And the resurrected dragons, as avatars of Akatosh, could naturally use a portion of Dragon Shouts based on their own power.
However, the Witcher himself had no dragon god bloodline and would probably find it difficult to absorb dragon souls or the power of the Dragon God like the Dragonborn.
If he wanted to use Dragon Shout, he could only consume the most basic soul power, turning it from a common skill into a consumable skill.
This method had both advantages and disadvantages. The advantage was that he could freely control the power of the Dragon Shout, without being limited by the world, and could use it in other worlds.
The disadvantage was that each use of Dragon Shout required soul power, so it had to be used cautiously.
Guilliman exhaled, his mood still quite joyful.
Although his Dragon Shout had become a consumable, general-purpose version, it was a free ability, and he wouldn't refuse it.
Moreover, he didn't need to be like Freya, who had to overcome various Dragon Shout-recorded challenges, learn inscriptions, and absorb dragon souls in her future adventures to activate Dragon Shouts.
He just needed to spar with the Dragonborn girl a few times when he was free, and he could share the Dragon Shout ability with Freya, which was incredibly convenient and quick.
Just as the Witcher's hands caressed Freya's soft and elastic lower abdomen, his fingers tracing the girl's 'mermaid line' back and forth.
A rush of footsteps came from outside the bedroom door, along with the voice of Irileth, the Jarl's Housecarl.
"Mr. Guilliman, Ms. Freya."
"Please come with us outside the city as soon as possible. Guards have already spotted signs of a dragon, and it could attack our city at any moment."
Irileth's voice was quite anxious; she was clearly very worried that the dragon would harm Whiterun, the city she protected.
Hearing this voice, Freya immediately woke up.
The girl first shook her head, seemingly a bit dazed from last night.
But soon, she looked down at the equally naked Witcher, and then at her own body.
The girl pursed her lips, revealing a slightly shy smile, then stood up directly, put on her linen tunic, and said:
"Get up, Guilliman."
"You help me put on my armor."
...Neither the Witcher nor the Dragonborn girl were squeamish people.
In less than ten minutes, they had put on their armor and gear and followed the Housecarl to the outskirts of Whiterun, to the guard tower.
It was still early morning, so perhaps this dragon had just woken up and decided to raid the city today, leading to this attack.
By the time the Witcher and Freya arrived.
The dragon's fire had already ignited the watchtower, killing several Whiterun guards, and it was devouring the charred flesh of the guards.
Its scales were incredibly hard, easily deflecting arrows shot by the soldiers.
Its sharp claws, when faced with the soldiers' sword attacks, needed only a gentle swipe to send an ordinary soldier flying.
Several battlemages attempted to attack it with fireballs, but they were all blocked by its scales, with little effect.
It still had to be the Dragonborn; Freya's archery was incredibly precise, truly that of a master archer.
Before she even got close, the longbow in her hand hummed, firing a barbed arrow that accurately struck the dragon's eye.
A piercing shriek!
The poor dragon immediately flapped its wings, knocking away several soldiers surrounding it, and tried to fly into the sky.
Unfortunately, the Witcher was not going to give it a chance; he directly poured a large amount of magic into the Sword of Radiance.
Under the astonished gaze of the Housecarl and Freya, his figure instantly vanished, then reappeared, flashing above the dragon's head.
Justice from above!
The sharp Sword of Radiance, infused with magic, almost formed a massive sword light about one and a half meters long. In the Witcher's hand, it slashed down from top to bottom with immense force, cutting precisely into the dragon's slender neck.
And this dragon attacking the watchtower was only the weakest young dragon, about five or six meters long, its neck even less thick than a normal person's waist, utterly unable to withstand the blade of the Sword of Radiance.
A cracking sound! Blood gushed out!
The dragon, which had not even had time to take flight, was thus directly beheaded with a single slash, crashing to the ground with a rumble.
And its severed head rolled several meters.
Its eyes stared wide, as if it hadn't even understood how it had been instantly beheaded.
Guilliman quickly flicked off the dragon blood clinging to the Sword of Radiance, then walked over to the somewhat stunned Dragonborn girl, pulling Freya to the vicinity of the dragon's corpse, and said with a smile:
"No need to worry, Freya."
"With your strength, you can easily take down these flying lizards."
"Ultimately, they are just powerful beasts."
Freya snapped out of her daze, staring blankly at the dragon's corpse, just about to say something.
Suddenly, the young dragon's corpse underwent a drastic change.
Countless forces, both tangible and intangible, continuously emanated from the dragon's body, then, like a whirlpool, were absorbed into Freya's body.
Including Irileth, the Housecarl, and the surviving guards, all watched in stunned silence.
A continuous stream of power was absorbed into Freya's body.
In just about a minute, the dragon's corpse, which had just been full of flesh and blood, was already as if completely drained, turning into a pile of massive bones and scattered dragon scales on the ground.
Such a horrifying scene did not cause Irileth and the guards to feel fear; instead, it made these traditional Nords recall the ancient prophecy they had sung since childhood.
The Housecarl first looked at the Witcher with a complex expression, then said to Freya, as if with emotion:
"Dragonborn!"
"You truly are the Dragonborn, Miss Freya."
"Just as the legends say, the Dragonborn has returned."
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