Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 437: Asgardia (4)

Chapter 437: Asgardia (4)

The Sergeant studied the two young men for a long moment, after the display, he’d just witnessed… it went without saying that the best of three mattered not.

With a calm but deliberate motion, he lifted his hand, signaling that the match was over.

“No need to go any further,” he said, his tone steady yet tinged with approval. “You’ve both proven yourselves—skilled, adaptable, and willing to push past your limits. That’s exactly the kind of spirit we value here.”

Drake and Odin both straightened, breathing still slightly heavy, but their expressions shifted from focused intensity to quiet respect.

Drake gave a small nod, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

Odin mirrored the gesture, his own voice steady.

“We appreciate the opportunity.”

The Sergeant dismissed them with a wave.

“Go receive your advancements. You’ve earned them.”

Both young men bowed once more before turning and walking toward the advancement hall at the edge of the training grounds.

—

For a long while the two men walked without saying anything at all.

The training grounds slowly gave way to the wider paths leading toward the advancement hall — grand structures of white marble and glowing runes that floated gently above the landscape.

As they walked along, Odin had been quietly experimenting with his new eye, letting it adjust and reveal what it could.

When his gaze landed on Drake, he noticed something peculiar—something about his race. All it revealed was a name, a race Odin had never heard of before.

Eventually, the silence between them grew too heavy, and Odin stole a sidelong glance at Drake, his curiosity plain on his face.

“Your race… I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. “What are the Unus… and why haven’t I heard of such a race?”

Drake’s steps faltered for half a second.

He was surprised —he had known that the Unus was something only his clan knew about.

Unlike the Primavus who could be found somewhere throughout Pantheos, the Unus was a race resigned solely for those of the Ineffable Pantheon.

He regained his composure swiftly, his voice steady yet relaxed.

“It’s not something you’d really get,” Drake said, his words measured. “There aren’t many of us… let’s just put it this way—we’re different. And that’s all you need to know.”

Odin gave a small nod, signaling acceptance, though the curiosity lingering in his gaze suggested his mind was far from settled.

They walked a few more steps in silence before Drake threw the question back at him.

“Why are you after power?” he asked evenly. “What does power mean to you?”

Odin didn’t reply right away. His gaze lifted to the floating advancement hall ahead, then dropped to his own hands.

“Power… to me, is Order” he said quietly. “The world needs Order… something to keep in check all things tyrannical… all things chaotic.”

As he spoke his eyes slowly hardened, “One must have the power to set things straight… yet must be cunning enough to know when to sacrifice for such power and order as well.”

Hearing those words Drake tilted his head.

“Order, huh?”

Odin glanced at Drake.

“And you?”

Drake fell silent for a moment before offering a small, genuine smile.

“I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “Maybe my perspective will change someday, but right now… power is simply the key to existence.”

He paused, then asked with a hint of amusement, “Without power, does one even have the right to exist?”

A soft chuckle followed. “I think not…” he added as they finally reached the advancement halls.

But Odin came to a complete stop, his eyes fixed on the figure ahead entering the halls.

[He’s not your ally,] a voice echoed in Odin’s mind. [We value Power and Knowledge through Sacrifice and Order… his mindset stands against our very core.]

In that moment his eyes hardened and he began to look at Drake in a totally different light.

—–

Ten years had passed since their advance and today marked Drake’s entry into Tier 11.

But it wasn’t just any ordinary day.

With his rise in the army’s ranks came new responsibilities alongside the perks. Now, Drake stood in the midst of a battlefield… and this battlefield was nothing short of a slaughterhouse.

BOOOM!!!!

BOOOOM!!!!

CLANGGGG!!!!!

No matter where he looked…. blood soaked the cracked earth, and the air reeked of charred flesh.

Screams and the clash of weapons filled the valley as two armies tore into each other — one led by a Pride Demon lord, the other led by the House of Lightning.

Drake, he however, moved like a storm of violence.

Growing up, much like most of his siblings, he was a skilled sword user.

But over the last decade, he had long since abandoned his weapon, relying solely on his bare hands.

ROARRRRRR!!!!!

WHOOOSH!!!!!!

The Pride Demon — towering and horned, its form engulfed in golden flames of pure pride — roared before swinging a massive flaming axe at him.

But…. Drake didn’t flinch, not even in the slightest.

He caught the axe blade with one hand, the metal shrieking as his fingers crushed it.

With a savage grin, he yanked the demon toward him and slammed his fist straight into its chest.

BANG!!!!!

CRUNCH!!!!!

The demon’s ribcage shattered with a single, brutal strike, but Drake didn’t stop—his hand drove deeper, fingers curling around the creature’s still-beating heart.

The Pride Demon’s eyes went wide, a mix of fury and disbelief flashing across its face.

“You dare—!” he began, but the words died as Drake wrenched the heart free with a wet, tearing rip.

Golden flames sputtered weakly from between his fingers before the organ crumpled into pulp in his grasp.

The demon convulsed, its once-commanding aura dissolving into nothing as it hit the ground. Drake stood over the corpse, chest rising and falling heavily, blood dripping steadily from his hand.

All around him, the battlefield stretched like a grim ocean of death.

Cultivators and demons lay scattered in ruin—some writhing in agony, others already claimed by silence.

The ground was strewn with severed limbs, broken weapons, and dark pools of blood glinting under the haze of a smoke-choked sky.

Drake took it all in, his blue eyes alight with a cold, steady resolve that only grew stronger with each heartbeat.

And in that instant, he made a choice—a choice that would carve the direction of his path from this moment on.

“I will become the Ineffable Tyrant,” he whispered to himself, voice low but filled with absolute conviction.

“I will seek to eliminate all things weak. Only the strong deserve to exist in this verse….. Only those who can stand beside my father… beside our family.”

He turned and began walking away from the battlefield, leaving the dying and the dead behind without a backward glance.

From a distant ridge, Odin watched him leave.

He had just taken down a Pride Demon himself — his spear still slick with black blood — but his gaze stayed on Drake’s fading silhouette.

Even after hearing Drake’s thoughts on life and power that day, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Drake was the only one he could honestly see as an equal… a rival.

And maybe, just maybe, a friend.

In that moment, with his single eye sharply focused, he noticed a change in his friend’s stance—something colder, harder.

Odin’s hand clenched more firmly around his spear.

“…What are you becoming, Drake?” he asked, his voice low against the relentless screams of the battlefield behind them.

Yet Drake didn’t stop; he just kept walking forward.

The first era was still in its infancy, and one of Ash’s sons had already chosen where he stood—a path that would lead to tyranny.