Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 545: The Child of the End
Male was quiet for a long moment.
His pale face remained calm, but his dark eyes narrowed slightly as he stared ahead toward the distant dark castle.
“The Father…” he finally murmured, his voice low and rough, laced with an undertone of something darker.
As mentioned before, he was something like a Transmigrator—meant to be Ash’s counterpart to some extent—which also meant he was well-versed in tales, novels, and the like.
So, when he came across the ’myths’ of the Mother and the Father, he didn’t dismiss them as simple stories.
After all, it’s often the faintest mortal whispers that carry the closest truths.
“I believe he’s real….. If the Mother is the source of all Existence… then he is the opposite.”
And to him it made perfect sense, because how could there be an existence without nonexistence?
He paused, then added with a faint, bitter edge.
“But I don’t trust whispers solely. If he truly exists, I want to see him for myself. Not stories. Not rumors. Him.”
The Merchant studied him carefully, her bronze skin glowing faintly.
“And the Ineffable Pantheon? After everything we saw at that Grand Ball… do you still plan to go against them?”
Male didn’t reply immediately. His jaw tightened for a brief second before he spoke again, quieter this time.
“I don’t want to think about them right now. Not yet.”
They continued flying in silence toward the dark castle, the horrors standing guard growing larger and more imposing with every mile.
—-
After a few hours, they reached the massive gates of the dark castle.
The horrors standing guard — towering, faceless entities wrapped in shifting shadows — did not speak. They simply parted, allowing the two to pass without challenge.
Inside, the castle was dimly lit by faint, flickering black flames that cast long, eerie shadows.
The corridors were cold and silent, the walls made of dark, veined stone that seemed to absorb sound.
They walked deeper into the dark castle, their footsteps echoing softly against the cold, veined stone floors
The Merchant stayed close to Male, her flame-like hair flickering uneasily as she glanced around.
She kept her voice low, almost a whisper.
“According to the device I bought… this place has the highest concentration of Nonexistence in the entire First Reality.” She said as the whole point of the coming here was so Male could take one step closer.
“If you’re really going to become one with it, then this should be the best starting point. The purest source.”
Male nodded slowly, his long black hair swaying as he walked. His pale face remained calm, but his dark eyes scanned every shadow with quiet intensity.
“I know,” he said. “But… I’m not expecting things to be so simple.”
He knew one thing: if the Father was real, then there was no way the source of nonexistence here could be the purest.
In fact, after seeing the power of Ash and the others, he started to suspect there might be an even higher stage beyond these realities waiting for him.
On top of that, with the Merchant’s system backing him, his own strength had grown far beyond anything it had been before.
As they continued, the Merchant shivered slightly, rubbing her arms despite the lack of actual cold.
The atmosphere was growing heavier, more oppressive with every step. The walls seemed to pulse faintly, as if the castle itself was alive and breathing.
“I don’t know what to expect,” she admitted, her voice quieter. “Though… this place gives me a bad feeling. Like it’s watching us.”
Male didn’t respond, but his hand tightened slightly at his side. He felt it too — the creeping, unnatural pressure.
Like they were walking into the jaws of something ancient and hungry.
They eventually reached a large, circular chamber at the heart of the structure.
The room was vast; its ceiling lost in darkness.
In the center stood a single horror — tall, unmoving, its form wrapped in layers of writhing darkness that constantly shifted and reformed.
It had no face, only a smooth, featureless void where a head should be.
It slowly tilted its head as they entered, its blank “face” turning toward them with deliberate, unnatural slowness.
“Welcome.”
The word echoed through the chamber like a low, grating whisper — distorted, as if multiple voices were speaking at once from deep within the darkness.
“We’ve been expecting you for some time now child.”
Hearing this, the Merchant tensed, her hand instinctively moving toward her system interface.
Male stopped a few paces away; his dark eyes locked onto the horror as the air grew even heavier. He flashed a brief, sharp glance toward The Merchant — a silent warning: Be ready at any moment.
Internally, his thoughts raced with wonder knowing the familiarity was… wrong.
’Hmm, why does this thing speak as if it knows me?’
He took a measured step forward, his voice steady but edged with caution.
“Expecting me… do you know of me somehow?”
The horror remained motionless for a long moment, the writhing layers of darkness around its form pulsing slowly, like something breathing in the void.
Its featureless face seemed to tilt even further, as if studying him with invisible eyes.
The grating whisper returned, sounding both ancient and layered.
“We know many things, child. The Eye of Final Dusk… the one who longs to merge with Nonexistence,” it said, pausing briefly.
“We have watched your journey from the very beginning… You are the Child of the End, after all.”
The horror persisted, its voice imbued with an almost paternal wisdom and an air of certainty.
“You have sought unity, and we possess the means to grant it. Yet first, you must comprehend the profound truth of what it means to merge completely with the End.”
Male and The Merchant both tensed, their bodies instinctively preparing for a fight.
Male’s hand twitched toward a weapon, while The Merchant’s fingers hovered, ready to buy something defensive at a moment’s notice.
HUM!
Before either of them could speak, the horror raised one of its writhing, shadowy limbs.
A jagged rift tore open in the air before them — a swirling vortex of pure, suffocating darkness that seemed to pull at their very souls.
The horror’s voice echoed once more.
“What you seek lies beyond this rift.”
Male narrowed his eyes, gazing into the emptiness. He shot a sideways glance at The Merchant, who responded with a subtle, tense nod.
“It’s your move…” she murmured.
Without another word, Male stepped forward and vanished through the rift.
But the Merchant remained behind, unmoving, as a sudden status notification appeared before her eyes, visible only to her.
[Warning: Do not enter… or you will die.]
