A man's awareness flickered on like a dying lightbulb, weak and unsteady. He floated in a vast, empty void, disoriented and surrounded by nothing but a dense, suffocating darkness. Time didn't seem to exist here. Seconds stretched into eternities, or maybe it was the other way around. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Or maybe he didn't even have a body. The realization sent a cold chill through his nonexistent spine.
"Hello?" he called out. His voice echoed strangely, bouncing back at him with a mocking tone.
And then, abruptly, a voice cut through the void. "Oi, wake up."
The man startled, looking around wildly. "What the hell?! Who's there?"
Before him, a figure materialized out of the darkness—a humanoid shape, unnervingly smooth and featureless, its body a gleaming, chalky white. The only discernible feature was a faint outline of a mouth that twitched as it spoke.
"You've been asleep for five millennia," the figure said, its tone somehow managing to sound both bored and mildly irritated. "About time you woke up."
"Five what now?" the man asked, his voice pitching up in disbelief.
"Millennia," the figure repeated, crossing its featureless arms. "Five thousand years. That's how long you've been napping in the cosmic void. Lazy git."
"Where the hell am I?"
The figure tilted its head as if considering the question. "Hard to say, really. It's not so much a 'where' as it is a 'nowhere.' But if you want the short version, you're dead."
The man froze. "I'm... dead?"
"Yep," the figure said, popping the 'p.' "Deader than disco, pal."
Oddly, the man didn't panic. There was no sinking dread, no existential terror—just an eerie sense of calm. "Huh. I'm dead. That's... cool, I guess?"
"Cool?" The figure made a noise that might've been a snort. "Well, you're taking this better than most. Usually, there's screaming, bargaining, maybe some crying. Not you, though. Real stoic. Or maybe just real dumb."
"Thanks," the man deadpanned. "So, uh... now what?"
The figure clapped its hands together, the sound echoing like thunder. "Now," it said, its mouth outline stretching into what might've been a grin, "we get to the fun part!"
Before the man could ask what the "fun part" was, three massive wheels materialized out of the void, each one spinning lazily. The first was labeled BODY, the second ABILITY, and the third WORLD.
The man stared at the wheels, then back at the figure. "What the hell is this?"
"This," the figure declared, gesturing dramatically, "is my Wheel of Fortune!"
"Right," the man said slowly. "And what exactly am I supposed to do with these?"
"Simple!" The figure pointed to the first wheel. "This one picks your new body." It moved to the second. "This one picks your shiny new ability." Finally, it slapped the third wheel. "And this one decides which world you're about to be unceremoniously dumped in."
The man crossed his arms—or at least, he tried to. It was hard to tell where his limbs began and ended. "Can't I just pick the world?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Because rules."
"What rules?"
The figure waved a hand dismissively. "Not important. Now spin the first wheel!"
The man sighed. "Fine." He reached out and gave the first wheel a spin. The clattering sound it made was oddly satisfying, like the spin of a well-worn carnival game. After several agonizing seconds, the wheel slowed and landed on PILLAR MAN.
The man squinted at the result. "Pillar Man? Like from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure?"
The figure's grin widened. "Oh, very nice. Big, buff, ancient superhuman. Super strong, super durable, probably immortal. And let's not forget the abs. You'll have abs for days."
"Yeah, but weren't they, you know... evil?"
"Evil's just a point of view," the figure said breezily. "Now, on to the next wheel!"
Reluctantly, the man spun the second wheel. This time, the clattering noise was almost mocking as the segments blurred past. When it finally stopped, the pointer landed on CURSED TECHNIQUE: BOOGIE WOOGIE.
The man stared at it, unblinking. "You've got to be kidding me."
The figure let out a delighted laugh. "Oh, this is perfect!"
"It's a clapping ability," the man said flatly.
"A very versatile clapping ability," the figure corrected, wagging a finger. "You can swap places with anything you clap at—yourself, enemies, random objects. Think of the possibilities!"
"It's still just clapping."
"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it."
The man sighed. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with." He spun the final wheel, watching as the segments blurred past. This wheel seemed bigger than the others, filled with countless options: Middle-Earth, Cyberpunk 2077, Naruto, and many more. When it finally stopped, the pointer landed on SKYRIM.
The man groaned. "Oh, come on!"
The figure clapped its hands, clearly delighted. "Congratulations! You're going to Tamriel!"
"I've never even played the game," the man muttered. "I gave up after getting stuck in Helgen."
The figure doubled over laughing. "You quit in the tutorial? Oh, you are so screwed."
"Wait, hold on," the man said, holding up a hand. "Can't we talk about this? Maybe pick a different world? One where I know what I'm doing?"
"Sorry, no backsies."
"Come on, I didn't even get a say in this!"
"Life's not fair, buddy. Or, well, death, I guess. Either way, tough luck."
Before the man could argue further, the figure snapped its fingers. A blinding flash of light engulfed him, cutting off his protest mid-sentence. The last thing he heard was the figure's voice echoing in his ears:
"Good luck, Pillar Man! Try not to die too fast!"
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The flash of light faded, leaving the man suspended in darkness once more. At first, he thought he'd gone blind, but then he realized he couldn't see because his eyes simply weren't working. He tried to open them, tried to move, but nothing responded. His entire body felt locked, frozen in place like a statue.
He floated in this state for what felt like hours—or maybe it was minutes; time was meaningless in this void. And then, faintly, he heard voices.
The sounds were muffled, distorted, but undeniably human. The language was unfamiliar, the cadence strange, and he strained to make out anything useful. He tried to speak, to shout, but no sound escaped his lips. It was like his throat had been sealed shut. Panic began to creep in, but there was nothing to do except wait.
The voices grew louder, more frantic. There was a clash of metal on metal, the unmistakable sound of swords meeting in combat. He tried to focus, to will his body to move, but still nothing. Then, abruptly, he heard the thud of something heavy hitting the ground.
Silence followed, broken only by ragged breathing and the scrape of metal on stone. And then he felt it—something warm and pleasant flowing into him, like liquid sunlight pouring through his veins. The sensation spread rapidly, electrifying every corner of his frozen form.
At first, it was faint, a flicker of strength returning to his limbs. Then it intensified, growing stronger and stronger, until it was overwhelming. His muscles swelled with power he'd never felt before, his mind sharpened to a razor's edge, and finally, he could move.
The stone around him cracked audibly, a spiderweb of fractures spreading outward. He pressed against it, testing his newfound strength, and with a guttural roar, he burst free. Chunks of rock flew in all directions as he stumbled forward, landing on his knees.
For a moment, he stayed there, gasping for breath despite not feeling winded. The sensation of having a body again was jarring—overwhelming. But something else demanded his attention. He was no longer in darkness.
At least, not entirely. He could see perfectly, even in what should have been pitch black. The world around him was cast in muted shades of gray, every detail sharp and clear.
He looked down and froze.
Two desiccated bodies lay crumpled before him. Their skin was shriveled and taut, their faces frozen in expressions of horror. The sight made his stomach churn, and a wave of nausea rolled over him.
He didn't need to guess what had happened. He felt it in his bones. He had drained them, consumed their life force to fuel his own awakening.
He knelt down, hesitantly reaching out to one of the corpses. His hands were massive, strong, yet trembling slightly as he turned the body over to look into its hollow eyes.
Nothing.
There was no pang of guilt, no surge of remorse. He felt... nothing. Just a strange detachment, as though this was simply the natural order of things.
"Am I... a monster?" he muttered, his voice gravelly and low.
He didn't know how to answer that question, so he filed it away for later. Standing, he placed a hand over each corpse and focused. Instinctively, he knew what to do. The bodies dissolved into a swirling mist that flowed into him, filling him with a renewed surge of strength.
For a moment, he simply stood there, taking stock of his situation. His memories were fragmented, his thoughts jumbled. He knew things about his body—things that didn't make sense.
"I'm a Pillar Man," he muttered to himself, the words tasting strange on his tongue. "That's... right. I remember now."
Or rather, he remembered enough. The details of his old life were blurry, distant, but the knowledge of what he was now was vivid and immediate.
"Okay, I know I'm strong. I know I need to avoid the sun, and I know I can absorb... things," he said aloud, pacing slightly. "But what else? What else do I know about this world?"
He wracked his brain, searching for scraps of information.
"Dragons," he muttered. "And magic."
That was it. That was all he could recall about Skyrim.
"Shit," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
The faintest glimmer of his past life surfaced, and he latched onto it. He remembered being a casual fan of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, which explained why the name "Pillar Man" had clicked so easily. But thinking of his past life only raised more questions.
"What's my name?" he said aloud.
He searched his memories desperately, but it was like hitting a wall. There was nothing—no name, no face, no concrete details. He felt a mix of annoyance and unease but pushed it down.
"Fine. New life, new name," he muttered. "But it can't be anything too stupid. Definitely not Kars or Wamuu."
Shaking his head, he turned his attention to his surroundings. He appeared to be in a tomb, the air damp and stale. The walls were lined with alcoves, each containing the remains of the long-dead. Symbols and carvings covered the stone, intricate and ancient.
He moved closer to the carvings, his sharp eyes picking out details he shouldn't have been able to understand. Yet, somehow, the symbols began to make sense, the meanings unraveling in his mind like a puzzle he instinctively knew how to solve. The carvings told a story of Sovngarde, the Nordic afterlife, and a great bridge guarded by a massive warrior named Tsun.
The man stared at the depiction of the towering, muscular figure carved into the stone. Tsun, the guardian of the bridge to Sovngarde—a warrior of immense strength. A grin stretched across his face as he looked down at his own body, examining the thick, corded muscles and the sheer size of his frame.
"Tsun," he muttered to himself. The name felt solid. He repeated it under his breath, letting it settle in his mind. It was as good a name as any. Satisfied with his decision, he turned his attention back to the tomb. The carvings had been fascinating, but they hadn't given him a clear direction. He needed to find a way out—or at least figure out what kind of trouble he was walking into.
He wandered through the tomb, the air growing colder and heavier with every step. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint echoes of his movements. The stone walls seemed to close in around him, the carvings becoming more intricate and as he progressed. Eventually, he found himself in a narrow corridor lined with alcoves. The remains of ancient warriors rested in each one, their weapons and armor long corroded by time. He couldn't help but feel uneasy, his sharp senses picking up on something... off.
He paused, his eyes scanning the darkness.
And then he heard it—a faint shuffle, the sound of something dragging across the stone floor. He froze, his body tensing instinctively. From one of the alcoves, a figure lurched forward. Its flesh was withered and pale, its eyes glowing with an eerie blue light. The Draugr raised a rusted sword, letting out a guttural growl as it advanced.
Tsun's first instinct was to move back, but his body didn't flinch. Instead, a strange calm settled over him. He clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking loudly in the silent corridor.
The Draugr charged. Its movements were jerky but fast, and before he could react, the blade slashed across his chest.
Tsun stumbled back, more out of shock than pain. He looked down and saw a thin line where the sword had cut his skin, but the blade hadn't penetrated. His flesh had resisted it, the wound barely a scratch despite the force behind the strike.
"What the hell?" he muttered, running his hand over the shallow mark.
The Draugr didn't give him time to think. It lunged again, swinging its sword with a feral snarl. This time, Tsun sidestepped, his movements surprisingly fluid for someone his size. The creature swung again, aiming for his neck. Instinct took over. He reached out and caught the blade mid-swing. It bit into his palm, but only slightly. He stared at the weapon, then at the Draugr, before yanking it from its grip with a single pull.
The Draugr didn't hesitate. It lunged at him with its bony hands, clawing and hissing. Tsun reacted without thinking, his fist colliding with its chest.
The sound of impact echoed through the corridor like a crack of thunder. The Draugr was flung backward, slamming into the wall with enough force to shatter the brittle stone. It crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
Tsun stared at his hand, flexing his fingers. The power he felt was exhilarating, almost intoxicating. He wasn't just strong—he was something beyond human. Before he could process it, more shuffling sounds filled the corridor. Two more Draugr emerged from the shadows, their weapons drawn.
"Alright," Tsun muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Let's see what this body can do."
The first Draugr charged, its rusted axe aimed at his head. He ducked low, his movements quick and precise, and drove his shoulder into its chest. The force sent it flying, its body smashing into the second Draugr with enough momentum to knock them both to the ground. Tsun didn't wait for them to recover. He grabbed the closest Draugr by the arm and swung it like a ragdoll, slamming it into the other, the corridor filled with the sound of snapping bones and groaning stone.
One of the Draugr managed to get back to its feet, its glowing eyes fixed on him. It swung its sword in a wide arc, aiming for his midsection. He caught the blade again, this time snapping it in half with his bare hands.
The Draugr lunged, its claws outstretched. Tsun grabbed it by the head and squeezed. The creature's skull cracked like an overripe fruit, and it slumped lifelessly to the ground.
The final Draugr hesitated, its glowing eyes flickering as if it understood the futility of the fight.
"Smart move," Tsun said, his voice low and steady. But the creature didn't retreat. Instead, it let out a guttural roar and charged blindly, its broken sword raised high.
Tsun stepped aside, letting it stumble past him. Before it could recover, he grabbed it by the back of the neck and slammed it into the ground with enough force to leave a dent in the stone floor.
He stood over the crumpled remains of the Draugr, his chest heaving with excitement as he surveyed the carnage. The corridor was littered with shattered bones and broken weapons. He crouched down and examined the remains of the Draugr. Their weapons were useless, too degraded by time to be of any use, but their armor was still intact.
Carefully, he stripped one of the Draugr of its chest plate and bracers. The metal was crude and dented, but it was better than nothing. He strapped the pieces onto his body, the armor fitting snugly over his broad frame.
"Not exactly stylish," he muttered, adjusting the straps, "but it'll do."
With his makeshift armor secured, he stood and surveyed the corridor. The carvings on the walls seemed to continue deeper into the tomb, leading him further into the unknown.
He took a deep breath, his enhanced senses picking up the faintest hints of movement in the distance. More Draugr, perhaps. Or something worse.
"Guess I'll find out," he muttered, stepping forward into the darkness.
To be continued...
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AN: I always thought that a Pillar man sorry would work well in Skyrim, tbh the pillar men as a concept are pretty cool. Anyway with his abilities he's obviously gonna be pretty strong, I'm gonna change a few things with Skyrim, not much but more to just add a bit of flavour and give the Pillar Men a background, also adding Hamon to the story cause I think it would be cool for the Dawnguard to have it.)
Support would be appreciated.
patreon.com/Jojoworks