If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Jyrik fought fiercely, swinging his war axe with desperate strength, but he was outmatched. Lydia battered his defenses with her heavy shield, while Jenassa kept him blinded with a flurry of precise dagger strikes. But as the undead commander took a heavy blow from Aerion's greatsword, the green aura around the sphere suddenly flared back to life. The tether re established itself, and the protective energy washed back over Jyrik.
Lydia's next sword strike bounced harmlessly off his armor.
"The artifact is recovering!" Aerion yelled, dodging a point blank lightning blast from Jyrik's staff. He couldn't risk leaving the frontline to cast again. "Master Tolfdir! The barrier! Disrupt it again!"
Tolfdir, having observed Aerion's specific application of shock magic, immediately understood the requirement. The old mage headed over to the end of the walkway, thrusting his hands forward.
A massive, dual cast stream of Sparks rained down from the balcony, striking the swirling green aura of the Eye.
The barrier destabilized once more, the protective field dropping from Jyrik.
"Flawless timing, Master!" Aerion praised loudly, cementing Tolfdir's role as the crucial, tactical linchpin of the encounter.
With the protection removed for the final time, the group closed the net.
Jyrik swung his war axe in a wide, desperate arc. Lydia caught the blow on her ebony shield, the impact jarring her arm, but she held the line. She aggressively pushed forward, using the heavy rim of the shield to bash Jyrik's staff arm, knocking the crackling weapon from his grip.
Jenassa darted behind him, driving her daggers deep into the back of his knees, dropping the ancient warlord to the stone floor.
Aerion stepped forward. He raised the massive Ebony Greatsword high above his head, his augmented muscles coiling with immense, localized tension.
With a roar of exertion, he brought the heavy blade down in a devastating, flawless executioner's strike. The volcanic glass sheared cleanly through the ancient, rusted iron collar, completely severing Jyrik Gauldurson's head from his shoulders.
The headless corpse slumped to the floor, the dark magic animating it finally, permanently extinguished.
The chamber fell into an ringing silence, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of the warriors and the faint, returning hum of the massive sphere rotating above them.
Aerion rested the tip of his greatsword against the stone, letting out a long, controlled breath. The fight had been tense, chaotic, and physically demanding. It felt incredibly earned.
He looked down at the pile of ash and bone. Resting near the severed head was the Staff of Jyrik Gauldurson, its lightning crystal still glowing faintly.
Tolfdir hurried down the wooden stairs, his breath coming in short puffs. He stopped beside the High Elf, looking at the staff.
"You should keep that, Aerion," Tolfdir offered, his voice filled with profound gratitude. "If you had not correctly interpreted my observation regarding the artifact's tether, and executed the disruption so flawlessly, we would likely all be dead on this floor. You are the reason we survived this chamber."
Aerion chuckled softly, the metallic resonance of the mask hiding his quiet satisfaction at how perfectly the deception had worked. He reached down and picked up the staff, feeling the familiar, heavy wood and the potent shock enchantment woven into its core.
"I accept the gift with profound thanks, Master Tolfdir," Aerion replied, securing the staff to his back alongside his bow.
He then knelt beside the corpse, searching the ancient armor. Hidden beneath the rusted iron breastplate, secured by a heavy silver chain, was a fragmented piece of jewelry.
The first fragment of the Gauldur Amulet.
Aerion lifted it from the dust. He reached up to his own neck, unclasping the simple, generic silver necklace he had been wearing since Whiterun, and stored it in his inventory. He then placed the Gauldur Amulet fragment around his neck, letting it rest beneath his heavy steel cuirass.
The moment the ancient artifact settled against his chest, the enchantment engaged.
[Magicka increased by 30 points.]
The benefit was immediate, but subtle. He felt his vast, internal reservoir of arcane energy expand slightly, a cool, refreshing current settling into his mind. He appreciated the tangible improvement, but he didn't make a display of it, simply adjusting his collar and standing back up.
As he continued his inspection of the corpse, his steel clad fingers brushed against a rolled, brittle piece of parchment tucked into the heavy leather belt.
He pulled it free. It was a Writ of Sealing, detailing the specific crimes and the eternal imprisonment of the entity they had just destroyed.
Aerion turned and handed the fragile parchment to the old master. "Read this, Master Tolfdir. I believe it identifies our opponent."
Tolfdir carefully unrolled the parchment, his watery eyes squinting in the dim green light as he translated the ancient Nordic runes. As he read, the color slowly drained from his weathered face. He looked up, absolutely stunned.
"By the Gods..." Tolfdir breathed, his voice trembling. "This... this is a Writ of Imprisonment from the First Era. Aerion, do you know who we just destroyed? This was Jyrik Gauldurson."
Lydia frowned, wiping the dark blood from her ebony sword. She looked at Jenassa, who simply shrugged.
"Who is Jyrik Gauldurson, Master Mage?" Lydia asked, genuinely confused. "I know the histories of the ancient heroes and the Dragon Cults, but I have never heard that name sung in any mead hall."
Aerion stepped forward, seamlessly integrating his modern, internet researched lore into his scholarly persona.
"You have not heard his name because it was deliberately, violently erased from history, Lydia," Aerion explained, his voice taking on the cadence of a historian delivering a dark lecture. "He was the eldest son of Archmage Gauldur, a man who served as the primary advisor to King Harald and also the Arch Mage of the College in the First Era."
Aerion paced slowly around the ashes.
"Gauldur was wise, powerful, and beloved," Aerion continued, weaving the legend. "But his three sons, Jyrik, Sigdis, and Mikrul, were consumed by ambition and greed. They murdered their father in his sleep and stole his source of power, a legendary, master crafted amulet. They divided the amulet into three fragments, took one piece each, and used the stolen power to lay waste to the surrounding villages in a terrifying reign of terror."
"I... I recall fragments of this legend," Tolfdir added quietly, nodding slowly. "High King Harald sent his personal battlemage, Geirmund, and a company of elite warriors to hunt the brothers down. It was a bloody, costly campaign. When they finally cornered and killed the brothers, the King ordered their names completely stricken from all records, forbidding anyone to speak of them, lest their dark legend inspire others."
"Precisely," Aerion agreed. He looked at Tolfdir. "I encountered a censored ancient text referencing the Gauldur family during my studies in the grand libraries of Summerset. It seems the legends were entirely factual. We have just slain a monster of the First Era."
With the historical identity of their foe resolved, the heavy silence of the chamber returned.
Tolfdir's attention, inevitably, drifted back up to the absolute center of the room. The massive, rotating sphere continued its silent, majestic orbit, the green runes shifting and dancing across its surface.
The old mage walked slowly to the edge of the central foundation, staring up at the Eye. The fear was gone, replaced entirely by an overwhelming, intoxicating academic obsession.
"Aerion," Tolfdir whispered, unable to look away from the swirling magical barrier. "I must confess... this artifact is not mentioned in any of the texts, scrolls, or prophecies I have ever studied. It predates the College. It may predate the Nords themselves."
Aerion walked up beside him, his golden eyes reflecting the green light through the slits of his mask.
"I agree, Master Tolfdir," Aerion replied softly. "We have absolutely no idea what this object truly is, what it is fundamentally capable of, or what catastrophic consequences could follow from moving or interacting with it."
Tolfdir turned to the High Elf, his face flushed with excitement.
"But think of the possibilities, Aerion!" Tolfdir argued passionately. "An object of this magnitude, radiating this much pure magicka... it could answer countless magical mysteries that scholars have spent generations trying to solve! The College of Winterhold must claim this. We must organize a heavy transport detail immediately. We can bring it back to the Hall of the Elements. We can study it, test its properties under controlled conditions, and perhaps uncover the very secrets of creation!"
Aerion stood perfectly still. The bronze mask gave away nothing of his thoughts.
"No."
The single word fell like a heavy stone into the chamber, cutting cleanly through Tolfdir's academic euphoria.
Tolfdir blinked, utterly taken aback by the blunt, absolute refusal. "No? But... Aerion, the academic value of this discovery is unparalleled! It belongs in the hands of the greatest magical minds in Skyrim!"
Aerion turned to fully face the old master. He didn't raise his voice, and he didn't inject any emotion into his words. He presented a cold, unassailable fortress of logic and political reality.
"Moving an artifact of this incomprehensible, unknown power into the center of a populated College is the height of academic hubris, Master Tolfdir," Aerion explained, his metallic voice echoing with stern authority. "You do not know what happens if it is jostled during transport. You do not know what happens if it is exposed to the conflicting magical auras of fifty different mages casting spells in the courtyard. It could detonate and wipe Winterhold off the map entirely."
Tolfdir frowned, recognizing the inherent physical danger, but the lure of knowledge was strong. "We would be careful. We would establish containment wards—"
"And what of the political danger?" Aerion interrupted smoothly, striking the fatal blow to Tolfdir's plan.
Aerion stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Think carefully, Master. If we drag this glowing beacon of infinite magicka out of the ice and place it in the center of the College... the Thalmor will know about it before the sun sets."
Tolfdir flinched. The name struck a deep nerve.
"Ancano is already embedded within your walls, watching your every move," Aerion reminded him brutally. "Do you truly believe the Aldmeri Dominion will simply allow a provincial college to study a potential weapon of mass destruction in peace? The absolute second word reaches the Summerset Isles, the Thalmor will find a political excuse to seize control of the artifact, or they will simply assassinate anyone attempting to study it. You would be handing them a loaded crossbow pointed directly at the Empire."
Tolfdir stared at the Eye, the brilliant green light suddenly looking far more sinister. The old mage's shoulders slumped as the harsh, undeniable reality of Skyrim's political landscape crushed his academic dreams.
"My strongest, most vital argument is simple, Master Tolfdir," Aerion concluded quietly. "The fewer people who know this Eye exists, the better for everyone."
Aerion turned his gaze back to the swirling barrier, letting the silence stretch for a moment before invoking the ultimate authority.
"Consider the warning we received from the Psijic Mage," Aerion said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "The Psijic Order broke a century of absolute silence to warn us that we have set events into motion that could lead to disaster. I now believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that this artifact is the disaster they were referring to."
Aerion looked back at Tolfdir. "Whatever this Eye is, it is vastly safer to leave it exactly where it is for now, buried in the ice, and prevent the knowledge of its existence from spreading beyond this chamber."
Tolfdir was reluctant. He hated the idea of leaving such a monumental discovery untouched in the dark. He rubbed his beard furiously, his eyes darting between the Eye of Magnus and the masked High Elf. But he was not a fool, and he could not deny the absolute truth of Aerion's logic.
"You... you make a compelling pragmatic argument, Aerion," Tolfdir finally conceded, a deep, heavy sigh escaping his lips. "If Ancano were to learn of this... the consequences for the College, and perhaps all of Skyrim, would be catastrophic."
The conversation had not escalated into an argument, it was simply two highly experienced, rational thinkers reaching an incredibly uncomfortable, necessary compromise.
"Then we are in agreement," Aerion nodded. He gestured to Lydia and Jenassa, pulling them into the circle of trust. "Only the four of us standing in this room, and Aeloria, when I inform her upon my return, shall know the full truth of what we have discovered today. The existence of this huge ball of sphere remains an absolute secret. I trust you understand the immense responsibility of this silence, Master Tolfdir."
Tolfdir straightened his posture, the gravity of the situation fully settling upon his shoulders. "I swear it, Aerion. My lips are sealed."
With the artifact's location politically and physically secured, Aerion turned his gaze back up to the massive, rotating sphere.
The Eye of Magnus hummed, casting its brilliant, shifting green light across the dark stone of the ancient capital.
The massive, rotating sphere hummed above the abyss, the deep green light casting long, shifting shadows across the dark stone of the ancient capital. The sheer magnitude of the magical energy radiating from the artifact made the air feel thick and heavy, like standing beneath a collapsing wave.
While Tolfdir stood frozen at the edge of the stone platform, entirely overwhelmed by the arcane pressure, Aerion moved.
His heavy steel boots crunched softly against the frost-rimed masonry as he walked away from the ashes of Jyrik Gauldurson and approached the center of the chamber. He stopped directly beneath the hovering artifact.
"Aerion, step back!" Tolfdir warned, his voice cracking with genuine alarm. "We do not know the containment thresholds of that barrier! Touching an unknown artifact of that scale could trigger a catastrophic magical discharge! It could vaporize you!"
Aerion turned his head slightly, the bronze mask of Krosis giving away nothing of his thoughts.
"I will be incredibly careful, Master Tolfdir," Aerion assured him smoothly. "But we cannot understand it if we do not test its physical properties."
He turned back to the Eye. Aerion didn't hesitate. He raised his left hand, the thick steel of his Nordic Carved gauntlet gleaming in the green light, and reached directly into the swirling, crackling magical barrier.
The moment his steel-clad fingers brushed against the smooth, huming surface of the Eye of Magnus, his transmigrator System violently seized control of his consciousness.
The physical world fell away, instantly replaced by the semi-translucent, golden text of his digital interface. The notification that blared across his vision was not a simple skill increase; it was a massive, system-critical alert.
[CRITICAL ARTIFACT DETECTED: The Eye of Magnus]
[Description: An immensely powerful, extra dimensional magical artifact lost to the annals of history. A fragment of creation.]
[System Override Available: Do you wish to bind this artifact to your list of skills with the assistance of the System?]
[YES / NO]
Aerion froze, his hand pressed against the cool surface of the sphere.
Beneath the bronze mask, his golden eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock. He had expected to perhaps siphon a fraction of its ambient energy, or simply study the runes. He had never, in his wildest calculations, expected his System to possess the sheer cosmic authority to directly override and bind an artifact of this magnitude, even though his system presence itself was already an anomaly.
The implications slammed into his analytical mind with the force of a falling mountain.
If he accepted this prompt, the Eye wouldn't just be a battery he dragged around, it would become a part of his very soul. It would elevate him from a master mage into one of the most terrifyingly powerful mortal entities to ever walk the face of Tamriel. It would completely shatter the timeline, dramatically accelerate every single one of his geopolitical and economic plans, and grant him the absolute freedom to act without the constraint of magicka exhaustion.
'But the danger,' Aerion thought, his breath catching in his throat. 'If the Thalmor, or the Daedric Princes, or the Divines themselves realize I have assimilated this artifact of Magnus... I will become the most hunted entity in creation.'
He stared at the golden letters. The risk was apocalyptic. But the reward... the reward was absolute supremacy.
Aerion did not hesitate. He mentally confirmed the prompt.
YES.
The System immediately engaged the synchronization protocols.
In the physical world, the reaction was instantaneous and blindingly violent. A massive, erupting nova of brilliant green blue light violently exploded from the artifact, entirely consuming the central chamber of Saarthal.
"Shield your eyes!" Tolfdir screamed, throwing his arms up and casting a desperate ward as the radiant pressure physically pushed him backward. Lydia and Jenassa dropped to one knee, throwing their arms over their faces against the blinding flash.
The magical pressure in the room was immense, vibrating through the ancient stone and shaking the very foundations of the crypt.
But at the absolute center of the nova, Aerion stood perfectly still.
He didn't feel the crushing pressure, and the light did not blind him. He experienced something entirely different. He felt the vast, cold, alien intelligence of the artifact... yield. It did not resist his transmigrator soul. It responded to the System's override protocols with a smooth, terrifyingly flawless integration.
When the blinding light finally began to fade, pulling back like a receding tide, the cavernous chamber was plunged into heavy, natural shadows.
For a long, terrifying moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing of the retainers.
Tolfdir slowly lowered his arms, blinking away the afterimages of the flash. He looked toward the center of the room.
The enormous, monolithic sphere was gone.
"By the Eight..." Tolfdir whispered, stepping forward in sheer disbelief. "It... it vanished. Did it teleport? Did the containment fail?"
Then, Tolfdir realized the artifact hadn't disappeared at all.
Standing in the center of the room, looking entirely unharmed, was Aerion. And hovering effortlessly just two inches above the High Elf's open, steel clad palm, was the Eye of Magnus.
It had completely transformed. The massive, building sized sphere had condensed into a miniature, perfect replica of itself, no larger than an apple. It rotated slowly above his glove, retaining the exact same dense, shifting green runes and the same profound magical presence, only compressed into a highly portable form.
The sight left everyone absolutely stunned.
Tolfdir practically scrambled down the stone steps, ignoring his aching joints, entirely consumed by academic hysteria.
"Aerion! How... how is this possible?!" Tolfdir stammered, stopping just a few feet away, his watery eyes wide with shock. "The mass... the spatial compression! Why did the sphere shrink? Do you feel some kind of tether to it? Did the artifact communicate with your mind? Was this the result of a sympathetic magical bond?!"
Tolfdir's questions fired rapidly, the scholar desperately trying to redefine everything he knew about magical theory in the span of thirty seconds.
Aerion did not answer immediately. He was staring blindly ahead, completely distracted by the massive System notification glowing brightly in his vision.
He had gained a new skill.
[SKILL ACQUIRED: EYE OF MAGNUS — MAX LEVEL]
[Description: The Eye of Magnus is now permanently synchronized with the host system. It functions as an inexhaustible source of Magicka.
• External Capacity: ∞
• Regeneration: ∞
• Negligible spell consumption overhead.
• Grants exceptional perception and absolute control over external magical energy. Allows the host to analyze, optimize, absorb, redirect, and manipulate arcane forces at will.
• Grants the capacity to effortlessly maintain multiple concentration based spells simultaneously.
• The System has established the host as the sole authority, permanently locking out external interactions. The artifact may dynamically compress its physical manifestation for portability without any reduction in output.]
Aerion stared at the glowing golden text. He was genuinely overwhelmed.
This was not a simple stat boost. This wasn't an enchantment. This fundamentally shattered the ceiling of what was possible for a mortal mind to achieve.
He realized, with a creeping sense of terrifying clarity, that with effectively infinite Magicka and near perfect control, he could cast numerous Destruction magic continuously without ever tiring.
He could maintain dozens of overlapping protective wards indefinitely. He could theoretically fight an entire standing army by himself, provided he didn't allow a stray arrow or a blade to physically strike him. Mass destruction, teleportation magic, mass healing... the limits were entirely gone.
His thoughts drifted upward, beyond the armies of men, to the Daedric Princes. He understood now that their greatest limitation was not their raw power, but their inability to freely manifest within Mundus without risking catastrophic cosmic consequences. If he possessed infinite power on the mortal plane... could he challenge them?
The sheer absurdity of the power sitting in his palm felt entirely unreal. He had spent so long meticulously calculating his levels, carefully allocating his attributes, and gathering numerous advantages, that receiving a literal infinite battery felt like a glitch in reality.
Aerion mentally checked his status page. Where his Magicka pool normally sat, there were only two characters.
[External Capacity: ∞]
[Regeneration: ∞]
Aerion stared at the infinity symbols for several seconds.
And then, he laughed.
It was a spontaneous, rich, metallic chuckle that vibrated out from behind the bronze mask of Krosis. It wasn't sinister or manic, it was simply the genuine, bewildered reaction of a man who had just realized that the impossible was resting in his glove.
Unfortunately, given the terrifying bronze mask, the dark crypt, and the miniaturized cosmic artifact glowing in his hand, everyone around him interpreted the laughter very differently.
Tolfdir took a sharp step backward, genuine alarm flashing across his face.
"Lydia! Jenassa!" Tolfdir barked, his voice suddenly sharp and authoritative. "Do not draw your weapons, but remain alert! If the artifact has compromised his mind... if it has taken control of him, we must be prepared to intervene immediately!"
Lydia immediately raised her ebony shield, her dark eyes filled with conflicting loyalties and deep concern, while Jenassa dropped into a wary crouch, her hands hovering near her daggers. Aerion instantly snapped out of his shock, realizing exactly how his laughter had sounded. He lowered his hand, quickly closing his fist to obscure the glowing sphere, and held his other hand up in a placating gesture.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 710/710
Stamina: 740/740
Magicka: 980/980 [External Capacity & Regeneration: ∞]
Level: 200
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Dragon Master (MAX LEVEL), EYE OF MAGNUS (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+4)/Lightning(+2)/Frost(+2)) (Level 73/91/70), Restoration (Healing(+2)/Purify(+2)) (Level 50/75), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/90), Persuasion(+2) (Level 19), Smithing (Level 57), Sneak(+1) (Level 33), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting(+1) (Level 2), Light Armor(+2) (Level 0), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii Gron (Fade Spirit Bind), Su (Air), Laas (Life), Yol Toor (Fire Inferno), Kaan (Kyne), & Zul Mey Gut (Voice Fool Far)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, The Mirror, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Sapphire, Ruby, Dawnbreaker, Traveling Backpack (Supplies), Potion of Minor Magicka, Vampire Armor, Vampire Boots, Movarth's Golden Ash (Unique), Dwarven Sword, Elven Dagger, Potion of Healing, Gold Emerald Circlet, Scroll of Fire Storm, Iron Garnet Circlet, Iron Sapphire Circlet, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, Dwarven Shield, Wuuthrad's Fragments, Staff of Fireball, Mage Boots Of Weight, & Master Robes Of Destruction
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), Elven Sword, Amethysts, Potions of Plentiful Magicka, Scroll of Conjure Familiar, & Scroll of Magelight
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Flawless Sapphires, Gold Necklace, Iron Necklace, Petty Soul Gem (Filled), & Potions of Minor Magicka
4x Spider Eggs, Garnets, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
12x Black Soul Gem (Filled)
Weight: 92.41 KG / 670 KG
Septims: 81,082