Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 473: SOVEREIGNS’ BATTLE XVI

Dracula continued his explanation, his voice calm and deliberate as visible changes continued to ripple through his body like waves across still water.

The chalice’s dark essence seeped deeper into his veins, reshaping him from the inside out with slow, deliberate cruelty.

Every shift in his form sent faint tremors through the surrounding air, a low hum of power that made the ground beneath him vibrate subtly.

Wings sprouted from his back with a wet, tearing sound, leathery membranes stretching and unfurling one by one until six massive appendages extended fully, casting long, jagged shadows that danced across the battlefield.

One of the wings carried the jagged, veined appearance of demons, crimson pulses throbbing along blackened skin like living arteries.

One resembled the tattered, ash-gray wings of fallen angels, edges frayed and glowing faintly with corrupted silver light that flickered like dying embers.

One mirrored the pristine, radiant structure of angels, pure white feathers shimmering with an almost blinding holiness that hurt the eyes to look at directly.

Two took on the thick, armored scales of dragons, obsidian black and deep crimson, overlapping in intricate patterns that caught and absorbed light rather than reflected it.

And the rest embodied the sinister, barbed design of devils, thorned, twisted, and dripping with faint, corrosive ichor that hissed faintly on contact with the ground.

Mane slowly started growing around Dracula’s face, thick strands of midnight-black hair sprouting and lengthening in wild, untamed waves.

It framed his sharpened features like a feral crown, moving slightly as if stirred by an unseen wind, adding to the predatory aura radiating from him.

"You... What are you doing?" Zeus asked, his voice low and edged with suspicion.

A deep frown creased his brow as he watched the transformation unfold, lightning crackling faintly around his fists in instinctive readiness.

"Getting the ability of every one of you," Dracula replied evenly, his tone almost conversational.

"The last battle we fought wasn’t without cause. Thanks to it, I was able to receive the blood of every one of you."

Lightning began dancing around him in wild, erratic arcs, blue-white bolts snapping and coiling like living serpents, illuminating his form in harsh, flickering light that cast deep shadows across his newly formed wings.

"Lightning. That’s my—"

Zeus couldn’t finish his statement. In a blur too fast for most eyes to track, Dracula appeared directly before him.

Lightning zapped and danced wildly around his body, crackling with stolen power that made the air smell of ozone and scorched metal.

He threw his hand forward, enclosed in a swirling vortex of demonic energy that pulsed with malevolent force.

The blow landed directly into Zeus’s chest with a thunderous crack that echoed like a storm breaking.

The impact sent Zeus hurtling backward through the air in a helpless, spinning arc, armor dented and breath stolen.

"You damn pest!!! Just die!!!" Seraphim yelled, rage twisting his features into a mask of fury.

He swung his sword toward Dracula in a sweeping arc of blazing holy light that cut through the air with a high-pitched whine.

Dracula countered without hesitation, summoning light of his own, a brilliant, radiant barrier that materialized in an instant and clashed against Seraphim’s attack with a resounding explosion of sparks and holy energy.

And with his other hand, Dracula channeled the darkness element drawn from the fallen angels, forming a shadowy spear of pure void that stabbed straight into Seraphim’s heart with surgical precision.

"Urgh!" Seraphim groaned in agony, blood bubbling from his lips as pain seared through his chest.

His sword arm trembled, the holy glow around it flickering weakly.

Before Dracula could rip out Seraphim’s heart completely, Baal provided timely rescue.

He fired a piercing laser of demonic energy from his eyes, the beam cutting through the air in a searing crimson streak that forced Dracula to retreat with a swift, graceful sidestep.

Seraphim, afterward, was rescued by Freya. She pulled him back with gentle but firm hands, her palms glowing with soft golden healing magic as she tried desperately to mend the grievous wound.

But healing proved impossible for Seraphim.

His own blood rebelled against him, turning viscous and black as if it were an alien intruder fighting back. It resisted every pulse of Freya’s power, corrupting the light and causing the wound to smoke faintly.

"Damn Dracula," Lucifer cussed under his breath, his voice laced with bitter frustration.

"How fraudulent can he get?"

If Aaron had been present, he would have laughed his head off at the sheer irony of it all.

After all, he had once faced that same infuriating ability during their intense sparring sessions and knew firsthand how annoying, relentless, and downright unfair it could be, better than anyone else in the universe.

"What should we do?" Mephistopheles whispered urgently to Baal, his voice tight with concern.

"With all our abilities combined inside him, I doubt we can work together and defeat him with such power."

"We just have to keep wearing him out with numbers," Baal replied, gritting his teeth in grim determination.

His eyes burned with unyielding resolve.

"I doubt he can keep this up forever. No one is unbeatable. One way or the other, we’ll find a weak point. There’s no way he has infinite mana."

"Asmodeus! Support me alongside the others!" Baal called out sharply.

He flew toward Dracula once more, wings beating with fierce purpose, the air around him crackling with his own gathered power.

Dracula remained still, unmoving as a statue as he created a thin thread in the nanoscale once more, nearly invisible to the naked eye, shimmering faintly like a single strand of spider silk.

Except this time, he incorporated all the abilities of the sovereigns present, weaving them into the thread and making it even deadlier, a multifaceted weapon of unparalleled lethality that hummed with layered energies.

The thread snaked forward toward Necros, the Sovereign of Death, who immediately summoned towering structures of bone to defend himself, ivory walls and jagged spires rising like a fortress of the grave.

"One down," Dracula muttered softly, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

The thread easily passed through the bone structure defense, slicing clean and precise with no resistance.

It cut Necros in two, bisecting him with surgical accuracy that left no room for error.

Necros groaned in pain, his severed halves twitching violently as dark blood pooled around him in thick, spreading puddles.

He tried desperately to regenerate, bones cracking and knitting back together in frantic spasms.

But it failed utterly. Draconic flames erupted from the wound, consuming him from the inside out in roaring black fire that scorched flesh and bone alike, bringing his life to a swift, agonizing end.

The flames hissed and popped as they devoured him completely.

With the death of Necros, Baal paused for a single heartbeat. Visible pain flashed across his face, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching, before he forced it down and masked it completely.

Carefully hidden from the others, Baal’s strength grew stronger after Necros’s passing, a subtle but unmistakable surge of power rippling through his body like a dark current.

And weirdly enough, it wasn’t just Necros who died.

Every single undead within the universe perished alongside him, their forms crumbling to dust in a synchronized, silent wave of extinction that rippled across realities.

Usually, Vorth would have noticed the abnormality and called out to it, his keen senses attuned to such cosmic shifts and imbalances.

But with him dead, no one could detect the anomaly that had just occurred.

No one close enough to the universe’s will remained to sense the ripple or understand its full implications.