Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 197: Inside and Outside the Dream
"So that's it."

Windhelm is burning.

The city of Windhelm in the present world is burning.

The protective barrier crumbled, and the Kingslingers, calling themselves the Stormcloaks and calling for Ulfric's restoration, stormed into the ancient city—they encountered little resistance, for the city had always remained loyal to Ulfric. What followed, however, was a massacre.

The army of the East killed the people of the East.

The swords of the Windhelm were unleashed upon the city of Windhelm.

The power of conflict flowed through the ranks, for it was the very power they themselves had invoked. The protection of the Holy Spirit vanished in that instant. And magic could not defeat them.

Their numbers are expanding.

The Daedric soldiers from Annihilation Harbor appeared silently within the Stormcloak ranks, unnoticed by the loyal Ulfric soldiers. They simply followed them, as if they had always been their comrades. And when a Daedric soldier with the appearance of an ordinary Nord soldier casually cut down a man blocking his path, they instinctively imitated him.

And so they became them.

So they went on a rampage through Windhelm.

A layer of blood mist silently enveloped Stonefist Gadama, Ulfric's trusted lieutenant. He strode forward, letting out an excited and ferocious roar.

"Kill them all! Kill all the traitors!"

"Kill everyone who is alive in this city!"

He swung his giant axe, his eyes gradually turning blood red. He kicked open an ordinary house, and screams immediately erupted from inside.

"Traitor! Kill him!"

A sharp wail followed, and a head, its eyes wide open in death, rolled out of the house. The man was followed by the woman's screams and pleas for mercy, and as the child's cries subsided, murky blood seeped from under the door, flowing down the wind-swept street.

Some blood flowed out.

A lot of blood flowed down.

The number of demon soldiers on the streets increased, and they all wore human forms. Occasionally, battles broke out in a few places, but soon all resistance was silenced by the overwhelming power of the conflict.

Hera Morley gazed upon the city, this battlefield. Her gaze swept over the countless deaths. A vast amount of magic surged within her body and then vanished, the energy expenditure from maintaining the barrier fading away in a very short time.

She got it.

She got it.

From the very beginning—no, from eight days ago, when the contents of that book in her library disappeared, the fate of Windhelm had already been predetermined.

Because that dragon appeared here.

That dragon, from a special annihilation... no, another world, of the same origin as those 'white = travelers' and similar to the otherworldly dragons that Dust had shown, appeared here.

It appeared in a place that no one expected, and that place was Ramaya's sealed dream.

Ramaya should have remained in a deep slumber, but instead she obtained the dragon—and even with the dragon, she shouldn't have broken free from the seal. However, she gained additional assistance.

Because she is a member of Morag Baal's kin, a chosen one. Whether she can break free from the seal depends not entirely on her own personal strength, but more on how many resources and manpower Baal is willing to invest in her—even while sealed, she can still contact Baal if she so chooses. Therefore, Baal learned of the news.

The Demon of Conflict, Morag Bal, learned of the other world. And naturally, he decided to keep this secret for himself and use it for his own purposes—he wanted that world, and he attempted to open its doors. What he desired was a practical plan for crossing over.

Hera couldn't think of a solution yet. But just now, from Wuenfis, Hera learned a crucial piece of information.

“One thousand four hundred and thirty-four years ago, a dragon appeared in the army of the Ebony Heart that was conquering Ramaya and played a great role in the war. The name of that dragon was Milmoniel.”

What a coincidence.

So Milmenir is here. Because of this city, and a connection to it. And this finally answers a question that has always lingered in Hera's mind—if Milmenir went to Windhelm because it sensed the presence of its own kind, then…why was it Milmenir that came, and not Pathunax?
Yes, she knew Patunax—she knew that at the highest peak of Skyrim, at the Throat of the World, stood a powerful and ancient Ancient Dragon, whose strength might rank among the top in the entire continent of Tamriel. It was a dragon overlord capable of facing Alduin, the Eater of Worlds, in ancient times and even holding its own. And if that dragon were here, even Morag Bal would likely suffer several setbacks before its true form descended. Therefore…

This is a trap, a snare. Milmenir was deliberately lured here by Baal. And while Hera cannot yet guess Milmenir's role in her plan, she is at least certain that Milmenir is crucial to it.

This is enough.

Hera stepped back, her figure shifting amidst the distortion of space and time. The omnipresent power of conflict tore and gnawed at the city like hungry tentacles, but fortunately, her evasion skills were even better.

She walked through the city, where bones and blood were piled up everywhere.

Passing through the mournful cries and screams that echoed between the tower and the sanctuary.

Jorreford and Brunwuff led the Windhelm City Guard and the private armies of the noble families in the Royal Palace, protecting the Windhelm residents they had taken in during the time Hera had bought for them, with the assistance of the court wizards. The pillars of Windhelm, who had once been enemies, were now closely united, and their efforts might buy them a little more time.

It wasn't a very long time.

Stormcloaks and demon soldiers were attacking the palace of kings from all sides. And the blood that was flowing was undoubtedly plentiful.

Blood is a sacrifice.

Blood will bring more blood.

Hera therefore did not linger there, because even if she did act there, all she could do was to speed up the blood-summoning process.

She's going to another place.

A place that Wu Chen might have gone to, but ultimately didn't set foot in—a place that was somewhat well-known in the nearby Windhelm. But not much power would be directed in that direction.

Because it was just an orphan's dwelling, an ordinary stone house.

Avitus Eretino. This young boy had recently caused some unrest in the city by holding a ritual to summon the Dark Brotherhood.

And now-

Hera appeared in the house.

The ceremony site, which had already been cleaned, was right beneath our feet.

The little boy was nowhere to be found, but he was not important—and Hera simply waved her hand, and the dark ritual, whose effectiveness had already been proven, was reforged beneath her feet.

A portrait, a skeleton, a human heart. And a dagger, polished with nightshade petals, floats up under the influence of telekinesis, repeatedly piercing the heart.

The prayer was recited.

“Dear Mother, dear Mother, please give me your child. For unworthy sins must be washed away with blood and fear.”

She read it three times.

A silent wind was flowing around her.

An ordinary shadow rose silently, and a cloaked figure stood motionless. An ominous red light flickered in her eyes, and pure white hair fell from the edge of her hood.

Sure enough.

She looked at the summoned messenger, at the assassin who had fought against her not long ago. Whether the one behind her was the real Sidis or Mefara in disguise as the Night Mother, her presence meant she possessed an external force at least at the level of a demon god.

“A commission.” Milmoniel was the key, but she couldn’t find it. However, she couldn’t find it, unlike the assassin who excelled at moving through the shadows.

The portrait of Mil, drawn based on Dust's description, was held in her hand.

"I'm asking you to come with me to find this woman named Mill, and then... kill her."

(End of this chapter)