Paarthurnax let out a deep sigh; ages had granted him wisdom but stripped him of his vitality.
"I already know your purpose, my kin. His Shout is so profound, he is indeed the fated Kingslayer."
The Greybeards slowly raised their hands from their sides, in a posture embracing the heavens. This was both a salute and a blessing.
Arngeir whispered, "Respected Master Paarthurnax, we have come seeking power to suppress the Dragon Soul."
"No one can help him with this matter. He walks a predetermined path, but now he is breaking the trajectory of fate. If he cannot even take the first step, then he might as well honestly accept his destiny." Paarthurnax's voice was deep and low, his broad vocal cords resonating with a muffled hum as he spoke, like the lingering echo of a great drum, possessing a reliable, metallic quality that made it impossible to question his words.
What is the truth of the Dragonborn?
And what is the truth of Alduin?
This world is no longer the one that was first born; the wheel of time has turned countless times. Everything that is to happen was predetermined before the world's birth.
…
Jonas held the soup bowl in his hands. It was a wooden bowl, and the heat slowly transferred from the fragrant tomato, potato, and beef soup, warming Jonas's cold palms.
What kind of life truly counts as living? Blood Drinker is also survival, but a bowl of hot soup warmed by fire holds extraordinary significance. It is not merely food; it is a microcosm of human order. Jonas suddenly felt an inexplicable joy and smiled.
A sturdy Nord Woman smiled and patted the boy's head, "Little one, eat more, don't be shy."
This was a small log cabin by the river. The Yarl River flowed through the fields outside the door, its gurgling sound like the whispers of fish. The river nourished life and richly rewarded the diligent fishermen.
The cabin was not large, merely a few hundred square feet. The door faced south, and along the east wall was a double bed covered with straw and animal hides. Beside the bed were two pine cabinets, one for storage and one for clothes. A small fireplace was on the north wall of the house, and the square dining table was on the west side. Strings of split salmon and some seasoning crops hung from the rafters.
He still remembered this place. The roof of the cabin leaked, and there were un-dried water stains on the walls. Light leaked through the gaps in the roof, illuminating the food on the rafters and the family at the table. The kind fisherman and his wife, both Nords, were in their thirties but looked like they were in their forties. The husband was tall and thin with a handsome full beard, and the wife was quite plump, with rosy cheeks like a small sun, often spreading smiles throughout the house.
Yes, when she laughed, her booming laughter could shake the dust from the cracks in the house.
A self-sufficient family, they fished and farmed daily, living a full and leisurely life. There was nothing lacking in their lives; the only thing missing was a child. Jonas arrived just in time. Although he was a Breton, the fisherman and his wife accepted him unreservedly. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Jonas would never have believed such sincere people existed in the world.
Jonas loved to smile because his adoptive mother also loved to smile. In truth, he was originally a quiet person, but his adoptive mother's love for life continued through him.
"I don't want to die, because I still have debts to repay," he said softly.
"My friend, it seems we are often helpless, just as that Necromancer suddenly killed your adoptive parents." His malice was always so thick.
"I think you're right. I need power. Without power, I am nothing, and I can accomplish nothing."
"So?"
"Do you know the legend of Talos? The Ninth Divine, the God of War, when he was in Mundus, he unified the continent of Tamriel, established the great Septim Dynasty, brought an end to the Second Era, and heralded the dawn of the Third Era. He was also a Dragonborn, and he also had a powerful Shout, but his imperial dominion was not achieved through Shouts, because he could no longer use the Thu'um after his throat was slit…"
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
"I mean, power is not just violence; it also includes courage, determination, wisdom, strategy, and countless other things. If I want to accomplish my revenge, it's not simply about killing my enemy, but about changing the entire situation."
"Well said! You want to conquer the world? Excellent! You finally sound like a true Dragon…"
He was chattering on, just as he had back then, and he didn't rush to answer but continued to observe Jonas's memories.
The warm times quickly passed, and then the Necromancer came, bringing bandit followers, and killed his adoptive parents. The boy would not have survived, but precisely because he was a Breton, the Necromancer intended to train him as an apprentice to assist with his experiments and research.
When the bandit followers asked why Jonas wasn't killed, the Necromancer laughed, "This kid is useful!"
"But this brat is surely harboring ill intentions!"
"Many people hate me. Don't you hate me? It's just that I am stronger than all of you, so you should serve me, understand?"
"Yes…" The bandits lowered their heads. They were merely humble mortals; a single lightning spell could end their lives.
Jonas was taken wandering, watching the old mage kill, and from his mouth, he gained scattered knowledge—methods for handling corpses and making simple potions.
The bandit followers changed several times; their fates were far more tragic than Jonas's.
The Dragon Soul continued to describe the future scene of reigning over Tamriel, and his ambition was immense: to use Tamriel as a springboard to conquer all living beings on the entire Nirn, including the continent of Atmora to the north, Akavir to the east, Summerset Isle to the southwest, and so on, to make all of Mundus bow before his Shout.
Recalling the ancient Mythic Era, Dragons originated from the continent of Akavir, extending north to Atmora and south to Tamriel. Their iron-fisted rule was brutal and terrifying, and their cronies, the Dragon Cult, were extremely cruel to their human brethren. In those days, the name of Alduin, King of Dragons, shook heaven and earth, even becoming a member of the Ancient Nord Pantheon. It wasn't until humans in Akavir revolted, uniting with the Snake People to establish the "Akaviri Dragonguard," brutally slaughtering Dragons, that their rule began to waver. Then Alduin was banished to the time stream by the elder scrolls, Kyne granted the Thu'um to humans, Paarthurnax rebelled, and the Dragon War erupted. The result was clear: the remaining Dragons were killed, and from then on, Dragonkind vanished.
In the words of the Dragon Soul, this was a humiliating history, and he would be the chosen one to inherit the glory of Dragonkind—if only Jonas relinquished his dominance.
He listened to his lengthy discourse and merely smiled contemptuously.
"What do you mean? Can my sublime reason not even open the shallow eyes of a lowly worm like you?"
"In my eyes, Talos is nothing special, and you are merely a lonely ghost of an old era. What I want to do is create a paradise, where there is no sorrow, no tragedy, and the world lives in harmony."
He exclaimed in disbelief, "You're mad!"
"No, quite the opposite, I am very clear-headed."
The world of memory began to shake violently, and the familiar scenes gradually faded. The last image was Jonas hiding in a wooden box, as the footsteps of a Troll approached—that was the moment of their encounter.
"I know what Sir wants to say. The me who was once muddled and just barely surviving is not worthy of being a Dragonborn. What I want to do is not to bring bloodshed and corpses. I want to leave a way out for this suffering world, to give those innocent ones a choice to start anew. The me of the future will be a true God, protecting suffering souls."
With each word Jonas spoke, his will grew stronger, glowing and radiating heat, like igniting a star!
In the darkness, the golden Dragon roared and writhed in the void. A strong light shone from his abdomen, causing him immense pain.
"No! Why! Why!"
The Dragon opened his mouth and roared. At this moment, a platinum-white sun tore through his internal organs and flesh, bursting out.
With the Dragon Soul as a cocoon, with death as a knife, the dusty body of yesteryear vanished, and today, the Dragonborn is reborn!
…
Simon looked to the east; the sky was blue-purple, the stars hidden, and a strong light began to emerge on the horizon.
The sun was rising.
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