The portal was paper-thin. As Wright and Renly were sucked in and collided with it, they instantly appeared on the other side.
The portal's exit in this world wasn't suspended in midair or placed in some bizarre location. Instead, they emerged on a platform atop a mountain. Wright twisted his body midair to quickly discern the ground from the sky, adjusted his posture, and landed steadily. As he did, he grabbed Renly, who had also been pulled in, helping him land safely.
The Dremora Lord who had made a pact with Wright followed through the portal as well, which then instantly closed.
"Wright, have we arrived in hell?"
Renly had read many books, and this place matched his imagination of what hell would look like.
"If it's not hell, it's close enough!"
Coming to their senses, Wright and Renly began observing their surroundings.
The sky was blanketed by thick clouds, with red lightning occasionally streaking through them. Other than the structure beneath their feet, the visible land was entirely black. There was no sun above the clouds, but the golden-red lava erupting from distant volcanoes and the molten rivers flowing like streams across the land cast an eerie glow over the world. The air was thick with the pungent stench of sulfur.
"Dragonborn, my lord awaits you just ahead," the Dremora Lord gestured toward a platform extending from the high ground.
Seeing that the Dremora Lord had no intention of following, Wright asked, "You're not coming with us?"
The Dremora Lord grinned, revealing rows of sharp teeth. "I have other matters to attend to."
Wright nodded, understanding that this particular Dremora Lord lacked the standing to participate in such a meeting.
He and Renly proceeded toward the platform. The high terrace that housed the portal was built on a slope, with towering stone pillars supporting the elevated pathway leading forward. From the platform ahead, one could overlook the vast basin below.
As they approached, the basin's other structures came into view. There were no homes, no farmlands—only towering black stone spires. Their jagged, menacing designs made it clear that they were built for military purposes.
"Wright, try to figure out what the Daedric Prince wants to discuss so we can prepare in advance!"
"The desires of a Daedric Prince are simple—conquering land and harvesting souls! Since they have no interest in our land, that leaves only our souls."
Though the Daedric Prince had yet to appear, Wright and Renly's seemingly calm conversation concealed their fear. Their hearts pounded faster with every step.
Renly had admired the Dremora Lord's armor and had thought to learn summoning magic from Wright. But now, dragged into this mess, he deeply regretted it. Wright wasn't faring much better. Facing a Daedric Prince required more than just strength—it required top-tier equipment. Yet here they were, clad in noble robes, without even a sword. If negotiations failed, they had no way of fighting Dagon, nor even a chance to escape.
At the end of the path, they reached a small circular platform. Standing upon it, they gazed down at the apocalyptic landscape.
Wright sighed, "If we were to make a deal with the Daedric Prince and allow them to conquer our world, our home would become just like this."
Renly clenched his fists. "Living in a place like this, even with immense power, what would be the point?"
Boom—
A deep, rumbling sound echoed from a distant valley.
Boom—
Like an enormous, heavy object crashing to the ground.
Boom—
A giant was approaching.
Demons were roughly the same height as humans, but the figure in the distance was far beyond that. There was no doubt—this was the true form of the Daedric Prince.
Renly's legs nearly gave out, and his voice trembled. "The portal is closed. If the Daedric Prince refuses to let us go, is there any way back?"
Wright grabbed Renly's arm and spoke firmly, "Renly! If the Daedric Prince intended to kill us, the moment we arrived, we would've been met by his Dremora Lord army. That means he has a reason for speaking with us. This is our only leverage—our only chance to return home! Do not give up!"
If Renly succumbed to the Daedric Prince's influence or actually worked for him, Wright would kill him himself, ensuring he never returned to Westeros.
Wright's tone was grave as he warned, "Remember—do not believe anything the Daedric Prince says or any promise he makes! To them, lies are as natural as eating. No matter what offer he presents, we must negotiate carefully!"
Renly struggled to his feet. "Understood!"
The giant approaching in the distance was over a hundred meters tall. His bald scalp was covered in deep wrinkles, and a ring of horns encircled his head. Two short, tusk-like horns jutted from his chin like a beard. His face was twisted in a cruel, monstrous expression. He wore a battle skirt on his lower body, while his upper body was clad in a vest-like chainmail, exposing his muscular torso. His entire body was covered in blood-red skin, marked with demonic war tattoos. Four massive arms swung with each step, and in his right hand, he carried a colossal, hundred-meter-long battle axe. The jagged rocks of the ground were nothing more than soft butter beneath his bare feet.
Human fear of massive creatures was deeply ingrained instinct. Wright kept a firm grip on Renly, preventing him from collapsing, and encouraged him once more. "Unlike dragons, this Daedric Prince's strength comes entirely from the power within him, not his size. No matter how large or small he is, the force behind his axe swing remains the same!"
Had he not absorbed the dragon soul and knowledge of Durnehviir, Wright wouldn't have known this.
"Really?" Renly asked, grasping onto that sliver of hope.
Wright nodded. Watching the giant approach the high platform, he took a deep breath and shouted in the dragon tongue—
"Mehrunes Dagon!"
"Mortals~~~"
A surge of scorching sulfuric breath poured from the giant's mouth, washing over the two of them.
Mehrunes Dagon
Unlike horse manure, the stench of sulfur, though unpleasant, was bearable for Wright. "Do you intend to talk to us in this form?"
Wright and Renly barely reached the giant's chest, and Dagon loomed over them from the high platform.
"You are quite clever."
This was Mehrunes Dagon's domain of Oblivion. Every word Wright and Renly had spoken upon arriving in this world had been heard by Dagon.
Golden light emerged from the top of the giant's head, dispersing into luminous fragments that drifted behind Wright and Renly. The giant's body disintegrated from the head down, and the golden motes coalesced into a three-meter-tall humanoid figure identical to the previous behemoth.
Molten gold-red lava surged from the stone beneath him, swiftly solidifying into a blackened throne that still oozed with glowing embers. Dagon turned, seating himself upon it, his eyes fixed upon Wright and Renly.
No matter how fearful or uncertain they were, they could not afford to appear weak before negotiations even began. The first to yield would lose control of the conversation entirely.
With a casual flick of his hand, Wright conjured a crystalline blue ice chair behind him and seated himself without hurry, meeting Dagon's gaze.
Even reduced in size, Dagon remained three meters tall and could still look down on them from his throne. Wright, noticing this, placed a hand on his chair, channeling magic to subtly elevate his seat.
Renly, more experienced in business negotiations than Wright—having been taught by him—immediately grasped his intent. Without hesitation, he conjured his own ice chair and sat beside Wright.
Once seated, the two exchanged a glance and nodded. Both had sensed that their magical power was replenishing at an unusually rapid rate in this realm. The energy Wright had expended to conjure the ice chair had already returned, and Renly felt the same.
"One soul in two bodies."
Even in his smaller form, Dagon's voice reverberated through the air, making Wright and Renly's ears ache.
Renly assumed Dagon referred to their resemblance, mistaking them for twins. It made sense—perhaps he had been drawn into this ordeal because of their supposed connection.
But Wright understood the true meaning behind Dagon's words. The Daedric Prince had recognized his secret—his soul had traveled between worlds, unlike the other man, who had arrived with both body and spirit intact. Their system had shattered and divided between them, making them, in a way, one soul split into two.
"Lord Dagon, I have always maintained a cordial relationship with Oblivion. May I ask why you've summoned me here?"
Wright was well aware that before Dagon, his secrets were laid bare. There was no point in diverting the conversation, so he cut straight to the matter at hand.
Dagon was equally direct. "Mortal, your filthy, backward world does not interest me. But a treacherous little wretch has sent his minions there to harvest souls."
A chill ran through Wright. Dagon's disdainful description could not be trusted at face value. "Who?" he asked.
"Molag Bal."
Dagon had little interest in Mephala or Namira. To him, the only true adversaries were Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time, and Molag Bal—the Daedric Prince of Domination and Coldharbour, whose nature stood in direct opposition to Dagon's own destruction and fire.
The war against Akatosh had reached a temporary standstill, and now Dagon, who preferred direct confrontation, had no patience for Molag Bal's schemes.
"What do you want us to do?" Wright feigned ignorance.
Dagon's grotesque face betrayed no emotion as he leaned forward. "Kill his lackeys."
Wright did not answer immediately.
"Who is Molag Bal?" Renly whispered.
"The God of Schemes, Harvester of Souls, Lord of Domination, Master of Coldharbour—the Daedric Prince of cruelty and enslavement." Wright's voice was grave. "The most troublesome part? He revels in the subjugation of mortals."
Finishing his explanation, Wright pondered why Dagon would send them against Molag Bal.
Ever since his arrival had linked the two worlds, thousands of years had passed. Yet because of its low-magic nature, the Daedric Princes had not established any real foothold.
So how did they view this world? A cattle farm, to be fattened before slaughter?
If so, Dagon's reasoning became clear—if he did not want something, he would not let another have it.
Realizing that another Daedric Prince had already begun extending his influence, Renly wisely chose to remain silent. Wright now represented their entire world in this discussion. One wrong word, and everything could be doomed.
"From what I know, Molag Bal's minions are all vampires. These creatures are not easy to deal with," Wright said, unwilling to work for free. He needed to gain something in return.
"Hahaha!" Dagon's laughter shook the entire platform, sending loose rocks tumbling down distant mountains.
The Daedric Prince was unpredictable. As soon as he finished laughing, his expression twisted into a snarl, and he roared at Wright, "A mere mortal dares to negotiate with me?!"
Damn it. Back on Earth, he had the bloodline of Akatosh, kicked Hakon across the battlefield, punched Alduin to death, and slaughtered dragons like poultry! Well… that was all in the game. Now that he was truly dead, he couldn't just reload a save. Wright swallowed his frustration. "Dagon, you should know that my world lacks magic. Without a steady source of power, fighting vampires would be incredibly difficult."
Dagon sneered. "I can grant your mages the ability to summon my daedra in battle."
His voice dripped with temptation, laced with an irresistible allure for those who craved power. Renly's eyes glazed over for a moment, but fortunately, he trusted Wright. Remembering his warnings about Daedric trickery, he quickly snapped out of it, though his back was drenched in cold sweat.
"That's not what I meant," Wright countered. "Even without magic, there are ways to deal with vampires using intelligence." He tapped his temple. "What I'm saying is, if my magic runs out, there's another Daedric Prince waiting for a chance to interfere!"
Dagon raised an arm. "Hahaha! Hermaeus Mora, the so-called Prince of Knowledge? I could crush him with one hand!"
Renly had heard of Hermaeus Mora from Wright before—an eldritch entity known as the Master of the Tides of fate. And now, there was a third Daedric Prince involved in this mess. Yesterday, Westeros had seemed so peaceful; now, it felt like it was on the verge of destruction!
Wright didn't care if Dagon was exaggerating. At this moment, their interests aligned—Dagon wanted Molag Bal gone, and Wright had every reason to keep his world from being infiltrated by Daedric influence. If Dagon's power spread first, humanity would inevitably have traitors welcoming him with open arms. That could not be allowed to happen.
Hermaeus Mora had already tried to manipulate him twice—once by sending Euron after him, and again by bewitching the dragon Durneviir. Wright couldn't kill a Daedric Prince; they were virtually immortal. The only way to deal with one was to use another.
"Hermaeus Mora hides in his own realm, his body nothing but eyes and writhing tentacles. At my current level, I can't even touch him," Wright admitted.
Dagon's eyes gleamed. "You drive out Molag Bal's minions, and I will deal with Hermaeus Mora. Do we have a deal?"
Wright answered without hesitation. "It's a deal."
Dagon stared at him, his monstrous face unreadable. "Mortal, your greed has earned you the right to negotiate with me. This game is becoming interesting!"
The dust on the platform swirled toward Dagon, gathering into a floating mass before transforming into molten gold. The molten orb stretched and cooled, quickly shaping itself into a dagger.
"Mortal, take this. Go and stab that wretched eyeball!"
Wright used Mage Hand to grasp the dagger and fastened it to his belt. Up close, it seemed a bit underwhelming.
Dagon's throne dissolved into light, and with a wave of his hand, a white tome flew toward him from the hands of a distant daedra. Then, with a flick of his fingers, an orange-red portal appeared in the center of the platform.
He was sending them back.
Wright glanced at him and said, "Next time, try inviting us more politely. We can walk into a portal ourselves."
Dagon smirked. "Begone, mortal."
Daedric manners were nonexistent. Wright didn't waste time arguing and turned toward the portal with Renly.
They had only covered a third of the distance when hundreds of daedra poured down from the mountains, swarming around the portal with weapons drawn.
"What the hell, Dagon?!" Wright shouted. "Are you trying to kill us?"
"Mortal," Dagon replied, staring at the distant volcano. "Only if you make it back alive will our deal be sealed."
Fucking hell. This sadistic Daedric Prince!
As he conjured ice armor and a spear, Wright yelled to Renly, "Renly! If we don't reach the portal, they will kill us for real! Don't hold back—go all out!
"Mu~~~Qah~~~Diiv~~~!"