Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 407 407: SAVED BY COINS

"Well, well, well," Aaron muttered, his voice a low, echoing rumble that cut through the lingering haze of battle.

He appeared before the general in a heartbeat, materializing from a swirl of shadows like a phantom emerging from the void.

The air around him grew colder, thicker, as if the darkness itself leeched the warmth from space.

The general froze, his sword still raised from the aborted swing, breath coming in ragged gasps inside his helmet.

Defeat hung heavy in his eyes, the once-fierce gaze now dulled by exhaustion and despair.

"What do you think you are doing?" Aaron asked, tilting his shadowed head slightly.

He stared down at the man, the crimson glints of his eyes piercing through the veil of writhing darkness like distant, malevolent stars.

The general's shoulders slumped, the weight of command and failure pressing down on him like an invisible anvil.

Slowly, he raised his hand, palm open to reveal one of the shadowed coins glinting faintly in the starlight.

"I surrender. Please," he replied, his voice cracking with reluctant submission, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Aaron paused, the shadows around him shifting subtly.

"To think you would surrender," he muttered, a note of genuine surprise threading through his altered tone.

If anyone could pierce the opaque shroud of darkness enveloping him, they would see the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips, amused, predatory, satisfied by the unexpected turn.

The general swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the coin as if it were his last anchor.

"Please. We have lost. Just put an end to this carnage."

His eyes flicked to the drifting wreckage and floating bodies around them, the void littered with the remnants of his army.

"I was the one foolish enough to lead them. Take my life instead."

Aaron regarded him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut like a bowstring.

The scent of scorched metal and frozen blood lingered in the air, a grim reminder of the slaughter.

"Hmm. I told you, didn't I?" he finally replied, his voice calm and unyielding. "The coin will save your life."

He turned away from the general, his massive shadowed form pivoting with deliberate slowness.

Raising his voice to carry across the battlefield, resonant, commanding, echoing through the minds of every survivor, Aaron addressed the remaining soldiers.

"This battle is over. Your lives will be spared as long as you don't dare to betray me."

The soldiers halted mid-motion, weapons lowering as the frenzy of combat ebbed away.

Guilt washed over those who had turned on their allies in the chaos, faces paling behind visors, hands trembling on triggers.

Whispers of regret rippled through the ranks, the weight of betrayal settling like a fog over the survivors.

The void felt heavier now, filled with the silent judgment of the stars.

But Aaron wasn't bothered in the slightest.

His focus remained sharp, unclouded by sentiment.

With a casual wave of his hand, he began the final act.

Shadows expanded outward from him in vast, hungry waves, devouring the entire galactic cluster piece by piece.

Planets crumbled into nothingness, stars winked out like snuffed candles, nebulae dissolved into empty black.

The process was methodical, relentless, the darkness consuming light and matter alike until only void remained.

He had a goal for the day: the devouring of four galactic clusters.

The plan had been meticulously laid out, and Loki, the god of mischief had proven himself a master tactician.

His insights had provided Aaron with the perfect strategy, timing each strike to maximize efficiency and minimize interference.

The trickster's cunning mind had mapped vulnerabilities, predicted responses, and ensured the path forward was clear.

With the first cluster reduced to cosmic dust, Aaron wasted no time.

He tore open another rift, stepping through into the next target.

Time was of the essence now; he was in a race against the inevitable alarms that might ripple through the Sovereigns' networks.

This time, he bypassed the fodder and went straight for the heart, the strongest being within the cluster.

Loki's intel had painted a vivid picture: the inhabitants treated this entity as a god, revering it with temples and offerings scattered across their worlds.

The reason for such worship? The being had once withstood a lightning strike from Zeus himself.

Of course, that had been a much younger version of the thunder god, raw and unrefined in his power. Still, the feat had etched the creature into legend.

The being was Helix, a Draconian infused with an abyssal percentage of Primordial dragon blood.

His form was colossal, scales like forged obsidian rippling over muscles that could shatter moons.

Eyes burned with ancient fire, and his wings spanned wide enough to eclipse suns.

The air around him thrummed with latent energy, a aura of invincibility that had cowed entire civilizations.

Yet, much to Aaron's disappointment, Helix proved weaker than anticipated.

The Draconian's presence felt diminished, his power a shadow of the tales.

Aaron's mystic eyes cut through the facade effortlessly, revealing every flaw, the thin seams between scales where vulnerability hid, the subtle pulses of energy that betrayed weak points like glowing targets in the dark.

The death of Helix was swift and cold, delivered without fanfare.

Aaron struck like a viper, shadows coiling around the Draconian's throat, daggers plunging into those exposed gaps.

Blood sprayed in dark arcs, freezing instantly in the void.

Helix's roar choked into silence, his massive body convulsing once before going still, drifting lifeless amid the stars.

With their strongest defender slain and no means to call for help, Aaron's spatial isolation ensuring complete cutoff, the galactic cluster's resistance crumbled.

Planets broadcast desperate signals of surrender, fleets powered down their weapons, populations huddled in fear under darkened skies.

What followed was inevitable: the devouring.

Aaron's shadows expanded once more, a tidal wave of oblivion sweeping through systems, erasing worlds and lives in a merciless purge.

The void claimed it all, leaving only emptiness in his wake.

Aaron continued with relentless speed, adhering strictly to Loki's calculated timing.

He moved from one cluster to the next, each conquest a blur of calculated strikes and total annihilation.

Shadows danced at his command, mystic eyes unveiling secrets, and the darkness grew ever hungrier.

The remaining clusters fell like dominoes, defenses breached, leaders felled, existence wiped clean.

By the end, the void echoed with the silence of his victories, the weight of devoured stars pressing on the fabric of reality itself.