Professor Dovahkiin - Volume 1 Chapter 1 Ch.1 Other Me

A star-filled sky really is a magnificent sight. I’ve always enjoyed star gazing. The sparkle of countless stars and the pale swirling glow of the Milky Way always put me at ease. As if it drains the stress from my body and mind.

Unfortunately, stress isn’t draining from me now. I find being completely surrounded by the sight of stars and space isn’t very relaxing. Every direction I look, I’m met with the eerie view of infinite stars. As if I’m floating in deep space.

I have no idea how I got here or if this is even real. The last thing I remember, I was sitting at home playing Skyrim. All the new game mods I installed had reignited my interest in the game. Sometime during the Skyrim bender, I must have fallen asleep.

This is all just a dream.

An oddly familiar voice breaks the silence, “It really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Looking towards the voice, I’m greeted with the view of myself. Not a reflection but a complete copy of my body. From my short blond hair down to my worn running pants. I can even see the same beginnings of wrinkles around the other man’s eyes. Or is it my eyes?

It’s hard to deny all the signs of aging when you’re staring at them in person.

Looking at his pudgy stomach, I make a promise to renew my gym membership when I wake up. I can’t believe I let myself get so out of shape.

I’ve looked in a mirror countless times, but it’s extremely bizarre when your own face and body are standing in front of you. Staring right back into your eyes.

Now, convinced this must be a dream, I slowly inspect the person floating along with me. He is an exact replica of the image I envision others would see.

I think I’ll call him, Other Me.

Other Me looks off into the surrounding solar system. After a moment, Other Me says, “You humans are so solipsistic. You live your lives in a pool of self-centered delusion. It’s only when you expel your last breath that reality is thrust upon you. Even then, you humans still try to deny the obvious.”

My eyes slightly squint in confusion by what is being implied. “If you’re me, then doesn’t that make you human as well?”

Other Me smirks before replying, “You prove my point. I am not you, nor am I human. I’ve assumed this primitive shell, because your feeble mind is unable to comprehend my true form.”

My mind begins to race with the possibilities of that statement.

Interrupting my thoughts, Other Me says, “Not to deprive you of my lovely company, but allow me to speed this along. I am a god. I am just one of the many gods that inhabit the multiverse. You are dead. It is irrelevant how you died. What is relevant is what happens next.

“You should know now that you are not special, nor have you drawn my attention from some miraculous deed you accomplished. You are not even the first one to stand before me today. I have already shredded the souls of nearly a dozen mortals. If you anger me, you will join their number, and I will move on to the next. You have been selected completely at random. That is all you need to know.”

It takes me a moment to completely grasp the implications of that statement. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit scared and very irritated. My growing anger is definitely surpassing my fear. You could even say I’m borderline furious.

Other Me casually waves his hand, and all my emotions seem to ease into acceptance. My building anger and irritation are suddenly gone.

Well, this confirms it. Other Me is a d.i.c.k.

Just what does this guy want?

Smiling broadly, as if he heard my thoughts, Other Me states, “I will be sending you into the multiverse. You are to achieve missions I set for you. Fail to accomplish any mission, and I will disintegrate your soul. No second chances and no hope of reincarnation. Ever again.”

A sinking feeling settles in my gut. I hesitantly ask, “How long will this last?”

With a predatory smile, Other Me states, “Until you are too powerful for me to move about the multiverse, or until you bore me. Be warned, if you bore me, your soul will be forfeit.”

Yup. Other Me is a huge d.i.c.k.

With a bark of laughter, Other Me loudly announces, “The last soul I encountered with your attitude proved to be extremely entertaining! Of course, that same attitude lead her to a rather gruesome death, but I enjoyed watching her immensely!”

Other Me quickly gains a frightening look in his eyes. “Rejoice, mortal! I will grant you two boons. The first boon, I will inform you which universe you have entered. The second boon, I will grant you the power to get you started.

“A word of advice. The stronger the power you wish for, the more deadly the world I send you to. And if you wish for the power of a game system, I will guarantee you a gruesome end. You have one minute to decide.”

Panic instantly slams into me. The smirk on Other Me’s face confirms he released whatever was keeping my emotions in check.

He must be the god of being a d.i.c.k!

Trying to keep a level head, I focus on the task at hand. I immediately throw out any idea of the most popular powers in fan-fictions. Something tells me this guy isn’t joking about sending me to a death-world. As I run through possible powers to choose, an idea strikes me.

Looking at Other Me, I nervously state, “My wish… I wish to be my Breton mage from Skyrim. As he currently is.”

My Breton mage is a pure mage character I started a few weeks ago. My last memory before arriving here was of playing that character. All the magic trees have reached legendary two or three times, and I was using several mods to alter the magic skill trees.

The character is only level 81 but has nearly 500 spells and 200 enchantments from all the mods I’m running. I have mods that allow for the power of all magic spells to increase with his level and mods that give him new types of magic and conjurations.

There is a catch that I’m hoping prevents me from being sent to a death-world. My character’s enchanted items contribute to a large portion of his power. The enchanted jewelry alone will allow me to cast incredibly powerful destruction spells without ever running out of magic. While the enchanted armor negates nearly all physical and magical damage. If you take them away, then he’s much weaker.

Other Me stares deeply into my eyes for a long moment. I can only assume he’s reading my mind on why I picked this power.

Suddenly, Other Me smiles excitedly and declares, “Brilliant! I’ll allow it! I will have to remove the Elder Scroll and all the Daedric Artifacts in your possession. As a form of compensation, I’ll grant you a dimensional space large enough to hold all of your current possessions. The subspace will only be large enough to contain all the items currently in your character’s inventory, and will be impossible for you to expand.”

Other Me quickly snaps his fingers, and my world explodes in pain. Every inch of my body is screaming, and every corner of my mind is burning. I scream out in agony.

As the pain slowly recedes, memories begin slamming into my eyes. I see my early childhood. My childhood years were spent running around the coastal city of Northpoint in High Rock. Beginning my education in magic in my late teens. The faces of my family mix with the faces of my new memories.

I suddenly recall my attempt to travel to the College of Winterhold in Skyrim, but being captured by the Imperials. Flashes of becoming the Dragonborn and delving into ancient crypts. I remember joining the Companions and accepting the gift of lycanthropy. Of hunting down and claiming the heads of all of the Glenmoril Witches.

Uncountable memories of slaying dragons, monsters, and bandits. Fond memories of studying magic at the College of Winterhold flash into my mind and how tragedy forced me to assume the role of the Archmage.

These are actual memories of my game play-through. Every quest I completed is now a memory as if I was really there. It’s not just a visual memory. I remember how I felt. What I was thinking, and even the pain of every injury. So much pain. Healing spells are really overpowered.

My knowledge of spells is different from what I remember from playing the game. The combat spells I often used could be tweaked and slightly altered. I could change the effects of many spells based on the amount of Magicka I used. Not all spells can be altered, but those are mostly Master level spells.

As the memories settle, I look across at Other Me. Standing in his place is my Breton mage made flesh. From the long braided blond hair and neatly trimmed beard to the red and black vampire lord armor.

Looking into his pale blue eyes, I study his facial features. I wouldn’t call him a pretty boy, but he looks way better than the typical Skyrim characters. He also appears to be much younger than me, in his mid-twenties at most.

I sluggishly stare at the stranger, with a sense of deja vu. I’ve seen this reflection many times in polished bronze mirrors. This is me, but somehow not me.

I begin comparing my own body with the man I’m seeing. It feels odd but familiar at the same time. Honestly, if I look like him, I look pretty bad-ass. Like someone that’s spent a ton of money for their Comic-Con costume.

A sudden thought springs to the front on my mind. Magic. I lift my hand and perform something that I’ve done thousands of times. The Flamespark spell ignites in my hand. As I stare at the electrically charged flames dancing in my palm, a sense of wonder and indifference clash inside me.

I’m doing magic! Hundreds of spells race through my mind. I’ve used each and every one of those spells dozens of times, some even thousands of times. Knowledge of potions and enchantments spring forth to join the magical spells, racing through my head.

This is all new and exciting, but at the same time, I’ve been doing this for years. I’m conflicted about how to feel.

My thoughts are interrupted by the baritone voice of the new Other Me, “Allow me to explain the situation in terms your feeble mind can understand. I merged your soul and memories into the body of your game character. You have the memories of your Skyrim character as if you lived them yourself.

“You do not have to fear your lycanthrope. The cycles of the moon will have no effect on you. The beast within you and the souls of the dragons you absorbed, will act as a defense against all forms of mental intrusion.

“Unlike the game, you do not have a skill tree. You are now the embodiment of your game character made flesh. All of your character’s magic skills reached legendary status at least twice. For that, you will have prodigious abilities in the arcane arts.

“The rest, I’ll let you figure that out on your own. I’ll now send you to a crossover version of the Harry Potter universe. Let the games begin.”

An unstoppable force drags me into a world of darkness. As I’m being pulled deeper into the abyss, the voice of Other Me rings in my ears. “Your first mission is to survive five years as a Hogwarts professor. Do not disappoint.”