Simon, who had just woken up from a nap, frowned. He had a very strange dream just now, which was the opening animation of the game.
But he vaguely felt as if he had forgotten something—he couldn't remember, and soon, even the thought of having forgotten something faded away.
Simon only remembered dreaming of game scenes, and that was all.
The Troll's cliff dive, which was more startling than dangerous, didn't give him any other feelings. He went to a sheltered spot in the courtyard to cook, and the aroma drew Jonas and Dilo, two gluttons, over. Simon let them taste each dish before serving it, only putting it out once they found it delicious.
At dinner, Arngeir, who had meditated for nearly ten hours, finally appeared. As the only Greybeard who could communicate, Simon also missed this old man very much.
After dinner, Simon stopped Arngeir, "Master, may I ask you to teach me a Dragon Shout?"
The old man smiled, as if he had expected it, "Follow me."
Simon followed him out of the council hall, into the central hall. Before the raised platform leading to the courtyard was a patch of light gray square bricks, distinctly different from the large gray-black slate surrounding it. Two deep, tiered skylights in the dome allowed dim twilight to filter in, making this small patch of brickwork appear dull, like a dusty, dirty rag.
Arngeir stood in the shadows outside the light beam and softly uttered a word towards the brick ground.
"Fus!"
A wave of sound, carrying dense air, emerged as a vortex, striking the bricks and transforming into a Dragon Language character, meaning 'Power'.
What do the Dragons' words look like? At first glance, they resemble abstract cuneiform. They are symbols carved by a Dragon's claws, so the strokes are very straight, thick at the beginning and thin at the end. Three to four lines of different lengths arranged together form a Dragon Word, and several Dragon Words combine to form a phrase.
Arngeir pointed at the rune on the ground, "Meditate on it. If you truly have the sky's approval, you will be able to do it."
Do what? Understand it? Simon understood Dragon Language. Or engrave it? How would he know if he met the standard?
The Troll sat cross-legged before the rune, gazing intently at the illusion on the bricks.
A Dragon Shout, imprinted on the ground, left only faint traces and a symbol emitting a chaotic, orange-red glow.
Without any clue, Simon poured his slightly recovered mental energy into his eyes below his brows. Looking at the Dragon Language again, he vaguely felt something. A sense of weariness slowly arose during the quiet meditation, and some illusions also slowly emerged—a fragmented azure sky, divided by black storm clouds, mountains small, like inconspicuous mounds on a sand table, slowly eroding into dust in the long wind behind the clouds.
What is power? To destroy some things, or to build some things? Is it a great union, or a greedy expansion?
Each time one learns a Thu'um, it is a debate, a choice.
Simon was still carefully observing the illusion before his eyes. A man was chiseling a mountain with a pickaxe, building a road on the steep High Hrothgar, paving it with stone steps, a total of seven thousand steps. No matter how high the mountain, it cannot stop my footsteps!
The scene constantly shifted. A Grey Robed Man was being besieged by seventeen people with Dragon Shouts, yet He stood firm amidst the violent, raging, volcanic air currents. With just one opening of His mouth, a shocking and boundless Thu'um suppressed the Dragon Shouts of all the others. When I speak, you must all shut up!
Ancient Nord heroes, wielding crude weapons, fought against Dragons that flew and burrowed. They used Dragon Shouts to defeat the arrogant Dragons, even forcing Them into a slumber from which They could not reawaken. You used Dragon Shouts to oppress our ancestors; now we will retaliate in kind, a blood debt for blood!
...
Simon came to his senses. The sky was completely dark, and braziers were lit around, casting a warm glow. He looked up; outside the skylight, a corner of the brilliant aurora borealis was visible, shimmering beautifully.
He already understood Fus, but he still couldn't release it.
What would he use to release this Thu'um?
Magic energy wouldn't work. Although it was Dragon Language magic, its release didn't require magic energy. A Dragon Shout was a resonant frequency; shouting it out was enough. The key was that just shouting it out was useless.
Then he would use mental energy.
Simon focused his mental energy on his vocal cords and shouted, "Fus!"
Fus echoed in the hall, but no airflow emerged. Failure.
Simon nodded. It seemed to require advanced manipulation. Thu'um required more advanced control techniques over mental energy—it was often this step that made many learners of the Way of the Voice struggle to find the method.
Mental energy is a combination of body, mind, and belief—Dragon Shouts require emotional infusion. So, ultimately, one must be like an actor, to integrate into this frequency.
If, in the first step of memorizing the Dragon Language, one firmly establishes one's own view of its meaning, then there will be errors when it comes to emotional resonance.
Simon closed his eyes. Power is a means to achieve ideas. The form of power is not important, as long as the goal is achieved. This was his philosophy. So, to unleash a Dragon Shout, he could try different methods, as long as it succeeded.
He then told himself that he would use brute force to crush everything, everything that stood in his way, whether tangible objects or intangible matters, all of it would be completely crushed.
His mental energy fluctuated violently, like a surge of passion welling up in his heart, and an irrepressible cry of release surged in his throat. Simon opened his eyes, inhaled, and uttered the Thu'um—Fus!
His mental energy vibrated, rose, then fell, and resonance occurred. Magic energy surged into his voice, and a turbulent ball of air flew out, knocking over the brazier next to the pillar. The cold airflow instantly carried away too much heat, and the glowing red coals turned dim and black.
Simon felt a bit tired. Mental energy fluctuations indeed had a great negative impact on a person. No wonder Dragon Shouts couldn't be used continuously in the game; one would become mentally exhausted and suffer from illness.
"Good, very talented. Impressive." Arngeir stood on the platform, at the corridor entrance, watching silently the whole time. Only now did he speak in praise, "You are truly perceptive. An ordinary person would need years of meditation and contemplation to learn a Thu'um. As mortals, we are all weak, but with the Dragon Shout, we can transform into the boundless heavens and earth."
The Troll, while savoring the subtle sensation of mental energy fluctuation, replied, "When one thought arises, one thought dwells, like smoke in fire, like flowers on the sea, stinging the nose, blinding the eyes. If no thought arises, one sees bright lamps, sincere and clear, the true path."
Using a Thu'um requires the fusion of emotions, which is 'one thought arises'. Over time, one's mind will be constrained by this illusory emotion, hence 'one thought dwells'. But if one can act at will, remove shallow and fleeting impulses, and point directly to the constant essence, that is the realm of light, which is the principle of divinity.
Arngeir was startled and remained silent.
The monk's 'machine' (a term for Zen riddles or questions) was even more obscure than the Greybeards' subtlety, and Simon's grammar was also very archaic, with concise vocabulary and infinite connotations, making it even more difficult to understand.
Master Ai immediately felt that it made a lot of sense and planned to go back and ponder Simon's words carefully.
The hurried footsteps faded into the distance, and Simon remained in place.
Just now, when his mental energy fluctuated, there seemed to be a sudden flutter in his heart, like a memory quietly knocking on the window, but when he looked up, there was no trace.
So, what exactly did I forget?
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