Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 434: Always & Forever - Asgardia

Chapter 434: Always & Forever – Asgardia

While Ash and his wives remained in the chambers, watching over the twelve newest heirs, the group had gathered in an open field after returning from their latest bout of information gathering.

The twelve — Quell, Drake, Riona, Emily, Aliya, Klaus, Kade, Evelyn, Clara, Riyan, Rye, and Rita — sat in a relaxed circle atop a grassy hill that overlooked a breathtaking, glowing valley scattered with floating islands and winding rivers.

Quell, the eldest and son of Seraphiel, leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the sky where countless stars and drifting galaxies shimmered like fireflies.

His short hair caught the light, glinting in shades of golden-red, a vivid contrast to his striking red eyes.

“I… I still can’t believe this place,” he said, his voice brimming with genuine awe.

“We haven’t even left the galaxy Big Sister Aurora sent us to, and already we’ve seen things I could never have imagined…”

Riona, Vaeloria’s daughter, had long white hair and black eyes that seemed to hold tiny blades within their depths.

She idly twirled a small blade of divinity between her fingers as she spoke.

“I still think the Sacred Dimension is better,” she said casually. “Feeling the flow of time here is strange.”

Emily, Seris’s daughter, had her long red hair styled in a single braid that was tied into a ponytail. Leaning casually against Riona, she spoke up.

“Well, duh, RiRi,” she said with a smirk. “But you’ve got to admit, this place is only going to get better the more we explore.”

The heirs went on chatting for hours, savoring the time they had together.

They all understood, without needing to say it aloud, that while they’d been granted absolute freedom, their presence here wasn’t solely for sightseeing.

They were here to find themselves… to find their own paths in life.

And they knew something like that couldn’t not be found together… well not for all of them at least.

Clara, Layla’s daughter with short purple hair and matching eyes, suddenly clapped her hands.

“Okay, okay — enough reminiscing!” she said with a wide smile.

“We’ve got eight thousand years of freedom, and Daddy basically told us to do whatever we want. So… what are we actually going to do with it? It has to be something worth it.”

Hearing this, Riyan, Summer’s oldest triplet with short black hair and dark eyes, looked at each of them in turn before speaking.

“I say we make a bet,” he suggested. “Whoever ends up with the loftiest standing after eight thousand years gets something special from Father… I’m sure he’ll come up with something interesting.”

Rye, the middle triplet, laughed as he playfully punched his brother on the shoulder.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” he said with a smirk. “For once, you’re thinking with your brain and not just those bulky muscles.”

Rita, the youngest triplet, chuckled and teased, “Where did you even get those from? Daddy’s not that big.”

Quell burst out laughing at her comment, grinning as he replied, “Well, I know exactly what I’m doing with my years of freedom,” he could practically see the countless women now tending to him.

Aliya, Shia’s daughter, shook her head and spoke softly as her long black-and-white hair swayed gently in the breeze.

“Let’s just make the most of these last few days together before we all go our separate ways,” she murmured.

Klaus, always the watchful one, gave a quiet nod.

“I agree,” he replied. “I’m sure things will get pretty chaotic after that.”

—–

Four whole days had gone by before they found themselves back in the field, but this time their expressions were set with an unshakable determination.

Quell took a moment to meet the eyes of each sibling in turn—Drake, calm and quiet; Riona, brimming with sharp confidence; Emily, offering her gentle smile….

Aliya, holding her quiet resolve; Klaus, steady and unwavering; Kade, practically buzzing with eagerness; Evelyn, radiating warm kindness…

Clara, shining with bright enthusiasm; and the triplets, Riyan, Rye, and Riya, bound together by a connection that couldn’t be broken.

A small, proud smile tugged at Quell’s lips.

He reached into the circle, pinky finger extended.

One by one, the others followed, linking pinkies until all twelve were bound together in a single, unified knot.

Quell’s voice was calm and sure.

“No matter what happens…”

As he spoke the others joined in, their words blending as one:

“…we will love each other the same. We will be Ineffable every turn…. Always and forever.”

The promise lingered in the air, sealed not by blood, but by choice.

For a long moment, none of them moved. The golden light of the world seemed to shine a little brighter around them, as if the verse itself was acknowledging the bond.

Then, slowly, they released their pinkies.

Quell stepped back first, nodding to each of them.

“Eight thousand years,” he said. “Let’s make them count.”

They lingered together for a final heartbeat—twelve young gods, the heirs of the Ineffable Pantheon, tied by blood, love, and an unshakable promise.

One after another, they drifted away, each heading toward their own journey, their own trials, their own way of etching a legacy into the vast realm of Pantheos.

Quell remained, the last figure standing, his gaze lifting to the golden sky where his father’s palace hovered far above.

“We’ll make you proud, Father,” he murmured, before turning and disappearing in a burst of perfectly balanced golden light.

—–

In the Universe of Asgardia, Drake emerged in the skies, his shoulder-length hair streaked with black, blue, and red flowing freely in the wind, while his calm blue eyes gazed ahead.

Unlike his siblings, he didn’t share the same thrill for adventure—at least not in the usual way.

From the moment Ash told them they would have complete freedom, his focus shifted entirely to finding the answer to a single question that had burned within him for all sixteen years of his life.

“What’s the need for so much… power?” he wondered as he made his way down a quiet road and began to walk.

His whole childhood, he’d never lacked a thing—never for attention, never for love, never for anything at all.

His father and mothers ensured each child grew together, learning what it meant to be family… and ineffable.

Yet, through it all, what he saw was power—endless, unyielding power.

Hell, from birth he himself could cause small worlds to explode from mere plucks. And that compared to the things he’d seen from his parents’ training was nothing.

He walked for days.

The road wound through quiet villages, dense forests, and open plains where cultivators trained in the distance.

However, Drake kept his presence masked — just another traveler with messy hair and simple clothes.

On the fifth day, as the sun dipped low and painted the road in amber hues, he came across an old beggar sitting by the roadside.

The man looked ragged—his cloak torn, his face weathered, and one eye clouded with blindness. In front of him sat a small wooden bowl, almost empty.

Drake paused, then reached into his spatial ring and drew out a small pouch of divine stones—the currency of Pantheos.

He let the whole pouch fall into the beggar’s bowl. The old man glanced up, his good eye widening at the unexpected weight.

“…Thank you, young traveler. Most would drop in a single stone and call it generous.”

Drake crouched so their eyes met.

His voice was low, almost unsure.

“What’s the point of power?” The beggar studied him for a long moment before letting out a rough, weary laugh.

“Ah… the eternal question. Power to protect? To rule? To never be hurt again?” He shook his head.

“For us, we’re born with it. Power… it’s life,” the beggar said. “Even though from birth we have the ability to reshape the wildest imaginations, some still chase it, others wield it as a tool.”

“The point of power… is what you choose to do with it when no one is forcing your hand.”

He glanced down at the pouch of divine stones, then back at Drake.

“Who knows why the great creator made things this way?” he said with a hoarse laugh.

Drake stayed silent, letting the words sink in.

The old beggar — who called himself Kashier — offered a faint smile.

“You have kind eyes for someone holding so much talent…. Don’t let it blind you.”

Drake rose slowly to his feet.

“Thank you.”

He resumed his walk down the road, the beggar’s words lingering in his mind.

Power.

What was its purpose?

Currently, it was something he still didn’t know.

But for the first time, it felt like he was walking toward an answer.