At the tail end of Sun's Dawn, several unexpected guests arrived at the monastery: residents from Winterhold, including Torine, the old Jarl, and Birna. Her shop was temporarily closed because she didn't trust Ranmir to manage it.
They had traveled for a month specifically to visit Simon, treating it as a group tour. Additionally, they were surveying the ecology of cities along the way, hoping to find a development path worth emulating for Winterhold.
Birna brought Simon a letter. Upon opening it, he found it was from the long-unseen Kalia of the Thieves Guild. In the letter, she wrote that she had dealt with the traitor Frey, avenging her grudge, and was preparing to return the artifact Skeleton Key to the Shadow Lady. Her words were full of joy and satisfaction.
Simon wrote a congratulatory reply and entrusted Birna to deliver it to the Thieves Guild via messenger.
After staying in Ivarstead for three days, the people from Winterhold planned to go to Whiterun. Dilo wrote a letter home and asked them to deliver it to the White Windmill Farm, located outside Whiterun, adjacent to Whiterun's largest winery.
No sooner had his friends left than enemies arrived unexpectedly.
On the third day of First Seed, a Nord Man in ebony armor arrived at the monastery. He was completely hidden beneath heavy armor, tall at seven feet, like a silent monument. He declared his intention to fight Simon.
"I don't know you."
"My Lord Boethiah commands that those who profane the King's majesty shall die by a cruel blade."
"Very well, state your name then."
"I am Anstadt Gor. Rest in peace, transgressor." He instantly drew the golden war blade from his waist, a beautifully crafted katana. This was the Daedric artifact, goldbrand, rumored to have been forged by dragons and later imbued with Boethiah's power, making it exceptionally formidable.
The bitter frost wind was severed by this single strike, wailing mournfully like a lost soul.
The Troll had nothing in his hands and could only temporarily avoid the attack, flashing back.
Anstadt Gor's killing intent was palpable, his body shrouded in a crimson aura, like a faint mist, transforming into numerous ferocious, chaotic faces.
Dilo, after just one glance at those faces, recoiled in fear, "Jona, don't look, that man is so strange!"
Jonas's gaze was calm, his lips parted slightly, but the furious outburst he almost uttered did not materialize, though his eyes already held a resolute and cold expression.
The Greybeards continued their peaceful prayers, completely unconcerned with the battle, as if they were in a silent wilderness.
Anstadt Gor's swordsmanship was simple and swift; though in Simon's eyes it was rather crude, combined with goldbrand, the Daedric blade, it still had the effect of cleaving through armies.
This was a powerful warrior with inner strength. Simon knew that magic would likely be ineffective against him. An ordinary mage would surely die if such a warrior got close, but the Troll, with his wilder methods, immediately roared, "Divine Armor, Divine Weapon, Divine Power!"
Avatar!
A massive whirlwind spread across Simon's body, and the snow-laden currents briefly obstructed Anstadt Gor's vision. The next second, a great axe burst through the wind vortex, cleaving down.
Anstadt Gor sneered, "Useless struggle!" He swung his blade fiercely, and the illusory giant axe of light was silently cut down, then vanished.
Simon's eyes lit up; it was rare to encounter a warrior with such abilities. He hadn't enjoyed the thrill of battle in a long time.
"Interesting! Boethiah's Champion, I hope you can last a while against me!"
Simon spotted an opening, punched Anstadt Gor's sword-wielding arm, then closed in, slamming an elbow into his ebony faceplate. The metal shrieked under his immense strength, creating a small dent. Anstadt Gor grunted, having injured his nose, but he had already adjusted his stance and thrust his blade towards Simon's ribs.
At such close range, it was almost impossible to block. In the nick of time, Simon raised his right hand, like a wisp of cotton, instantly pressed against the blade's surface, then pushed down in Anstadt Gor's direction, deflecting the blade's trajectory before its tip could pierce the illusory divine armor.
Anstadt Gor twisted his wrist to turn the blade, intending to sever Simon's right hand, but as soon as his wrist began to turn, he was hit by a heavy punch to the chest.
A punch powerful enough to leave deep indentations in steel ingots only caused a slight indentation in the armor, which then self-repaired, returning to its original state. Although Anstadt Gor was knocked back three steps, his injuries were negligible.
The ebony armor he wore, though seemingly ordinary at first glance, was actually of great origin: it was Boethiah's strongest, and possibly the strongest among all Daedric artifacts, the Ebony Mail.
It was obtained as a trophy by the Eternal Champion in the Black Marsh, but its history goes back much further. This armor has powerful enchantments that change over time. Legends record that a Grand Priest of the Tribunal Temple once commissioned a hero to make a pilgrimage to Mount Assarnibibi, and the hero was granted this Ebony Mail. At that time, this Daedric artifact had a continuous shield of resistance to fire and magic. Now, the mail worn by Anstadt Gor, in addition to its excellent defensive properties, is also immune to most magical attacks.
Simon's choice to fight as a warrior was correct; it was the only way to defeat this formidable opponent.
The Ebony Mail completely covered his body, with only a narrow eye slit. If Simon were to be devious and aim for the eyes, victory would be easy, but Simon was honorable, intending to subdue this arrogant warrior with exquisite technique.
Anstadt Gor thrust his blade again. Simon had already seen through his moves and slapped the katana from his hand. Anstadt Gor panicked, trying to retrieve goldbrand, but Simon kicked the long blade far away with his foot.
Both sides were now empty-handed.
Simon gripped Anstadt Gor's shoulder armor with his left hand and repeatedly punched his faceplate with his right. Anstadt Gor roared, constantly punching the Troll's abdomen, but Simon's expression remained unchanged, his fists raining down. The faceplate's indentation grew larger and larger. Finally, after sixty-seven punches, Anstadt Gor's roars slowly began to subside.
The warrior could not stand; his legs curled, about to collapse to the ground, but held upright by Simon, he took the blows steadily.
Eighty punches, exactly. Anstadt Gor fell unconscious.
Simon released him, rubbed his stomach, and, victorious, waved to the cheering Jonas and Dilo, slowly walking over.
"Sir is amazing!" The boys were celebrating him.
However, not long after, Anstadt Gor regained consciousness.
"Do you want to fight again?" Simon turned, taking a few steps closer.
"My Lord, your servant is incompetent, unable to personally offer his flesh and blood to you, but he will create the most perfect feast of slaughter, only needing me…" Anstadt Gor removed his helmet, revealing a bloodied face, "Only needing to pave the way with your servant's blood…"
Simon frowned, suddenly lunging forward to stop Anstadt Gor's actions.
It was too late. The warrior clawed and tore his own throat, blood splattering. His body shattered, transforming into a deep, crimson vortex.
It was an Oblivion Gate.
Simon, in mid-air, plunged straight into it.
The vortex closed, leaving only two stunned youngsters in the courtyard.
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