Simon knew he had been played by Sheogorath.
But he didn't care at all.
The stag slowly stood up and transformed into Simon's appearance, and the doe also stood up, transforming into Serana's form.
"Thank you for your hard work."
"From now on, I'm the only lover you'll ever have!"
"Alright."
Sheogorath stepped out from the side, wearing black priest robes and clapping with an exaggerated expression.
"Impressive, impressive! Touching, touching!"
Simon asked Him, "Have you played enough? Isn't it time to tell me the whereabouts of the numidium?"
"No way! You say you've played enough just because you say so? I say I haven't!" Sheogorath waved his hand. "Let me see your later memories, hehe!"
Sheogorath quickly browsed through the memories until he saw a Divine Being with antlers on His head. A brilliant flower spun in His palm, and the Mad God was instantly sucked in, with Simon and Serana following closely behind.
The happy Mad God was suddenly unhappy. "Eh? Why? This is your..."
Simon appeared behind Him, gently putting his arm around the eccentric old man's shoulders, looking out with Him at the lush green wheat fields, the bright white ice peaks in the distance, blue ghosts like clouds, and the golden sky.
"Is it beautiful? Welcome to my Domain, the Land of Serenity."
Sheogorath smacked his lips. "Different, different, hey! This Domain of yours is really different! I actually can't see the Shivering Isles anymore." The Shivering Isles he mentioned was his Oblivion Domain, his true essence. When a Daedra Prince says they cannot sense their own Domain, it means the separation of divinity and divine realm. This is fatal; Sheogorath would slowly weaken and die, while the Shivering Isles would continuously collapse due to the absence of its chief god.
Simon: "You were too impulsive. You've really made things difficult for me."
Sheogorath had peered into Simon's memories, which was a very thorny issue.
"Little friend, I must say," the Mad God's voice was deeper than ever before, heavy like the whisper of a great whale and carrying an echo like rolling thunder. His habitually crazed face was incredibly peaceful and kind, as if he were transforming into the reclusive God of Order, Jyggalag. Simon couldn't help but become solemn, intending to listen seriously to the teachings of this powerful being.
But in the next second, joy erupted from Sheogorath's face. With a bang and a roar, one could almost hear a silent, bursting cheer. He opened his mouth so wide it seemed an apple could be stuffed inside, and his grey-white eyeballs twitched as if restless small animals were about to break through their shells. This bizarre and crazed face could drive any Mortal who looked directly at Him insane; even some Daedra Princes were not immune to such pollution.
Simon made a speechless expression. He was within the Pure Land and would not be harmed by any form of attack. Sheogorath was not trying to confuse him with old tricks; it was simply a genuine ecstasy from the heart.
"Ahhh!!! Fantastic!!!" Like a child letting himself go, he broke free from Simon's arm, grabbed his small suitcase, and sprinted toward the natural fields, his cries of surprise echoing from afar.
Simon frowned. The Pure Land was vibrating. Within the Oblivion Void, a lush island flew over at high speed, crashed into the epiphyllum, and shattered with a roar.
The thing that had always been hidden in the depths of the Pure Land appeared—it was an indras net, a Meta-spirit Zone. All Souls that died in the Pure Land would ascend into it and become one. At this moment, the indras net gathered the fragments of the Shivering Isles like a hardworking fisherman hauling in a catch before sailing away from the sea.
The Pure Land had swallowed Sheogorath's Domain.
The entire process didn't even stir a ripple, such that the fish in the sea didn't even notice their companions had disappeared.
Simon was the only bystander, but in truth, he couldn't see any concrete scenes. He only realized what happened afterward and didn't understand much beyond that.
Currently, even with the addition of the Copper Umbrella, he was only at the third level. The world of the second level was still too far from him.
Looking at Sheogorath's carefree appearance, Simon suddenly felt a bit guilty. Although it was your fault for peeking at my diary first, it's a bit hard to justify me accidentally occupying your whole house.
After feeling guilty for a while, Simon forgot about it and intended to ask Sheogorath if he actually knew the whereabouts of the numidium. If he didn't, he planned to go ask his old boss, Hircine.
Simon smiled at Sheogorath, who was waving at him from a distance. He crossed hundreds of feet in one step and arrived beside the Mad God. "You seem very happy?"
"Of course! Not having to see Jyggalag anymore, I'm truly happy beyond—HIGH! Orah, Patrick, let's go catch jellyfish!"
Simon: "My memories are so rich, why do you have to like 'SpongeBob SquarePants'?"
The Mad God was very powerful; He was the only one so far who could peer into Simon's memories. To some extent, He truly inherited Lorkhan's divinity and was a high-level deity close to the first level.
"Don't you think this is a great work? Yes, yes, yes, and this, look," the Mad God was like a passionate movie fan eager to recommend something. He transformed into a blue-haired, balding old man wearing a dirty white lab coat, smelling of alcohol, with drool dripping from his mouth. His long face drooped, and his dead-fish eyes stared at Simon.
Simon looked hesitant. "This is..."
"Yes! Yeah! It's me! Wubba lubba dub dub!" He raised his hands, laughing and swaying like a flamboyant roly-poly toy. This image was from 'Rick and Morty'; Sheogorath had dressed up as the mad scientist Rick, which was quite a natural role for him.
"Alright, then... Great Master Rick? Can you tell me where the numidium is?"
"In Mundus, on a certain star. You have to fly out of Nirn to find it."
Simon nodded. "I can do that."
...In the year 4E201, Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Eastmarch and ruler of Windhelm, assassinated High King Torygg and brazenly launched a civil war, breaking away from the Empire. For a time, the world was in turmoil.
This was the third civil war in the history of Skyrim.
On the Tundra of Winterhold, warm firelight emerged from the Wolf Pack's resting place.
Simon lived here permanently. He went to Winterhold three times a week to run his food shop, but otherwise, he still chose to spend the night in the stone hut. It was far from people and very peaceful.
His human form had already fully grown into an adult appearance. He used his human form while in seclusion, but when meeting old friends, he still used his Troll image.
In human form, he was a tall, cold-looking blonde Nord man, seven feet tall, with skin as white as grease. His sea-blue pupils always shone with a bright light, full of spirit and reflecting the vast, pale Tundra. When he stood tall on a hill, he looked like a snow cedar.
Recently had been a busy season.
The fourth-generation spacecraft he named the Leviathan was undergoing final assembly, while at the same time, he had to prepare for a large batch of Spell experiments.
The numbered undead were already very powerful. Simon intended to perform a lich transformation ritual for them. To this end, he had also made a set of External Colonial Armor for each undead to serve as a phylactery.
The current External Colonial Armor was already the sixth generation. After repeated improvements, he finally researched a large semi-mechanical, semi-biological mecha that could transform and repair itself, referred to as 'Colonial Gear'.
It was very useful and very strong.
A gale rose on the grey horizon of the Tundra as a Nord man wearing Ebony Armor drove a steam car toward the Wolf Pack's resting place with a roar.
Simon went out early to greet him. The visitor was Dilo, who had now become an excellent smith and mechanic. Three years ago, he suddenly remembered Jonas, and this time he came to persuade Simon to take him to the heavens.
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