I Received System to Become Dragonborn-Chapter 1278: Evening Talk

When Erend returned to his house, the familiar warmth of it felt strangely distant. He closed the portal quietly behind him and stood there for a moment, listening to the soft hum of electricity in the walls, the faint sound of wind outside, and the ordinary rhythm of a peaceful home that knew nothing about Void Architects or ancient Creations.

He let out a long, slow sigh.

The moment he sat on the edge of his bed again, the coordinates pulsed inside his mind. He pressed his fingers briefly against his temple.

Silence was dangerous.

If he stayed here alone for too long, his thoughts would spiral toward ruined cities and towering silhouettes from half-formed futures. Toward the possibility that he was not strong enough. Toward the idea that someone ancient had already measured him and found him lacking.

He stood up.

The living room lights flickered softly against the walls.

His mother sat on the couch, watching television as if the world had never nearly ended multiple times. The normalcy of it grounded him.

"Where’s Arty?" he asked.

"In the backyard," his mother replied without looking away from the screen.

Erend frowned slightly. Backyard?

He stepped outside.

Cool evening air brushed against his face. The backyard was quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves. Then he saw her.

Arty sat cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed, back straight. A thin aura shimmered around her body, subtle and restrained. Magic flowed around her in controlled currents, not wild or explosive but focused.

Erend smiled faintly. She was not neglecting her training.

He remained where he was and simply watched. To anyone else, the aura would look faint and unimpressive. But to him, it was clear.

Her control had improved. The flow was cleaner. The fluctuations were smaller. Her Magic obeyed her more naturally now.

Pride mixed with something else in his chest.

His thoughts drifted unwillingly to the last battle against Zerathul. Arty standing beside him. Arty was bleeding, and she refused to retreat.

He did not want her to fight like that again.

But he knew her. She was stubborn. If she possessed power, she would use it. She would never stand behind him and watch him bear everything alone.

The thought that she might one day stand in front of something like the Void Architect’s Creation or the Void Architect himself made him worry.

He was feeling gratitude and worry, twisted together.

If he could not stop her from fighting, then he would make sure she was strong enough to survive it.

That was the only path he could accept.

—

Deep inside her consciousness, Arty was not just meditating.

Her breathing remained steady. Her Magic flowed in disciplined cycles. But beneath that controlled surface, she searched.

There was something there. Something like a foreign power.

It did not move like her Magic or respond like it either. It felt older but also thinner. Almost like a fragment embedded in the shadows of her power.

She could not grasp it directly. Every time she reached toward it, it slipped away like mist.

She had first suspected it was Zerathul doing.

But during that battle, she had felt no compulsion or whisper steering her actions. She had attacked him freely. She had wanted to hurt him.

So this... was not his.

That realization unsettled her more than she admitted.

She did not tell Erend.

He already carried too much. She would not add another burden to his mind until she understood what this foreign presence truly was.

For now, she would keep searching quietly.

Erend, standing several steps away, watched his sister train, unaware that something happened within her.

Arty still continued reaching for that faint and foreign presence.

She traced the flow of her own Magic again and again, separating what was hers from what felt different.

She slowed her breathing, sharpened her focus, and pushed her awareness deeper.

The thin fragment lingered at the edge of perception, elusive and quiet.

Every time she thought she almost touched it, it dissolved again into nothingness like it was really trying to not get caught.

Minutes passed, but Arty felt that it was much longer.

Her control began to slip from the exhaustion in her mind. The steady circulation of Magic around her body trembled slightly. Then a faint sheen of sweat formed at her temple.

Finally, she withdrew her consciousness and let the flow settle back into its natural rhythm.

She did not find it for now. She would try later, maybe that would bear fruit.

Arty opened her eyes and let out a long tired sigh. She now was able to feel the evening air felt cooler now against her skin.

She rolled her shoulders once and casually glanced around. But she widened her eyes for half a second when she saw Erend stood several steps away, watching her with a faint, quiet smile.

"How long have you been there?" she asked.

"I’ve watched you long enough," he replied.

She raised a brow. "Creepy."

He walked closer and nodded toward her. "What were you doing?"

"Just meditating," she answered smoothly.

Erend studied her for a brief moment, then lowered himself to sit beside her on the grass. The ground was slightly damp, but neither of them cared.

"I have to go again," he said.

Arty turned her head toward him. "There’s a problem again this soon?"

Erend gave a small, humorless smile. "Problems never stop. They don’t disappear. They just change."

Arty sighed softly. "Yeah... that’s true."

Silence settled between them, not heavy, but thoughtful. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance.

Then Arty suddenly grinned and lightly slapped his shoulder.

"Don’t worry, bro!" she said. "It’s going to be alright. You got this. And if you don’t..." She tilted her head with playful confidence. "You still have me and our friends."

Erend blinked once, then let out a quiet laugh.

Seeing her steady, fearless, and stubborn smile eased the tight feeling inside his chest.

The weight of coordinates and ancient beings did not vanish, but it felt lighter.

He once again realized that was not alone. That was enough for now.

—