Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 452: HANDICAPPED BATTLE IV

At the same instant, dozens of massive water orbs, each the size of boulders, materialized in the sky above.

They shimmered with compressed pressure, surfaces rippling like liquid glass.

The dragon clenched his jaws and hurled them downward in a devastating barrage, aiming to crush Aaron from behind.

But Aaron simply vanished again.

He reappeared at the dragon’s unguarded flank in the blink of an eye.

The water dragon’s head whipped around, eyes widening in raw disbelief as he realized his entire side lay exposed.

"Not only foolish verbally," Aaron muttered, shaking his head in mock disappointment, "but also foolish tactically."

Without ceremony, he drove a gleaming sword straight through the reverse scale, the one vulnerable spot every dragon guarded with their life.

The blade punched clean through armored hide and sank deep into tender flesh beneath.

The dragon’s roar shattered the air, raw, guttural, animal agony. His body convulsed violently.

The water bombs overhead lost cohesion and burst apart in harmless rain, concentration utterly broken.

Aaron twisted the blade once for good measure, then yanked it free in a spray of steaming blue blood.

With brutal efficiency, he swung again in a wide, horizontal arc.

The sword cleaved through scales, muscle, and spine like wet paper.

The dragon’s body split in two perfect halves.

They crashed to the ground with wet, meaty thuds, entrails spilling in steaming coils across the dirt.

Aaron planted one boot on the still-twitching upper corpse.

Blood dripped from his sword tip in slow, heavy drops.

He swept a slow, condescending gaze across the stunned crowd.

"Now, should I repeat myself," he asked calmly, "or do you all still not understand what I’m saying?"

A dragon in draconic-human form, muscular, horned, eyes blazing with fury, could take no more.

The disgrace of his kin fueled him. He charged forward, fists clenched, and launched a lightning-fast punch straight at Aaron’s face.

Aaron caught the fist mid-air with casual ease. His fingers closed like a vice.

Cruelty lit his eyes. He squeezed.

Bone shattered with a series of sharp, wet cracks.

The dragon’s muffled groan of pain vibrated through his clenched teeth.

With his free hand, Aaron reshaped the white sphere into a long, wicked spear.

He drove it forward, straight through the dragon’s open, roaring mouth.

The tip erupted from the back of the skull in a gory spray of brain matter and blood.

Still smiling wickedly, Aaron willed the spear to morph back into a sword while still impaled.

One deliberate, cold swing severed the head cleanly. It tumbled to the ground, eyes frozen in shock.

A human assassin seized the moment thinking Aaron’s focus was elsewhere.

Dagger gleaming with malice, he darted in low and silent, aiming for Aaron’s unprotected back.

"The worst thing you can ever think of believing," Aaron said casually, not even turning, "is that I have a blind spot."

The words landed like ice water in the human’s veins.

His heart stuttered. Panic surged. He tried to abort, twisting away mid-stride.

Too late.

The black sphere detached and reshaped independently into Mjölnir, hammerhead massive, runes pulsing with thunderous energy.

It swung in a brutal arc and connected with the human’s skull.

A huge, wet pop echoed.

The head exploded in a crimson mist, fragments of bone and brain scattering like shrapnel.

The headless body crumpled instantly, legs folding beneath it.

"Pitiful," Aaron muttered, flicking a drop of blood from his sleeve.

He tilted his head, just enough.

An arrow streaked past where his ear had been a heartbeat earlier, the fletching brushing his hair.

An enemy elf, hidden in a pocket of warped space, cursed under her breath.

"Allow me to return the favor," Aaron said lightly.

He raised a hand.

A dimensional hole tore open directly in the arrow’s path, edges shimmering black.

The projectile vanished inside without resistance.

A second hole ripped open behind the unsuspecting elf.

The same arrow emerged from it at full speed and punched straight through her chest.

She gasped once, eyes wide, then collapsed forward, dead from her own weapon.

Aaron shrugged innocently, as though it had been the most natural thing in the world, and turned his attention back to the battlefield.

---

Aaron shrugged his shoulders innocently, then returned his focus to the rest of the battlefield.

"Just how can we defeat him with that annoying space control of his?" one of the participants muttered, voice thick with frustration and a hint of rising dread.

Slowly, fear began to seep through the gathered crowd like thick, choking smoke.

It built in layers, first in the tightening of shoulders, then in the subtle trembling of hands gripping weapons a little too tightly, and finally in the wide, haunted eyes that refused to blink.

Aaron no longer felt like a mere opponent.

He had become an absolute, overwhelming force of nature, something ancient and unstoppable that could never truly be defeated.

The scared, almost broken looks etched across every face served as undeniable proof.

Whispers died in throats.

Breaths came shorter. The air itself grew heavier with collective unease.

"Yawn..." Aaron opened his mouth wide in an unhurried, theatrical display.

His eyes grew watery from the deep stretch, a single tear tracing lazily down the side of his cheek as he extended his arms overhead.

Muscles along his back and shoulders loosened with audible pops, the sound carrying clearly in the tense silence.

He rolled his neck slowly, savoring the release of built-up fatigue.

"Alright. I’m getting tired," he announced to the entire encircled group, voice casual and almost bored.

"I think we should call it a day. We’ll continue the battle tomorrow."

Everyone present froze with utterly speechless expressions.

Jaws hung slack.

Weapons remained half-raised in stunned disbelief.

The sheer audacity of the statement hung in the air like a slap that no one had seen coming.

Some blinked rapidly, trying to process whether they had misheard.

Others exchanged quick, incredulous glances, the fear momentarily overshadowed by pure confusion.

"What the hell do you mean?" a devil snarled, gripping his scythe so tightly that the wood creaked under his fingers.

Hellish energy already crackled faintly around him as he prepared for battle.