The Divine Hunter

Chapter 479 - 479: The Path of Thu’um

Chapter 479: The Path of Thu’um

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: hibiki]

The twin moons of Tamriel traveled across the night, raining down silvery light upon the land.

Within the inn sat a witcher, his expression calm. Lying beside him was his beloved weapon, Aerondight. With Sherry’s matter out of the way, he now focused his efforts on the issue of Thu’um. I’ll get Farengar to appraise Aerondight tomorrow, but now this takes precedence. It’s been a hectic few days, but I should get back to the Shouts now. It’s as powerful as a soul weapon.

Since Roy was no dragon or Dragonborn, he had one hurdle to overcome if he wanted to learn a Shout—amelioration of his soul. He needed to close the distance between his soul and a dragon. And I have to find out what Bones of the Earth means. Gotta learn how to use its power.

Once again, he was in the world of meditation, and a black hole as large as the sun hung in the skies, spilling out Magicka everywhere. Standing beneath the skies was a minute silhouette. A silhouette belonging to the witcher.

Just as the manual taught him, Roy constructed a great being in his mind. A creature as monumental as a mountain. One with scales and claws as dark as night. Its elongated head had two claws protruding at the front, curling backward, and its jaw was lined with teeth sharp enough to tear anything to shreds. The creature’s eyes were devoid of emotion yet filled with crimson violence.

It flapped its wings, and its shadow covered the land in fear. The creature was none other than Alduin, the dragon Roy saw in Helgen. It was the only dragon Roy had seen, so he had no other references.

Fortunately, the fear Alduin struck in his heart also left Roy with a perfect photographic memory of its appearance. Roy calmed his mind and imagined himself slowly changing into a dragon. First, it was his fingertips. He imagined a sharp, curled talon protruding out of the end of his index finger. Then it was his middle finger, then his ring finger…

All of a sudden, the witcher stood on all fours on the bed like a beast, his shoulders, torso, and legs trembling like he was a butterfly trying to break out of its cocoon. Like a falcon breaking free of its egg. Like a snake shedding its skin.

Dark shadows covered the witcher, his legs slowly turning into claws, his mouth elongating into a snout. Horns jutted out of his forehead, and Roy’s head turned into a dark dragon’s head, his golden eyes replaced by a crimson gleam.

A pair of spikes tore through the skin of his arms, slowly pushing outward into the air, and an unspeakable agony enveloped Roy. The pain came not from his skin, his muscles, nor his bones. The pain came beyond his flesh. It was his soul. His soul cried out in agony.

It was as if a thousand knives were cutting away at his soul, but Roy would not falter. He must stay awake and make sure his soul slowly turned into the shape of Alduin, and he was the only one who could do that.

His bones were growing in size, and a pair of wings made of bones replaced his arms, fleshy webbing slowly covering the gaps between each bone. Finally, his dragon wings came into form, and his Elder Blood filled the little holes within his soul. Just like that, a miniature Alduin was born.

Even with Roy’s extraordinary will, the agony still took everything his soul had. The little dragon lay on the ground, huffing and puffing.

A long, long while later, the little dragon turned its attention to the hole that was still pouring out Magicka. It could feel the particles in the air swimming in, as if its body were a magic magnet. “So this is the soul of a dragon?” No. I’m only wearing the skin of a dragon. I lack its bones. Its essence. I must observe dragon bones up close.

Even though it only had the shape of Alduin, Roy could feel a great change stirring within him. He could use the Magicka in this void like they were a part of his body. Once again, he produced the Shout he saw at the Word Wall.

“Fus!”

A wave of power surged from the dark ground beneath Roy, but all he managed to create was a gust of breeze.

“Fus!”

Not enough. Even now when my soul looks like a dragon, I still can’t unleash a Shout. I lack something. But he gained some knowledge from this attempt. The force unleashed by Unrelenting Force came not from Magicka, but from the ground.

The miniature Alduin slowly sank into the dark ground below. It was something Roy had never done before. All this time, he chased after the things floating above his head, thinking he would find the source of magic there. The dimension of elements and the hole were the things he had been chasing after, but never did he try sinking his soul into the ground beneath him.

In Dragon Tongue, this place was called the Bones of the Earth. What are the Bones of the Earth anyway? Skyrim? Or Tamriel?

***

The further he sank into the ground, the more the light was blotted out. Roy’s soul kept sinking further into the depths. Around him was nothing but darkness. Even time itself came to a halt in this space. Fear welled within Roy, but he held it down and kept sinking deeper.

Eventually, the light was fully blotted out, and he felt a connection welling within. It felt like something had come in touch with his soul, and through it, a legacy swam into his mind. A legacy that told of an ancient story.

In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but chaos and the void. Then, a bright ball of light engaged the void in a violent clash, and in the end, the ball of light split into three parts. One tore through the void and created a great hole that spilled Magicka endlessly. In the skies it sat, shining brilliantly like a beacon that guided all things in life. Another flew into the ever-changing planes of Oblivion, while the final part stayed and formed a great sphere in space. Surrounding the planet were eight of the brightest stars in space and a pair of beautiful moons.

This planet was the world where Tamriel stood.

Looks a bit like the story of Creation. Eight stars. That aligns with the Eight Divines. Talos is the manifestation of humanity. He doesn’t count. So the Divines created this world. Then what of the light that flew into Oblivion? The Daedric Princes? And what of the light that flew into that bright world?

Roy had a lot of questions, but he was not sure if he wanted to know the answers.

And then the scene disappeared like a bubble, replaced by skeletons the size of mountains. What manner of creature these skeletons used to be in life was indiscernible, and yet one thing was clear. These skeletons were thousands of times larger than dragons themselves, and these bones had merged with the very earth.

Roy felt a sense of sorrow and sadness well in his heart, and he understood what these skeletons belonged to. These were the Bones of the Earth. The remains of the Eight Divines after they sacrificed themselves to create the world. And then, he saw Sanguine in crimson, spiked armor.

The clash of the lights he saw told him of a shocking truth. The Daedric Princes and Divines are one and the same. And Alduin shares some similarities with them. The three of them were kin, but they battled over their differences and broke their bond. Yet the power they possess are the same. Alduin’s a bit weaker, though. Dragons using the power of the bones is just them using their own power. Of course it comes easily to them.

And the miniature Alduin opened its mouth.

“Fus!”

This time, Roy seemed to have found the secret to the Shout. A minuscule part of the great skeletons resonated with the Shout, and it vibrated. Though it was so small, Roy almost missed it. Yet this little vibration brought with it a violent air current powerful enough to smash through the void.

“Fus!”

Roy grunted, and his eyes snapped open. The rays of dawn shone upon his face glistening with sweat. He was breathing heavily, his eyes wide with shock, and the veins on his neck popped. For a moment, he thought everything he saw was just an illusion, but he knew that wasn’t true.

Roy felt as if he was inches away from death, and he remained on his bed for half an hour before he finally turned his attention to his character sheet. Then a smile curled his lips. Good. At least I didn’t go through that for nothing.

A new skill glimmered on his character sheet.

‘You have ameliorated your soul. For a brief moment, you closed the gap with Alduin and saw the truth of the Bones of the Earth (The remains of Divines. The very land you stand upon). You have successfully cast a Shout.

Thu’um Level 1: You have learned Unrelenting Force (Force). Every time you shout, the Bones of the Earth will unleash its energy and push away anything or anyone that stands in your way, knocking them off balance and destroying them. This skill costs no Mana to spend, but every time you Shout, your soul will enter an exhausted state. Only time can heal your soul. How frequently you can use this skill depends on how powerful your soul is.

You are now Level 12. Your soul has gone through twelve powerups. Thu’um’s cooldown is now twenty-four minutes.’

***

Thu’um doesn’t need any Mana or EXP? Wait, so the power of my soul is the only thing it requires? Roy was surprised that a skill this powerful expended almost nothing, and it told him valuable information hitherto unknown to him. So every time I level up, my stat and skill points aren’t the only thing I gain. My soul gets powered up too. After twelve powerups, his soul was already a lot more powerful than most people’s. And he had Level 10 Meditation, and his Elder Blood had some similarities with dragons. Only then could he ameliorate his soul.

But now, after that successful Shout, he had another concern. Shouts utilize the power of the Bones. The remains of those who created this world. Does this thing even exist in other worlds?

Roy wondered if he could still use Shouts after he went back to the witcher world. Can I use the Bones through space? Best not to think about it. Not my biggest concern right now. He hopped off his bed and stretched his arms. I can’t wait to try the Shout out. But I don’t want to destroy this place. Don’t want to wake everyone up either.

Roy strapped Aerondight to his back and left his room. Then he descended the stairs. It was about three or four in the morning, and Whiterun was in a deep sleep. The charcoal in the center of the inn had no embers left, and the servants and guests were nowhere to be seen. Hulda’s probably sleeping too.

Roy left the inn and walked down the street, passing a few patches of mountain flower. He took in the morning’s air and came to the inn’s backyard. There, he saw someone practicing his swordplay, and it was a familiar someone. Roy smiled.

“Flynn.”

The Dragonborn was swinging his sword and shield around. He hid behind his shield and charged ahead into an imaginary enemy. As if his enemy had faltered, the Dragonborn thrust his sword forward and quickly hid behind his shield once more.

He then listened closely, as if his enemy was moving. Stepping aside, he swung his blade again. The Dragonborn then quickly held his shield up and turned around to charge ahead. He swung his shield around him and turned around once more, this time to step aside. Then he swung his blade forward again.

He was clumsy, and his basics were poor, yet there was determination in his eyes. His movements were filled with energy, and his attacks were swift. Roy thought he could easily deal with a couple of Whiterun’s soldiers at this stage. He sneaks away to practice while Arvel and I are asleep. Time to teach him a little thing in life.

“Hey.”

“Goldeneye? You’re early.”

The witcher stared at him, saying nothing.

A nervous Flynn stared at the ground, fidgeting. “I wanted to train. You and Arvel are a lot more powerful than I am. I can’t keep dragging you guys down, or we can’t go on adventures together anymore. So I thought I should train hard.”

At least he’s earnest. Roy patted Flynn’s shoulder and nodded, telling him to continue. Then he summoned his loyal servant.

A few minutes later, Arvel showed up all decked out in leather helm and armor, though he was yawning.

He and the Dragonborn started training, and it was intense. Only when both of them were sweating profusely did they come to a stop.

“So what are you going to do with the sword, Goldeneye?”

“Sit.”

The trio sat on the patch of grass behind the inn. The witcher showed Aerondight to his companions and told them what he did with Sherry. He didn’t lend the weapon to them, of course. Soul weapons were a warrior’s closest companion. They wouldn’t let anyone touch it.

“What kind of place is Novigrad? I can’t believe they can enchant without soul gems.” Arvel fiddled with his sword.

And Roy smiled.

“Man, I wished Sanguine had picked me.” Flynn swung his sweat off. “I had a strange dream, and in that dream, I was the one who went through the trial. And I was given a crimson staff.”

“It was just a dream. Goldeneye’s a lot smarter and more skilful than you are. And handsome too.” Arvel shook his head. “The Prince had no reason to pick someone like you when Goldeneye is around.”

“You have a point.”

“We should see Farengar now.” Roy felt guilty for some reason. It felt like he just took something from Flynn. And through Arvel, he asked, “So what next? Are you going to stay in Whiterun until Farengar deciphers the stone?”

An excited Flynn gushed, “I’ve figured out the things I got from the wall. It’s a Shout called Unrelenting Force, and it’s engraved in my soul. Like I was born with it.” And then he looked confused. “But I still lack something. If I want to use that Shout, I will have to get close to a dragon once again. And Whiterun is at risk of another dragon attack.”

The Dragonborn had changed. At first, he wanted nothing to do with dragons, but now he was chasing after them. His eyes were gleaming with a certain desire. “Once I have that power, Jarl Balgruuf is going to reward me handsomely. And I can find myself a wife!”

Roy wiped the sweat off his forehead. Flynn doesn’t know he’s a Dragonborn just yet. And Dragonborns should have higher ambitions than this.

Arvel nodded. “I’ve spent my whole life chasing after dragons, though I don’t think I can ever master a Shout.”

Flynn said, “Hey, maybe I can teach you once I figure out the whole deal with Shouts.”

“Wouldn’t that be great.” Arvel grinned. “We should drink up at The Bannered Mare more. Maybe we’ll run into another Prince. Farengar did say there are sixteen of them. I’ll stay with you guys.”

And the thief swung his arm happily. “And perhaps they will call me Arvel the Dragonslayer. That’s the promise I made to my child.” And he trailed off. There was sadness and longing in his eyes, then he teared up a little.

But after that, he looked at Roy with respect. Even without his child’s wish, he couldn’t go anywhere unless his master told him to. Good thing he’s a reasonable master.

“Pardon me, but can you tell me more about your child? Didn’t hear it back in the inn. But it’s fine if you don’t want to share.”

“I had a daughter back when I was in Solitude. But she died of an illness years ago. Still had a wish, though.” The thief lived in Solitude back when the High King was still alive.

“What kind of wish?”

“It’s related to a festival in Solitude. It goes by the name of the Burning of King Olaf.”

“Olaf?” Flynn thought he knew what the festival was about.

“Yes. Olaf One-Eye, the first Jarl of Whiterun, Dragonslayer, and the ancestor of Jarl Balgruuf.” Arvel smirked. “A long time ago, the Bards College of Solitude thought the story of Olaf’s dragonslaying was nothing but a lie. Thought he was a liar, so every year, there is be a day dedicated to the burning of a strawman made in Olaf’s image. It’s the way they show contempt for liars.”

Roy and Flynn exchanged a look. Why did Skyrim’s ruler let this festival go on? It’s disrespectful to Balgruuf. Wait. Perhaps that’s why Balgruuf chose no sides in this war. It’s his way of showing discontent.

“But not everyone in Solitude thought Olaf was a liar. Fran thought of him as a real hero who slayed a dragon.” A gentle look welled in the thief’s eyes. “But she couldn’t prove it. Afterall, dragons have been gone for thousands of years. The story of Olaf the Dragonslayer is just a legend. A myth. Even when she was dying, still, I couldn’t find proof of the story’s veracity. All I can do now is venture through ruins to search for the power the Nordlings used to defeat dragons.”

Arvel took a deep breath. “And now dragons are making their return. I must stay in Whiterun and witness the heroic act of dragonslaying. I must fulfill my daughter’s dying wish.”

Flynn patted his shoulder with respect. “Didn’t take you for a more courageous man than I am, Arvel. But here you are. I’m going with you on this hunt.”

“Dragonslaying is no easy feat. We need help from Whiterun’s soldiers, and even then, it’s not enough.” Roy was reminded of Alduin. The soldiers there kept shooting it with arrows, and yet it was to no avail. Barely a second later, Alduin had turned them into a crisp. “We’ll meet up with Farengar, then I’ll talk to Jarl Balgruuf. Find out what Whiterun’s strategy is. We can’t just get swept into the flow of things. And perhaps we can get a little something for ourselves out of this. A house or something, perhaps.”

Roy told his companions to make their way to Dragonsreach, while he fired off some bolts and blinked away. A few blinks later, Roy left the mountain where Whiterun stood, and he arrived at a big oak in the plains. It was about a hundred years old, and its canopy was far-reaching enough to cover a small village.

The witcher concentrated and cleared his mind. His hands were placed on his waist, clenched into fists. And he bent his knee a little as he inhaled. In his mind, he imagined the shape of a creature of destruction. At the same time, a sliver of light slowly enveloped his armor, and his eyes turned a violent crimson.

Slivers of black light surrounded him, and within that light was a black dragon, ready to let out a roar.

“Fus!”

Roy roared at the oak tree, and the dragon within the black light opened its maw as well. A minuscule part of the skeletal remains slumbering beneath the earth opened up, sending a surge of energy up to the surface.

A violent wave of wind slammed away at the air before Roy. Roy took a deep breath and finally relaxed.

“I have my Shout and twice-elevated Devour. I should be able to fight a dragon now.”

Roy turned around, and the oak behind him broke off through its center, revealing the ancient rings within the trunk. The remainder of the tree was uprooted, while the top half was sent flying into the distance. Its branches and leaves slammed heavily to the ground, playing a tune for the departing witcher.