I saw it. Everywhere.
Liquid. Crimson. Warm. Fresh. Gushing forth.
Scores of bodies lay on the ground, metal on metal, the flags tainted with their own soldiers' blood. Cries of despair filled the musty air.
I looked back at the creature towering behind me, trying to see his reaction. It was a smug grin. Of satisfaction. Of victory.
It echoed mine.
No wonder, they had given it all those names. The 'World-Eater', the 'Destroyer of Worlds', 'Bane of Kings' and whatnot.
But what about me?
History had always potrayed the 'Dragonborn' as some sort of a saviour, a hero, who despite all odds, would fight to save his people from the evils of the world.
Well, it was time I saved my own brethren.