"I wonder where did Issei go," Asia whispered to herself as she and her group trudged through the seven thousand steps toward High Hrothgar 

"He... he looked disturbed when he got that letter," Xenovia admitted with a shiver, remembering how the young perverted man changed gears the moment he opened the letter. It has been a few weeks and they just fought off a dragon and found out that Asia is the Dragonborn of legends.

The shock of learning the most peaceful and innocent of their group being the prophesized hero of legend was enough for them to celebrate before they left Whiterun. A week of travel later, the group of four composed of two crusaders, a healer, and a mage—all clad in thick cloaks, climbed up the mountain. 

Meanwhile, in an ancient ruins.

A figure clad in chainmail with a white tabard embroidered with a red diamond over his chest—where his heart should be. A mace covered in flames crushed and melted everything in its path, blowing away the undead in the process. A hand of killing light rose into the air and evaporated the arrows launched his way. 

As fast as the light disappeared, the countless undead lay broken and crushed on the floor as the mace-wielder turned towards the floating undead. 

An undead Ayleid sorcerer-king— one of the last few still in Tamriel after the slaughter Pelinal Whitestrake conducted against them, killing them in single combat. Streams of the blue flames of Coldharbour erupted from the Undead sorcerer-king, engulfing everything in its path—

Holding his mace with a slightly tighter grip, the young man moved. 

The blue flames of the realm ruled by the prince of Domination approached like a wave threatening to devour everything in its scorching path. The mace slammed into the ground, shaking the entire room—creating a crater and spiderweb-like cracks on the ground as a lance of flames mixed with debris erupted from the impact, cutting a path from the wave of blue flames. Flames fueled from the Magicka of Aetherious—colored the same shade as the flames that once composed the avatar of Akatosh, coiled itself around the ancient Ayleid Sorcerer-king—purifying its very being while turning it to ashes. 

"It seems like you haven't lost your touch, lord commander Issei," An aged high elf—dressed in the same outfit as him—said with a smile. In contrast to his age, the Altmer stood proud and tall. Brown hair spilled as the helm he wore was removed while orbs of Light illuminated the crypt. Issei Hyoudout turned towards the aged elf. 

"Well, it's only been a few months since we last met for me," The young pervert replied with a smile. "Still, the Vigilants of Stendarr, huh?" 

"It's only supposed to be a partnership when we first founded it but with massive popularity and support from nobility adding the effects of the White-gold concordat, I thought it would be better if we hid from plain sight," The aged high elf replied his smile turning into a thin line as he looked at the scorched remains of the undead Sorcerer-King. "The Mythic Dawn wants to open a new Oblivion gate..." 

"It's troubling but knowing how the highest amount of members of the Mythic Dawn comes from the impoverished people..." 

Silence was shared between the aged high elf and the human as memories of gates rising from the ground as the forces of Oblivion spilled out into Nirn appeared in their minds. The two—some of the few people still alive who knew the terrors of fighting Daedra first-hand— frowned and focused on the target at hand. 

"A conjurer powerful enough to have noticed the Razor's attention should be the cause of this."

"Could... could Mankar Camoran have been revived by the Destroyer?" The high elf asked—chills traveling down his spine. Mankar Camoran, a powerful mage in his own right and a charismatic leader able to recruit and influence a lot of people to join him and with some investigations done by some members of the Arcane University—a wood elf who used the Daedric artifact, Mehrunes Razor, to not only become an Altmer but a Dragonborn as well.

"There's a possibility... The destroyer trusted him enough to give him the Mysterium Xarxes but I have a feeling it's not him." Issei said with a frown. "Can you send some word to the descendants of the Fragment keepers?" 

"We have some contact with them," 

"Good, tell them to spread out the replicas of the fragments," 

"Yes, sir!" The aged high elf replied with a salute at the change of tone. The replicas were made by a master smith in collaboration with a master of Conjuration two hundred years ago after Issei retrieved the razor. He knew what his lord commander wanted, a trap to fish out any members of the Mythic Dawn.

"Good, I'll be destroying that fucking Oblivion gate," Grabbing the great Welkynd stone, the pervert frowned as memories arose from his mind of what such a thing can do. 

"Happy hunting, my lord! Your armor has already been prepared and it is now waiting for you in one of our safe houses in Shor's stone." 

"Thank you, old friend. May the Nine bless your path," 

"And may the Nine give you their blessing," 

Focusing on his mind's eye, the young man imaged it, the throat of the world and an old friend's location. A portal opened in front of him, a swirl of Magicka opening an entryway to the throat of the world. 

"Drem Yol Lok, Fahdon," A voice filled with wisdom and heavy with the weight of time, welcomed the young pervert. 

"Drem Yol Lok, Paarthurnax," Issei replied with a smile. 

"It has been a long time since we last met, old friend," Paarthurnax said as he landed on the snow-covered mountaintop. 

"two centuries ago, I was trapped in the Shivering Isles," Issei said with a smile. "I'm not here to chat this time, but I am here to tell you that your sister, a Dovahkiin, has been found."

"Yes, I have heard the shouts of my Fahdon calling the Dovahkiin. It is a joyous occasion,"

"The two of you will get along well with each other, she has a kind heart just like Martin," 

"Krosis, the loss of a worthy Jul," Paarthurnax lamented. The aged dragon has heard about the last of the Septims from the line of Tiber. From a man who has consorted with the Daedra Prince, Sanguine, to a priest in search of redemption, the aged dragon found a sense of kinship between himself and the avatar of his father Akatosh. "What is it that you need, old friend?" 

"I need some of my artifacts I once hid here and for you to guide my friend, Asia, if I don't come back," 

"Very well, old friend. I shall do what you say, however I have a request, do not throw your life away if it is not needed," 

Drawing a rune on the ground, the young pervert smiled at the sight of a chest that appeared near the world wall. It contained some of his most precious artifacts—priceless to himself: a mage staff, a necklace, several rings, and a dagger. Slipping the enchanted rings on his fingers and wrapping the necklace around his neck, the young man slipped his dagger on the back of his waist while his left hand held onto the shaft of his staff. 

"May we meet once more in good tidings, Paarthurnax," Issei said with a smile as he looked towards the Rift. Without waiting for a reply, the young mage smiled before a portal devoured his body, making it seem like he wasn't there in the first place.