Simon's face was dark on the way home.
He understood Serana's pessimistic view of fate; it was a common sentiment among all races on Nirn—gods are not to be defied, destiny is not to be obstructed. Those who gallop forth in accordance with the gods' will are called heroes. Circumstances create heroes, and the will of the gods is those circumstances.
The Dwemer, who were once bold enough to create a god, all perished after the Battle of Red Mountain, reportedly transforming into the divine skin of the Brass Tower.
The Brass Tower was their race's ultimate technological achievement, the mechanical god numidium, also known as Anumidum, or the Brass God, the Walking Brass.
The concept of a 'tower' in this world holds special symbolic meaning. The Brass Tower, numidium, represented the philosophical essence of all Dwemer: the negation of everything. Yet, it's curious that this creation itself was designed to obey the Dwemer's will, which contradicted its divinity. In other words, it was a philosophical paradox.
There's much more to be said about numidium, but the Dwemer's tragedy serves as proof that races defying gods and destiny do not come to a good end.
People in this world, more or less, believe in one or more gods, be they Aedra or Daedra. For everyone, faith is like an instinct, a custom embedded in their blood. Different people have different understandings of faith, but their outward expressions are not much different.
Bowing to gods and fate is nothing to be ashamed of; betraying one's faith is. This is the consensus of the common people.
Serana said she wanted to ask Lord Meridia for help, but Meridia and Molag Bal are mortal enemies. For Serana, as Bal's kin, a Daughter of Coldharbour, turning to Meridia would be a very difficult thing to confess.
Simon advised her to find a solution through magical research, but Serana clearly didn't listen... Serana stood before the alchemy lab table, mixing some simple potions. The flame under the distillation flask bubbled and boiled, and gurgling white steam circulated in the light green glass tubing. The weather in the Pure Land was always mild and calm, to the point where it cast a domestic facade over all activities, just like the undead wandering in the distance, possessing a friendly, fairy-tale quality.
Simon pulled up a chair not far away and sat on it, his gaze fixed on a square glass incubator in front of him, where the Soul-sucking Tapeworms writhed anxiously.
According to the notes of a senior mage, when the number of Soul-sucking Tapeworms per unit volume exceeds a critical threshold, a phenomenon of collective mutual consumption occurs. Eventually, the surviving individuals coalesce into a Soul Gem. The gem is like a tapeworm's seed, and once conditions are suitable, it will proliferate into new tapeworms.
Soul Gems have a dragging and absorbing effect on soul entities, whether living or dead. This is their instinctive feeding. Those whose souls are absorbed will gradually lose vitality. Living beings will die from exhaustion, while the souls of the dead, ghosts, undead, specters, and so on, will suffer varying degrees of destruction damage.
To use a somewhat abstract analogy, Soul Gems are as terrifying as a soul black hole.
Simon's experiment was progressing steadily. He planned to transfer the tapeworms to the vast ice plains of the Pure Land once they finished their mutual consumption in the incubator, keeping them far from livestock to prevent accidental harm. For now, they could be safely placed in the experimental area.
"Baishan, I find you quite adorable," Serana suddenly mused.
Simon turned his head and saw his lover also turn her head to meet his gaze. The Vampire's face was as pale as bone, and her complexion was weary, but Serana seemed to be in a very good mood. As she spoke, her lips curved into a smile, her eyes were crescent-shaped, and her gaze was as soft and beautiful as a river flowing through distant green mountains.
Simon knew Serana wanted to comfort his anxious mood, but he had no intention of backing down on this matter, so he simply replied, "Serana, I find you always beautiful."
"Hey, let's not be so polite," Serana put down the beaker in her hand and quickly walked over. She bent slightly to meet Simon's gaze, reaching out to caress the Troll's thick cheek. "Baishan, just as I've always trusted you, can you also trust me?"
"I always consider the worst-case scenario, and I don't really like to gamble; I only like to fight. If you think your problem can only be solved by a god, then I will become a god."
"You're talking nonsense again."
"I'm serious."
Serana laughed, clutching her stomach. She turned gently and leaned back into Simon's arms, like a colorful black butterfly alighting on a full, golden-tinged pear blossom.
Simon was very warm, like a furnace, while Serana was the opposite, cold as ice. Simon reached out and embraced his lover, a smile unconsciously appearing on his face.
"Baishan, you're always so foolish. You have great ambition, but it's clear you harbor deep doubts about your goals. Normally, you're the leader everyone respects. Look at Winterhold; people genuinely smile because of you. Everything proves your path is correct, and your character is beyond doubt..."
Simon leaned close to Serana's neck, gently inhaling her scent. Besides the floral fragrance in her hair and the strong smell of clothing dye, there was also a faint scent of blood. Necromantic energy pulsed within her body, making Simon vaguely hear a long violin solo, imbued with a drawn-out and subtle melancholy.
There's something very romantic in this world, a gift from nature to every existing thing—everything with magicka has its own music. Even stones, springs, trees, and clouds, as long as magicka flows, there will be music.
He was moved by Serana's melody.
Simon listened to his lover's soft murmurs in his arms, and also listened to her melody.
Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck him.
The Dwemer's unique magical attunement technique was a marvelous skill that regarded everything in nature as a musical note. Their outstanding mages, or 'attuners,' could alter the melody of objects through a certain resonance, causing changes in their form, properties, and so on, which was incredibly miraculous.
In fact, this was a form of microscopic analysis. Simon had also tried to observe the basic components of matter through various means, but his experiments failed quite thoroughly. Under the lenses of multiple enchanted Hawkeye Techniques, he first saw particles, then it abruptly turned into a chaotic blur. Even more bizarrely, the form of the particles varied slightly when observing the same sample multiple times.
It's conceivable that what he saw was actually his own illusion. When he hypnotized himself with illusion magic, actively forgetting his former scientific knowledge, all he observed was chaos.
The Dwemer did not have Simon's dilemma, and thus directly concluded that the world was composed of music—which, in a way, meant they truly were a group of artists.
If Simon could learn similar methods, he might be able to easily remove Serana's bloodline.
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