Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 488: A Night of Gods (2)

Chapter 488: A Night of Gods (2)

Hum…..HUMM….. HUMMM!!!!

As Aurora began playing the harp, she didn’t do anything special to begin. It was only a simple… but chilling tone.

The notes were slow, low, and haunting — each one lingering in the air like a whisper that refused to fade.

The melody was subtle at first, almost gentle, but it carried an undercurrent that made the skin crawl.

And all the beings in the grand hall started to feel it.

Immediately, a growing sense of unease settled over the crowd.

Their shoulders tensed, conversations quieted….

Some guests even shifted in their seats, suddenly unable to sit still. It felt like something was impending — like the calm before a storm that no one could see coming.

In the back of the hall, Male stood alone, sipping from a glass of deep crimson wine.

He watched Aurora with narrowed eyes, his long black hair framing his pale face. The talk of “Gods” and the Ineffable Pantheon left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As a Transmigrator who had lived through countless cycles and incarnations, he had his own rigid idea of what a God should be — an absolute, singular existence that stood above all.

He spoke in a low murmur, his words scarcely audible.

“Gods…? Spare me your jest,” he scoffed. “If they are truly gods, then what does that make me? A mere footnote in their grand design?”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he swirled the wine in his glass, the crimson liquid catching the light.

“These people speak with the certainty of victory already claimed,” he continued, his tone edged with disdain.

“Yet I have heard countless tales of gods brought low, and these pretenders—these false gods—will be no different.”

—-

Nearby, Tyla and Eldrin now stood beside Ancestor Seeker.

Tyla, with her sharp features and violet-streaked hair, crossed her arms and scoffed.

“So, these are the beings with the gall to interrupt our dealings?”

Eldrin, calmer but clearly hiding something, gave a nod.

“They behave as though the Eighteen Realities should bow to them just because of some self-proclaimed title… It’s almost insulting.”

Ancestor Seeker stayed silent, her warm brown eyes watching Aurora with quiet interest, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Indeed,” she wondered aloud, her voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearby, deliberately feeding the growing tension. “I wonder when their big guy will show up?”

Tyla scoffed again, crossing her arms tightly.

“That bastard needs to be taught a lesson.” She said,” His beauty… it’s disgusting.”

—-

At that moment, Aurora’s voice sounded again — clear, melodic, and effortlessly commanding the attention of the entire hall.

“The Goddess of Musical Creation…” she said softly, her fingers still resting on the strings of the silver harp. “What am I?”

She let the question linger for a heartbeat before continuing, her voice weaving through the crowd like a living melody.

“From Music… I can create all things.”

Then she began to sing.

Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, low and resonant, each note carrying a weight that pressed gently against the soul.

“Oh, dear guests, what a grand affair—an evening of lights, wine, and golden glow. You dance and laugh beneath the crystal chandeliers, but tell me, friends… is this heaven, or the night?”

Instantly, the mood in the Venue shifted, growing darker, more ominous, yet still impossibly captivating.

“Will you be angels wrapped in silk and gold so fine, or the fallen who’ve stepped across the sacred line? You came seeking glory, power, secrets, and fame… but only time will tell if you’ll leave unchanged.”

The final notes hung in the air like a warning wrapped in silk.

HUMMMMM!!!!

As her song ended, a massive clock materialized overhead — not a normal clock, but a sentient, conceptual creation that embodied Fate, Destiny, and Time itself.

Its face was a swirling vortex of silver and black, with hands that moved on their own, ticking with an almost mocking rhythm.

The Clock’s voice echoed through the hall, deep and dramatic, tossing out a casual joke that sent a shiver through the crowd.

“Tick… Tock, motherfuckers,” it said with a chuckle. “Damnation’s only ten hours away, my friends. Better make them count~”

—–

As Aurora began to retreat back toward the dais, the venue was left in an odd, heavy state.

The haunting melody still lingered in the air like smoke that refused to dissipate.

The crowd didn’t immediately return to their conversations. Instead, many guests sat in uneasy silence, exchanging glances with one another.

Some faces were pale, others furrowed in deep thought.

A few continued to shift uncomfortably in their seats, as if the weight of her words had settled on their shoulders like invisible chains.

In this moment, they all knew one thing.

This was no ordinary ball.

The underlying message was clear to those sharp enough to catch it: this was something far deeper — and far more dangerous — than a night of celebration.

A group of high-ranking cultivators huddled near a balcony, whispering urgently.

“What does she even mean by ’Heaven’?” one asked. “Was she being poetic, or was that a warning?”

Another elder from a prominent clan clenched his wine glass so tightly it nearly cracked.

“I don’t know… but one thing is certain.” He said, “They’re not here to make friends. They’re here to make a statement… and they’re daring us to dance while they do it.”

Some guests grew visibly nervous, their eyes darting toward the exits. Others, however, were becoming pissed — their pride stung by the casual dominance on display.

—–

On the raised dais, the Ineffable women were talking among themselves, their voices low but amused.

Lucy reclined in her throne, a quiet laugh escaping as she crossed her legs.

“Who would’ve guessed it’d be like leading thousands to their doom? They arrived expecting a celebration… and now they’re starting to see they might not leave the way they came.”

Morgana smirked, her bronze skin glowing under the dimmed lights as she took a sip of wine.

“I’m enjoying this more than I expected. This is… thrilling”

Khaos, the newest among them, sat watching the crowd with wide, grey eyes.

She was still somewhat baffled by the sheer theatricality of it all, but as the Goddess of Chaos, she couldn’t help but feel a growing thrill at the brewing tension.

She leaned forward slightly, a wild smile slowly forming on her lips.

“This… this is going to be fun.”

Lucy glanced at her with a grin.

“You’re starting to like it, aren’t you?”

Khaos inclined her head, the chaotic energy surrounding her shimmering with anticipation.

“I do. It feels as though we stand at the threshold of something either profoundly beautiful or catastrophically destructive. In either case, I am prepared to embrace it.”

The women exchanged a subdued laugh, their gazes sweeping over the restless assembly.

Then, as if orchestrated by some unspoken signal, Layla—known as Lady Truth—along with Elara, Clara and Evelyn, rose in unison from their thrones and advanced toward the center of the ballroom floor.