I Received System to Become Dragonborn-Chapter 1242: Trembled

Erend felt it. Khepra-Ankh was coming.

The presence pulsed through the connection like a distant star growing brighter, but Erend knew the truth with brutal clarity.

It was not fast enough. Not yet.

And Zerathul was too close to reclaiming everything.

A moment later, Zerathul laughed.

It was not a sound of relief or triumph alone. It was a certainty that he was winning.

The rings along his body shuddered violently, their fractured light dimming as if crushed by an unseen weight. The resistance that had slowed his movements weakened all at once, and something ancient and vast stirred behind his eyes.

Time power answered him again.

"I feel it..." Zerathul growled, his voice thick with satisfaction as the tentacles around his face writhed wildly. "The chains are breaking."

He straightened in the air, his posture no longer strained, no longer divided.

Then he laughed again louder, echoing across the sky.

"This is your end," Zerathul declared as another ring cracked and partially collapsed. "My time power is returning. You have no more chances left."

More seals shattered in succession, light tearing apart and dissolving into nothingness.

The pressure around them surged as time bent closer to Zerathul’s grasp, reality itself groaning in protest.

Erend felt the change instantly.

Pain flooded his body all at once, no longer dulled by momentum or adrenaline.

His muscles screamed. His wings burned. Every breath dragged fire through his chest.

The wounds carved into his scales throbbed violently, each slash from the necrotic sword reopening and deepening as corrupted energy gnawed at him from within.

His vision blurred at the edges.

His thoughts scattered, dragged down by exhaustion and fear clawing at his mind.

"I’m running out..."

Zerathul did not give him time to recover.

The necrotic sword flashed again and again, carving long, brutal lines across Erend’s body. His scales split, blood and glowing Magic spilled into the air as Erend was driven back, the attacks shaking his bones.

Erend roared and answered with everything he had left.

Fire and lightning poured from his jaws in violent torrents, crashing into Zerathul’s chest and shoulders, detonating in blinding explosions.

The attacks landed cleanly, tearing flesh and forcing black energy to spill like smoke.

Zerathul felt the pain. But he did not care.

His fury burned fiercer than the damage, his regained power drowning out restraint.

He pushed through the flames and lightning without slowing, swinging again and again with heavier, faster, more inevitable attacks.

Erend’s body shook under the assault.

His wings faltered. His breathing became ragged.

"Stand... don’t fall..."

His mind screamed at him to give in, to retreat, to escape. But he refused.

"I just need to hold on."

Another slash tore across his shoulder. Another impact sent pain exploding through his spine.

Erend forced his jaws open again and unleashed another blast, even as blood filled his mouth and sparks danced across his vision.

"Just a little longer."

Far beyond the battlefield, the presence surged closer.

Khepra-Ankh was coming.

And until then he must stand his ground, while being battered, bleeding, and burning.

—

Down below, the others still fought a battle of their own as debris kept raining from the clash above.

Arty, Aerchon, Adrien, Billy, King Gulben, Lysander, Adrius, and Saeldir spread out across the sky, intercepting the falling destruction before it could reach the ground.

Chunks of black flesh spun through the air, mixed with bluish scales still crackling with lightning, shards of fire-scorched bone, and masses of corrupted Magic that warped everything around them.

Each impact demanded strength and focus. This was not easy work. Every fragment fought back, exploding, twisting, or resisting as if alive.

Yet none of them could stop glancing upward.

They saw it clearly.

Erend was being pushed back.

Arty’s chest tightened as she watched her brother struggle against the overwhelming force above. Fear crept into her heart despite her will. If that monster could not be stopped...

"No. I can’t think like that." Her jaw clenched. "Erend will win. He has to."

She roared and smashed into the debris with her gauntleted hands, tearing it apart with renewed fury.

The others felt the same unease. No one said it aloud, but every strike they threw carried the same silent hope. Hold on. Just a little longer.

Suddenly, a loud, painful roar tore through the sky.

It cut through the clash of debris and explosions below.

They all froze for a fraction of a second.

They knew that voice.

Every head snapped upward at once.

High above, they saw Erend’s massive body convulse as black tentacles burst outward from Zerathul, coiling around his limbs, wings, and torso.

The corrupted tendrils tightened like living chains, digging into shattered scales as Erend thrashed against them, fire and lightning flaring wildly but failing to break free.

"Erend!" Arty shouted instinctively.

She surged upward without thinking, panic and fury driving her forward.

"Stop!" Billy yelled, flying after her just enough to grab her arm. "Arty, don’t go!"

She struggled against him, eyes locked on her brother. "Let me go!"

Billy shook his head hard, pain etched into his face.

"If you go up there, you’ll die. That fight isn’t meant for you. You know it," Billy said.

Arty’s body trembled as she froze midair. Her fists clenched so tightly her gauntlets creaked.

She hated it.

She hated that he was right.

She could feel it in her bones, the overwhelming pressure pouring down from above. Even Billy, even King Gulben, all of them felt it. They wanted to help. Every single one of them did.

But they couldn’t.

Arty lowered her head slightly, teeth grinding as tears threatened to form.

All they could do now was watch and pray that Erend could endure just a little longer.

—

The tentacles tightened.

They constricted around Erend’s wings and chest, crushing air from his lungs as time warped around him in uneven pulses.

His fire sputtered. Lightning crawled weakly along his scales before dispersing into nothing.

The pressure was unbearable.

Zerathul pulled him closer, dragging his massive body through distorted space as if distance no longer mattered.

The necrotic sword rose again and drove into Erend’s side, carving deep, corrupted lines that sent agony screaming through his nerves.

Erend roared, but the sound came out broken.

His vision dimmed. The sky fractured into overlapping moments.

Pain layered over pain until it became difficult to separate thought from instinct.

"Not yet... I can’t fall yet..."

His wings spasmed uselessly. Blood and raw Magic streamed freely now, burning as it left his body.

Another strike landed. Then another. Each blow felt slower, heavier, as if time itself pressed down on him alone.

Zerathul leaned close, his eyes burning with savage certainty.

"Struggle," he growled. "It will not change the end."

Erend’s mind wavered on the brink of darkness.

Then something shifted.

Deep within the connection, the distant presence flared. No longer a star, but a rising sun tearing through the void.

A voice echoed, clearer than before.

"I am almost there."

Erend clenched what strength he had left and snarled through blood and pain.

"Then hurry!"

A few meters from them, the air trembled.

Zerathul felt it too. Something was coming.

The sensation crawled through his core like poison, sending a violent tremor through his heart. It was wrong. A presence that did not bend or twist death like him, but stood against it with absolute finality.

Fear flared alongside fury, sharp and unwelcome.

"What is this...?" Zerathul thought.

His burning gaze snapped back to Erend.

Whatever that power was, it was not natural to this battle. It had been summoned. And there was only one source.

"What have you done?!" Zerathul snarled, his grip tightening instinctively as the tentacles writhed in agitation.

Erend’s Dragon face slowly twisted into a grin.

Blood streaked his jaws. Cracked scales glowed faintly beneath scorched wounds. The expression turned his battered body into something terrifying rather than weak.

"You feel it?" Erend growled, his voice low and rumbling with savage satisfaction. "That’s the power that’s going to end you, you rotten son of a bitch!"

Zerathul’s heart slammed hard against his ribs.

Pain flared through his chest. Not from wounds, but from dread. His thoughts spiraled despite himself.

"What kind of power dares oppose me? What stands against my power of death itself?!"

That moment of doubt cost him.

His concentration slipped.

The tentacles faltered, their grip loosening just enough. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Erend roared and surged with everything he had left, wrenched his body free. Fire erupted point-blank. Lightning detonated outward.

The corrupted tendrils snapped apart, disintegrating into smoking fragments.

Erend tore himself free and pulled back through the air. His wings were shaking but luckily still intact.

Zerathul staggered and fear finally took root in his mind.

The air that was trembling before started to ripple violently, folding inward as if reality itself recoiled.

From that distortion, a lone figure stepped out, clad in flowing yellowish cloth that shimmered like aged parchment under dying sunlight.

His presence was calm.

Zerathul’s eyes widened. His instinct screamed danger.

—