GoT Shadowborn: The Rise of Ashford

The air was thick with the smell of blood. Ethan's breath was ragged, his muscles aching as he staggered through the chaos of the battle. The sword felt heavy in his hand, but its weight was no longer a deterrent. With each swing, each desperate block, something within him clicked into place—a brutal, primal understanding of the weapon. He wasn't skilled, not by any means, but the new power coursing through his veins seemed to lend him an unnatural edge.

He could hear the frantic cries of the merchants, their voices rising in desperation as the bandits closed in on them. The larger group of attackers had overwhelmed the defenders, their crude weapons slicing through the air with reckless abandon. Ethan's heart thudded in his chest, the urge to protect, to act, overtaking any fear or hesitation. He had no clear idea of what he was doing, but he knew this: he couldn't stand by and watch these people die.

He dove into the fray with a speed that surprised even him, using his newfound abilities to dodge and counter with surprising precision. His movements were fast, erratic, but they were enough. The bandit who had been swinging the heavy axe at the merchant crumpled when Ethan finally found his mark, his sword landing with a sickening crunch into the bandit's side. The attacker staggered back, gasping for air as his blood poured onto the ground.

Ethan's breath was ragged, his heart hammering. He wasn't used to this. He had never been a fighter, never wanted to be one. But something about this world—about the brutality, the savagery—had awakened something within him. He wasn't just Ethan anymore. He was something else, something darker, and he was starting to understand the pull of that power.

Another bandit charged toward him, a wicked smile on his face as he swung a long, curved sword with the skill of someone who had seen countless battles. Ethan barely had time to react as the blade came crashing toward him. Instinctively, he ducked, his body moving faster than his mind. The bandit's sword swiped through the air, narrowly missing his face, but Ethan was already retaliating. He brought his sword up with a clumsy but effective strike, catching the bandit's arm just as the man pulled back for another attack.

The bandit howled in pain as the blow sent him stumbling back, his weapon falling from his hand as he clutched his bleeding arm. Ethan didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, his sword slashing downward, cutting through the bandit's neck with a sickening ease. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless before he even hit the dirt.

For a moment, the forest was quiet. The battle around him seemed to pause as Ethan stood there, breathing heavily, his body covered in sweat and blood. The realization of what he had just done hit him like a freight train—he had just taken a life, two lives, three. And for what? To save these merchants? To prove something to himself?

He didn't know. But as the screams continued around him, Ethan shoved the doubt deep down and pushed forward. He wasn't here for answers. He was here to survive.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Ethan continued fighting. His movements became smoother, more calculated, as he began to learn the rhythm of the battle. He was still an amateur, still fumbling with the sword in his grip, but he was learning, adapting. The power of his new body made up for the lack of experience. And as he fought, his mind sharpened, his senses on high alert. Every sound, every movement was amplified, his vampire-enhanced instincts kicking in.

The bandits were starting to panic. The tide of battle had turned. With Ethan's interference, the merchants were gaining ground. One of the merchants, a tall, burly man who had been holding his own with a large iron hammer, looked over at Ethan with wide eyes, recognizing the shift in the momentum.

"You—what are you doing here?!" the man shouted, swinging his hammer to block a bandit's attack.

"I'm not here to die," Ethan grunted, stepping over the fallen bandit as he slashed at another, his blade finding its mark. "You're welcome."

The merchant's eyes narrowed, but he didn't question it further. He was too focused on surviving, just like Ethan. The remaining bandits seemed to realize that their numbers didn't matter anymore. The tide was against them. Their leader—a man with a scar across his face—yelled out in fury, rallying his troops.

"Fall back! Fall back!" the scarred man shouted. But it was too late. The merchants, emboldened by Ethan's intervention, were not about to let them escape.

Ethan's mind raced as he assessed the situation. They were winning. The bandits were retreating, most of them wounded or too frightened to continue fighting. But there was one bandit left—a hulking brute who had stayed near the back, watching the battle unfold. The man had been biding his time, waiting for an opening. And now, it seemed, he had found it.

The bandit grinned as he stepped forward, his massive frame towering over Ethan. He held a large two-handed axe, his hands tightening around the hilt as he charged. Ethan's heart skipped a beat. He had no idea how to fight someone like this—someone so much stronger than him, with a weapon that could easily split him in half.

But he wasn't going to back down.

Ethan moved swiftly, sidestepping the first swing of the axe, his body moving faster than it ever had before. He ducked under the second strike, narrowly avoiding the massive blade. His own sword was still in his hand, but it felt small and insignificant compared to the brute's weapon.

Think! Think, damn it!

Ethan's mind raced as he watched the bandit swing again. The brute was wild, uncoordinated in his fury, but powerful. Ethan couldn't match that strength. But he didn't need to.

In a flash of intuition, Ethan dove forward, ducking under the bandit's arm and coming up on the other side. With a quick, practiced motion—one that surprised even him—Ethan jabbed the sword into the bandit's side, his strike catching the man off guard. The bandit howled in pain, dropping his axe as he stumbled backward, clutching his side. Ethan didn't wait. He thrust the sword into the man's chest, silencing him in an instant.

The forest fell silent once more.

Ethan stood over the fallen bandit, panting, his sword slick with blood. His body felt heavy, the adrenaline still coursing through him. He had done it. He had fought, and he had won.

The merchants, though shaken, were alive. And for the first time since his arrival in this strange world, Ethan felt something shift within him. He had taken a life—three lives, actually. But he had saved these people, and in doing so, he had discovered a part of himself he hadn't even known existed. He wasn't just a bystander in this world anymore. He was someone who could take control, someone who could shape his own destiny.

The merchant leader approached him, his face still pale from the fight but filled with something else now—curiosity. He looked Ethan up and down, taking in his ragged appearance and the makeshift deer pelt draped across his back.

"You… you fought well," the man said, his voice cautious but grateful. "What is your name, traveler?"

Ethan hesitated. He had no idea what to tell them. His old name, his old life—none of it mattered here. This wasn't New York. This wasn't the world he had known.

"Ethan," he said, his voice quiet, but firm. "Just Ethan."

The merchant nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"Well, Ethan," the merchant said, "if you have any interest in traveling with us, we could use someone like you."

Ethan glanced at the man, his gaze flicking to the wounded bandits scattered on the ground, and then to the merchants, who were slowly gathering their things. His heart still raced with the thrill of the fight, but there was another feeling that settled in—the desire to continue.

This could be my chance.

"I think I'll travel with you," Ethan said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "For a while, at least."

As the merchants packed up their goods, preparing to leave the site of the battle, Ethan stood among them, his mind already racing with possibilities. This world was brutal, chaotic, and full of danger. But it was also full of opportunity. And now that he had tasted what it meant to fight for survival, Ethan knew one thing for sure:

This was just the beginning.