The bloodline of Skyrim is Volkihar, and their—or rather, its—lair is located on an offshore island at the northwestern tip of Skyrim.
Simon had just taken out his steamboat, sailing west from Winterhold.
The light on the sea flickered on and off, and three days later, Simon stood at the bow, gazing into the distance.
The sea at dusk was fresh and clean, with a massive golden sunset gently touching the horizon behind the flowing clouds, casting a magnificent red twilight across the sky.
A dazzling, long, narrow, brilliant golden reflection shot from the western extreme, making one dizzy, as the slowly flowing deep blue seawater rippled with vast stretches of light.
The steamboat pushed aside the waves, splashing slightly sun-warmed seawater onto the Troll's chest, and his wet skin also reflected a glint of sunlight.
The eastern sky was already shrouded in night, with sparse stars shining brightly.
To the southwest, a jagged island reef protruded like an arrogant crown, with a towering grey-white granite castle standing firmly, showing circular towers rising, and a faint, pale white mist enveloping the castle, obscuring the view of outsiders, even the snow-covered spires were barely visible.
Large bone eagles circled back and forth in the mist, occasionally letting out mournful cries, like ghostly wails.
Simon could already smell the strong necromantic energy without even stepping onto that land.
This was Volkihar Castle, and its owner was a wealthy man from the First Era—Harkon. He feared death and thus sought the power of eternal life from Molag Bal.
He and his family members were all transformed into pure-blood Vampires, personally by the Daedric Prince, unafraid of the sun's burning, only feeling slight discomfort.
Harkon himself also mastered a powerful transformation ability, able to turn into a Vampire Lord, possessing formidable strength.
The Daughter of Coldharbour Simon was looking for was Harkon's wife and daughter, but neither of them was in the castle.
Harkon's family had fallen apart long ago.
His wife, Valerica, hid in the Soul Cairn, and sealed her daughter, Serana, in a tomb.
Simon steered the steamboat around some offshore reefs and docked at a dilapidated pier.
The roar of the steamboat attracted the attention of some night watchmen, who were servants of the Vampires, mentally controlled and responsible for lookout, chores, and serving as emergency rations.
By the pier stood a three-story stone watchtower, about forty feet tall, and from a distance, an archer in leather armor shot an arrow at Simon.
The Troll raised his hand and caught the weak arrow.
The stealth archer in the Ten Clan Blood Race had given him too much of a shock, so much so that now, looking at other average archers, he felt a sense of disdain, as if nothing else compared to the Wushan Mountains.
Simon tied a Soul-sucking Tapeworm to an iron arrow, swung his hand, and threw it back at the watchtower, like throwing a pot, piercing the archer's eye socket with the arrowhead.
A long-lost soul trap. There were only two people on the watchtower, and Simon unceremoniously harvested their souls, immediately transforming them into undead.
After dealing with the appetizer, Simon felt a slight excitement, raised his hand, and took out his big ivan mech, fully equipped.
A stone bridge led to the main gate of the castle, with rows of gargoyles on both sides of the bridge.
They had bat wings, two curved demonic horns on their heads, wolf-like protruding faces, heavy upper bodies, strong lower bodies, and were shaped like crouching monkeys, with two hands and two feet, three fingers on their hands, and two hooves on their feet, covered in thick stone shells.
The moment Simon took his first step onto the bridge, the first two gargoyles broke free, raising their heads and hissing.
The sound reminded one of the cold wind sweeping through a cave, harsh, hoarse, and deep.
Simon's approach to enemies was always simple and direct.
Without waiting for the gargoyles to finish their cries, he directly swung his axe once, severing their solid, metal-and-stone bodies.
These gargoyles were alchemical creatures, not true living beings; they would not die unless their power core was destroyed, and their severed bodies could reassemble automatically.
Simon put away his great axe and replaced it with an eight-edged steel hammer, whose head was even larger than a farm's stone roller.
With one strike, the gargoyle turned into stone dust; no core, no nothing, everything was resolved.
Every ten steps, a pair of gargoyles would revive.
The stone bridge was a hundred steps long, with twenty gargoyles, and Simon harvested all their simple souls.
By then, the castle gate had opened, the portcullis raised, and first, sixty or seventy hellhounds rushed out, followed by eight gargoyles.
Simon easily dealt with them with a few sweeping blows, turning them into shattered flesh and mud.
After these non-human creatures were all dead, a group of Vampires in leather armor poured out one after another.
They saw the giant mech at the gate and the messy scene on the ground, and cried out in terror, "What the hell is that!"
Simon laughed, "Something that can take your life!"
The Vampires shouted, "Enemy attack!"
They each used their methods; some summoned groups of frost elementals, some used Vampire's Touch to attack the mech, and some reckless ones charged forward with their warhammers.
Simon took a closer look, and the spell-casting Vampires were of various races: Imperials, Bretons, Dark Elves, High Elves, but those who charged were only Nords.
It seemed that becoming a Vampire hadn't made them any smarter.
Relying on his heavy shield, Simon unscrupulously grabbed a Vampire, pressing a hammer larger than the Vampire himself against his small head, watching the Vampire's eyes widen in fear and desperate courage, struggling violently.
Simon felt as if he was holding a lively little mouse in his hand.
"I ask you, where is Serana!"
His voice, amplified by the loudspeaker, was like muffled thunder, and the Vampire screamed that he didn't know.
"You don't know? Then die!"
The hammer in big ivan's hand gently squeezed, and the surrounding Vampires and night watchmen who had arrived successively watched with wide eyes as the unlucky fellow's head, like a juicy hollow bean, popped, and brains splattered six feet.
The enchanted runes on the surface of the giant hammer glowed faintly, and countless Soul-sucking Tapeworms coiled on it eagerly pounced on a bewildered soul, then sucked it until it dissipated.
Simon's palm ignited with a faint blue necromantic fire, and the Vampires could see their companion's soul wailing in agony within the flames.
"No! He killed Ozjof!"
"Run! Go find Lord Harkon!"
The spherical helmet of big ivan rotated, and intense necromantic flames surged, his aura comparable to a flash flood, terrifying and awe-inspiring like a lord of hell in the eyes of these dog-hearted Vampire mongrels.
"Trying to run! Where do you think you're going to run!"
Simon waved his hand, and a giant epiphyllum appeared in mid-air, countless undead rushing out from between the petals like a long river.
They let out endless ghostly wails, and the bone eagles circling in the sky were so startled that they plummeted straight down, clattering like a chaotic rain.
The Vampires grew even more terrified.
They had always been the ones bullying others; when had they ever been bullied?
"Where is Lord Harkon?"
"Oh no! Lord Harkon has fled!"
A Vampire pointed to the sea, where a green floating monster skimmed rapidly across the surface, flying into the distance, vanishing in an instant.
Simon narrowed his eyes, then flicked his hand, and a huge net spread open in mid-air.
Not a single Vampire or night watchman servant escaped; all were caught in the net.
This was the mechanism art of Sword Casting Villa, combined with a paralysis enchantment; once caught in the net, escaping would be incredibly difficult.
Grabbing this group of miscellaneous soldiers, and putting them into the Pure Land, Simon exited the mech and used a flight spell to begin chasing Harkon.
The Vampire Lord had thought he had escaped to safety, but suddenly heard a huge sound on the sea, turned his head, and saw the Troll gliding at high speed across the water, the waves rising as high as three stories.
"Don't come over here!!!" Harkon cried out in despair.
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