I Received System to Become Dragonborn-Chapter 927: Calm Life

After their intense conversation, the atmosphere in the room gradually softened. Sylmira no longer pressed for more. She realized—perhaps for the first time in years—that knowing too much could be dangerous. She could sense that Eccar had only peeled back a small corner of the truth, and what lay beneath that corner was something vast, ancient, and utterly beyond her.

And she respected that. For her own safety, even.

There was no bitterness in her thoughts, only a humbled clarity. Sylmira had long been regarded as one of the kingdom’s most talented Mages. She sat at the highest circles of Magical counsel, had taught dozens of students, led research projects no one else dared touch.

But now... she had merely sat and listened to a man—no, a Dragonborn—whose power and experience were far more than hers.

He never said what he was a Dragonborn. He didn’t need to. From the moment he entered the room for the first time, she had suspected it. Now, after what she’d heard, there was no doubt.

The way he spoke about rifts, gods, and madness as casually as others might talk about the weather, it was the speech of someone not just born for conflict, but made to endure it. There were more depts than Sylmira could see in Eccar’s soul and she wasn’t about to pry deeper.

Their conversation drifted into lighter things afterward. Sylmira asked about his Magic affinity and how he usually fights.

Eccar answered with a grin, saying he mostly punched things until they stopped moving. His "style," as he called it, was less about elegance and more about pure force. He used his fists and feet first, Earth Magic next, though the Earth always answered when he needed it.

Sylmira laughed, a genuine, bright sound echoing through the tower chamber. The idea of someone so powerful choosing to fight any abominations like a drunk brawler amused her.However, Sylmira thnks that it somehow suited him. There was something honest about it.

Eventually, Eccar rose from his seat, stretching slightly. The time for stories was over.

Sylmira walked him to the door herself, her demeanor respectful and composed once more.

"Thank you," she said simply, not as an Archmage, but as someone genuinely grateful for what little he had shared.

Eccar only gave a small nod, then turned and walked down the corridor, his steps unhurried.

She watched him go for a moment.

"What an amusing being," Sylmira murmured to herself, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

She closed the door gently behind her. Then crossed to her writing desk. Her fingers moved quickly now, reaching for parchment and a memory crystal.

Before the impressions faded, before the exact weight of Eccar’s voice left her mind, she began recording everything she could remember from the conversation. His words, his expressions, even the feeling in the room when they talk.

Not for others or the court.

But for herself.

Because someday, she knew, the world would tremble again and when it did, beings like Eccar would not just be legends.

---

The night had passed quietly, and for Erend, it was the most restful sleep he’d had in what felt like an eternity.

Not because of exhaustion. Dragonborn didn’t exactly suffer from ordinary fatigue of their physique, but because yesterday had been more than a battle.

Facing the maddened god Thar’Zul-Vekar, with its overwhelming Magic and corrupt presence that also full of sorrow, had pressed on his mind like a crushing weight. He was sure that Eccar also feels the same.

The stress had built up, layer by layer, during the fight, even though he didn’t notice it at the time.

But now that it was over, now that his body could finally stop bracing for war, his mind had sunk into sleep like a stone dropped into still water.

And for the first time in weeks, Erend felt whole.

When he woke, the sun was already well into its rise—probably close to ten o’clock—but the light that spilled through the window felt like early dawn.

He blinked at the golden rays, yawned, then stretched his arms up toward the ceiling. Every joint popped satisfyingly.

He moved to the window, pushed it open, and leaned out slightly as the warm morning air touched his skin. ƒreewebɳovel.com

It was quiet outside. Birds in the distance, the occasional car, and something that looks like ordinary life.

He inhaled deeply and let it out with a relaxed grin.

Then he got dressed and made his way down the stairs.

His mother was already in the kitchen, humming to herself as she wiped down the counter. The sound of sizzling eggs came from the stove, and a soft aroma filled the air.

"Morning," Erend said, his voice still scratchy with sleep.

His mother turned, smiling. "Morning. Or should I say afternoon? Arty’s already gone to school, and I was starting to think you wouldn’t come down until dinner."

Erend chuckled as he took a seat. "Yeah, yeah. I needed that sleep."

"I figured," she said, sliding a plate in front of him. "You looked like you were carrying the whole world when you walked through the door last night."

"Pretty close," he murmured, then quickly added, "But it’s over now. At least that one is."

She gave him a look, a mix of concern and relief. "I won’t ask for the details. But you’re here. That’s enough for me."

He gave her a grateful smile and began eating. After a few quiet moments, he glanced up. "By the way, don’t worry about work. One of my clones is already doing my job at the base."

His mother raised an eyebrow. "That’s cheating."

"It’s delegation," he said with mock offense. "I earned that sleep, and my team gets to deal with a version of me that doesn’t need it. Win-win."

She laughed softly. "Well, I’m glad. And you do look better after you rest."

"I feel better. Like... I’ve been holding my breath for a week and just now let it out."

Her smile softened, but she didn’t say anything more. She just sat across from him and poured him a glass of water.

For now, there were no gods to fight. No portals to close. Just breakfast, sunlight, and the quiet company of home.

And Erend let himself enjoy it.

---

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