For Simon, crafting such a third-generation mech was a trivial matter; by setting aside a little free time each day, it only took him a week.
For Serana, this was a creation entirely beyond her imagination. "Dwemer machines?"
"Partially. I drew inspiration and wisdom from Dwemer technology, combined with some of my own research, to create this product. Chanel is a good name; in my mind, it represents luxury and elegance. You can try it out, consider it an extension of your own body."
"An extension of my body?"
"Yes, it will give you the warmth of a nest."
Indeed, anyone who has used a mech knows this feeling—the countless undead connected to the pilot's mind, the mechanical Core in harmony with their spirit. The former flows, while the latter remains still yet pulsates, as if a heart pumping blood.
The mech's frontal armor opened layer by layer like petals, a process that never grew tiresome no matter how many times one watched it. The internal cockpit was a capsule-shaped cavity, and when lying back inside, one could feel a gentle force field supporting the body, light and airy, as if soaring through a sea of clouds.
The operator inside the cabin seemed to be asleep, yet also reborn. The only difference from their usual state was the absence of complex sensory input; more accurately, the perception became indirect, no longer provoking emotional changes. The undead would transmit tactile and other information back, and the helmet's intricate enchantment provided powerful insight. However, none of this was very direct; it wasn't information summarized by human senses, like looking through a net—you could see and touch, but you didn't really care.
Great power and defense, along with diminished empathy—this was the pilot's state.
No wonder Jonas had once engaged in widespread slaughter; piloting a mech was like a game. No matter the mountains of blades and seas of fire, the collapsing earth and cracking ground outside, inside the cockpit, one could close their eyes, mutter to themselves, unaffected by force and devoid of emotion.
Serana piloted Chanel through the Pure Land, and Simon brought Jonas and Dilo here as well.
"Welcome. This is my Oblivion realm, or call it the Land of Tranquility, as you wish." Simon called Dilo aside privately.
"Woah, Mr. Baishan, this place is really grand! But your words remind me of that old man in the College library. Hey, that library is amazing too! From the outside, it looks like a tiny door, but inside it's as big as a plaza, with bookshelves as numerous as pine needles. You could never read them all. Some apprentices say someone died in the library three years ago and wasn't found until then…" Dilo babbled on incessantly. For him, once something surpassed his comprehension, it made no difference whether it was a treasure or a rusty stone.
Simon had no intention of explaining the difference between the Pure Land and expanded space to him. "The skills you've learned are quick to master. I've taught you how to gain power, but you don't yet have enough courage to bear that power. Jonas is a Dragonborn, a born hero. If you are with him, you might be overshadowed your entire life. In that case, are you still willing?"
"Jona is great! I really want to go on adventures with him." The big boy's eyes were filled with contentment.
"That's excellent. What if you die along the way?"
Dilo froze. "What's there to hesitate about? As long as I die in battle, then…" His tone was initially full of ambition, but perhaps he imagined the scene of death in his mind, and suddenly, he was speechless.
"…To be honest, I don't know. Uh, sir, you won't think I'm a coward because of this, will you?" Dilo's face flushed red.
"Don't worry, there will be opportunities. We're about to embark on a perilous adventure, and you two might be left far behind, facing danger alone. And each of you will only receive a tattered leather armor, a longsword or axe, or some other un-enchanted steel weapon. Besides that, you'll have to find your own food, shelter, and everything else…
"Most importantly, don't tell that kid about any of this beforehand. Otherwise, he won't be able to resist trying to be clever."
…
The large house in the Pure Land had enough single rooms. The two boys were to stay together. Simon prepared a coffin for Serana, though there were also comfortable wooden beds available. As for himself, he had no intention of sleeping.
Sleeping in the Land of Eternal Day required tightly closing doors and windows and drawing heavy curtains to create an artificial darkness and silence indoors. This act was unusual and added an extra layer of ritual to sleep.
Dilo tossed and turned restlessly on the thick cotton mattress, while Jonas sat at the desk, practicing fireballs like Faralda.
"Hey, get some rest. We're about to set off." Dilo turned to look at Jonas, forcing a smile.
"Didi, I'm thinking about something. Tell me, is there still a need to pursue those who once abandoned you?"
"Missing your mom?"
"Yes. I don't know how she's doing. My father supported the army and the Empire during the Great War, but he didn't have much say. It's ironic that loyal subjects of the Empire were purged after the victory."
"How do you know this?"
"I've read many books, and I'll never forget that rainy night."
"Uh, your mother is an adult; she can take care of herself. As for your revenge, couldn't you just kill those ugly people in power later?"
"Didi, I'm so sad."
"Why are you sad?"
"I don't know. I'm just sad. I have many wishes, but I might not be able to fulfill any of them."
"Usually, you're so decisive. Why are you so down today?"
"I just suddenly realized that Mr. Lu can't help me my whole life."
"Oh, you know about the adventure?"
"What adventure?"
"Nothing, nothing."
…
Simon and Serana had talked intermittently for a long time.
He had also roughly figured out his recent experiences.
His journey to the Soul Cairn yielded little, and little was left behind. Combined, it seemed to be a tangled mess of ideas. Simon reviewed it carefully: first, to fulfill a wish; second, to obtain a scroll; third, to make companions; fourth… it seemed to add another layer of bewilderment.
Simon sometimes sighed at life—when calm, it was like a vast, boundless ocean, where even a tiny fishing sampan dared to drift far across the ocean with the gentle breeze; but when storms raged, one had to fight with all their might, struggling for survival, the world above and below the sea mixing together, drinking much bitter, salty seawater, vomiting it out, or not.
Simon swallowed the bitter water. Now it was sunny and calm again, but that mouthful of bitter water still churned in his stomach.
What exactly had he forgotten? Something very important, yet not very important.
Important because these forgotten things contained a great deal of information.
Not important because these things were not meant to be etched into memory; forcing it would yield no results.
The root of all these tangled problems was ultimately insufficient power.
As long as one possessed the power to crush all storms with righteous might, wherever they went, it would be a smooth path.
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