Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 563: ANTIMATTER

Nightflame continued navigating the vast and chaotic universe of the defects, his steps silent and purposeful through the crowded streets.

"I hear you trade information," Nightflame said, approaching a shady figure tucked in a dimly lit corner.

The being was wrapped tightly in a heavy cloak, face hidden in shadow.

But the attempt at concealment was pointless before Nightflame’s sharp eyes.

He could see everything clearly.

The man’s face looked unkempt and rat-like, with a constantly dripping nose that secreted thick, glistening slime.

The slime trailed down his chin, over his clothes, and onto the floor without him seeming to care.

"Indeed. What is it you wish to know?" the man asked, his voice low and raspy.

"The mad one," Nightflame replied, sliding a large pile of defect gold coins across the table.

"What do you know about him?"

He had received the gold from Scar before the base was destroyed, and now it served its purpose.

"Hmm. Information on the Mad One isn’t easy to come by," the man replied, staying seated in his worn chair.

"Just a few useless gold coins won’t cut it."

They were on Planet Tradis — a massive commercial world stretched flat across an entire universe.

It served as the ultimate hub of trade, where every possible item, secret, or service could be found if you had enough coins to pay the price.

"If you try to rip me off," Nightflame said coldly, staring straight into the man’s eyes with unblinking intensity,

"I will rip your head from your shoulders."

"I wouldn’t dare cheat a client," the man answered calmly, though a faint bead of sweat formed on his forehead.

"I would lose more than I gain.

The enforcers here make sure only fair prices are placed on trade.

Cheating a client does more harm than good on Tradis."

He had dealt with plenty of dangerous customers before, so Nightflame’s threat did not rattle him completely.

"Besides, killing me would make you a wanted man," he added with a thin smile.

"Hunted by every being within the defects."

"How much do you need for the information?" Nightflame asked, his voice remaining icy and level.

"Not being greedy... a thousand defect gold coins," the man replied.

Nightflame simply gave him the longest, coldest stare the man had ever received.

The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.

"Seven hundred gold coins will do just fine," the man corrected quickly, his voice turning slightly shaky as he lost his earlier composure.

"With the gold coins I already provided," Nightflame demanded, "give me the coordinates of every rich noble nearby, as well as slave organizations and auction houses."

"Right away, sir," the man replied, hurrying to comply.

He tapped away on a strange, broken-looking computer system.

It resembled an ordinary laptop but appeared battered and ugly on the outside.

Yet its processing power rivaled ten quantum computers combined.

"Here you go, sir," the man said, stretching out his hand and offering a detailed map.

Nightflame nodded once, took the map without another word, and left the stall.

He studied the map carefully as he walked.

After a moment, he decided on the strongest slave organization marked on it.

With a single time-step, he vanished from his current spot and appeared instantly at the location, the air rippling faintly around him from the spatial shift.

Nightflame approached the front gate like a true gentleman, following every proper procedure without haste.

The massive iron doors loomed high above him, etched with symbols of wealth and cruelty.

Soon, armed escorts led him through winding corridors lined with gilded walls and flickering lanterns.

They brought him before the head of the organization.

"I heard you want to make a deal with us," Oxed said, leaning forward on his ornate throne.

"What exactly are you offering?"

"It’s a fair deal," Nightflame replied calmly, his voice steady and clear.

"Free every slave you have locked up. Hand over a thousand defect gold coins. Do that, and you will be spared with your life intact."

"You..." Oxed’s face twisted with anger, veins bulging along his thick neck.

"Have you perhaps gone mad?"

"Capture him," Oxed commanded his guards, his voice dripping with fury.

"He will be sold as a slave for the insult. He should fetch a fair price."

"It seems every being in this universe is suffering from brain rot," Nightflame said coldly, his eyes narrowing.

"I did offer you a chance."

The guards surrounding him moved swiftly, pointing heavy gun blasters directly at his head and chest.

Their fingers hovered over the triggers, ready to fire at the slightest twitch.

Opening his mouth, Nightflame turned sharply and released a torrent of dark flames.

The black fire roared outward like living shadows, consuming the guards in an instant.

Their screams were brief and muffled as the flames devoured them whole.

"How..." Oxed stammered, staring at Nightflame in wide-eyed shock.

He noticed the limiter cuffs still locked tightly around Nightflame’s wrists.

Yet Nightflame broke them apart with effortless ease, the metal snapping like brittle twigs — just as he had done before with Scar.

"You all depend so much on these limiters," Nightflame cursed, his tone laced with disgust.

"They’re just defective scrap, just like the rest of you."

"You damn bastard!" Oxed yelled, slamming his fist on the armrest.

He pushed the emergency button with frantic force.

"Obliterate him at once!"

In seconds, Nightflame found himself completely surrounded by countless elite guards.

One peculiar detail stood out: every single one of them wore full-body masks and armor that covered every inch of skin.

Not a single patch of flesh was visible.

Oxed had already retreated to safety the moment they arrived.

The guards moved with perfect coordination, forming a tight pincer attack that left no escape route.

Their commander stood behind the lines, watching Nightflame in cold silence.

"Fire!" the commander ordered sharply.

A storm of energy blasts erupted toward Nightflame from every direction.

Yet Nightflame remained unfazed.

These guards were weak, far below nebula rank, and he saw no real threat of defeat.

Still, he refused to lower his guard.

He cloaked himself entirely in layers of darkness, thickening the shadows around his body while boosting his speed with his werewolf bloodline.

His claws transformed into a deadly fusion, bone from the undead, raw power from the werewolf, and searing heat from the flame elemental, making them stronger and wreathed in flickering black fire.

He moved like a blur, tearing the heads from an entire group of guards in one savage sweep.

But at that exact moment, the rest of the guards opened fire.

"Ahhhhhhhh!!!" Nightflame roared in agony as the blasts slammed into him.

To his shock, the attacks bypassed his shadow cloak completely, burning through his defenses and carving deep wounds across his torso.

The pain was sharper and more lingering than anything he had felt in a long time.

Nightflame time-stepped instantly, vanishing farther away from the group in a flicker of distorted space.

He dissolved the darkness cloak and looked down at the wound.

It refused to heal quickly, even with his powerful chaos physique working overtime.

The edges of the injury smoked faintly, resisting every attempt at regeneration.

For the first time, Nightflame had tasted the true might of the most dangerous weapon in this universe.

Anti-matter blasters.