Simon opened his eyes; he had fallen asleep in the corridor.
He seemed to have forgotten something. He turned his head and saw a new bas-relief on the dim wall, depicting one person embracing another from behind.
He slowly sat up, extending his hand. Silvery-white fur and mottled greenish scales spread across his arm. The fur trembled slightly, and the reflection from the scales resembled the gaze of a malicious villain.
His thoughts were somewhat chaotic. He reflected on his state: his human logic was weakening, while the troll's ferocity and the serpent's sinister cunning were rising. He looked at the surrounding darkness, feeling incredibly comfortable, yet utterly disgusted by his own light. Simon flicked his forked tongue, and the hidden information in the air was transmitted to him—the smell of dust and the smell of ectoplasm, one dry, one ethereal, both very distinct.
Simon slowly lowered his hand, bent his knees and back, and pressed his palms to the ground. This posture made him feel relaxed.
He wanted to drink fresh blood, to tear thick skin and tough muscle with sharp fangs. The tingling in his gums and the warmth in his stomach were innate signals of hunger…
Simon was momentarily lost in thought, then slowly stood up straight. He used his sharp claws to tear off his skin from his limbs, waist, abdomen, and neck. No blood flowed out, but rather a faint blue mist. The skin he had discarded on the ground gradually dissolved, seeping into the dark brown stone bricks of the floor.
He felt no pain, only weariness, to the point of feeling as if he might fall into a deep slumber. In the darkness ahead, Candlelight flickered, beckoning him to continue forward.
As he moved forward, the depths of the passage seemed to inhale like a giant beast. In an instant, thick fog enveloped him, which was of no consequence. Simon walked along, supported by the wall.
The bas-relief rubbed against his broken palm—humanoid undulations, stories of the mortal world, with whispers of idle chatter vaguely caressing his ears.
"My dearest Mulwei, today I went to the Temple of Mara and bought a Charm. This will be a testament to our love." This was the voice of a young man.
"Dutar, my child, please do not die in Cyrodiil." An elderly mother.
"The Daedric Artifact is mine! Despicable mentor, do not even think of monopolizing Azura's Star!" A man. Simon vaguely remembered needing to help Azura's priest recover the Daedric Artifact; this thought flashed and vanished.
Love, kinship, fame, power, might, magic—things that drive people mad, excite them, break their hearts, enrage them, terrify them—all were beneath his palm, all were in his ear. Simon felt boundless souls pressing into his body.
Another gust of wind blew, and Simon closed his eyes once more.
…
Durnehviir took flight before the young man hurled his spear, but It was too late to prevent the strike from piercing Its chest. Dragon blood gushed from Its front and back, each drop as heavy as mercury. Dark purple drops of blood splattered on the ground, creating small craters.
It let out a painful shriek, flying through the air, raining blood.
Serana exclaimed, "He did it! Dragon slaying!"
"No, not yet," Valerica said calmly.
"I have faith in him." Serana stopped watching the battle and focused on clearing the surrounding skeletons, ensuring the young man had space to fight freely.
"Winter, Gale, Ice!" Simon roared, and a stream of biting frost pursued the giant Dragon in the sky. Durnehviir also roared, "Yol—Toor Shul!" [Dragon Shout: Fire Breath]
Ice and fire clashed, the divine general turned his mount, and the giant Dragon dove headfirst.
Fierce, warm winds swept through, scattering skeletons, and all creatures bowed their heads. Whether living or dead, whether demon or elemental, everyone watched this ultimate, decisive blow.
The Dragon's pride would not allow It to retreat, and the human's courage spurred him to charge.
Victory or defeat, life or death—all would be decided in this instant!
Durnehviir opened Its massive maw, wrapping around Simon like a net. Simon concentrated all the power of his Divine Descent enhancement into his right hand, drawing it to his waist. The armored bone horse, now unarmored, forcefully crashed through the skeletons blocking its path, bone fragments flying from its body, not stopping its steps even as it disintegrated.
The giant maw closed, like a guillotine falling!
A punch met it head-on, like an anti-aircraft cannon!
In the bursting light, Durnehviir let out a mournful shriek.
"Who won?" Serana peered anxiously, her eyes tearing up from the blinding light.
"It should be the boy."
It was indeed the boy!
Simon leaped high, punching through the giant Dragon's upper jaw. Even the Dragon bone, tough to the point of being almost unbreakable, was finally perforated. The young man's slender body emerged from the punch-mark, stepping on the Dragon's head, one step at a time, until he reached its brow, looking down to meet the Dragon's gaze.
In Durnehviir's eyes, there was no anger, only peace and contentment. It bowed Its head to the ground, in a relaxed posture.
"Morokei sil, oblaan dii faaz. (Glorious soul, end my suffering.)"
Simon nodded, closed his eyes, and unleashed one of the profound mysteries of his Mind-Force martial arts, his current strongest attack.
Mind-Force? Absolute Second Stage? Great Divine Might Palm!
The thick clouds in the sky were pushed away by the air current. The massive palm print caused half of the Graveyard to collapse, and the ground sank into a large pit. The Dragon's body was intact, but its bones were completely shattered.
"Well done," Durnehviir said softly, Its body burning with purple flames as Its Dragon Soul ascended into the sky.
The sea of skeletons calmed, then gradually collapsed.
After this battle, everything settled into place.
Serana ran over. The young Simon nodded to her, then dissipated.
Turiano gently stroked a small skull at his waist. He sensed a weak soul slumbering within it.
"It's good that he didn't die. It's good…"
Serana and Valerica conversed for a while, and after reaching an agreement, they walked together towards Turiano.
The Vampire Matron, upon seeing this simple-minded Nord, immediately said, "There's something wrong with your soul."
Turiano rolled his eyes, "What are you talking about?!"
"All souls in the Soul Cairn have problems; abnormality is the norm. But you are precisely too normal."
Turiano angrily said, "Are you looking for trouble?"
Serana soothed him, "Calm down. My mother has studied magic for thousands of years and has much to say about your condition."
"Oh." Turiano was indeed calmed down.
"The souls wandering here are already mentally exhausted, and they find no rest here. This place is full of malice towards souls, whether it's those floating stone spires, the soul-trapping cages, or the soul-draining soul stones, or even the Black Skull wandering in the Graveyard, the Lord of Truth's preachers, and so on. Ultimately, the fate of this world is to be devoured by the eye in the sky, turning into utter nothingness."
Serana looked shocked. Turiano frowned, "That's not right, I'm not sick!"
"Your mental state is very unstable. Serana said that you completely lost consciousness for a period, becoming dazed. This indicates that the power helping you resist the world's assimilation is not limitless. You must escape from here as soon as possible, and only our mother-daughter blood can open the passage. You must come with us, but you have to hand over that boy's soul."
Turiano looked bewildered, "Wh-what…"
Serana rushed over, grabbing his light, ethereal ghost head and shaking it vigorously, "Don't fall asleep! Wake up!"
What happened next caused the two Vampires to simultaneously show expressions of shock.
A perfectly good seven-foot man gradually transformed into a woman.
Gaelina lowered her head, gently stroking Simon's skull, "My son, you have come here too."
"No wonder!" Valerica exclaimed.
"Mother, have you seen the mystery of this soul?"
"Of course. What admirable love."
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