Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP - Chapter 574: Emma The First - Empress of Velora (2)

Since the dawn of time, there have been many opposites whose connection went far beyond simple attraction.

From light and darkness to nonexistence and existence, these contrasts marked a boundary that most could never truly comprehend.

Ash himself hadn’t understood it until recently, when he witnessed Minx’s life and saw how existence and nonexistence were divided by the First Absence.

It was then he realized that the greatest and most important power wasn’t about mastering both ends of the same coin, but about finding the narrow space in between.

The Liminal Threshold.

This was where he intended to lead Emma—into that fragile, mysterious point that lay between creation and destruction.

—-

After speaking, Ash sat down cross-legged in the air, his reddish-purple eyes calm and focused as he watched Emma take her first step forward into the newborn world.

As he settled, both of the Watchers — Vigil and Aethea — perched gracefully on his shoulders, their golden eyes fixed on the scene with quiet fascination.

Elysia, in her full form, sat gracefully in his lap, her now black and red hair cascading down her back as she leaned against his chest, watching with serene interest.

Emma stood alone on the fragile plain, the newborn world stretching out before her.

The soft grass that still felt uncertain beneath her feet, rivers that hadn’t yet decided their paths, and small, innocent creatures appearing randomly, blinking in confusion at their first moments of existence.

After hearing Ash’s words about finding the correlation between Sacrifice and Creation, she didn’t ask for more.

Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself as she gathered her thoughts.

“The correlation between Sacrifice and Creation…” she murmured, just as a voice reached her ears moments later.

It’s important to remember that the beings in Pantheos were never truly alone on their path of cultivation.

While the members of Pantheos lacked such a companion, every other being had something like a guide—a presence devoted entirely to leading them toward greater power.

This was precisely why Ash didn’t need to say much.

As she drifted into deep thought, her star—the God Star of World Weaving—spoke in her mind, its voice calm and ancient, like the quiet murmur of creation itself.

[As a World Weaver, we must learn to shape something from nothing… to find new possibilities even in what’s nearly gone. Sacrifices aren’t endings; they are the ink that writes your story.]

And that was all it took for clarity to form.

Emma’s eyes opened, locking onto a newborn baby laughing innocently on the grass a short distance away — a small, pure soul that had just come into being, its tiny hands reaching toward the sky as if trying to grasp the light.

She raised her bow, nocking an arrow with steady hands.

“The purpose… it’s not just to kill,” Emma murmured, tightening her grip. “No, I shoot to create from the essence of these sacrifices.”

[Right… Sacrifices… they’re nothing but the ink to our paper,] her star chimed in again.

In that moment, she pulled the string back, breath steady, focus unshakable.

Then the arrow flew.

THWIP!!!!

The shot was clean and precise, striking the newborn baby with merciful swiftness.

The small form dissolved into motes of pure essence — innocent life energy that swirled in the air like glowing dust, carrying the raw potential of a life that had barely begun.

Emma watched with clear, unwavering eyes as the red essence hovered before her, her star’s voice echoing softly in her mind.

[This is the result of sacrifice. Death Essence.]

It advised her gently:

[Manipulate this essence into something new… something better.]

Seeing this, Emma didn’t rush to create something new. Instead, the moment she laid eyes on the essence, an idea sparked in her mind.

“My creations… can’t be just for me,” she reminded herself, echoing Ash’s words.

Choosing this path meant carrying the responsibility of making the verse of Pantheos richer, more vibrant, and full of life.

So, she carefully stored the first bundle of Death Essence in a small, shimmering orb that formed in her palm, then drew another arrow.

THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!

She fired shot after shot — not only at the newborns laughing on the grass, but at the sky that had just seen its first sunrise, at the fresh dreams of infants who hadn’t yet cried, at the fragile hopes of creatures that had only just taken their first breaths.

Each arrow found its mark with surgical accuracy.

And each death in her eyes…. it was nothing more than a sacrifice for a much greater purpose.

As each sacrifice dissolved into red essence, adding to the growing collection in her orb.

The world around her began to wither — the grass turning gray and brittle, the rivers drying up, the newborn sun in the sky flickering as if struggling to stay alight.

The entire world had been an hour away from death, but now it was only moments from complete destruction.

And this was all because, if it wasn’t obvious by now, Emma wasn’t merely killing or destroying the world.

No—she was stripping away its very foundational concepts, tearing them from existence itself, from the world and even from the infants within it.

This new world had been created by Ash, meant to teach her the meaning of sacrifice and to forge the kind of resilience an Empress would require.

Yet in just minutes, everything—the world and the infants alike—was harvested and stored away.

When she was done, Emma sat down cross-legged in the center of a dying world.

The plain was barren, the sky cracked and fading, the last remnants of life flickering out like dying embers.

In front of her floated a large, glowing bundle of Death Essence — a swirling mass of deep red energy harvested from every sacrifice, raw and potent, carrying the purest potential of countless innocent lives cut short.

Ash and the others watched from a distance, observing Emma’s every move with a mix of quiet approval and fascination.

Vigil, the white Watcher, perched on Ash’s right shoulder, his golden eyes wide with visible discomfort.

His feathers ruffled uneasily as he watched the newborn infants dissolve into red essence under Emma’s arrows.

“You… you created infants just to place them on a chopping board?” he hooted softly, his voice carrying a rare note of moral unease.

“That is… cruel, even for training.”

Ash shrugged casually, his eyes never leaving Emma as he replied in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

“People die every day. What’s a few more in the grand scheme of things?”

The darker Watcher, Aethea, remained silent on his left shoulder, though her gaze was sharp and thoughtful.

Elysia, seated in Ash’s lap in her full form, simply watched with serene interest, her golden eyes reflecting the red glow of the harvested essence.

Emma stood alone in the dying world; the bundle of Death Essence floated before her.

HUMMM!

She raised her hands, her fingers weaving through the air as she manipulated the essence with focused intent.

The red mass condensed, splitting and reshaping into ten perfect, glowing red seeds that pulsed with latent power.

Her voice rang out in the Language of Gods — imperfect, slightly halting, but carrying undeniable authority as she spoke the words of creation and purpose.

“These ten seeds… shall grow into,” she said as he tapped into the script.

“Heroes and villains. May they shape worlds, break fates, and become legends in their own right.”

She looked up at Ash with a small, hopeful smile, still holding the ten red seeds in her palms.

“Can you send these across Pantheos’ timeline for me?”