I Received System to Become Dragonborn-Chapter 1231: Debris

Sylmira moved first, stepping closer to Adrius and Lysander as Saeldir joined them without a word.

The four of them formed a tight circle now. Their focus shifted inward even as the sky above continued to fracture and distort. Magic theory, ancient runes, and rituals flowed between them in rapid exchanges, their voices low but urgent.

"The Celestial Binding alone won’t hold. It was never designed to restrain time," Sylmira said, her fingers already tracing faint sigils in the air.

Adrius nodded, his mind racing through possibilities.

"Which is why we layer it. The Binding becomes the framework that is strong enough to hold that level of power, but not the actual prison. We stabilize reality around the distortion, then lock that state in place," Adrius said.

Lysander folded his arms, his eyes narrowed.

"Temporal anchoring through spatial constants..." he murmured. "It will be risky, master. If our synchronization is off even slightly, the seal could collapse, or snap back on us."

"That’s why we do it together," Saeldir said calmly. His voice carried the quiet certainty of centuries of Elven mastery. "We will become the four anchors, with four wills. If that power attacks back, it will retaliate against all of us, not one."

For a brief moment, they all understood the weight of what they were attempting. This was not a spell prepared in a tower or a ritual circle carved over days. This was Magic being forged in the middle of a battle.

Yet none of them hesitated.

They had come back from the Dungeon World together. They had bled together, survived horrors meant to break minds and spirits. They had watched one another stand when logic said they should have fallen.

Hard times had stripped them bare and rebuilt them stronger. Not just as Archmages, but as true comrades.

"That Dungeon World place taught us something," Adrius said quietly. "When there’s no time to prepare... you need to adapt or you die."

Sylmira allowed herself a thin smile. "Then let’s adapt."

Around them, King Gulben raised his voice, pulling the others back to the present danger.

"All of you, keep your eyes on the sky," he commanded. "Whatever happens up there will not stay contained."

Aurdis swallowed as she followed his gaze upward. The three Dragons flickered in and out of overlapping moments, their immense bodies briefly blurring as Zerathul’s time power warped the air around them.

"They’re holding that damned abomination," Adrien said, though uncertainty crept into his tone. "But I don’t know for how long."

Billy clenched his fists. "I’ve never seen anything give that much trouble to a Dragon like that. But now even with three of them that abomination is able to give them this much!"

Arty said nothing. Her eyes burned with worry as she tracked Erend’s lightning flaring, then stalling unnaturally in midair before snapping back.

Aerchon rested his hand on the hilt of his silver sword.

"That thing isn’t just strong, it have a strange power we never saw before. We can only hope for the Dragons to face him for now," he said grimly.

King Gulben watched in silence for several seconds more, then made his decision.

"We cannot interfere with that battle. If we enter that distortion, we will only become liabilities." He turned to them, his voice firm. "Our duty is here. Whatever falls from that sky like debris, backlash, or remnants of corrupted power, we have to stop it before it reaches the land below."

"Understood," Aurdis said.

Adrien and Billy nodded.

"We won’t let anything through," Arty said with determination hardening in her eyes. While her brother was fighting the impossible battle up there, she will protect down here.

The air suddenly screamed.

All of them looked up as fragments began tearing free from the clash above. Burning chunks of corrupted matter, shards of frozen darkness, pieces of fractured sky itself, falling downward like a meteor storm.

Heat and pressure washed over them as the first impacts screamed closer.

"I will take care of that," Aerchon said.

He drew his silver sword in a single smooth motion, the blade singing as it caught the light. Then he launched himself toward the falling destruction.

The air breaking around him as his speed cut a silver line through the falling chaos. The silver sword in his hand responded instantly, its runes igniting along the blade as Magic awakened fully.

Pale light flowed from the hilt to the edge, forming a sharp, luminous outline that hummed with power.

The first fragment reached him. It was a mass of corrupted stone still burning with dark fire and warped time residue that made it glitching.

Aerchon did not slow. He swung his sword and the blade sang.

Silver light cleaved through the debris cleanly, not shattering it but unmaking it. The corrupted mass split apart, then dissolved midair into harmless ash. The dark energy within it stripped away and dispersed.

The sound of the cut echoed like a chime across the sky.

More fragments followed.

Aerchon turned and cut again and again, the sword moving faster than the eye could track.

Shards of frozen darkness rushed toward him next, still carrying traces of Zerathul’s time distortion.

When Aerchon slashed them, the sword flared brighter. The blade’s Magic clashed violently with the warped temporal residue, producing brief flashes where time snapped back into alignment.

After coming back from the Dungeon World, Aerchon had become ten times stronger than his former self. But he and the others just didn’t have time to evaluate themselves more.

The shards shattered into glittering dust that fell harmlessly, no longer burning or freezing the air as they descended.

Below, Aurdis and the others watched in awe as silver arcs cut through the sky.

Aerchon adjusted his grip as a larger mass descended. It looks like an entire slab of fractured sky, crackling with lightning remnants and black-gold corruption.

The pressure from it distorted the air, threatening to collapse inward as it fell.

Aerchon inhaled sharply. Magic surged.

The sword responded, its glow intensifying until the blade looked less like metal and more like solidified moonlight.

Aerchon raised it overhead and brought it down in a powerful, two-handed strike.

The impact released a crescent-shaped wave of silver energy that tore through the slab. The wave did not explode outward. It sliced forward, carrying Aerchon’s intent with surgical precision.

The massive fragment split cleanly, then unraveled into streams of light and harmless fragments that scattered away from the city below.

The shockwave rolled past him, tugging at his cloak and armor, but Aerchon held steady, teeth clenched as he forced his Magic to remain stable.

More debris continued to fall.

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