Four heads, perfectly aligned. Simon twisted his neck, and this time, a cracking sound emerged—he was very satisfied!
He continued to delve deeper.
Beyond the passage was a vast cavern. The surroundings were no longer ice walls but rock, indicating a hollowed-out mountain belly. There was a break in the cave ceiling, letting in strong light.
"Mr. Troll!" Jonas tiptoed in, hiding behind every protrusion on the wall, shrinking his head like a little monkey.
Simon kicked the Troll head at his feet like a ball. The boy watched the gruesome skull roll to his feet, a segment of its spine still attached, making it look like a toppled spinning top. He examined it for a long time, then also began to kick it like a ball.
Simon smiled. The boy was a bit late to the party, but his courage was truly impressive.
"You killed them all? You're amazing!" Jonas exclaimed, watching the blood slowly drip from the silvery fur of the Troll in front of him, eventually leaving it spotless.
Simon turned his head, looking around at the familiar environment.
There were three such caverns in total. The largest one housed two Trolls, and the other two housed one each.
So many years had passed. Originally, there were ten Trolls here—if last night's dream was correct.
It didn't matter.
Task: Explore the Surroundings
Task One (Completed): Explore the human activity point in the mountain pass of the western Tundra.
Task Two (Incomplete): Explore the ancient ruins in the southeastern Tundra.
Task Three (Completed): Explore the coastal Troll cave.
Human and animal remains were everywhere here, but they were all accumulations of many years.
There was also a strange spot: a headless male skeleton was impaled upside down in the cave ceiling above a pile of bones, and a greatsword lay on the ground not far away (this was one of the game's Easter eggs, commemorating Star Wars).
Simon vaguely remembered that this strange skeleton had some symbolic meaning, but in his past memories, he didn't delve deep into it, nor could he recall it clearly, so he let it be.
There was nothing interesting in the cave. A chilly wind blew, making it terribly cold, and the relics of the dead were mostly damaged and weathered. After searching for a long time, he only found a pile of currency and a great axe.
Simon picked up the great axe, swung it a few times, and was quite satisfied. He immediately threw his sword and shield to Jonas and left the cave, carrying the rust-stained broad axe.
Ah, a good day. Simon vaguely heard a Troll's roar, seemingly both sad and joyful.
Returning to the Wolf Pack Resting Place, the unreliable Icefield Wolves trotted along behind their leader, living like a pack of dogs.
Winter days were short. The sun slowly set behind the western mountains, leaving faint traces. Simon sighed and carried a pile of firewood back to the house.
There was still enough food; this had been checked repeatedly.
After that, Simon settled down for a while. Besides going back and forth to the fishing hole, he practiced swordsmanship and meditated.
Jonas, that Breton Boy, learned very seriously, but his personality was too lively. Although Wudang Dan Sword was a pure Yang cultivation method, it emphasized a steady demeanor. His well-practiced moves were performed like a monkey show, making Simon shake his head.
Alright, he would choose another sword style.
Jonas's temperament was not without ruthlessness and cunning, agile and combative, which was typical for a child of his age who didn't know the immensity of heaven and earth. Learning a fast sword style would be best.
Jieqing Fast Sword.
Its moves were concise, its footwork varied and tricky, using speed to counter slowness, specializing in attacking weak points. It was a good martial art that, with proficiency, allowed the weak to defeat the strong.
Jonas indeed preferred Jieqing Fast Sword. Watching the Troll move like a phantom on snow, his sword striking like a ghost, the momentum was truly astonishing. He clapped and cheered as he watched.
But when he actually started to learn, the Breton Boy immediately missed Wudang Dan Sword.
He was too impatient during practice, his steps too rushed, often tripping and making a fool of himself.
Simon did not stint on his mockery.
Time came to the Dawnstar in 4E184.
The southern part of Skyrim should slowly begin to warm up, but the Tundra was still dominated by the cruel frost wind.
Simon became more and more proficient at drawing magical energy, but strangely, the Troll's Blood and the Pure Land in his palm also plundered his hard-earned results faster and faster. Originally, the magic energy core could store energy for a while, but now it was completely empty. In this situation, a Mage without mana, even desiring to cast spells, was a luxury.
If this situation continued, it was conceivable that Simon would have to directly shape raw magical energy to cast spells, rather than using the energy in the magic energy core.
This was only possible because of his powerful mental strength; otherwise, he would have to bid farewell to being a Mage for the rest of his life.
The task of exploring magic had made no progress for a long time because Simon had not truly encountered magic so far and had no path to follow. Fortunately, he pondered magic in meditation every day, and his diligent contemplation over the past week had yielded some insights.
One obvious thing was that magical energy needed to be imbued with attributes to manifest magical effects, and this process of imbuing attributes was a kind of resonance.
Magic was like music, and will was the hand that plucked the strings.
Resonance required a medium, perhaps runes, perhaps incantations, gestures, objects... In short, Simon needed a medium.
When a problem often remained unsolved, what followed was a cliff-like failure.
Simon was not anxious, though; he had a backup plan—in a few years, he would send that Breton Boy, Jonas, to the Winterhold Mage College to learn spells, then have him come back and teach him. It was simple. Even if the boy betrayed him, he could go learn himself in a few years when he grew into his human form.
With this, he immediately relaxed, walking the Wolves every day, practicing swordsmanship, and mocking the clumsy Breton. His days were easy and leisurely.
However, sometimes, opportunity, if you don't seek it, will come knocking.
As time passed, Simon felt his Troll's Blood continuously growing, like fiery roots spreading in his spinal cord, bringing pleasurable pain. Gradually, his skin felt a burning sensation. He imagined himself as a pile of firewood, burning fiercely, a fire in snow, gold in fire.
This uncomfortable state lasted for three days.
At midnight on the twenty-third of Dawnstar, the light of Masser and Secunda streamed through the stone window, illuminating the Troll's body.
The boy watched in astonishment as golden flames erupted from the Troll's head—like a golden mist, gradually coloring its entire massive body with brilliant hues. Its three eyes were tightly shut, its face seemingly in pain, yet also in bliss.
"Mr. Troll! Mr. Troll! You're on fire!"
Simon suddenly opened his eyes. Three silver lightning bolts shot out from his originally dark pupils, which had turned a silver-plated gray, like pearls.
The resonance had arrived!
Simon looked around, but his vision had already transcended this place.
Above the firmament, stars glittered. Beyond the planets, twin moons and eight stars revolved. They swam like long whales in deep space, and wherever their figures passed, magical energy from Aetherius rippled, like floating waves, the syllables of the world.
Resonance—resonance with a certain melody!
Bloodline Magic—Rapid Regeneration!
Simon took a deep breath. Everything before his eyes seemed like simple colors on a dark canvas, scattered points of light. The light transformed into gold in the resonance. For a moment, meteors fell from the dome above his skull like an endless rain—magic had always been there, it just needed eyes to discover it. The Troll bathed in the light, enjoying the warmth, feeling the surging vitality. For an instant, it transcended heaven.
A golden Troll stood proudly, its gaze distant, staring into unfocused emptiness.
The boy was afraid of it like this, it, high above, controlling wildness and divinity, but devoid of humanity.
As the light mist gradually receded and the golden fur faded, leaving only a wisp of spiritual silk on its head, emotions returned to the Troll's eyes. It blinked, and smiled gently at Jonas.
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