, but couldn't help but laugh in amazement.

Volt chuckled as well as he approached the pile. Daemon noticed and jumped down. "Volt." He greeted the Black Dogs leader.

"Daemon." Volt said, grinning as he looked at the pile. "In all my years... I've never seen anything like this. Just... one man taking on that many and coming out without even a scratch. Well, you look like you took a bath in blood."

Daemon looked at his armour, seeing how much blood he was covered in. "Nothing a wash won't clean off.

'I bet the Seven Shields Alliance and Cellestine are gonna be curious about this one.' Volt thought...

And that's it for this chapter everyone. I hope you all enjoyed it. Yeah, I made this as bloody and gory as I could... even had a bit with an orc getting his dick cut off.

Sorry this chapter took so long.