Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 441: FEAR IS A CURRENCY

The lich, surprised, tried to wrestle itself free, thrashing with undead vigor, spells flickering at its fingertips in desperate bursts.

But all his attempts ended in futility before Aaron, the grip unyielding and absolute, like chains forged from the heart of oblivion itself.

Not even the abilities of the lich could free it from Aaron’s grip.

No surge of necrotic energy, no desperate spell woven from ancient runes, no frantic pulse of mana could loosen the fingers wrapped around its jaw like forged obsidian.

The lich’s skeletal frame trembled in silent protest, its green-flamed eyes flickering wildly with the dawning realization of helplessness.

"You deserve death for going against me," Aaron said coldly, his eyes fixed on the lich. The words carried no heat, no rage, only an icy finality that seemed to drain the remaining warmth from the already frigid hall.

The lich’s eyes widened, the chilly cold voice of Aaron compounding the fear it already was feeling.

The creature’s hollow sockets pulsed erratically, the flames within them dimming and flaring in erratic rhythm, as though his very gaze was siphoning the life from them.

"Consume," Aaron said coldly, his eyes locked into the pleading eyes of the lich.

The single word hung in the air like a guillotine blade descending.

Aaron began to consume the fear of the lich.

At first it was slow and difficult to devour, like drawing thick tar through a narrow straw.

The lich’s ancient will resisted, centuries of accumulated arrogance and power forming a brittle barrier against the intrusion.

Tendrils of dread leaked out reluctantly, thin and bitter.

But as time passed, and the lich discovered the weakening of his soul,despite Aaron not being in contact with his hidden vessel, the lich felt more fear.

A creeping, suffocating realization bloomed in its hollow mind: something was unraveling him from the inside, and no phylactery, no contingency spell, could stop it.

And the greater the fear the lich felt, the faster it was for Aaron to devour the lich’s fear, creating a snowball effect that accelerated with terrifying momentum.

Each fresh wave of terror fed the next, spiraling upward in a vicious loop until the lich’s resistance crumbled like dry parchment in flame.

"That wasn’t so bad," Aaron muttered, releasing the skull of the lich.

The head dropped with a dull, hollow clack against the stone floor, rolling once before coming to rest, jaw slack, flames guttering low.

Aaron had completely devoured the fear of the lich, and in return, his soul, ripped free in a silent, invisible torrent. Nothing remained but an empty vessel, a husk of bone and faded magic.

The flames in the sockets of the lich that signified its life diminished to faint sparks, then winked out entirely, leaving only darkness where unholy fire once burned.

"Now for the rest," Aaron muttered, sweeping his gaze at the soldiers.

The rich scent of fear coming from them sharp, metallic, intoxicating,.caused Aaron to desire devouring them badly. It curled in his chest like hunger after a long fast.

The undead soldiers, having heard the cries of their lich king and the sudden, terrible silence afterward, had already pieced the puzzle together: the death of their king, unmistakable and absolute.

That realization had amplified their fear tenfold, turning it into a palpable miasma that saturated the grand hall.

Without wasting time, Aaron devoured the fear of the undead soldiers present.

He pulled it in with ravenous efficiency, drawing the emotion out in thick, writhing streams that shimmered faintly in the torchlight before vanishing into him.

The soldiers screamed, the agony of their fear being devoured tearing through their decayed throats in ragged, unearthly howls that echoed off the bone-carved walls.

The undead soldiers crumpled to ashes in waves, gray flakes drifting downward like morbid snow.

Some left behind only piles of bones, clattering softly as femurs and ribs settled into disordered heaps on the cold stone.

"That was satisfying," Aaron muttered, a satisfied look on his face.

A subtle warmth spread through his core, the influx of devoured terror settling like fine wine, sharpening his senses and deepening the shadows that clung to him.

"How fast can you devour fear of others, and what’s your range?" Dracula asked Aaron, his crimson eyes gleaming with clinical interest as he studied the aftermath.

"What are you cooking, old man?" Aaron asked, already accustomed to the similarity between him and Dracula.

Just like him, Dracula was one capable of cooking crazy ideas, plans so audacious they bordered on madness, yet carried the weight of inevitability.

And Dracula, of course, did not disappoint Aaron’s belief.

"I’m going to compel every single being within this super cluster," Dracula informed, his voice calm and deliberate, "and show them the scene you created while dealing with the lich and his soldiers."

The words landed like a thunderclap in still air.

"Crazy," Aaron breathed, a slow, dangerous smile etching itself across his face.

"You want to ignite fear in the heart of countless souls in an instant. Crazy old man."

The smile widened, sharp and approving, eyes glinting beneath the veil of shadow.

The idea was ruthless, elegant, and perfectly in line with the legacy they both carried.

Dracula merely inclined his head once, the faintest curve of fangs visible in return.

"Exactly," he said softly. "Fear is a currency. Tonight, we mint a fortune."

The crazy idea of Dracula was intoxicating for him, a thrilling rush that coursed through Aaron’s veins like wildfire, igniting his ambition with an addictive fervor he hadn’t felt in ages.

"System, do you think I could be able to...?" Aaron asked the system, his voice trailing off as he pondered the immense scale of the plan, his shadowed form standing still in the dimly lit hall.

[It’s going to take a lot of mental fortitude and strength, because you will be stretching your thoughts wide. But indeed it’s doable for you]

The reply of the system cemented Aaron’s thoughts and his plans, solidifying his resolve like concrete hardening under pressure, erasing any lingering doubts in his mind.

"Go ahead, old man. Let’s run rampant. I’m up for it," Aaron said to Dracula, his smile widening with eager anticipation, eyes gleaming beneath the veil of shadows as the thrill of impending chaos bubbled within him.