I Received System to Become Dragonborn

The battle raged on as the Elven archers and Mages continued their relentless assault from the sky. Arrows imbued with destructive enchantments rained down, striking the Hexa Cannoneers below with precise coordination.

Each impact sent bursts of molten metal flying, and with every successful hit, another mechanical beast staggered, its cannons sputtering before shutting down.

The Mages worked tirelessly, channeling their Magic energy to maintain the levitation spells while conjuring protective barriers against the relentless counterfire. Yet, the strain was beginning to show.

Some of the younger Mages who were less experienced in prolonged combat faltered under the weight of their spellcasting. Their control wavered, causing some archers to dip unexpectedly in the air, their shots going wide.

"Hold steady, damn it!" one of the archers yelled in frustration as his arrow missed its mark.

A moment of chaos threatened to break their formation, but the Mages quickly regained control.

They refocused, their hands glowing with more stabilized Magic energy as they stabilized the flight spell, allowing the archers to correct their aim.

Below, the Hexa Cannoneers continued their onslaught, their cannons firing without mercy. Blinding beams of energy tore through the night, illuminating the battlefield with violent flashes.

The ground trembled beneath them thunderous impacts and shockwave from their cannons. The air grew thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning metal.

Despite the relentless barrage, the Elves pressed forward. One by one, the Hexa Cannoneers fell, their armored shells pierced in just the right spots, disabling their internal mechanisms.

Some erupted in flames, their cores overloading before collapsing into smoldering wreckage.

Yet, the remaining machines showed no hesitation. The surviving Cannoneers adjusted their aim, recalibrating their targeting systems to track the airborne threat more effectively.

Their next volley was more precise, forcing the Elven Mages to push their defensive Magic to the limit.

Bright streaks of energy streaked through the sky, narrowly missing some of the archers but grazing the barriers conjured by the Mages.

The force of the blasts sent shockwaves rippling through the air, shaking the Elves mid-flight.

A few archers clenched their jaws, bracing against the turbulence, while others took deep breaths to steady their hands. They had to end this before the Cannoneers adjusted further and before the machines found a way to counter them completely.

Then, from below, a deep mechanical hum resonated across the battlefield.

Something was coming out again.

From the still-open portal, three new metal constructs emerged, their design resembling the Hexa Cannoneers yet distinctly different.

Their sleek metallic frames carried the same ominous glow but their cannons were unlike any seen before. Instead of the same barrels, each of them now possessed curved, beetle-like horns split to the left and right, with a pulsing wave of strange energy surging between them.

The moment they appeared, their targeting systems locked onto the Elves above. Without hesitation, the constructs fired.

FWOOOSHH!!!

Blinding arcs of energy streaked upward, striking the protective barriers conjured by the Mages. Unlike the previous attacks, these blasts didn't merely push against the shields — they tore through them as if unraveling their very essence.

Cracks splintered through the Magical defenses before they shattered completely, dissolving into thin air.

A sudden, horrifying realization dawned on the Elves as their levitation spells failed in an instant. Their bodies that once held aloft by Magic, now plummeted toward the battlefield below.

Screams of panic filled the air as archers and Mages tumbled from the sky. Some desperately attempted to recast their flight Magic, their hands glowing with desperate bursts of energy, but the same strange force that had shattered their shields disrupted their spells.

They were helpless now.

As they crashed onto the battlefield, pain and disorientation overwhelmed them.

Some landed hard against the cold cracked earth, while others struggled to rise, dazed and vulnerable. But the enemy showed no mercy.

The remaining Hexa Cannoneers that still operational, had already recalibrated their aim. Their cannons swiveled toward the fallen Elves, glowing with deadly power. The moment their systems confirmed their targets were grounded, they fired.

A rain of concentrated energy blasts tore through the battlefield. The explosions consumed everything in their path, sending bodies flying and leaving nothing but scorched earth and smoldering remains in their wake.

Mages, weakened from maintaining their spells, were cut down before they could react. Archers, once formidable in the air, scrambled for cover but found no escape from the relentless onslaught. The battlefield, once held with confidence by the Elves, had turned into a slaughter.

The surviving Elves could only watch in horror as their comrades fell one by one in various parts of scorched flesh, their numbers thinning at a terrifying rate.

The new constructs, standing ominously near the portal, let out another deep mechanical hum, their cannons pulsing with new energy.

It was clear that they were far more dangerous than the Hexa Cannoneers. And they have a way to annihilate their Magic protection now.

King Gulben stood frozen on the grand balcony of his throne room in the tower, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists.

His heart pounded with fury and sorrow as he watched his warriors — the proud Elven archers and Mages — fall like leaves in the wind, their bodies torn apart by merciless blasts of energy.

His normally composed face burned red with rage, his piercing eyes locked onto the battlefield below where the last remnants of his airborne forces were being reduced to ashes.

The once-proud formations of Elven warriors lay in broken heaps across the scorched earth. The lingering light of their dissolved spells flickered uselessly before fading into nothingness.

It was a massacre.

Behind him, his advisors and generals stood in tense silence, their expressions a mix of anger and dread. Many had fought in countless wars yet none had ever seen anything like this.

"That… those constructs," one of the generals muttered, voice tight with disbelief. "They unraveled our Magic."

Another advisor stepped forward, his face pale, lips trembling.

"This is beyond normal weapons of war… If they can shatter our strongest spells and can suppress Magic itself…" His voice trailed off, the weight of the realization sinking into the chamber like a heavy fog.

"They weren't just made to destroy us," another general hissed, his hands gripping the table before him. "They were designed to break us slowly and strip us of the one thing that has protected us for ages. Our Magic is our lifeblood and our greatest strength, but now…" He swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

King Gulben's jaw tightened. His warriors had fought bravely. They had used every advantage they had, striking with precision, coordinating their attacks, and yet, in mere moments, all of that had been undone.

Their greatest defense — Magic — was now a weakness, something these new constructs could tear apart like paper.

His chest rose and fell with deep and measured breaths, but his rage burned hotter. He would not let this stand.

"We cannot fight them like this, your majesty," one of his elder advisors said, shaking his head grimly. "If we continue, we will be sending our soldiers to their deaths with no hope of victory."

Another general slammed his fist onto the table. "Then what do you suggest?" His voice was raw with frustration.

"We need a new approach," an older, war-hardened commander said in a grave tone. "Something beyond Magic. Something they won't expect."

Silence filled the chamber.

Then, one of the advisor spoke, saying the things they were meant to say.

"We have to summon Erend, Your Majesty."

The room stiffened. Eyes widened. Even the most battle-hardened generals flinched at the name.

Erend, the Dragonborn warrior. The one who wielded the power of fire, lightning, and water in ways no Elf could. A force beyond their Magic. A force that did not abide by the same rules these machines sought to exploit.

"No," King Gulben said. "Not yet."

He turned away from the balcony with hard gaze and strode toward the far end of the chamber.

He could not summon Erend — not now. Not when he still had something left to use.

Reaching the far corner of the throne room, he placed his hand on the unassuming wall. To anyone else, it was nothing more than smooth stone, just another part of the palace's architecture. But Gulben knew better. This was where the last remnants of an age-old secret lay hidden.

He unsheathed his sword. Without hesitation, he dragged the sharp edge across his palm. Blood welled up instantly, dripping down his fingers.

Murmuring a secret incantation, he pressed his bleeding hand against the wall. The moment his blood touched the surface, the wall trembled.

Faint intricate lines began to glow a deep crimson.

The stone groaned, shifting and unraveling like parchment peeling away.

What had once been a solid wall melted into nothingness, revealing a hidden alcove.

Within it sat a tome that looks old, bound in dark leather, its surface etched with runes that seemed to shimmer and twist as though resisting the light.

The air around it crackled with strong Magic energy.
Your next journey awaits at My Virtual Library Empire

King Gulben stared at it for only a moment before reaching out, his bloodied hand closing around its spine. The moment he touched it, a wave of energy surged through his arm, sending a searing pain up to his shoulder.

---