Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 336: The Constellation of Luck (2)

Chapter 336: The Constellation of Luck (2)

[A/N: Quick warning… uhh this will be a bit dark? or… hmmm, a kind of gross torture? Whatever you want to call it, just a quick heads up.]

—-

Sylvie stood watching the people who could be called her parents.

This wasn’t about revenge—she couldn’t care less about the elaborate plot they’d spun or the petty past between her and her sister.

This was simply a punishment.

One that would end in death.

CLAP!

CLAP!

She clapped her hands twice… and spoke as she mocked Ash for a moment.

“AND… Action!”

The instant those words were spoken, reality shifted into the backdrop of a film set.

A plush director’s chair, trimmed in white and green, appeared behind her.

Sylvie eased into it with practiced grace, crossing her long legs and resting an elbow on the armrest, chin in hand like a disinterested filmmaker.

Her sword floated quietly at her side, wrapped in a gentle green glow — the essence of pure Luck.

Delicate yet unbreakable threads of fate, fine as spider silk, streamed from her fingertips, fastening themselves to the four figures that were now below: the Patriarch, the Matriarch, her sister, and the husband.

In an instant, dozens of translucent green hands shimmered into existence around them—puppet-master hands with long, elegant fingers.

Their eyes went wide with sudden terror as control over their bodies slipped away.

Sylvie’s smile was sweet, almost playful. “Let’s start simple, shall we?” With a flick of two fingers, the green hands sprang into motion.

PAH!!!!!

PAH!!!!

PAH!!!!!

PAH!!!!

|Palm of Desire (Transcendent)|

BOOOOM!!!!!

The Patriarch was forced to slap his own wife across the face…

Well, even calling it an understatement would be putting it mildly.

He had just finished hitting her repeatedly while she offered no defense.

Not only that, but he even used a transcendent-ranked talent that sent her flying across the chamber, crashing into a pillar that formed in her path.

Only for the green hands to drag her back instantly — her face swollen and heavily bruised, blood trickling from her split lip.

When she came back, the hands above shifted, compelling the Matriarch to approach her daughter’s husband and hover over him as he knelt.

The man trembled violently, locked in place on his knees, unable to move even an inch.

“No—no Sylvie!”

Then, without any warning, the Matriarch’s body turned against her in the most humiliating way.

BLUUUURGH—!

Thick streams of vomit burst from her mouth, splashing over the husband’s face, hair, and shoulders in heavy, clinging waves.

The sharp, sour stench quickly filled the air… but that wasn’t all.

PSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHH—!

A long, steady stream of piss followed right after, spraying from between her legs and soaking his head completely, running down his face and into his open, screaming mouth.

The warm liquid poured over him, and all he could do was kneel, coughing and gagging beneath the revolting downpour.

“Ugh… that’s not pretty at all,” Sylvie muttered from her director’s chair, wrinkling her nose slightly as it continued.

All while that happened…

Her sister was controlled into crawling on all fours between the men like a broken animal, tongue extended, desperately licking the floor where their mixed fluids had pooled.

“S-Sylvie… sister… please… I’m sorry! I’ll never—AAAGHHH!”

Directly above her, the Patriarch — her own father — was forced to masturbate furiously… until thick ropes of his seed splattered down onto his own daughter’s head and hair while she continued licking the filthy floor beneath him like a dog.

Sylvie remained seated in her director’s chair, chin resting on her hand, watching the grotesque tableau unfold with calm, almost gentle fascination.

She tilted her head, still smiling.

“Hmm… let’s make this a bit more interesting.”

Her sword gave a single glow as it floated beside her, not for show and not to cut—at least not in the usual sense.

In an instant, the husband’s legs switched with the sister’s; his muscular incubus thighs now joined to her delicate female torso, while her slender legs were fixed to his heavy, masculine hips.

He stumbled, shouting in shock as he tried to stand in her body.

“MY LEGS! WHAT DID YOU DO?! GIVE THEM BA—-!”

Then another glow from the sword.

The Patriarch’s arms were replaced with the Matriarch’s long, elegant legs.

“YOU… STOP THIS MADNESS!”

No matter what they said or murmured, Sylvie paid them no attention, when suddenly another glow came from the sword.

Then in the next moment all their flying capabilities ceased— forcing him to walk on his hands like a broken crab while his wife now had thick, veined incubus arms that she couldn’t control.

And above them…. the green hands danced faster.

Sylvie’s smile never wavered.

“Feed him.”

The illusory hands seized the husband’s still-erect cock and sliced it clean off with a single clean motion. He screamed in a high-pitched, feminine wail as blood sprayed across the silk sheets.

“MY! NOOOOOO—IT HURTS! SYLVIE PLEASE I’M SORRY!”

The green hands then shoved the severed member into the Patriarch’s mouth, forcing him to chew and swallow his own son-in-law’s dick while gagging and retching.

“NO—DON’T MAKE ME—BLURGH—”

The Matriarch was made to watch — her new muscular arms trembling as she was slowly, methodically forced to pick up a dagger that appeared before her.

“Dissect your daughter,” Sylvie said softly. “And… make sure you do it slowly.”

The green hands guided the Matriarch’s stolen arms as she began carving into her own daughter’s body — peeling skin, cutting away breasts, then slowly, agonizingly replacing them with the Patriarch’s now detached testicles and cock, stitching them crudely into place.

The sister’s screams turned animalistic as male genitalia were forcibly grafted onto her female body while she still had the husband’s legs.

“MOTHER—STOP! IT BURNS! PLEASE—SYLVIE I’M YOUR SISTER—DON’T LET HER—AAAAAAGHHHH!”

The Patriarch choked on the cock in his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

Sylvie observed it all with calm—chin propped on her hand, legs crossed as if she were taking in a private show.

Then one by one, the other women began to gather around her on the rooftop.

Madison landed first, covered in blood, claws still extended, eyes wide.

“…Holy shit.”

Seraphiel touched down next, staring at the grotesque puppet show below.

Rune materialized in a swirl of light, silver eyes narrowing.

Katherine appeared last, crimson silk pristine, lips parted in genuine surprise.

Aeloris arrived right after her, white silk swaying, green eyes widening in quiet shock.

All six of them stood in stunned silence as they watched Sylvie casually direct the most psychotic, body-warping torture they had ever seen — her sister now a screaming, half-male abomination being dissected alive by her own mother, while her father chewed on another man’s dick.

Aeloris finally broke the silence, voice hoarse.

“…Remind me never to piss you off.”

Sylvie didn’t even look away from the scene. She simply smiled, flicked her fingers again, and the green hands forced the Matriarch to start carving deeper.

“Shhh,” she whispered, still in director mode. “This is the best part.”

The punishment continued.

And the six women stood together in the skies — five of them speechless, one of them perfectly at peace — watching the final, slow death of everything Sylvie had once called family.