Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 338: The Council of Ancestors

Chapter 338: The Council of Ancestors

The chamber was vast — a perfect hemispherical dome carved from translucent crystal.

All around five hundred thrones were arranged in precise rows and columns, rising in tiered semicircles like the seats of an ancient courtroom.

Each throne was distinct—some crafted from living silver, others from black stone, some woven with pure threads of fate, and some blazing with contained conceptual fire—yet all bore the same austere, timeless design.

Most of the Ancestors sat in deep meditation, eyes shut, their auras gently pulsing as they cultivated in silence.

A few spoke in quiet tones, while a handful hovered just above their seats, legs crossed, keeping watch over the outside.

The moment Basher appeared at the center of the lowest circle, every eye — open or shut — turned toward him, some with keen interest, others with only a passing glance.

But event still…. the air grew heavy instantly.

At the very top, directly above the chamber’s geometric heart, stood the highest throne — a seat of shifting nothingness, framed by endless blue threads looping into themselves.

The figure upon it was impossible for anyone to clearly see. He appeared as a silhouette of undeniable presence, and though he was truly a man, one could not tell his gender or age at a glance.

Yet he carried the immense weight of a Peak Hyperversal Weaver.

The Infinite Weaver stayed motionless—not because he couldn’t move, but because he had no reason to. His presence alone was the verdict.

Basher dropped to one knee—the only acceptable stance here—and spoke without pause.

“Ancestors… I bring troubling news. A new faction has entered the Higher Realm… and they have not taken the Weaver’s Oath.”

A ripple of unease swept through the chamber.

One mid-tier Ancestor—a woman with hair like frozen light and eyes holding endless galaxies—leaned forward.

“Basher, you interrupt our collective cultivation with such a claim?” Her voice was calm, but the weight behind it made the air tremble. “This system has endured for over twenty cycles. Without proof, immediately return to your cultivation.”

An older man, his skin like cracked obsidian and a third eye staring unblinking, let out a snort.

“Heh, the state of young Basher is proof enough… just look at him.”

From a throne near the front row, a younger, sharper female voice cut in.

“He’s not talking nonsense… You might not realize it because you think fate is beneath you, but over a thousand cultivation farms have vanished.”

The chamber shifted uneasily.

More eyes opened, more auras flared.

Yet through it all, the Infinite Weaver sat motionless on his throne.

Basher raised his head, his voice steady under the weight of five hundred Hyperversal gazes.

“Not long ago, I faced one of these beings… and she made Fate, Destiny, Karma, and Causality feel meaningless.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

“She showed me someone standing above this very domain, holding the severed head of—”

He stopped, unable to say the name, his gaze flicking to the towering figure above them all.

Swallowing, he continued.

“Behind him stood six Ninth Dimensional women, drenched in the blood of the entire realm. Every domain — all 9,999 — erased completely, as if they had never existed.”

A quiet murmur spread through the crowd.

One Ancestor — ancient, scarred, arms folded in — finally spoke.

“That would be impossible… unless she operated on higher layers than you.”

Another — a woman whose form flickered between solid and thread — raised a brow.

“Yes… what’s her rank?”

Basher met her gaze without flinching.

“She had no rank at all… no aura, nothing. Yet when she lifted her hand, every thread I’d woven simply… ceased to exist. They weren’t cut or rewritten — just made irrelevant, like they’d never applied to her in the first place.”

A heavy silence fell over the rows.

Even those still cultivating opened their eyes fully.

And through it all, no matter how shocking the revelations, the Weaver never moved… never did anything but cultivate.

The younger woman leaned forward again.

“Show us the vision in full, Basher. And leave nothing out.”

Basher bowed his head lower.

“As you command.”

He lifted both hands, palms up, channeling the full depth of his mastery over Transcendent Fate.

Threads of light spiraled from his fingertips, weaving into a flawless sphere of shimmering fate-lines at the chamber’s center. It grew until it hovered above the lowest circle, visible to all five hundred Ancestors.

Then he let it go.

The vision bloomed.

Celeste appeared — long white-and-gold hair flowing, golden blindfold over her eyes, robes of white and gold that seemed heavier than the cosmos.

She raised one hand.

Every fate line, every karmic thread, every scrying weave Basher had sustained for a full day snapped in an instant.

Inevitance was invoked.

They saw the unavoidable end…. just as he did.

All 9,999 domains burning at once — not in flame, but in perfect, silent erasure. Ash stood alone above the shattered heart of the Infinite Tower, gripping the severed head of the Infinite Weaver by the hair.

The vision lingered for several long seconds, enough for every Ancestor to take in its brutal clarity.

Then the younger woman extended her hand toward the sphere.

And then, something fascinating happened.

Much like Basher, she possessed mastery over Fate and other similar transcendent concepts.

But as mentioned before, this was a clan of beings who all wielded infinity.

That alone was wild—yet even stranger, their infinities were not the same.

This meant far more than it appeared, because the greater the infinity, the greater their power.

As the second stage of Infinity, the continuum, flared around her, threads of Fate, Destiny, and Causality wove into endless layers, diving deeper and deeper into the vision, searching for any divergence, loophole, or alternate outcome.

She pushed…. and pushed… and pushed.

But the deeper she looked, the more inevitable it became.

Every possible future folded inward to a single point. No matter how many higher infinities she summoned or how many layers she stripped away, the outcome never changed.

Ash stood holding the head, the six women behind him, the 9,999 domains gone.

At last, she pulled her hand back.

The sphere broke apart into harmless specks of light.

Silence settled over the chamber.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, before the Weaver, sat a man and a woman at the highest thrones. As soon as the vision ended, the man said, “Mobilize our forces immediately, including the 2,000 Domains we’ve altered.”

The woman added, “And surround the Nosferatu Domain.”

The command was issued.

In that instant, three hundred Hyperversal Weavers rose from their thrones — auras blazing, threads of infinity swirling around them — and vanished from the chamber in perfect unison.