Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 448: The Race Ends (3)

Chapter 448: The Race Ends (3)

Later that year, everything seemed to be building toward a single point of convergence.

In the same open field where they had gone their separate ways eight thousand years before, the siblings came together once again.

They were all there—Quell, the Harem God, standing tall as his gaze swept over the gathering; Riona, the Goddess of Weapons, hovering with a sharp and graceful presence.

Emily, the Goddess of Legions; Aliya, the Goddess of Fractured Minds… and the rest, all present, sharing in the moment—everyone except Drake.

As soon as their eyes met, wide smiles spread across every face.

Without a word, they moved into a group hug — arms wrapping around shoulders, heads leaning in, the kind of tight, familial embrace that spoke louder than any greeting.

Riona laughed first, squeezing Emily.

“Look at you, did you spend all eight millennia commanding wars?”

Emily giggled, hugging back.

“And you spent the entire time, being some sort of mysterious weapons master?”

Kade punched Riyan’s shoulder lightly.

“The muscle head of the Ineffable Trio!” He said laughing, “So who became the Anchor of you three?”

Riyan clicked his tongue, as he looked over to Rita.

“Just take a wild guess.”

The teasing and laughter continued for a while — light jabs about who looked the strongest, who caused the most trouble and finally, the one who clearly won the race.

However, at the mention of the topic, things became more complex. If there was a clear cut winner then it would perhaps be Riona, as she traveled the most and helped the most….

Or….

Riona’s voice softened.

“…And Drake?”

The mood shifted.

Riyan’s expression darkened and more complex.

“The Ineffable Tyrant, huh?” He said, “At least he didn’t forget his roots.”

Emily frowned.

“Sure, sure…. but he’s not listening anymore.” She said, “Not just me but a few of us tried to talk with him… but he’s gone too far.”

Kade clenched his fists.

“To think he and those Primavus began working as one….”

Quell sighed, looking at them all.

“We knew this might happen. He was born to be a Tyrant…. but… he’s still our brother. When the time comes, we’ll have to face him… and pull him back, together.”

The siblings nodded, the earlier joy tempered by the reality of what Drake had become.

Rita, who had been quiet, spoke last.

“Well, let’s go drag that bastard back.” She spoke as a smile formed onto her face, “We can’t return to the Sacred Dimension without trying, after all.”

After that the siblings shared a few more weeks together before they all disappeared….

—-

About a week later, Drake and the Elder Primavus arrived in a world that was not so random.

It was home to a race born from Elara herself—the Morpharchs, renowned for their adaptability and constant evolution.

Yet, the sight that greeted them was far from what they had hoped for.

The world was consumed by relentless chaos, an unending storm of turmoil that spared no one.

The Morpharchs, no matter how strong or resilient, were perishing one after another, their once-thriving civilization was now teetering on the brink of collapse.

Drake hovered above the shattered landscape, his tyrannical aura flaring as he took in the destruction.

Entire cities lay in ruins, landscapes warped into impossible geometries, and the air itself seemed to spew disorder.

The Elder Primavus floated beside him looked on as well with narrowed eyes.

“What in the hell is happening here?” Drake growled, eyes narrowing.

“This world was supposed to be a treasure trove of adaptable warriors. Now it looks like someone got to this place far before we did…”

The Elder’s voice was low, weighted with concern.

He was well-acquainted with the Morpharchs, a race dwelling in the times B.E., and perhaps among the most knowledgeable on their nature and history.

Yet, as he witnessed their slaughter, an unshakable sense of unease gripped him.

“This degree of disorder… it is unnatural.” He said as his eyes began to look around more.

“A force — or an individual — is deliberately dismantling the very fabric of this realm. The Morpharchs’ evolutionary prowess should have enabled them to adapt, yet they are being eradicated more swiftly than their transformations can take hold.”

Drake’s fists clenched.

“I came for them. Their ability to evolve under pressure would have made them perfect for the future…” He said, “Whoever is behind this… they’re destroying what’s already mine.”

BOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!

Before either of them could speak again, a thunderous explosion shattered the horizon.

A surge of chaotic energy rippled outward in a massive shockwave, the air filled with distant screams and the rumble of collapsing buildings.

Instinctively, they turned toward the source.

Amid the devastation stood Erebus — the Herald of Khaos — cutting down Morpharchs with cold precision.

His form twisted and shifted without pause, shadows and chaos merging seamlessly as he carved through the emerging Pantheon, leaving nothing behind but shattered remains and lifeless forms.

Seeing this, Drake’s face hardened, his frown deepening.

“Who the hell is that?”

The Elder Primavus narrowed his eyes.

“Some kind of servant… it must be. The chaos is radiating from him… but it feels directed. As if someone is commanding this.”

Moments later, their eyes lifted higher.

There, sitting calmly atop a mountain of bodies — a grotesque throne of slain Morpharchs — was Khaos.

She floated cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation, her chaotic aura swirling around her like a living storm. She seemed completely at peace, as if the slaughter below was merely background noise.

Drake’s frown deepened into open anger.

“So, it must be her…” He said, “And… She’s just sitting there… letting her pet do the dirty work.”

He turned to the Elder.

“Go deal with the servant… I’ll handle the woman.”

The Elder Primavus nodded once and shot toward Erebus.

Drake surged forward himself, his tyrannical presence flaring as he closed in on Khaos.

Immediately as his senses locked onto Khaos, her swirling grey eyes shot open.

But before either could make another move, the other siblings appeared with simple flashes of light.

—-

Quell, Riona, Emily, Aliya, Klaus, Kade, Evelyn, Clara, Riyan, Rye, and Rita materialized in a perfect circle, surrounding Drake and cutting off his advance.

Drake stopped mid-charge, his aura flaring as he looked at them all.

“…Tsk, shouldn’t you all be running home by now?”

Quell yawned as he looked at his wrist, like he wore a watch.

“Well, I would love to… but someone wants to act like a jackass.”

Rita’s short swords were already in her hands, her smile calm but sharp.

“Exactly,” She said as she continued sarcastically., “But noooo, you have us here playing hero, stupid elder brother.”

The rest of the siblings stood ready — some with weapons drawn, others with auras flaring — forming an unbreakable ring around Drake.

Drake’s expression twisted with a mix of anger and dark amusement.

“I won’t change my mind,” he said as he cracked his knuckles. “Go home to Father and Mothers… or you’ll have to do your damndest to stop me!”

With those words he wasted no more time.

The moment he pressed forward again he activated one of his three Divine Decrees.

|Decree of Reality Subjugation (Divine)|

HUMMMM!!!!

In that moment, a small illusory star shaped like a throne appeared over his head.

The effect was instant.

Reality itself bent to his will.

Gravity spiked violently, trying to crush his siblings into the ground. Space folded and twisted, attempting to trap them in looping corridors or tear them apart with spatial rifts.

Fundamental forces — inertia, momentum, even the flow of time in localized pockets — were seized and weaponized against them.

The entire battlefield warped under Drake’s command in an instant.

Quell planted his feet firmly in midair, his power flaring as he balanced a multitude of essences, resisting the crushing gravity until his body became an immovable anchor.

Rita’s blades flashed with lethal precision, cutting through the distorted space in strikes of pure Finality, severing the warped folds before they could close around her.

Riona spun her sword in a flawless defensive circle, her mastery allowing her to slice through the spatial anomalies as effortlessly as silk.

The remaining siblings responded without hesitation — their auras clashing against Drake’s subjugation, each drawing upon their unique strengths to repel his oppressive force.