The Dark Elf intended to immediately embark on a path of revenge, but Simon held her back for a meal.
Since there was still no pot, they ate roasted fish. The sea fish was salty, and with some finely chopped plants for flavor, it tasted quite good.
Kalia said she could prepare living supplies for Simon, but the timing was uncertain.
This Nightingale was currently penniless, at her lowest point. The large reward she promised Simon as an employment fee would only come after she successfully exacted her revenge and regained power.
After the meal, Kalia took her leave.
Simon did not see her off. Instead, he went into the woods, cut a good piece of wood, and returned to build a pine frame. He threaded the ten-odd pounds of fish he had collected onto branches and hung them on the frame, intending to preserve them long-term—though it would actually only be one meal if he ate his fill. However, this frame would become increasingly useful.
The month of Sun's Dusk was nearing its end. Simon had no strong subjective feelings about it, but he had at least kept track of the days. Three and a half days had passed since he last saw Jonas off. Allowing one day for travel, he needed to thoroughly scavenge that ruin in the next two days.
Ancient Nord ruins are indeed rare, as few people visit them, and they are shrouded in a mist of legend and terror. However, it's also wrong to say they are inaccessible; often, tomb raiders enter the crypts to seek treasure—and are then typically killed by the Draugr and traps within.
When playing the game, the protagonist, Dragonborn, was also jokingly called the 'Errand Boy God.' What great tomb hadn't he plundered? What 'zongzi' (a Chinese slang term for a zombie/ghoul in tombs) dared to be arrogant?
As the saying goes, practice makes perfect. Simon was well aware of the nature of these Nord ruins: a winding path, but open at both ends. Generally, the tomb owner is buried at the far end—and they are almost always Draugr.
Perhaps in the funeral beliefs of these ancient barbarians, there was an afterlife in the underworld, allowing them to smoothly escape from the back door to the human world to cause mischief.
The last time he visited the ruin in the southeastern Tundra, he didn't see the tomb owner's sarcophagus. He didn't know if it had been removed or if the owner had already escaped. However, the riddle door leading to the outer crypt had not been opened, so there should still be loot to scavenge.
Returning to the familiar place, Simon carefully surveyed his surroundings. Being deep underground, most of the crypt's structure must have collapsed and been damaged. He could only explore outwards from the path where the riddle door was located, but the switch for the riddle door was on the front. Simon had no choice but to smash the wall.
A rumbling sound echoed through the crypt, startling countless Draugr souls. They awoke from death and groped their way towards Simon, following the sound. Along the way, some were killed by the still-functioning traps and the beastly monsters lurking there. In the end, fewer than a hundred waited on the other side of the door.
The Troll began digging from one side of the riddle door, creating a curved passage to bypass the door itself. As soon as he chiseled open a light-admitting hole, a longsword thrust fiercely through.
Limited by space, Simon's great axe was difficult to wield. However, he used his claws for rock-chiseling. He pressed down on the Draugr's longsword, knocking it against the stone wall at the edge of the hole. His immense strength directly snapped the iron sword.
The Troll retreated cautiously, with no intention of fighting in such a disadvantageous position, deciding to expand the passage first.
He frowned in thought, then suddenly realized—'I'm a mage!'
He immediately summoned a Fire Elemental and had her continuously fire fireballs out of the hole.
The golden-red fireballs would explode upon impact, emitting high temperatures and violent shockwaves. Simon calmed himself and diligently absorbed magicka to replenish what was consumed. As more and more primal magical energy surged in, his eyes also became very bright.
The intermittent explosions continued for an hour, and the restless roars of the Draugr outside finally quieted down. By this time, the small hole had expanded into a four-foot-wide gap, with molten lava flowing.
The Fire Elemental stopped casting and returned to the Pure Land to rest. Simon's sweat pooled on the ground and then evaporated, making the room misty, while the Troll's eyes shone like searchlights.
"The wheat waves roll, shimmering with golden light, ten miles of song, ten miles of fragrance, the good news of harvest spreads everywhere, every household is filled with joy, filled with joy..." The Troll hummed a harvest song softly in his heart, while gently breaking open the half-molten stone wall—with an axe, as he didn't possess an 'unfeeling iron hand.'
Looking out, those old mummies were almost reduced to ash, having not died peacefully at all. Their weapons and armor were glowing red hot. Simon took out a frozen fish from his satchel, lightly roasted it using the high temperature, and swallowed it whole. Then he took out his homemade leather waterskin and took a sip of the foul-smelling, sour melted snow water.
Simon was very happy, twisting a little even while eating. The song in his heart couldn't help but slip from his lips, along with a large mouthful of snow water.
"Cough, cough, ahem!" Lu almost choked, coughing violently twice. He clearly realized his gaffe, so he feigned clearing his throat and nervously glanced at the opened back door of the tomb. The Wolf Pack hadn't followed him in, which was good, very good indeed...
At this point, he had to admit something: his philosophical views were indeed undergoing an implicit impact.
He had to seriously consider whether to continue learning magic.
The answer, of course, was obvious: he would certainly continue learning, with no need for many reasons.
Having made up his mind to lean towards romanticism, he naturally had to be consistent to show his true colors.
With his mind cleared, Simon immediately began to sing. His deep, hoarse voice singing a celebratory song was very unpleasant. The Wolf Pack heard it and entered, circling him from a distance, their eyes a bit dull, not daring to approach.
The Troll lingered at the entrance of the passage for half an hour, finally unable to sing anymore, and then returned to silence.
It was a bit forced. Simon stroked his mane. Personality changes don't happen overnight; there's no need to rush things. It's always best to enjoy the scenery and warm drink when the mountain flowers are in full bloom and the wine in the pot is just right.
By this time, the "incinerator" on the other side had finally cooled down. Simon went to scavenge. Not many items survived the fire, but fortunately, true gold fears no fire. In an environment of over a thousand degrees, the proud gold coins shone brightly, while their younger siblings, silver coins and copper pieces, unfortunately perished, dying without a whole body, or rather, melting into a lump.
After collecting the gold coins that were not contaminated by the other molten metals, it was almost dark. Simon decided to end his day's work. His harvest was approximately nine hundred and sixty-odd excellent Ancient Nord gold coins—more valuable than today's Septims. They wouldn't fit in a bag, so he had to find a large wooden barrel to carry them.
There were also dozens of sets of Ancient Nord armor and dozens of Ancient Nord weapons—these items were more or less damaged and of little value, so they were discarded.
In two more days, he would go to see that little brat. He wondered if he was studying hard at the academy?
Also, had he neglected his martial arts?
If he was lazy, he would have to be taught a lesson...
The Troll's gaze roamed over the moonlit snow, frequently lingering on the wooden branches. The shadows of the beasts cast long black columns on the low, gentle slope, while the aurora above was brilliant and bright.
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