Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 444: KNOWLEDGE OF HIS RETURN

"Hypnosis," Zeus stated, his voice echoing through the grand hall with thunderous certainty, confirming the suspicions swirling in the minds of every Sovereign present.

They had all witnessed hypnosis in action countless times throughout their eternal existences, enough to recognize its subtle manipulations without doubt, the way it twisted perceptions and commandeered wills like a puppeteer pulling invisible strings.

"I have been instructed by the Celestial Devourer to inform each and every one of you of your impending doom," the man declared, his voice now brimming with unshakeable confidence, teetering on the edge of reverent awe, as if he were a devoted herald delivering a divine edict.

"He wishes to inform you all of your inevitable demise," the man continued, his posture rigid and eyes gleaming with borrowed authority, "a fate that will unfold during that silly little tournament of yours, where you play at power like children in a sandbox."

"And lastly," he added, his tone dropping to a dramatic hush that filled the chamber with tension, "he told me to convey this message: ’Be prepared for the revenge of the being you all betrayed and ganged up against, because he’s back.’"

"Who’s back?" Baal demanded sharply, his piercing eyes locked onto the man with unbridled fury, anger radiating from his demonic form as he gripped the armrest of his throne so tightly that cracks spiderwebbed across the ancient obsidian.

"The lord of the eternal night," the man began, his words flowing with eerie precision. "Dra—"

Zzzt!

A sharp, electric sizzle cut through the air, the sound crackling like a bolt from the heavens.

"That’s enough," Zeus snarled fiercely, his eyes alive with dancing arcs of lightning that illuminated the shadows around them, casting erratic flickers across the solemn faces of the assembled Sovereigns.

He had fried the brain of the witness in an instant, the man’s body convulsing briefly before slumping lifelessly to the floor, tendrils of smoke rising from his charred skull, ensuring the forbidden name remained unspoken in their hallowed hall.

"So he’s really back," Zeus muttered, rising to his feet with deliberate menace, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the table, anger burning in his stormy gaze like an unending tempest ready to unleash its fury.

"I had hoped a day like this would present itself to me," he added, his voice rumbling with a mix of anticipation and wrath, his fists clenching at his sides as memories of ancient battles resurfaced in his mind.

"Zeus, let’s not get ahead of ourselves and forget who Dracula Highborn truly was," Lucifer interjected calmly, his silky tone slicing through the rising tension like a blade, putting a firm brake on Zeus’s surging confidence, his fallen angelic wings shifting slightly in the dim light.

"And don’t you forget how long I’ve been training since his supposed demise," Zeus countered, his eyes flashing with defiant sparks.

"I’m not far from breaking this cursed shackle called sovereignty. A lot of us here aren’t, either, our powers have grown beyond what he faced before."

"So?" Mephistopheles inquired, his voice a sly whisper that slithered through the air, leaning forward with intrigue etched on his infernal features. "What do we do now?"

"Zeus is right," the Primordial Dragon affirmed confidently, its massive, scaled form coiled around its seat, ancient eyes glowing with the wisdom of eons.

"We can’t cower in fear or descend into panic right now, it would only hand the enemy an advantage on a silver platter."

"We proceed as we always have, dealing with matters in our established ways," the dragon continued, its voice a deep, resonant growl that vibrated the very foundations of the hall.

"Should he dare show his face again, we will crush him without mercy, grinding his ambitions to dust beneath our combined might."

"Ha! Ridiculous!" Baal scoffed, his laughter a harsh, mocking bark that echoed off the walls.

"You all have truly forgotten how dangerously formidable Dracula was in the past, his schemes were webs that ensnared empires, his power a shadow that eclipsed stars."

"It’s best we seek help from them—" Baal suggested, his clawed fingers drumming impatiently on the table, a glint of desperation in his fiery eyes.

"That’s the last thing we’ll do, Baal," Odin outright refused, his one good eye blazing with resolute fury as he slammed his fist down, the impact sending tremors through the stone.

"Seek help from those bastards? We’d be trading our thrones for chains, becoming nothing more than their groveling slaves."

The conference, for the first time in what felt like millennia, dragged on interminably as they deliberated the topic, voices rising and falling in heated exchanges, alliances forming and fracturing like tectonic plates in the heat of debate.

But in the end, after exhaustive arguments that tested even their immortal patience, they all reached a grudging consensus: to wait patiently until the enemy revealed himself fully, biding their time like predators in the underbrush.

And with that uneasy resolution hanging in the air, the tournament was set to resume as planned, the grand spectacle proceeding amid the undercurrents of looming threat.

-----

Aaron, the unwitting source of the Sovereigns’ mounting headaches and sleepless deliberations, found himself secluded within the tranquil sanctuary, diligently practicing his vampire abilities to ensure he remained sharp and not rusty in his eternal craft.

The sanctuary’s ethereal glow bathed him in a soft, otherworldly light, its ancient wards humming faintly as he moved through fluid sequences of shadow manipulation and blood conjuring, each motion a testament to his undying prowess.

Aaron had altered his carefully laid plans during the conquest of the super cluster, a pivotal shift born from the chaos of battle and the rush of newfound power surging through his veins.

After devouring the super cluster in its entirety, he had indulged in a frenzied draw spree using his accumulated D.P points, the digital lottery spinning like a wheel of fate in his mind’s eye.

The reward he had luckily drawn from it proved to be a monumental turning point for Aaron, an artifact or ability that reshaped his destiny in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

One that skyrocketed his confidence to an almost unnatural, abnormal level, filling him with a bold assurance that bordered on hubris, his crimson eyes gleaming with the promise of untapped potential.

After several grueling hours of intense practicing, his body glistening with a faint sheen of ethereal sweat despite his undead nature, Aaron was compelled to return to the universe proper, materializing once more in the endless, drifting void where stars winked like distant memories.

He navigated back to Aiz with purposeful grace, the familiar landscapes of his domain unfolding before him, only to find Nick waiting patiently, his figure a steadfast silhouette against the horizon, eyes alert and expectant.