Simon had the idea of becoming a god, but that's not entirely accurate. He understood that the power of the mind was a great path, but he didn't yet have a clear understanding of what lay at the end of that path, or what a god truly was.
Everything was — unknown, mysterious, history.
In a corner of the spacious courtyard, where snow never melted, Simon patted a pine tree in front of him. The bark was covered in deep finger-holes, left from testing the destructive power of his mind. The scent of pine resin continuously wafted out, like tears welling in eyes.
"Sorry," the Troll said, casting a Healing Spell. The pine tree shivered, filling the broken holes with resin, effectively patching itself up. After all, it was a plant and didn't have as perfect a regenerative mechanism; it might grow some burls later, but it would never return to its original state.
This pine forest wasn't large. Low shrubs were scattered among the trees, their stems withered and lifeless, a rather depressing sight. Simon also watered them with life magic energy. Although the energy stored in his magic core was scarce now, it replenished extremely quickly. If he cast a spell that required continuous energy, he could sustain it for a long time.
Among enchanting spells, there were many useful buffs for a mage, such as reducing magic energy consumption, increasing spell effectiveness, and accelerating magic recovery. Simon felt it was necessary to take some time to craft a mage set, enchanting all the usable buffs onto it. Then, he would be a human artillery platform, able to cast any spell he wished, and his magic energy reserves would no longer hinder his strength.
While fertilizing, Simon took the opportunity to organize his quest panel.
[Quest: Falling Leaves Return to Roots]
Quest One (Completed): Travel to Ivarstead
Quest Two (Uncompleted): Inquire about Mother's past
[Quest: Memory of the Roar]
Quest One (Completed): Travel to High Hrothgar
Quest Two (Uncompleted): Learn a Shout
He also glanced at the book catalog, quickly flipping through to the section on gibberish. Simon's heart suddenly skipped a beat; the chaotic characters in the image before him trembled slightly, as if covered by a layer of inky Vignette, barely noticeable unless one looked closely.
Simon focused, his mind power surging into his eyes beneath his brows as he looked again carefully.
The meaningless scribbled characters slowly twisted, like the roots of ancient trees retracting, and a puzzle rearranging itself. However, this process was not smooth; many characters successfully transformed into words, but many failed.
The incomplete text was written in Aldmeri. This language was complex and profound, with one word often having multiple meanings, and its grammar was terrifyingly intricate. Simon pondered for a long time but couldn't understand the content. It might have been the self-narration of an Aldmeri elder, or a disciple's record of his words and actions, mentioning research on the "earthbones" and "Aedra."
There was more than one piece of gibberish. Simon looked through other images, but only a very small portion could be deciphered. Some were even written in languages he had never heard of and were completely incomprehensible.
What truly shocked Simon was one particular piece of text. The original inky characters, after being deciphered, turned pure white, and the faded yellow page became golden. Most crucially, it seemed to be written in Old Latin—possibly, but he wasn't certain. Simon had never studied it, but he had encountered similar symbols due to his wide range of past interests.
If it was indeed written in Old Latin, then the question arose—why would Apocrypha contain knowledge from other universes?
Without sufficient evidence, Simon dared not jump to conclusions. He simply continued to look through the remaining gibberish, but these texts possessed a mysterious power, and he soon felt mentally exhausted.
Before his mind completely withered, Simon struggled to persevere, and then he saw a profound paper-thin golden scripture. Only one word was unlocked, and it was Sanskrit—Bodhisattva.
The next instant, Simon's vision went black, and he fainted to the ground.
In the shadows of the lush shrubs in the forest, no one noticed the Troll's injury. His body gradually shrank, transforming into a small child with bright white skin and brilliant golden hair, eyes tightly closed, curled up like a fetus in the womb.
...
The pure, dark purple sky reminded one of violets, of purple yam ice cream, with its soft texture. Oh, how greedy one would be to bite a piece out of the sky, just to taste it.
There was only a single lonely star in the sky, and beneath it lay the golden Mount Sumeru and the deep glass sea.
The lone star was warm, like a sequin pasted at the corner of a lover's eye, reflecting soft affection, like a buoy, occasionally flickering, sending ripples through the deep space. Within the starlight were countless rustling little stories, waiting for you to dream.
Mount Sumeru stood there blankly, like a silly piece of art, only it was very large, standing on the horizon, its peak pointing towards the star in the sky. Many great things are simple, and often, simple things are misunderstood in their greatness by many.
The glass sea had a refreshing color, like sunlight passing through a pure crystal. Its surface held all colors, vibrant and diverse, deep and solemn. Further down lay an un peepable darkness, for light always has its limits, doesn't it? Everything has limits, even infinity is finite.
The Troll sat on the surface of the sea, the water only covering his backside, ankles, and part of his thighs. The glass sea had calm tides, clean and minimalist, exuding a dreamlike quality, yet also harboring a deep despair.
A black-haired man with antlers slowly walked over the water.
His antlers were too exaggerated. It was as if he had a wild-growing tree on his head, like a mass of unruly hair, reaching both upwards and downwards, enveloping him like a hollow sphere. The jade-colored tips of the antlers vanished into the void, and there were also some short antlers, their tips burning with flames.
"You've come," the antlered man smiled, his face, faintly visible, was kind and gentle.
The Troll scratched his head, then suddenly curled up, forming a large white ball, and then grew into a human form. Simon, cloaked in a great mantle, stood before the antlered man.
"You've changed so much," Simon greeted him.
"Yes, I came to see you this time, and also to remind you, don't forget Him."
"Who?"
"See? You really have forgotten. You became a different person after breaking the Dragon-Snake Cycle."
"Did I?"
"No more talk, you should wake up."
"Who exactly did I forget?"
"You've forgotten a lot."
...
Simon woke up, sitting in a carriage. Across from him, a blond Nord Man in light blue armor smiled at him, "You're finally awake."
The carriage traveled through the morning mist, surrounded by tall pine trees. The driver was an Imperial soldier, and to Simon's right sat a man with his mouth bound by cloth strips.
"You are looking at the great Jarl Ulfric! Show respect, my Nord brother!"
Simon froze, then struggled to move, but no matter what, he couldn't stir.
Then, he felt a sudden dizzying sensation, and he woke up from the dream within a dream.
He had fallen off the High Hrothgar courtyard!
Incredibly, Simon found that he had somehow returned to human form. He hastily transformed into a Troll, his body once again stretching his clothes, followed by a series of impacts against the mountain rocks.
Falling down the steep cliff, Simon quickly cast the flight spell improved by Jonas. This halted his descent. He returned to the Pure Land to change his clothes and then went back to the monastery.
By this time, the sun was almost setting. Simon had been unconscious for an entire afternoon, and no one had even noticed.
How miserable.
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