You know, sometimes I feel very, very dumb.

I failed to notice something – mostly because it didn't cross my mind – even when it is right in front of my eyes.

From my previous conversation with Hildr, I learned that her Spirit heals itself by using Magicka, remaking its destroyed body of flames that way.

And who else does that?

This fucking dumbass right here!

And the thing is that no other fuckin' Undead can do this. Aside from me.

Even Krosis, after I turned his arm to atoms, didn't 'heal' or recreate it. Because he couldn't. But I can.

My broken bones heal, my destroyed body reforms through Magicka, and I know all this because I just spent the past minutes turning one of my frozen and insanely hard bone-fingers into dust and watching it regrow within seconds.

The healing rate is faster the more Magicka I feed it too, giving me another weapon to use in the future.

I can now use my arm to beat a motherfucker to death and not be afraid of permanently losing it. Fantastic.

Still, what does this all say about me?

I am an Undead, yet my body acts more like that of a Spirit. I cannot study my Soul, though I dunno what I could do with that information. Especially when I do not know what to look for just yet.

I know I have a form of Patron Deity due to the System, and I have an inkling on who it is, what I do not know is the why.

I shake my head with a sigh – never thought I'd miss the ability to breathe – and lean back into the large comfy chair Ancano so kindly left us in his- I mean my new room.

I'd rather not let this new discovery about my weird body distract me from my current studies, though it has helped me learn of some new things.

For one, the fact that my body is so weird is also a massive boon. It is the reason why my control over Magicka and Spells is so utter bullshit.

Because I am basically a being made of Magicka. To me, wielding Magicka comes as easy as breathing, but I just never noticed- No, I did, I just thought that the System was doing the majority of the hard work.

But the System only locks in the Spells that I want to change and modify to make more powerful. It doesn't stop me from learning other Spells, especially if I want to copy the Frost Magic Spells from the game.

I still do not know if I can learn and wield other elements too – water, earth and wind magic are a thing here, just super rare – so that I can try and put Lightning Magic under my thumb.

It is a powerful weapon that is a must for the future. The Anti-Magicka features are a massive boon against any opponent.

The other thing that I learned about myself is that, due to being a natural at wielding Magicka… I also suck massively at it. Because everything comes to me with ease, so I do not know the basics.

Sometimes being too good also makes you bad, so I am kinda suffering from success.

Luckily, it is easy to fix once I know the problem. For the majority of my time, I just winged things, never having truly been pushed to go all out. To get creative in my Magicka uses.

It would have made me grow overconfident if I didn't already know that what I've faced so far is but the fodder of the true Dragon Army. Even Krosis, while powerful, was a fucking joke due to his own dumb pride.

Either way, these discoveries helped me achieve what I wanted for quite a bit, and I also gotta thanks Sheogorath for the Folium Discognitum, as it helped put all the small bits together by researching through it.

I just need to close it, think about what I want to read, and then open it to find the pages filled with my request. All bits and pieces taken from the fools and Archmages that held this book since the Merethic Era.

I'm sure that even some Dragon Priests held this thing in the past.

Due to my lack of senses aside from seeing and hearing, I've been in need of a way to remove this weakness or circumvent it, and I found it inside the book a while ago.

It's called Magicka Sense, also known as the Sixth Sense for the people of this reality. It's like a radar and echolocation fused together.

I have no fucking idea how they came up with this shit, or who was insane enough to test it – I am reading his fuckin' notes, so I know this dumbass existed – but it relies on sending a wave of Magicka through the Soul.

And since I am basically a Soul inhabiting a skeleton… I just gotta release a wave of Magicka in all directions and-

[A new Skill has been created!]

[Mind's Eye] (Active)

Magicka Sense, also known as the Mind's Eye, is a famous yet highly dangerous Skill few Mages dare test and master. Anything the Magicka that is sent out as wave touches constructs a map within the mind of the caster, allowing them to 'see' their surroundings without actually seeing them.

Alas, the immense amount of information and feedback received back can lead to a deadly brain aneurysm.

...So that's why the dude's notes inside the Folium Discognitum cut off midway through his explanation. The fuckin' book literally recorded his death too, goddamn…

Still, because I lack a brain, this holds no danger for me, so I lean back into my chair as I activate the Skill and send out a pulse of Magicka in all directions

The moment I do so, my head instantly lights up. Everything inside my room, the surrounding room, dormitory and side of the College instantly appears brightly in my mind, allowing me to 'see' every last bit of it at the same time.

Holy fuck this is amazing…

It's like those LiDar games I used to play back home sometimes. The image doesn't fade from my mind unless I allow it too, but it doesn't change, it remains the same, so if things were to move, I'd need to 'update' the mental image through another scan.

I believe the only problems I will face are through the Magicka density of the surroundings, making it so that my range is far more limited, or that to increase the scan range I'll need to use a great deal more Magicka for it.

Which kinda sucks since I am in a Magicka rich place. According to Shalidor's notes, Skyrim is basically a Magicka dense land, being tens of times richer than many other places.

Hell, the College itself is set up in a location very close to what he dubbed as 'Magicka Vein', an area insanely dense with Magicka, the favorite places for many Mages to set up their temporary quarters to dabble in rituals and whatnot.

I have a feeling that this Magicka Vein is either related to the Eye of Magnus, or it exists due to it.

Which reminds me of the Dragon Priest that is somewhere near Saarthal. But there are no ruins that are visible in that area…

Maybe it's either in Saarthal itself… or below it?

Why the fuck would a Dragon Priest be in Blackreach? There's also a Dragon down there, now that I remember it.

But why? What would a Dragon Priest need there- Oh. Fuck.

Could it be the Dark Heart? The Artifact of Namira, a piece of primal Void. People can draw strength from it, gaining a new kind of peculiar powers and abilities.

No, it can't be that. The Dragon Priest – if he is there – most likely was left there during the Merethic Era, and the Dark Heart made its way into Blackreach much, much later.

Still gonna put it into the list of things I need to fucking do as soon as possible.

I shake my head and sigh softly. At least I learned how the Mind's Eye works, and using it isn't much of a problem for me.

I let out another pulse of Magicka, 'updating' the mental map in my head. It even perfectly captures people into its scope, as Hildr is sculpted quite well in my mind, clothes and what's beneat- ...Huh.

Damn, what an ass-

"Leo, what the fuck are you doing?" Hildr questions from her own desk on the other side of the room, and I stop slamming my skull into my own desk.

I cough, fix my mask and robes, then answer, "Trying to give myself some brain damage-amage-amage-amage."

A pause.

"Sounds like you fucking succeeded… Somehow."

I update the mental image again, but make it small enough so that Hildr isn't within its scope before relaxing.

This is a dangerous weapon indeed…

Wait, why the fuck am I complaining!? I can't even get horny!

~~XXX~~

The College has classes three times a week, with a class for each school of magic lasting one to two hours through the day, from morning until night.

Of course, these classes aren't always held. People might be busy, either the students or the teachers, so there is a board right by the entrance to the teacher's dormitory.

There, a student can leave its signature to show their presence for the class. As long as there is even one student, the teacher is willing to go through with the lesson. Though sometimes they might not, as it can depend on their mood.

The Destruction Magic classes are, obviously, the ones the majority attends to. With Alteration and Enchanting Classes being a close second.

Restoration? At the bottom. I've been here a few days already, been present for two days where lessons are held, and in one of those two days literally no one wrote their name down for the Restoration Magic classes.

Made me feel like the Restoration Master of the College now has a reason to be disgruntled and disappointed over people not taking the Restoration school of Magic seriously.

In the game, it felt more like she was paranoid and anxious, as there was never proof of her words about being hated by her colleagues and the bad notes left on her bed.

It is kind of vexatious, I shall be honest. Seeing people squander such capabilities is very disappointing.

Farengar was right. Most Mages only care about power.

I guess some believe that a simple Healing Spell is more than enough for them, huh?

I lean back into my chair, quite liking the way classes are held in the middle of the courtyard, right in front of Shalidor's large statue.

Dozens of chair were set before Faralda as she paced back and forth, reading both from her notes and speaking while staring at the roughly three dozen students before her.

Behind her are some of the teachers too. I faintly recognize the Conjuration Master, the Altmer that makes Faralda her rival, Ancano – who is glaring hatefully my way – and Colette Marence, the Restoration Master.

I also faintly noticed Savos Aren, but the dude speed walked away the moment he noticed me. PTSD is one hell of a bitch, huh?

I am also quite sure that he knows of my Undead status. Someone as powerful as him cannot be blind to it.

A hum flows out of me as I tilt my head towards Hildr, sitting to my right. Her long legs were crossed, and she was using her raised thigh to rest her notebook on, which she was writing everything Faralda was saying, drinking in everything that is being spoken like a sponge.

She looks cute like this, really showing that some bits of Gretel exist inside her too.

Man, I already miss that feral child… I hope she is having fun in Whiterun.

The other students range from teenagers to even people in their thirties or forties. There's some Argonians, a few Nords, some Dunmer, a few Khajiit and a few Altmer too. Oh, and a single Bosmer.

Not everyone has their hoods down, of course, so there might be other Races too.

Probably one of the few places in Skyrim that willingly houses all Races without some form of racism.

Gotta say though, after going through just a bit of Shalidor's notes through these recent day, I've gotta say that some of the things Faralda is speaking about are very… basic.

How did Magic even deteriorate since the Merethic Era?

Shalidor's notes always highlighted the fact that there were many grand mages, and he was fascinated with the many breakthroughs that were being made for each school of magic.

That era sounded like the Golden Age for Magic, then… It all stagnated and went downhill, for some reason.

I feel like something's afoot… But what?

"-and I must stress this matter again; Trying to learn another Element is dangerous. You are born already attuned to one, or two if lucky, so you'll face little difficulty in wielding it or them- But learning a completely new one?" Faralda pauses and shakes her head with a deep sigh, "It is incredibly difficult and dangerous. Lightning Magic is powerful indeed, but it is also the most unstable Element."

"I've seen many of my students within this very College die because they thought themselves good enough to learn and practice with it without supervision." Her eyes move across the crowd of students, some even lowering their heads when her gaze focuses on them for a few seconds, "You cannot be healed from death, so do not be stupid or overconfident."

As soon as Faralda finishes speaking, a voice pipes up from behind her, "Listen to her. I am quite tired of having to be called for emergency healing nearly five times a week." Colette warns aloud, a glare in her eyes.

A snort comes from far to my left, "We already know how to heal ourselves." One of the students with a hood over their head sneers, though the voice is distinctly female, "That's all Restoration is good for."

I nearly balk at the sheer idiocy coming from the woman's mouth. Like, goddamn! Spouting this shit in front of Shalidor's statue no less? That dude must be rolling in his grave right now.

"That's the dumbest fucking sentence I've ever heard." I state aloud, unable to help myself as I give the woman far to my left a nice series of loud claps, "Props to you, lady I do not know. You win the 'I am fucking stupid' award!"

Hildr holds back a snort from beside me, turning her head away to cover it with a fake cough while Colette looks stumped that a student has come to her defense. Which… sad.

"How is it dumb!?" The woman snarls aloud, and I distinctly hear the sound of her chair hitting the ground as she stands up, "Anyone can just throw a few Septims away to buy a tome of Basic Healing, and that's all one will ever need through their life."

I nod my head, "Sure." I agree, "If all you want to heal are scrapes, small paper cuts, or light bruises. You can't even heal a burn with the weakest Healing Spell."

I raise a hand to stop the woman from speaking further as I tilt my head her way, "What do you use to block a Spell? A Ward. Where does a Ward come from? Restoration Magic."

"What do you use to heal broken bones? The Mending Bones Spell. It comes from Restoration Magic too, by the way. Shocking, I know."

"Where do you go when you need to reattach a severed limb? You go to an Expert Restoration Mage. Same for regrowing a new one, even."

"Hell, what do you use to detoxify yourself from poison? Restoration Magic. To fight the Undead? Sunfire, from Restoration Magic. Purify water? Restoration Magic. Clear poison from food? Restoration Magic."

The woman whose face is now visible due to her staring my way, revealing her Breton heritage, flushes harder and harder the more I speak and tear her down. "Shocking how Restoration Magic does more than just Basic Healing, no?"

The woman's mature response is to scoff, let out a muttered curse, then storm away.

I simply shake my head at that before turning my gaze towards the amused Faralda. "Apologies for the show. I just dislike people that squander a school of Magic like idiots." My words, obviously, are aimed towards whoever else in the crowd holds the same opinion as the dumb woman that just left.

Skyrim needs to build its strength for the coming war, so if I need to shove Restoration Magic knowledge and skills into the brain of some dumb cunts, then I fucking will.

"No apologies needed." Faralda nods with a smile, "People are here to learn. It matters not if it is from teachers, or fellow students." Yeah, but few will mind learning from those they consider kind-off their 'equals'.

"Now… Questions?" Hildr's hand instantly goes up.

And her other one swiftly slaps the back of my head when I snort at her.

….

"Hey, old fuck, where do I go if I want some letters delivered?" I ask as I take my seat on the stool at the front of the bar. This place got fixed real quick after the brawl I caused last time.

Old Rob, as people call him, sniffs and uses his good eyes to fix me with a glare, "Old fuck? Talkin' 'bout me, ya cunt?" How eloquently vulgar as always, "Ain't seen 'em bitches livin' down the road yet, have ya?"

I tilt my head at that, "Who?"

He scoffs again, slamming the clean mug in his hand on the bar counter hard enough to make a mug all the way on the other end actually fucking bounce, "Bah, them fuckin' fossils. No teeth, no sight, and stinkin' worse than death itself."

"Are they dead or…"

"That's the thing!" He shouts, throwing his large arms in the air, "They still breathe- Barely, but they do! I say bury 'em already."

"They are alive though."

"I don't give a shit, bury 'em old fucks already." He grunts out, "We could do with the food they can't even fuckin' chew."

I snort, "You don't even have trouble with food." I point out, then tilt my head as he throws the clean mug my way.

"We could always do with more food." He snorts out like an angry bull before eyeing me up and down, "'Specially sons of bitches like you."

"Must you bring my lack of bulging muscles up each time I come around?"

"Yes."

"Start using your other eye, and maybe I'll start bulking up." Old Rob's face scrunches up, his other wild eye spinning around in his pupil as he tries and fail to make it work.

Alas, the old man gives up after just a few seconds, "Fuck this shit, one eye is all I need!" I shake my head in amusement, having taken quite a liking to this wild old man handling the bar and Inn.

He is honest, direct, and wild. Basically, a proper Nord.

"So… About the letters?" Old Rob perks up and latches onto a way to ignore the previous topic.

"Leave 'em here with fifteen Septims, five each." He gruffly states, grabbing another mug to clean, "Where do you need 'em sent?"

I place them down and show the numbers written on the paper, "One and two go to Ivarstead, number three to Whiterun." He nods, and I swiftly place the pay for the delivery on the table.

The first two are from me and Hildr for Aurelia, while the third one is for Gretel, written by both me and Hildr.

Aurelia and Gretel will then send their own after they receive and read our letters, then the back and forth will begin, which I look forward to.

"You got anything for me?" I ask as I lean back, letting the old man gently put away the money and letters.

"A request." He grunts out, "From me." I tilt my head in surprise at that.

"What can I do for you?"

His good eye looks me up and down a few times before he sighs out heavily, "You don't do what I do for decades without learning how to read any fuckers that steps through them doors with a glance." He starts lightly, voice less gruff than usual, "So I can tell ya ain't just some two-bit Mage… Especially when ya got one of them things on your face."

I lock up slightly at his nod towards my Mask.

I hum and trace my gloved fingers along the piece of equipment, "Should've expected some of the old folk to actually recognize this thing." Even if the Dragon Cult is from a long time ago, knowledge about it still persists, especially in places that honor their history.

Old Rob nods lightly, "With ya wearing it, I can tell that ya fought one of them monsters and won… So I can make this request without fear of sending ya to your death."

He leans forward, huge arms folding over the top of his bar, "Two of the recent merchant caravans going towards Dawnstar never made it to their destination. I got some folks lookin' into the area, and we know its the doing of some rat bandits…"

I hum and nod, "Want me to clear 'em out?" They must be a large camp if Old Rob wants to send someone that has taken out a Dragon Priest to handle.

"Aye." He nods right back, "Might be four to five dozens of 'em rat bastards. I can pay-" I lift a hand to halt his words.

"No need to pay me. Consider this a favor." The Souls will be more than enough, after all.

Old Rob grins, "Finally a Mage I can like!" He straightens himself back up, "I'll send ya word when my boys have located 'em, alright?"

I nod and raise my hand in a lazy gesture, "Then I wait for the information." I drop my hand on the bar counter and lean back, "Anything else?"

Old Rob pauses, then works his jaw a few times before sighing, "A Dragon was seen last night." I instantly grow tense at that.

"Where?"

He gives me a long, silent look. My hands clench into fists, "The island?"

He nods, "Big one too. Guards saw the fucker cause it was covering the stars with its large body. It circled the island a few times before fuckin' off."

Fuck.

I groan aloud and palm my mask, "This ain't good…" I need to know what's on that island, so to know if I need to blow that shit to kingdom come or… something else. "You know any bastard that can row a boat close to the island?"

Old Rob's eye stares a hole through me, "You sure, kid?" I nod, and he sighs deeply.

"Get that fuckin' bandit matter handled first, then I'll find you a son of a bitch that can."

I have a feeling I can always trust this old man to help me out with things. Kinda feels he has more reach and control than the actual Jarl of Winterhold…

Must be the strength and advantage of being old. The majority of Nords deeply respect their elders, after all.

Either way… I need to swiftly upgrade myself and my Spells.

There's this feeling of urgency that has been building up inside me that I now cannot ignore.

Guess I'm gonna have to raid the shit out of the College Mission Board…

~~XXX~~

"You feel like you shouldn't focus much on your Magicka training?" Paarthurnax questions, and Aurelia nods as she wipes away some sweat from her forehead.

She had already grown used to the cold temperatures of the Throat of the World, so now it felt just a bit chilly. Nothing hard to handle for her current self.

"I do." She speaks after a second, "I'm… Not really getting anywhere with it, and the Spells I wield are best for the Undead, not Dragons." Paarthurnax lets out a low rumble, something he does when he is mulling over what to say.

His large head inclines lightly, one of his enormous eyes studying her deeply, "Perhaps… We are focusing on the wrong aspect of your Magicka training." The ancient Dragon rumbles out, eye narrowed in thought, "Your scent… Tell me, child… Might you perhaps be a Yokudan?"

Aurelia's eyes widen at that, "I… Yes? My father was a Yokudan… Why do you ask?" Paarthurnax lets out another low rumble at that.

"As I thought… Magicka might not be your forte, child… But what about the Shehai?" Aurelia furrows her brows in confusion at that term.

"What is this… Shehai?" She probes, actually very delighted to have a teacher as ancient as Paarthurnax. It was like having another Leonidas around, just minus the chaos and headaches.

"A power like the Thu'Um', that thrives on the strength of one's Soul, Will and Understanding." The ancient Dragon explains, "It was wielded by an ancient Yokudan order known as the Ansei many ages ago. They used this power to create swords able to cut anything."

Aurelia bites on her lower lip, her gaze narrowed, "And you think I might be able to wield this?"

Paarthurnax chuckles deeply at her words. "Tell me, child… As the Dragonborn, what is your greatest strength?"

Aurelia's eyes instantly widen in understanding. "My Soul." For she had the Soul of a Dragon, capable of growing stronger through devouring the Souls of other Dragons…

If there was one thing she might excel at, it might actually be something her very ancestors wielded. "I can give this a try." She shrugs, an excited grin on her face, earning her a deep chuckle from her scaly teacher.

"Then it shall be your final gentle training before we start the more… violent form." Calling forth other Dragons to challenge them on top of the Throat of the World.

So far, the Greybeards taught her the basics of each Shout they could, then Paarthurnax helped her deepen her understanding over them.

He changed her view on Shouts, but trying to put those teachings in use was hard for Aurelia.

Hence why she must battle Dragons, for Paarthurnax stressed that the heat of battle could help one master many things at an accelerated pace.

And Aurelia those words, for they were coming from a Dragon that lived through a long war and several Era filled with many more.

"When do we start?" She questions, rolling her shoulders and letting out a low breath.

"Take a short break." The Dragon states gently, giving her a certain look, "I am sure you have waited enough to read the letters from your friends." Dumb scaly Dragon being far too sharp for her liking sometimes.

Still, Aurelia forces down her blush and nods before hurrying away towards her large bag tucked away against the used Word Wall.

Taking a deep breath and sitting with her back against it, Aurelia swiftly fishes out the two letters and holds them against her chest, feeling the hammering of her heart as she takes in deep, calming breaths.

Already more than two weeks have passed since she parted away from them. From him. And still she wasn't used to his absence.

Sometimes she still turns her head, expecting to find him standing beside her, but reality always kicks in.

The quiet is… unnerving, sometimes. If Leo was around, she'd always be aware of his presence due to how disasters and Leo go hand in hand.

Shaking her head, Aurelia lifts one of the two letters and turns it around. Seeing that it was from Hildr, Aurelia smiles and tears the envelope open to retrieve the slip of paper.

Turning it around, she flicks her gaze through the first few lines and- "Hildr, why must you goad him into this stuff…" Of course the news she heard about Ulfric's palace having been attacked had to have been Leo's doing!

And Hildr was the one to goad him into that?! She should know better- Ah who was she kidding… Aurelia knew that Leo was very likely going to put a Spell through that palace either way.

Sighing deeply, Aurelia returns to the letter.

'Took longer than expected to reach the College… It's a nice place… Leo slapped a Thalmor agent flying within the first ten seconds of having stepped into the College, as is natural… got challenged by him… roasted him with her Spirit… Stole his belongings and now we share a room-' A vein starts throbbing on the Dragonborn's forehead as she reads over that line, a stiff smile on her face.

She reads the line again. Then again. Then five more times. It did not change.

Aurelia takes a deep calming breath and stops herself from tearing the letter apart. "Must I consider you a rival, Hildr…?" Aurelia growls out to no one, finishing the latter with a glare in her eyes before gently putting it away.

She nearly tears Leo's letter open with her teeth, but stops herself as she swiftly pulls out his slip of paper.

"First of all, I fucking hate writing with ink and quill. The desire to blow this bitch up started rising within five words."

Of course… Leo did mention something about the wonders of these 'pencils' from his homeland a few times.

Her eyes, now more relaxed and warm, trail over the rest of the letter, containing quite a few things Hildr had mentioned in her own letter. Minus the fact that he was now sharing a room with the redhead.

"Hiding that fact from me, are we Leo?" She was going to snap a few of his bones next time they meet.

Though, as she read the letter, Aurelia also noticed the lack of something.

Leo had promised he'd let her know of any knowledge he'd gain of the Dragon Priest near the College, yet… He made no mentions of any discoveries?

He didn't even write out about having found nothing… Meaning that he likely knows something, but does not wish to worry her. The fool…

He does mention having learned something called the 'Mind's Eye' so to help him with his lack of spatial awareness due to him being an Undead.

Having lack of feelings over his body often had him bump into things without realizing, or stumbling because he wasn't making a conscious effort into making sure his legs were actually moving.

So for him to have finally found a way to mostly help with that warms her heart and makes her very happy for him.

Still… Aurelia's smile also grows sad as she reads the letter. The words written, despite being from Leo… Didn't feel like they were his.

Leo – Her Leo, is a goofball. A man that will handle his problems with a laugh, or outright ignore them to focus on what he will insist is more important things.

The one who wrote the majority of this letter is not her Leo. This was a Leonidas she rarely so.

So rarely that she could count the amount of times on one of her hands and have fingers left over.

The Leo writing this letter was the Leo that missed his home. The Leo that is tired and wants to sleep. The Leo that is stressed by all the things coming their way.

The Leo that she wanted to be there for.

A sigh escapes Aurelia's lips, her eyes falling on the last few lines written at the bottom.

"I've had the thought of possibly gaining a high standing in the College, so to have the power to move things around a bit. Skyrim needs all the strength it can muster for the incoming war."

Always thinking about others than himself.

Her thumb rubs along the dried ink of the paper, her eyes lingering upon the words written by the man that plagues her mind each day.

Does he think of her too?

Her heart ached, not knowing if she even wanted to know the answer as she started to fold the letter- Only for her eyes to catch something at the very bottom of it, scribbled into the bottom right corner.

Two small and a small arrow aimed at the corner of the paper, with the words 'Fold me!' scribbled at the back of the arrow.

Aurelia tilts her head with an amused smile, expecting one of Leo's usual pranks to jokes to await her as she complies either way, and her eyes soon land on three small words scribbled on the back of the corner she just folded.

'I miss you.'

Aurelia's breath hitched, and her heart started hammering against her ribcage as she pushed her face against the letter in her hands.

Dibella truly was a cruel Goddess sometimes.

~~XXX~~

His name is Valmir, a member of the illustrious and grand Thalmor governing council, proud Altmer, the race that stands above all others.

He, like many of his grand brothers and sisters, had infiltrated the filthy, run down region of Skyrim in order to grasp the ancient artifacts buried beneath its dirt.

Artifacts meant for the grand Altmers part of the Thalmors, not for the foolish, monkey-like Nords that walk these frigid, ugly lands.

The powers of the Dragon Priest Masks would further raise the might of the Thalmors, allowing them to greater might to wield against those fools of the Empire who dared to worship a non-existent God.

He, the grand Valmir, had been tasked to retrieve the Mask studies says is buried in ruins near the filthy Hold of Riften. The recent attack the city faced from the Dragon only made that cesspool prettier, in his eyes.

Alas, he was not so prideful or confident to believe that he could face a Dragon Priest in combat and come out on top. Especially after going through whatever traps and awaiting horrors lay within that crypt.

So, he played smart. He threw mercenaries at the crypt, promising large amount of Septims for when they came back with what he requested.

Those losers swiftly fell to their greed, uncaring that the offer is coming from their hated Altmer of all people.

None of the many groups of useless morons ever came out from the crypt alive, not truly bothering him that much.

Of course, when the Imperials and Stormcloaks started to pry into his business, he got creative. One missing soldier from both sides, two sets of armor acquired, and now he could act as a member of either faction depending on who was coming to investigate.

So many moor fools fell for his skilled lies, clearing his way deeper into those ruins.

Each lost life, each skilled lie, each fake promise- It all brought him closer and closer to success. To perhaps even wielding that Mask for himself and gaining a greater standing within the Thalmor order.

Oh, how he could already see the might flowing past his fingertips with that mighty artifacts resting upon his handsome face…

Or at least he would have if disaster hadn't struck.

Another lie, another group of fools falling for the greed of money, and another long wait expecting their inevitable demise.

That is, until one of them came out running and screaming bawling out of the crypt. A truly horrendous sight.

For this fool lacked eyes, tongue, teeth and arms. He flayed and screamed and ran until he fell down to his death by slipping off the tall hill where the ruins lay.

At first, Valmir was confused.

Then It came walking out of the open doors, and Valmir learned what terror feels like.

A tall, imposing Dragon Priest, wielding not a dragon-like staff like he had read about, but a massive zweihander as big as he was tall.

Adorned in rusted scaly armor filled with spiked dragon fangs and gauntlets resembling dragon claws, the imposing Dragon Priest halts before the doors as if to bathe under the sunlight being cast down upon his form.

Then, Rahgot's lime green mask slowly lowers to regard his trembling form.

And then, the Thing spoke.

"FUS-"

Valmir couldn't cry out, even when he felt the world squeeze down on him and turn his bones to powder.

The whole hill cracked beneath the sheer force of a single Word.

"-RO-"

His skin was flayed off his muscles. His tendons and ligaments popped.

His teeth were pulverized and his organs collapsed.

The hill and the ruins popped like a balloon filled with water bursting from the poke of a needle.

"-DAH!"

And then the last Word came, rumbling across the Heavens like the furious bellow of a God, casting down their wrath for all mortals to see.

The hill collapsed with a deafening rumble, the shock-wave that rippled forth reaching Riften a few seconds later and turning glass into powder, sending the water inside the canals flying everywhere, and causing cracks to cover the foundations of each house.

Everything within entire miles from Forelhost was flattened out, leaving behind only an enormous crater that resembled a gate to the deepest Hells.

Above, the skies were cleared of clouds for miles, letting the sunlight be cast down below, towards the deep pit filled with swirling dark waters.

Waters blacker than black, releasing a powerful stench of rot and death.

Above those waters floated Rahgot, blade in hand, and gaze directed towards Riften.

He spoke no words. He gave no orders.

He only lifted his blade and aimed it towards the distant city.

And from the depths of the rotten hell below him came the devils. Screeching and wailing and squealing like feral animals, using their decayed limbs to drag their frail looking forms dripping with black water out of the pit before pouncing forward towards the distant city.

A tide of corpses soon rose from the depths of hell, filling the air with a chorus of a thousand tormented Souls.

And among the chaos, a lone green mask watched it all as if enjoying the scenery.

A.N. And Rahgot finally makes his appearance. Who is gonna kick is ass, I wonder?

Also, another Dragon Priest will be introduced next chapter. Kinda. It's the one I am very eager to write about!

I do want to apologize for being unable to keep up with my promise of the five chapters the month of October. Failed by two, so am kinda sad about that, but October really wasn't my month.

Either way, I'll try and make it up to y'all!

Look forward to next chapter!

Toodles!