Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 394: SOVEREIGN COUNCIL

"Alright, let’s move," Lilian said, her voice clipped and final as she finished the last of her preparations.

She adjusted the sleek, silver-edged vambrace on her left forearm one more time, the faint metallic click echoing in the quiet corridor.

One of the escort team members stepped forward, posture rigid with respect.

"Ma’am, the governor is here."

Lilian’s lips pressed into a thin line.

A flicker of irritation crossed her features, sharp, fleeting before she smoothed it away behind a practiced mask of calm.

She exhaled slowly through her nose.

"I’ll go to him," she told the escort, already turning on her heel.

She found Governor Nick standing near the arched entrance, hands clasped behind his back, the dark fabric of his tailored coat catching the low overhead lights.

His presence seemed to pull all the air in the room toward him.

"Welcome, Governor," Lilian greeted, forcing her mouth into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Pleasant surprise seeing you here."

Nick’s gaze was steady, almost bored.

"I won’t be staying long." His tone left no room for pleasantries. "All I need is for you to add Jordan to your escort team."

Lilian opened her mouth. "But Governor, he—"

"He can be trusted," Nick cut in, voice flat and final.

"His trial has concluded. Put him through whatever protocols are required. That will be all."

Without waiting for a reply, he gave a curt nod toward the man standing just behind him.

Jordan stepped forward, expression unreadable.

Nick turned and strode away, shoulders squared against the invisible weight of the endless tasks waiting for him back at the capital.

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should.

Lilian turned slowly to face Jordan. Her eyes narrowed, curiosity warring with suspicion.

"You," she said quietly, almost accusingly.

"How did you convince him to stand on the same side as you?"

Jordan gave the smallest of shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Let’s just call it mutual destruction."

He fell into step behind her without another word.

Lilian’s jaw tightened.

She wanted to press badly but something in his calm, almost amused tone warned her that she wouldn’t like the full answer. Not yet.

She led him down the polished corridor in silence, boots echoing in perfect rhythm with the rest of the waiting team.

When they reached the assembled escorts, Lilian stopped and raised her voice, letting authority settle over every syllable.

"Everyone must be on high alert. This is a special mission. Nothing, absolutely nothing can go wrong. We risk the wrath of the Sovereigns themselves if it does."

The words landed like stones in still water.

Every head nodded once, solemn.

Faces that had been relaxed moments earlier now carried the hard, focused look of people who understood exactly what failure would cost.

With the warning delivered, Lilian gave a single sharp gesture.

"Move out."

The team formed up around the ex-governor, her father, moving with practiced precision.

Bodies angled outward, weapons held at low-ready, eyes scanning every shadow.

Jordan took position near the rear left flank, close enough to Lilian that he could hear the faint, steady rhythm of her breathing.

They advanced toward the teleportation gate in tight formation, boots ringing against the smooth obsidian floor.

At the gate itself, protocol unfolded like clockwork.

The first squad stepped through first, six figures vanishing into the rippling silver membrane.

Their job was simple: secure the arrival zone on the other side before anyone of value followed.

A heartbeat later, the second group moved.

Lilian walked at the center, her father shielded between her and two towering escorts.

Jordan stayed at her shoulder, gaze flicking between the gate and the people around him.

The membrane swallowed them in a cool rush of light.

Then the final squad passed through.

It took only seconds.

When the disorientation cleared, Jordan blinked against the sudden brilliance.

The Sovereign Galaxy stretched before him.

He felt it before he truly saw it, the air itself was alive.

Thick, rich mana essence shimmered visibly, hanging in slow, luminous currents that drifted like rivers of liquid starlight.

Each breath carried the taste of power, clean and electric, settling deep in his lungs.

Entire star systems had been arranged with geometric perfection, orbits so precise they seemed to mock the randomness of lesser galaxies.

No collisions, no wild gravitational dances, just flawless, eternal symmetry.

Between the suns floated continents of impossible scale, each one larger than most planets.

Their edges gleamed with crystalline spires that caught and refracted starlight into rainbows of quiet divinity.

Ancient palaces rose from the stone, walls made of alloys no mortal forge could name, surfaces polished until they mirrored the cosmos itself.

Even the nebulae behaved differently here.

Instead of chaotic clouds, they coiled like living silk, deep indigo, molten gold, blood crimson wrapping the floating domains in veils of deliberate beauty.

There was no violence in this place.

No grinding of asteroids, no screaming solar flares.

The void between stars thrummed softly, a low, conscious hum, as though the galaxy itself knew who walked within it and adjusted its breathing accordingly.

This was no natural expanse.

It was architecture on a cosmic scale, a realm sculpted by will, where the strongest of the strongest gathered to judge, to sentence, to decide the fate of entire universes.

And at the very heart of it all lay a single world.

That central world was no ordinary planet.

It sprawled across thousands of light-years, its edges blurring into auroral curtains of power.

From where Jordan stood, it looked less like a sphere and more like a living crown, radiant and endless, waiting to receive those who had been summoned.

The world was flat.

Not merely flattened by some cosmic accident or crude design, it was flat by sovereign decree, a deliberate rejection of the spherical comfort most universes offered their children.

Its plane stretched outward in every direction without apology or horizon, vast enough to make even the oldest immortals feel momentarily small.

Day and night did not alternate here.

They coexisted, layered upon the same reality like overlapping veils.

Whether a soul walked in blinding radiance or velvet shadow depended solely on the nature of that soul, no celestial clock, no turning world, no external arbiter.