Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 466: SOVEREIGNS’ BATTLE XI

The cloak had felt weightless, almost ethereal, like wearing mist or moonlight, but at the same time possessed an absurdly high tensile strength that had long since crossed the boundary of physics.

No ordinary material could withstand the implosion of a black hole pillar and emerge without so much as a tear; this one had done so effortlessly, reforming itself in the aftermath like liquid given purpose.

The cloak, more like a suit from the medieval era with a long, flowing robe-like pattern, felt like it was designed directly from blood.

Nay, it didn’t feel like, it actually was made from blood.

Dracula, with his critical, godlike control over the substance, had created thin threads of blood in the nanoscale, each filament thinner than a human hair yet stronger than any known alloy, and woven them into his new outfit after the destruction of his last from the implosion.

The threads had knitted together with microscopic precision, forming a seamless garment that shifted and breathed with his every movement.

The dark maroon color pulsed faintly, as though the fabric still remembered the heartbeat of its creator.

It carried no weight, yet it clung to him like a second skin, repelling light and shadow alike while absorbing kinetic force with terrifying efficiency.

The new suit of Dracula wasn’t all for fashion.

The properties of the suit were mind-boggling, near-absolute resistance to piercing, slashing, and explosive force;

self-repairing at the molecular level;

the ability to channel and redirect blood-based attacks with zero loss;

and an almost sentient responsiveness that made it feel alive, an extension of Dracula’s own will.

"Consider it your victory in the last round," Dracula informed the group, holding his rapier calmly.

His voice carried across the shattered battlefield with quiet, aristocratic disdain. "Let’s go again once more."

"Arrogant prick!" Zeus cussed, voice cracking with raw fury.

Lightning surged around him in violent blue-white coils as he activated God Speed once more, body blurring into a storm of afterimages and sonic booms.

Dracula, holding his rapier upwards, remained calm, unlike the previous time when Zeus had caught him off guard.

His crimson eyes tracked every flicker of movement with predatory precision.

Turning to the left, he easily blocked the attack of Zeus, rapier meeting lightning-clad fist in a clash that sent shockwaves rippling outward, cracking the already-fractured ground.

"How?" Zeus asked, his eyes wide open in disbelief.

The god of lightning had moved faster than thought, yet Dracula had anticipated and countered with effortless grace.

Dracula refrained from answering the question.

His hand moved, twisting the rapier before going for a stab with surgical precision.

The blade sang through the air, leaving a thin trail of crimson mist in its wake.

Zeus, sensing the danger, moved backward in an instant, body blurring into a streak of electric blue.

While moving backward, he threw his lightning bolt toward Dracula.

The projectile streaked forward like a living comet, crackling with divine fury and trailing sparks that scorched the air.

Dracula dodged the lightning bolt with a casual tilt of his head, the bolt passing inches from his cheek and detonating behind him in a blinding explosion that cratered the earth.

He moved toward Lucifer.

Dracula created thin threads of blood of the nanoscale, each one thinner than the finest thread yet sharper than any blade forged in reality.

He swung them toward the neck of Lucifer with a flick of his wrist.

For something so thin, the force behind it was supposed to be nonexistent, but the blood didn’t work only on physics.

The threads carried vampiric intent, slicing through air and mana alike with lethal, silent precision.

Lucifer, clicking his tongue in distaste, swung his sword.

He released another pillar of darkness, void-black energy erupting from the blade in a massive, hungry torrent that devoured light and sound.

But unlike the last time, the nano-thread of blood completely severed the pillar in half, causing it to implode due to its instability.

The darkness collapsed inward with a tortured scream, space folding violently around the wound.

The thread moved still toward Lucifer, forcing the fallen angel to retreat against his will, wings flaring as he backpedaled through the air.

Poseidon, inactive since the start of the battle, raised his trident upwards.

"Crushing Tide," Poseidon voiced out, throwing his trident with all of his force.

The trident spun, creating a whistling sound at first, high-pitched and piercing then transformed into the crushing sound of a heavy tide.

Water mana condensed around it, forming a spiraling vortex that roared like an ocean in fury.

Dracula remained focused on getting Lucifer, controlling his threads like a marionette master, each filament dancing with perfect precision.

Lucifer continued to dodge, flying and evading the thread while he waited for support, shadows coiling around him like protective wings.

The trident of Poseidon made contact with Dracula’s back.

But unlike Poseidon had expected, the trident couldn’t pierce the fabric of Dracula, it couldn’t even leave a dent.

Space shattered from the collision, shards of reality scattering all around like broken glass, each fragment reflecting fractured light before dissolving into void.

But yet, the trident couldn’t penetrate the fabric.

The blood threads absorbed the impact, dispersing the force across the nanoscale weave without so much as a ripple.

Poseidon, dissatisfied, called back his trident.

But Dracula, with his battle IQ turned sharply, holding on to the trident as it returned back to its owner.

The trident returned to Poseidon, with Dracula still holding on to it.

Poseidon, shocked, reacted reflexively, blasting Dracula with ultra-compressed water.

The blast roared forward like a tidal wave compressed into a single, devastating lance, water so dense it glowed blue-white under pressure.

Placing his hand before him, Dracula defended himself against the blast of water, blood threads forming an impenetrable shield that parted the torrent like a knife through silk.

Hades, close to his brother, decided to help out.

He swung his bident at Dracula, twin prongs humming with underworld energy, shadows clinging to the tips like living smoke.