Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 450: HANDICAPPED BATTLE

What followed was a deliberate, almost theatrical barrage of cruelty.

Aaron’s hand cracked across the angel’s cheek once more, sharp, stinging, the sound echoing like a whip in the sudden hush.

Then he pivoted and delivered the same open-palmed slap to the fallen angel’s face, the impact snapping his head sideways with a wet smack.

The humiliation landed heavier than any spell.

The entire battlefield froze. Dragon wings stilled mid-beat.

The elf’s bowstring went slack.

Even the crackling embers seemed to pause, as though the universe itself recoiled from the sheer audacity.

No one moved to intervene.

No desperate rescue.

They simply watched, wide-eyed, speechless, as two ancient, near-divine beings were reduced to staggering, red-faced puppets.

"You bastard!" the fallen angel finally snarled the moment the whip loosened just enough for breath.

Spittle flecked his lips, dark blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "I’m going to kill you!!"

The angel said nothing.

He only glared, pure, venomous hatred burning in eyes that had once shimmered with holy light.

Those eyes flared brighter, pupils contracting to pinpricks of white radiance.

Wings trembled faintly as he gathered power for his signature move, the one whispered about in terrified legends: divine judgment in beam form.

"You bastard! I’m right beside you!!" the fallen angel roared, suddenly realizing the angel’s intent. His voice cracked with panic and betrayal.

The angel ignored him completely.

Escape from the shame consumed every thought, consequences be damned.

Schwak!

A sickening, wet sound cut through the tension.

Both angels froze, staring down in dumbstruck disbelief.

Aaron’s arms had vanished wrist-deep into their chests, casual, almost gentle in execution.

Blood welled dark and thick around the entry points, soaking feathers and dark plumage alike.

His fingers curled inside their ribcages, finding the frantic, fluttering hearts.

"There’s a lot more angels and fallen angels I can play with," Aaron said lightly, smile widening into something almost cheerful. "I don’t need you two for long."

He squeezed.

The hearts burst with soft, wet pops, like overripe fruit underfoot. Life flickered out in twin gasps.

Golden and obsidian blood sprayed in fine mist across Aaron’s forearms.

He withdrew his hands slowly, letting the lifeless bodies slump forward.

They crumpled to the scorched grass in graceless heaps, wings splayed like broken fans.

Aaron tilted his head back slightly, inhaling deeply.

The sharp, metallic tang of their fear lingered in the air, he drank it in like fine wine, eyes half-lidded in quiet satisfaction.

"Next," he called out, sweeping a lazy gaze across the stunned survivors.

"Arrogant bastard," the dragon rumbled, voice low and molten with rage. Smoke curled from his nostrils in thick black tendrils.

Aaron didn’t even glance his way.

"Now for my next trick," he said cryptically, grin sharpening to a razor’s edge. "I will disappear."

Before the words fully settled, reality folded.

Space warped around him in a silent ripple, void step.

One heartbeat he stood in the open; the next he was gone.

He reappeared behind the elf, materializing so close the leaves on the branch barely stirred.

The elf’s keen senses registered the shift a fraction too late.

"How did you—?"

"Shh," Aaron whispered, voice soft and intimate, like a lover’s secret, or a reaper’s lullaby. "Go to sleep now."

The black sphere elongated into a thin, razor-edged blade.

One clean, horizontal stroke.

The elf’s head parted from his shoulders with barely a sound, only the soft thump of it hitting the ground below, eyes still wide in shock.

Another fold of space.

Aaron appeared behind the devil, sword already materialized in his grip, gleaming black steel hungry for more.

He drove it forward in a single, precise thrust through the back of the ribcage.

The blade punched out the front in a spray of dark blood.

The devil’s body jerked once, then went limp.

"That bastard was holding back!" the dragon bellowed, rage boiling over into panic.

He reared up and unleashed dragon’s breath, a roaring column of white-hot flame aimed at both the impaled corpse and Aaron still embedded inside it.

Aaron met the oncoming inferno with utter calm.

He raised one hand.

Space twisted into a perfect circular maw, a wormhole, edges shimmering like fractured glass.

The flames poured in, vanishing without a trace.

And just as wickedly, he linked the other end.

Behind Hypnos.

The god’s eyes snapped wide in stunned realization, too late.

The redirected dragonfire erupted against his back in a deafening roar.

Heat scorched flesh and silver hair alike. He hurtled forward, crashing face-first into the dirt with a bone-jarring impact, armor smoking, skin blistered.

A shadow fell over him.

Hypnos looked up through watering, pain-clouded eyes.

Aaron crouched above him, beaming down with serene politeness.

"Hi. Welcome."

The voice was sweet, almost melodic.

To Hypnos it sounded like poison wrapped in silk, the devil’s own whisper promising eternity.

"Crazy—"

Aaron didn’t let him finish.

A casual flick of the wrist.

The black sphere reshaped into a thin spike and drove straight through Hypnos’s throat, silencing him forever.

"Now you can sleep for as long as you want," Aaron murmured, smile gentle and utterly merciless.

He straightened, rolling his neck once. Then he turned.

His gaze locked onto Hildr.

She took an involuntary step back.

Fear, real, primal fear flooded her usually serene features. Her hands shook.

"Stay away from me!" she roared, voice cracking.

Desperation took over. Golden light flared around her palms.

She thrust them forward, channeling forbidden necromancy.

One by one, the fallen rose, jerky, puppet-like.

The angel and fallen angel staggered upright, chests still gaping.

The elf’s head reattached with a grotesque pop.

The devil and Hypnos lurched to their feet, wounds leaking sluggish black ichor.

Their eyes were dull, vacant, strength drained, power a faint echo.

"Quite an unfit power for a god, if you ask me," Aaron observed calmly, studying the shambling undead with detached curiosity.

He met Hildr’s panicked stare.

"But since I defeated them once..." His grin returned, slow and predatory.

"I can defeat them again. Especially now, when their strength and abilities have been greatly reduced."