I Received System to Become Dragonborn

The pale grey creature stumbled, its balance shattered by the punishing blows from Darel and Varn.

It fall back and using its one clawed hand until it sinking into the earth to steady itself, its body now quivering. The glowing green eye flickered erratically, its snarls losing coherence, fading into ragged breaths filled with pain and hatred that the adventurers can feel.

That moment of falter was all the others needed.

Eight attackers closed in at once, surrounding the beast in a tightening circle like a net. Their movements were sharp, efficient, with no hesitation. Weapons glinted in the dim forest light and Magic crackled between fingers and from enchanted steel.

The twin archers loosed their arrows again. It slicing the air and burying into the creature's shoulders and back.

One arrow struck deep into its spine, forcing it further to its knees. A warrior with a warhammer came from the right, slamming down on the creature's wrist, snapping bone with a sickening crunch. Sparks erupted as the runes on his weapon discharged their stored power.

A burst of wind Magic howled in from the rear, slashing through the creature's flank, drawing a shriek as it tried to lash out.

But it was too slow now. The rogue darted beneath its flailing arm with his twin daggers driving upward into the soft flesh of its ribs then he twisting them deep.

Another Mage sent a bolt of fire that focused into its chest and scorching it black. Darel slammed a sword into its collarbone, locking it down as others keep attacking again and again.

Meanwhile, the two healers stood back behind a tree with their focused and steady gaze, channeling their Magic into maintaining healing and keeping their allies standing from afar despite their wounds.

Glowing threads of light occasionally surged from their hands toward the wounded — toward Darel, Varn, and Yara who were attacking from the frontline — mending just enough to keep them in the fight.

The creature let out one final defiant roar but it was a broken roar thatt echoing more like a dying storm than a threat.

Yara was the one to call it.

"End it now!"

With a synchronized final attack, all eight surrounded the creature — blades, axes, spells, arrows struck from every angle.

Darel's sword drove into its chest again. Varn's axe split across its spine. Fire and lightning in small and focused amount, and enchanted steel stabbed and carved into its body.

Arrows stabbed through its throat and skull. Another Magic bolts erupted in bursts of violent light across its body.

The creature arched. Its every muscle tightening in some final grotesque spasm that looks painful and disturbing with its wide mouth opened, then it froze.

A second passed. Then it collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Its green eye dimmed completely, the green light snuffed out like a candle.

Silence fell, broken only by the panting of the adventurers and the hum of slowly fading Magic.

The strange creture was finally dead.

Darel grimaced as he stood over the still corpse, the weight of the moment pressing into his chest more than the bruised ribs.

He looked down at the creature's body — pale grey, wrong in shape and texture, like something not born of this world. Even now that the creature was dead and mangled its presence unsettled him. It just felt so alien like something that shouldn't exist in this forest or perhaps in this realm at all.

"What am I involved myself into?" Darel thought.

"What the hell was that thing…" someone muttered behind him.

No one answered. Because no one knew.

None of the adventurers moved to cheer or claim victory after the fight. There were no triumphant shouts, raised weapons, or laughter or relief that usually happen after a fight.

Only tense silence and shallow exhausted breaths. The battle was won but the shock of the creature's existence still clung to them like frostbite.

Its scream still echoed faintly in their minds. Its green eye still burned behind their eyes when they blinked.

Darel's gaze drifted toward the source of all this which is the rift.

It still hovered in the forest clearing like a jagged wound in the air. The rift humming softly with a pulse that was not natural. A swirling black void can be seen beyond it stretched into an emptiness.

And they all knew that something still be on the other side.

Darel's jaw tightened. He raised his voice to say. "We have to go now. Before anything else comes through that rift."

All heads turned to him and no arguments came. Only silent nods and hurried glances toward the unnatural tear in reality few meters from them.

The tension on their faces was clear. Their jaw still tight, their eyes widened, and weapons still gripped too tightly.

They didn't need to be told twice.

With no time to recover or investigate further about the creature, the group began to move and pulling their packs back over their shoulders.

The healers did one last sweep with their Magic that enough to stop bleeding and stabilize movement. Yara cast a long final look at the rift, then turned and fell into step beside Darel.

No one dared to look back at the creature again. Its body lay there, twisted and broken, surrounded by torn earth, blood, and the residue of Magic. The creature is like a grim reminder of what had happened and what could happen again if they stay longer near the rift.

The adventurers disappeared into the forest.

Their instincts had been right.

The forest had barely swallowed the last of the adventurers' hurried footsteps when the rift pulsed again. From its dark swirling core, a pale grey hand emerged.

A hunched grotesque shape began to step through the rift, its body almost similar with the first creature, too unnatural, as though molded from mist and bone. Then another hand followed. Another creature emerged. Then another.

Three in total finally stepped onto the ground of this world, one after the other. Their forms resembled the one that had fallen before with same strange grey pale skin and the same glowing green eyes.

Those eyes flicked across the clearing and found one of their friend.

Their dead kin lay sprawled in the dir with its body torn and broken. For a moment the three just stared.

Then they moved.

They walked to the corpse with eerie calmness. Then one of them bent first, head lowering. Then its jaw opened impossibly wide and it bit into the corpe.

Another followed, tearing through sinew. Flesh was pulled away. Bone cracked. The third creature crouched and scooped a chunk of the ribcage as if it were meal, biting down without hesitation.

They fed in silence.

There was no frenzy or bloodlust. Only an emotionless consumption. Like they didn't care that this was once one of their own. Or maybe they did care but in a way that made no sense to anything born of this world.

Their glowing eyes never blinked.

And the rift behind them remained open.

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