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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Aerion reached in and lifted the gilded armor. He let out a soft, highly amused chuckle, shaking his head at the historical irony. "It seems," Aerion mused, holding the Aldmeri craftsmanship up to the light, "that despite their endless, bloody wars against the Elves, the ancient Nords absolutely loved to hoard our superior tailoring."
Jenassa let out a low, gravelly chuckle that echoed softly against the frosted stone walls of the chamber. She leaned casually against her Dwarven bow, her crimson eyes tracking the golden, glowing plating of the Aldmeri armor Aerion held in his hands.
"It is a simple matter we could see from history, Patron," Jenassa observed, her tone laced with the cynical wisdom of a seasoned mercenary. "The races of Men, especially the Nords of this frozen province, harbor a deep, generational hatred for the Elves. They despise your kind, and they distrust mine. Yet, they are not blind fools."
"They recognize that our tools, our armor, our forged weapons, and our arcane knowledge are vastly superior to their crude iron and steel. So, while they will gladly curse an Altmer with their dying breath, they will absolutely strip the corpse to take anything they can use to improve their own warfare and their own ways of life."
Aerion offered a slow, knowing nod, his golden eyes reflecting the ambient light of the crypt. "Hypocrisy born of necessity. I understand it full well. It has been the way of the world since the First Era."
As he spoke, a dark, incredibly violent piece of lore from his encyclopedic meta knowledge surfaced in his mind. He remembered the bloody history of Pelinal Whitestrake, the legendary, seemingly unkillable crusader of Men who had waged an apocalyptic, genocidal war against the Ayleid Elves in Cyrodiil.
Pelinal had slaughtered thousands of Mer in fits of divine madness, painting the land red with their blood. Yet, even the great Pelinal had supposedly utilized armor and weaponry of highly advanced, perhaps even Elven or divine, origin to accomplish his slaughter.
Aerion shared a brief, sanitized version of the observation regarding Pelinal's armaments. Jenassa chuckled again, a dark, appreciative sound.
Aerion turned his attention back to the pristine Elven Armor resting in his hands. The pulsing red aura of enchantment surrounding the moonstone plates was incredibly potent. He let the system identify the specific arcane matrix woven into the metal before transferring it to his void.
[Item Acquired: Elven Armor of Bountiful Health]
Description: Forged with high tier Restoration magics. Wearing this cuirass passively bolsters the user's vitality, increasing maximum Health by 100 points.
[Inventory Weight Increased by 1.0 KG]
"A magnificent piece," Aerion murmured, immensely pleased. Increasing his base health by a flat hundred points without spending attribute points was a massive tactical advantage.
He reached back into the heavy steel chest, shifting aside ancient linens to reveal the next layer of the Overlord's hoard.
Resting side by side were two flawless, completely un enchanted Elven Swords. Their curved, golden blades were razor-sharp and practically weightless compared to the heavy Ebony Sword currently resting at his hip. They were perfect for dual wielding, or highly valuable assets to sell to the blacksmiths in Whiterun.
[Items Acquired: 2x Elven Sword]
[Inventory Weight Increased by 1.0 KG]
Next, his hands brushed against the familiar, heavy leather of coin purses. There were two massive pouches, bulging heavily with ancient, minted gold. The sheer density of the bags indicated a substantial haul. The system vacuumed the currency in a highly satisfying rush of digital clicks.
[Gold Acquired: 1,500 Septims]
"The Warlords of old certainly knew how to tax their subjects," Aerion noted, his wealth continuing its astronomical climb.
He dug deeper into the chest. His fingers closed around a long, metallic shaft. He pulled it free, revealing a beautifully crafted golden staff. Unlike the caged lantern design of the Staff of Magelight, this weapon was forged for pure offense. The head of the staff was sculpted into the fierce, stylized visage of a roaring dragon, its metallic jaws open wide.
Aerion concentrated, feeling the latent magical resonance trapped within the golden metal to determine its elemental affinity. A sharp, static shock prickled the skin of his palm.
"Lightning," Aerion concluded, satisfied. A Staff of Lightning provided an excellent secondary method of delivering electrical damage without draining his own Magicka reserves. He slipped it into his spatial inventory alongside his staff of fire and magelight.
[Item Acquired: Staff of Lightning]
[Inventory Weight Increased by 1.0 KG]
Aerion reached into the very bottom corner of the chest, expecting to find the last few scattered gems or perhaps a rotting bone meal pouch.
His fingers brushed against something smooth, cold, and strangely geometric.
He pulled it out into the dim light.
It was a large, heavy crystal, roughly the size of a grapefruit. It was perfectly white, carved into a complex, multi faceted geometric sphere that strongly resembled a golf ball constructed from pure, glowing quartz. It radiated a soft, pulsating, deeply penetrating white light that cast strange, shifting shadows against the walls of the crypt.
The moment Aerion's eyes registered the unmistakable shape of the crystal, a cold, heavy drop of sweat broke out on the back of his neck. His breath hitched in his throat, and his heart rate spiked violently.
He knew exactly what this was.
Meridia's Beacon.
His gamer mind screamed in sudden, jarring panic. 'Why in the name of Oblivion is this item here? Now?' In the original game, the Beacon was a highly notorious, completely randomized piece of loot.
It could spawn in literally any boss chest in the entire province of Skyrim once the player reached a certain level. When the player picked it up, they were instantly, unavoidably locked into a deafening, unskippable dialogue with a Daedric Prince.
But this wasn't a game anymore. This was reality.
Aerion had absolutely zero plans to interact with the Daedric Princes anytime soon. They were cosmic, immortal entities of unfathomable power and terrifying caprice.
While Meridia, the Daedric Prince of Life and Light, was generally considered to be of a "lawful neutral" alignment compared to the absolute, sadistic evil of Molag Bal or the chaotic, world ending destruction of Mehrunes Dagon, she was still a Daedra.
Meridia possessed a blinding, extreme arrogance. She was highly manipulative, viewing mortals not as individuals, but as crude instruments to execute her unending war against the undead. Most terrifying of all was her absolute lack of respect for mortal free will.
Those who followed her too closely, or failed her, were often stripped of their autonomy, enslaved, and turned into "Purified", immortal, mindless husks filled with blinding light, forced to serve her for eternity.
Aerion stared at the glowing geometric orb in his palm, his golden face pale, his highly analytical mind racing for a safe exit strategy.
Jenassa, noticing the sudden, absolute silence from her employer, stepped closer. She looked down at the glowing white crystal resting in his hand.
"What a peculiar gemstone," Jenassa murmured, reaching out with her leather clad hand to touch the smooth, multi faceted surface. "I have never seen a cut like that. It practically hums with energy. It will fetch an astronomical price in Solitude."
"Do not touch it!" Aerion snapped, his voice cracking like a whip.
He violently yanked his hand back, pulling the Beacon out of her reach.
Jenassa froze, her hand hovering in the empty air. She blinked, her crimson eyes widening in genuine, unadulterated surprise.
In all the time she had served him, through ambushes, giant camps, political negotiations, and apocalyptic boss fights, she had never seen the towering High Elf lose his composure. He was always a bastion of aristocratic arrogance and terrifying confidence.
Now, staring at a simple white crystal, he looked genuinely tense.
"Patron?" Jenassa asked, her voice dropping into a cautious, highly alert register. She stepped back, her hand dropping to the hilt of her dagger. "Why the extreme caution? Is the gem cursed? Is it a magical explosive?"
Aerion took a slow, deep breath, forcing his racing heart to slow down. He needed to construct a lie, and he needed to do it flawlessly, before Jenassa began to question his true nature.
"It is not an explosive, Jenassa," Aerion replied, his voice still tight, carefully measuring his words. "While the magic radiating from this artifact will not physically harm us... I can feel an immense, terrifyingly ancient presence haunting this crystal. An entity of such overwhelming power that establishing contact with it could shatter a mortal mind with the sheer shock of its voice."
Jenassa frowned deeply, the mercenary pragmatism warring with her superstitious Dunmer heritage. "A presence? You speak as if the stone is alive. What exactly is it?"
Aerion slowly lowered his hand, keeping the Beacon away from his body. "When I was conducting my restricted research within the Arcanaeum, I uncovered an ancient, heavily warded tome detailing the artifacts of the cosmic entities that dwell in Oblivion. I recognize the specific, geometric cut of this crystal."
He looked directly into her crimson eyes, delivering the heavy truth wrapped in a fabricated origin. "This is a Daedric Artifact. Specifically, it belongs to Meridia. The Daedric Prince of Life and Light."
Jenassa sucked in a sharp, hissing breath through her teeth. The casual mention of a Daedric Prince was enough to chill the blood of any resident of Tamriel.
"Meridia," Jenassa repeated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I have heard the name. My people worship the Reclamations, Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala. We know of the other Princes. Meridia is said to despise the undead, which makes her seem... nicer, compared to the Lord of Domination or the Prince of Destruction. But she is an absolute extremist. Her light burns just as completely as any fire."
Jenassa took another step back, eyeing the golf ball sized crystal with deep apprehension. "If it belongs to a Daedric Prince, Patron... shouldn't we simply leave it here? Close the chest, walk away, and let her light stay buried with the dead? We have enough wealth. We do not need the attention of Oblivion."
"That was my exact, initial thought," Aerion admitted, his brow furrowed in a genuine dilemma. "However, artifacts of this magnitude do not adhere to the physical laws of our reality. They are sentient, in a manner of speaking. If we simply abandon it here, having already opened the chest and disturbed its resting place... I am deeply afraid the artifact will simply teleport itself. It could vanish from this tomb and seamlessly manifest inside the next chest we open, or the next lockbox we pick, relentlessly haunting us until we acknowledge it."
Aerion paused, looking down at the pulsing white light. "But conversely, if I claim it, I invite the direct, unmitigated gaze of a Daedric Prince upon me. It is an incredibly dangerous tactical crossroads."
Inwardly, Aerion's internal monologue was a chaotic storm of deeply complex, highly classified anxieties.
He wasn't just afraid of Meridia commanding him to clear out her temple. He was terrified of the gaze of a god.
Aerion was not a natural born inhabitant of Nirn after all. He was a human from a completely different universe, his soul transmigrated into a digitally constructed, heavily modded Altmer body by forces he still did not fully comprehend.
His soul possessed absolute meta knowledge of the universe's past, present, and future. It possessed the systemic interface, the leveling matrices, and the inventory void.
'If a Daedric Prince looks directly into my soul,' Aerion thought, a cold dread pooling in his stomach, what exactly will they see?
Will Meridia see the soul of a proud High Elf scholar? Or will she see the anomalous, glaringly foreign code of a dimensional interloper?
If the Daedric Princes realized he was essentially a waking glitch in their reality, possessing knowledge of their deepest secrets and vulnerabilities, he would become the ultimate prize.
Hermaeus Mora, the Prince of Knowledge, would relentlessly hunt him down, tearing his mind apart to extract the secrets of the "real world" and the "game code." Molag Bal would seek to enslave him purely for the novelty of dominating a soul from beyond the Aurbis.
It was the ultimate existential threat to his shadow ruler ambitions.
But then, the cold, hyper logical side of his Altmer brain merged flawlessly with the pragmatic, risk calculating side of his Gamer mind.
'I cannot hide forever,' Aerion reasoned internally. 'Eventually, to acquire the ultimate power this world offers, I will have to interact with the Daedric Princes. I will need Azura's Star. I will need the Oghma Infinium. I will need the Wabbajack.'
If he was going to test the absolute limits of his dimensional camouflage, Meridia was paradoxically the safest possible test subject. She was arrogant, yes, but she wasn't a mind shredding torturer like Mora. If his soul was vulnerable, he needed to know now, so he could spend the rest of his life avoiding Daedric shrines. If his soul was protected by the System... then he was untouchable.
'It is time to find out exactly what I am to the gods of this world,' Aerion decided, his jaw clenching with absolute resolve.
Aerion closed his fingers tightly around the glowing, geometric sphere.
He didn't just hold it, he mentally laid claim to it, pushing his arcane presence against the artifact.
The physical world instantly vanished.
The damp, freezing crypt, the smell of ash, Jenassa standing mere feet away, it all completely faded into a muffled, distant void. The white light of the Beacon exploded, blinding his mind's eye, replacing his entire consciousness with a realm of pure, searing radiance.
And then, the voice hit him.
It did not enter through his ears. It detonated directly inside the center of his brain. It was a female voice, echoing with the volume of a collapsing mountain, dripping with absolute, unquestionable, terrifying cosmic arrogance.
"A NEWHAND TOUCHES THE BEACON."
The sheer decibel level of the telepathic projection nearly drove Aerion to his knees. He gritted his teeth, his mental shields straining against the divine intrusion.
"LISTEN. HEAR ME AND OBEY." Meridia's voice boomed, demanding absolute subservience. "A FOUL DARKNESS HAS SEEPED INTO MY TEMPLE. A DARKNESS THAT YOU WILL DESTROY. RETURN MY BEACON TO MOUNT KILKREATH. AND I WILL MAKE YOU THE INSTRUMENT OF MY CLEANSING LIGHT."
Aerion braced himself, waiting for the inevitable follow up. He waited for the cosmic pause, the moment the Daedric Prince peered into his essence to evaluate her new "instrument."
The booming silence stretched for a microsecond.
And then, the absolute, overwhelming volume of the goddess suddenly dropped. The blinding, commanding arrogance wavered, replaced by a tone of highly unnatural, genuine cosmic confusion.
"Ohh..." Meridia murmured, her voice losing its booming echo, sounding suddenly very close, very sharp, and deeply intrigued. "This... this is something entirely new. Something I have never encountered in all my eons."
Aerion's mental heart hammered against his ribs. 'She sees it. She sees the anomaly.'
"Why..." Meridia continued, her tone laced with mounting frustration. "Why can I not see your soul, mortal? When I cast my gaze upon your essence, I see... nothing. A void. A flawless, impenetrable mirror that reflects only my own light back at me."
Aerion mentally exhaled a massive, staggering breath of absolute, unadulterated relief.
The System. The divine, transmigrational code that had brought him to this world was actively, flawlessly shielding his true nature.
"There is a barrier around your core," Meridia accused, the curiosity rapidly evolving into demanding suspicion. "A ward of such absolute, fundamental density that it defies the very laws of the Aurbis. Not even Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time himself, could obscure the soul of his most favored champion from my sight with such totality. Yet you stand before me, an opaque shadow."
The goddess's voice hardened, her cosmic interest fully piqued. "What exactly are you, High Elf? You are no mere scholar of the Arcanaeum. You have piqued my interest vastly further than a simple courier of my Beacon."
Aerion's mind raced. He had his answer. He was completely invisible to the cosmic scanners of the Daedric Princes. Hermaeus Mora wouldn't be able to read him. Molag Bal wouldn't be able to break him. He was a systemic ghost.
But her intense curiosity was a massive secondary problem. He did not want to be Meridia's cosmic puzzle box. He needed to deflect her interest immediately, playing into the very arrogance she possessed. He needed to act like a terrified, ignorant mortal who had absolutely no idea what was happening.
Aerion projected his thoughts back into the blinding light, injecting his mental voice with the perfect, flawless combination of fear, confusion, and desperate reverence.
"I... I do not know what you are saying, great spirit," Aerion stammered mentally, his maximized Persuasion skill actively weaving the deception into his very thoughts. "I do not know anything about my soul, or any barriers. I am just a mage! A traveler! Who are you? Why am I hearing your voice inside my mind, when my companion standing right beside me hears nothing?"
Deep within the interface, the system registered the astronomical difficulty of actively attempting to deceive a Daedric Prince.
[Persuasion (+1) Leveled Up 10 Times! Current Level: 10]
The system dinged. The lie was woven with absolute, reality bending perfection.
The oppressive, blinding silence hung in his mind for another terrifying second.
Then, Meridia let out a soft, echoing scoff. It was the sound of a god dismissing the trivial ignorance of an ant. The absolute perfection of his Persuasion skill had flawlessly convinced the Prince of Light that he was genuinely, pathetically oblivious to his own nature.
"Of course you do not know, mortal," Meridia dismissed, her voice returning to its booming, imperious volume, completely dropping her line of questioning regarding his soul. "Mortal minds are fragile, limited things, incapable of comprehending the true nature of the cosmic forces that shape them. Perhaps you are touched by a remnant of Aetherius. It matters not. Your ignorance is irrelevant to my purpose."
The blinding light in his mind's eye flared violently. "I AM MERIDIA," the Daedric Prince formally introduced herself, her voice shaking the very foundations of his consciousness. "LADY OF INFINITE ENERGIES. THE GLISTER WITCH. THE PRINCE OF LIFE AND LIGHT. AND YOU, SHIELDED OR NOT, HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO BEAR MY BEACON."
_____________________________
[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 400/400 Stamina: 400/400 Magicka: 530/530
Level: 95
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+2)/Lightning(+1)/Frost) (Level 44/19/89), Restoration (Healing/Purify) (Level 76/MAX), Alteration (Level 35), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 42), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning) (Level 37/93), Persuasion(+1) (Level 10), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 33), One Handed (Level 76), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 34), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), & Feim (Fade)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Steel Dagger, Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, Iron Shield, Steel Mace, Steel Warhammer, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Steel Dagger of Minor Souls, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Ancient Nord Bow, Dragonstone, Ancient Nord Battleaxe Of Blaze, Potion of Minor Pickpocketing, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Golden Emerald Circlet, Copper Sapphire Circlet, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, Emerald, Sapphire, Silver Garnet Circlet, Jagged Crown, Elven Sword Of Lightning, Elven Shield, Circlet Of Peerless Alchemy, Ancient Nord Boots, The Mirror, Glass Sword, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Staff of Magelight, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Iron Gauntlets of Smithing, Reanimate Corpse Tome, Honed Ancient Nord Greatsword of Cold, Elven Armor of Bountiful Health, & Staff of Lightning
2x Iron Mace, Steel Axe, Steel Greatsword, Silver Amethyst Ring, Silver Necklace, Gold Emerald Ring, Potion Of Ultimate Magicka, Common Soul Gem (Empty), Weak Magicka Poison, Gold Garnet Necklace, Scroll of Fireball, Scroll of Guardian Circle, Ancient Nord Helmet, Black Soul Gem (Empty), & Elven Sword
3x Iron Greatsword, Steel Sword, Scroll Of Fireball, Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Silver Ruby Ring, Gold Ruby Ring, Amethyst, Silver Ingot, Quicksilver Ingot, Black Soul Gems (Filled), & Silver Garnet Necklace
4x Potions of Minor Magicka, Spider Eggs, Iron Ingots, Gold Ingots, & Garnet
5x Lesser Soul Gem, Dwarven Metal Ingot, & Ruby
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 148.44 KG / 500 KG
Septims: 85,204