The Vampire architecture was merely embedded within the Nord crypts, so the greatest opponents encountered in the latter half were the familiar Draugr chorus, who once again blew wind at Simon with their ceaseless Unrelenting Force.
This time they were very spread out in a circular stepped hall. Serana was blown away immediately. Simon didn't expect her to be of much help anyway, as long as she didn't madly stab her allies' butts with ice spikes like in the game.
After dealing with the chorus, there was still an axe-wielding Draugr Overlord to fight Simon, which also held no suspense.
To one side of the hall, there was a Dragon Word Wall, recounting some of the tomb owner's life. Behind the wall were hidden stone tables, on which rested two enchanted ebony weapons.
Leaving the crypt and emerging from the cave, a vast expanse of fir trees met their eyes. The setting sun was sinking low. Serana took a deep breath and exclaimed, "It feels so good to breathe, and the weather is quite nice."
It was now summer, yet for the northern regions of Skyrim, one could still describe it as late spring weather. Blooming flowers were still on the rise, with bees and butterflies flitting about. A family of crows cawed in the woods, and the sunset glow on the horizon was infinitely magnificent, as night silently draped half the sky.
"I wish the sun would set faster. The sunlight is so dazzling," Serana complained, pulling up her hood to cover her face.
Simon said nothing, found a path, and began to descend the mountain. With an extra person, their pace was slower; otherwise, Simon would usually choose to leap directly down the slope.
To accommodate the Vampire's characteristics, Simon chose to rest by day and travel by night, taking Serana all the way to the shore of the Sea of Ghosts, then boarding a steamboat to Volkihar Castle.
The Vampire Lady was quite surprised by the steamboat and even more fascinated by Simon's ability to conjure items out of thin air. However, as they had just met, she mostly observed and spoke little. There was a peculiar understanding between them; though often silent, it was not awkward.
For Simon, this was just right, and for Serana, the Troll's gentle and imposing demeanor meant she felt no boredom in his company, finding herself quite at ease for a time.
The steamboat was fast, reaching the waters near the castle in a single night. The morning star still twinkled, and a sliver of dawn appeared in the east. Simon prepared breakfast and invited Serana to eat. On the rocking deck, they drank soy milk and ate meat buns. The warmth of the food soothed their cold bodies and brought the diners' unspoken understanding a step closer. Serana smiled at Simon and began to talk about her family.
On the western horizon, the towering castle stood silently. The perennial mist that never dispersed was surprisingly gone, and the perpetually circling bone hawks were also nowhere to be seen. This was because Simon had previously scoured every corner of the castle with life magic, dispersing the dense necromantic energy and purifying the souls of the victims trapped there, allowing the suffering dead to rest in peace.
Since then, the castle no longer gave off an inexplicably chilling feeling.
Serana gazed at her familiar home, but suddenly caught an unfamiliar scent—a very ominous premonition.
"Let's hurry. Something seems to have happened at home. I need to ask my father."
Simon shook his head, "Your father is not in the castle."
"Oh? What about the others?"
"None of them are here."
The uneasy feeling grew stronger. Serana stared intently at the castle on the sea, and old memories floated up from the dust like worn building blocks: the spire was still the same spire, the main building was still the same main building, but why were there so many holes? Not just the appearance, but also the smell—the familiar death and pain were gone.
The steamboat docked, and Serana walked quickly towards the bridge, faster and faster, until she ran, like a wanderer returning home after many years, overcome with emotion. However, the Lady's heart held only confusion and worry.
Where were the gargoyles on the bridge?
Why was the gate dismantled?
The main door was also broken.
Entering the castle—everything was there: tables, chairs, decorations, candles. Although a bit empty, it was still the style she remembered. The only thing missing was any sign of life; the Vampires, the livestock, all gone.
This was an abandoned building.
Volkihar, which represented death, finally faced its own death!
Serana rushed into the Chalice Chamber, where the Volkihar lineage's greatest divine artifact—the Bloodstone Chalice—was stored. The blood of the Chalice could replace fresh blood to invigorate Vampires, quickly replenishing their stamina and magic.
Now the Chalice was gone, with only a damaged pedestal remaining on the platform.
Naturally, Simon had shattered this so-called Bloodstone Chalice. In his estimation, this thing was truly inferior to the Bloodhowl Sect's blood pool, and utterly useless to him, at best merely a blood essence machine. The blood pool, on the other hand, was said to ensure the blood river never dried and the blood god never died.
Serana knelt powerlessly on the ground, hands clutching her head, silent.
Simon walked to one side, leaning against the railing, waiting silently.
"Where did they go?"
"They are dead."
"How did they die?"
"I killed them."
Serana stood up, as if needing to stretch after crouching for a long time. Then, a ghostly blue ice spear shot from her hand, flying straight towards Simon.
The Troll raised his hand, caught the ice spear, and crushed it.
"You killed my kin, and you still dare to stand before me. Are you ready to die?"
"You don't seem to recognize the disparity between us," Simon said calmly. "You know, due to a certain sense of immersion from past memories, my impression of you isn't bad, so I have no intention of killing you."
Serana pushed back a distance, softly chanted a spell, then waved her hand, and a purple Oblivion Gate opened. A Daedra warrior in black and red armor stepped out.
"By the call of my great master, I shall tear apart the enemy!" This Daedra from Mehrunes's realm had dark, somber skin and battle-markings as hot and fiery red as magma. He wielded a ferocious Daedric greatsword, its sharp serrations capable of easily tearing apart an opponent's flesh.
The Troll raised his hand and grabbed the blade of the sword. The runes beneath his robes flashed violently. The heavy blade couldn't even break his skin.
"I will say it one last time, abandon your hostile actions, Daughter of Coldharbour!"
"Oh, so you've come for my blood too? Excellent." Serana lowered her head slightly, her eyes seemingly dripping blood.
"I need your blood to open the portal," Simon struck the Daedra warrior, making him dizzy and stumble back. "Your mother, Valerica, developed the ritual to the Soul Cairn," he snatched the greatsword, and Simon swung it horizontally like lightning, the Daedra's head flew high, and the next moment his body transformed into fine electric currents and vanished into thin air, "and I need to go in."
"Why did you kill my father, my elders, and my friends?" Ice spears continuously stabbed towards Simon.
"Does such a simple truth need an explanation?" Simon brushed aside the ice spears. "Why don't you ask yourself why Vampires kill people?"
Serana stopped.
"My father died by your hand. He deserved it, but I will avenge him."
Simon sighed, "Time will prove everything."
Yes, time will prove everything. Some things already had their conclusion.
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