It is always spring-like in the Pure Land.
Under a golden sky, vibrant light shines, and chilling specters drift through the fields, where life and death are clearly separated yet coexist.
"Nice environment, isn't it?" Simon swung Harkon around like a heavy garbage bag.
"Where is this?"
"This is my Oblivion domain."
"Heh heh, isn't that a joke?"
Simon was telling the truth, but it could also be considered a common saying, as audacious people comparing themselves to Daedric Princes would refer to their controlled areas as their Oblivion domains.
A group of undead swarmed over, giggling foolishly at Simon and Harkon; if their laughter wasn't so grating, it might have been a little endearing.
Harkon, trembling, pointed at them, "Stav, Vingalmo, Ronshil… you, you're all dead!"
The undead named Stav retorted, "Of course not! There are still nearly a hundred livestock in the castle, and three or four stragglers are sleeping in their coffins."
Simon tied Harkon up and casually tossed him onto the ground. "I wasted four days for you. Honestly, I rarely go to such lengths for anyone."
Harkon merely grimaced, saying nothing, neither happy nor angry.
…
Simon returned to Volkihar Castle.
It was an ancient building, with high spires and a gloomy layout that inevitably brought Gothic architecture to mind, giving the immediate impression of something between a graveyard and a church. After walking through a dark, somber corridor, he reached the stair landing before the great hall. Looking down, the wide main hall was dimly lit by chandeliers, with two rows of long tables arranged on either side, and Harkon's exclusive table and chairs at the far end of the hall, directly opposite the stairs.
The tables were set with silver cutlery and silver candelabras, along with dozens of human bodies with their chests and abdomens cut open. Dog bowls by the tables were piled with bloody bones. The intense stench of decay was overwhelmingly pungent, and the scent of blood had almost permeated every floorboard, every crevice, and every texture of every object in this lair, becoming a kind of brutal, inherent rule.
Any civilized creature that still recognized its human identity, be it Nord, Imperial, Orc, Elf, Khajiit, Argonian, etc., should be horrified by the atrocities committed here.
The flesh-people, or rather—livestock—who had been enchanted by the Vampires, held their utensils, their faces rigid, standing like puppets by the dining tables. Even though no one was dining now, upon seeing Simon, they subtly turned their heads. The eyes of dozens reflected the flickering candlelight, their pale lips trembled slightly, and low, inarticulate groans rumbled in their throats.
Simon closed his eyes slightly. Although he had witnessed many human tragedies, such as the scenes he saw in the Bloodhowl Sect when he was reincarnated as Li Dingxun, which were far more cruel than this, his empathy was still severely impacted. Experiencing it vicariously, something called morality suddenly twinged painfully, and something called honor cried out.
When such a tragedy occurs, no witness is truly innocent.
The lingering headache intensified, quickly surpassing its critical point.
The Troll remained impassive, yet his third eye beneath his turban was blood-red.
Born of wrath, he would surely spread the flames of sin throughout hell.
Bloodline Magic—Wailing Wave.
Simon suppressed the burgeoning magical energy. This new bloodline magic was incredibly potent, creating a spherical aura with a thirty-foot radius. Any creature entering it would suffer the scorching of three types of wild magical fire: first, elemental fire, incinerating the body; second, psychic fire, shattering the mind; and third, necromantic fire, reaping the soul.
This was the result of long-term resonance with magical energy and subsequent bloodline transformation, exclusive to Simon and his descendants—Simon was the progenitor of the Troll lineage; all existing or future Trolls could trace their lineage back to him. Changes in him, the source, would subsequently alter the rivers that flowed from him—this was a real-time connection.
His bloodline magic expanded the potential of all Trolls, and talented descendants could also master it.
Simon slowly quelled his useless anger, then dragged out the few straggler Vampires in the castle. Seeing them sleeping soundly in their coffins gave him a sense of absurdity.
On the north side of the island was Darkwater Dock, where a few skeletons and draugr roamed. There was a cellar entrance here, and the dock was calm, with countless skeletons piled high visible underwater.
The entire castle, including the abandoned parts, had a total of five towers, enclosed in a circle by high walls and corridors, with a dilapidated courtyard in the center. In the middle of the courtyard was a strange brass lunar dial, quite Dwemer in style. This was a mechanism that connected to the underground, winding and full of traps, eventually leading to Valerica's study, where a teleportation altar to the Soul Cairn was located.
Searching the entire castle, gathering the controlled livestock, and then dealing with the remaining Vampires, gargoyles, and hellhounds scattered throughout the castle, turning them into undead with the Wailing Wave, took Simon two days in total.
The controlled livestock were living puppets, with no right to rest, no right to self-comfort, and not even the right to chew. They could only stand rigidly, ready to serve the Vampires, or be sucked a few times like a drink. Dying was irrelevant; they could then be used as food.
Simon arrived a bit late; twelve people had already died from weakness. He fed the remaining people healing potions and stamina potions for emergencies, then cooked porridge, barely keeping them alive.
Vampire control is a very complex and powerful method. Some are purely physical, like these livestock, who were likely under an illusion. Others involve mental control, but that is more intricate, requiring the injection of hallucinogenic venom, which isn't worth using on food.
Simon tried several illusion spells to boost their spirits. Some successfully broke free, but about forty others were too weak and remained firmly bound.
After sending the recovered people to the mainland, Simon returned to the castle, intending to care for the rest until they regained their strength before releasing them from control.
During his stay, Simon cleared some blocked passages and discarded all useless decorations, purifying the vengeful spirits with life magic and clearing the chilling atmosphere of the place.
Valerica's study contained various alchemy materials and soul stones. According to her experimental notes, all the materials for opening the portal were basically complete, except for the blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour.
Simon had a deep understanding of summoning magic, but he specialized in the necromantic path. He didn't know much about the Oblivion Gate, especially the arcane knowledge concerning summoning rituals and portals, which was a blind spot for him.
To be honest, Valerica's expertise in this area far surpassed his, to the point where he couldn't even slightly modify the portal leading to the Soul Cairn.
He would simply have to find Serana.
…
Mid-month, 4E 186.
Simon trekked through the mountains of the Pale.
Every night, he would release a total of one hundred and thirteen numbered undead to conduct extensive searches.
His large-scale actions attracted a group of Vigilants of Stendarr, who cut down six undead upon first encounter.
More and more Vigilants were swarming to the area, so Simon recalled his undead.
He couldn't be lazy now; he had to traverse this mountain range on foot himself.
The mountains were towering, with countless scattered deep pits and ravines, all requiring meticulous investigation. He walked for dozens of days and nights.
It was so inefficient, Simon sighed repeatedly. It was said that ancient mysticism magic had a form of divination that could explore fate, and he definitely wanted to learn about it if he ever had the chance.
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