Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

Chapter 165: Welcome, The Draugr’s Await

The trio had been on the move for about three days now, cutting through the desolate Lower Abyss of Thal with steady, unhurried steps.

During this time, they saw nothing but darkness and death.

No matter how far any of them stretched their mana sense, the result was the same—endless black emptiness broken only by the occasional ruined building, cracked street, or withered husk of what might once have been a tree.

The silence was absolute, oppressive, the kind that pressed against the ears and made every footfall echo unnaturally loud on the broken pavement. There was no wind, no distant sound of battle, no flicker of life anywhere—just the weight of a place that had long since forgotten what it meant to breathe.

Ash, however, could see the target.

Well, it was the only structure that wasn’t beaten down into total ruin.

A stronghold that stretched for millions of kilometers—its black walls rising like the jagged spine of some colossal, slumbering beast, towers piercing upward into the lightless sky until they vanished into the dark.

For Ash… he’d seen the structure the moment he arrived, but he didn’t want to ruin the others’ curiosity. He noticed the oddity of the non-moving people—billions of them standing motionless like statues of cracked stone and gray flesh—and even the weird figure that had made its way back to the stronghold in the form of a fleeting Velox Phantom.

And now the group stood right above the massive gates to the stronghold.

The gates themselves were monstrous—two towering slabs of obsidian veined with faint purple light, each one easily a thousand meters tall, carved with runes that pulsed weakly like dying heartbeats.

The walls extended in either direction as far as even mana sense could reach, the entire structure radiating a cold, hungry stillness that made the air itself feel thick and wrong.

“This place is giving me… sinister vibes,” Sylvie said as she unsheathed her sword and got on guard, reddish-pink eyes narrowing, wings half-spread, blade already humming with restrained power.

Kaelthyr was already a step ahead—his sleek black robes absorbing the nonexistent light, silverish-grey hair hanging straight, grey eyes sharp and unyielding as he scanned every shadow, every unmoving figure below. His hand rested on the hilt of his saber, ready to draw in an instant.

“Very Gothic, indeed,” Ash said as he looked towards Kaelthyr, voice light and teasing.

“Wouldn’t it be fun for some Master and Disciple bonding time?”

Kaelthyr’s face scrunched up hearing this. By now he’d figured out… anytime Ash asked a question that seemed rhetorical… he was planning some bullshit.

“Brat… what are you planning this time,” he asked, tone rough and suspicious.

“Nothing much, I just thought… you’re my master and we have yet to share a battlefield together.” Ash spoke as he then gestured towards the gate with casual nonchalance.

“And what would be a better time than now? Behind this gate are exactly 3 billion people… whom I assume are going to try to rip us to pieces the moment we enter.” He continued as Elysia’s voice entered his mind.

[Actually it’s 2.89 billion, Master.] She teased as she was in a good mood now that she had become more useful and more powerful.

’Right… right. And you said there are two big bads?’

[Correct, from the knowledge gained from this Galaxy, Erebus. There is a race of beings that are undead, cunning, malevolent and extremely powerful. They are known for their ability to shift into different forms, performing curses/hexes, and necromancy. They are called the Draugr.]

She explained to Ash who was laughing at the looks on Sylvie and Kaelthyr’s face.

“Brat… you’re pulling my leg, aren’t ya?” Kaelthyr asked after taking a deep breath, grey eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Pulling your leg? Creepy,” Sylvie muttered which caused Ash to laugh even more.

“No, I’m not old man. Come on, it’ll be fun… unless you’re scared?” Ash said as he cracked his neck.

“And if it’s going to make you feel any better, I’ll handle both peak Sovereigns.”

“Tsk, bullshit,” Kaelthyr spat as he was now feeling disrespectful, aura flaring briefly.

“And what about me?” Sylvie asked with an arching brow, sword still drawn, wings twitching.

“Uhh… just relax for now.” Ash said as he stretched his arm out causing Primordia to appear.

The blade was so powerful it caused space to bend and crack around it—reality itself groaning as the rose-pink edge shimmered into existence. The moment it appeared he wasted no time, Primordia Truth activated passively as he swung his blade ever so casually.

Just a casual swing… but the vision behind it was entirely different.

That was the uniqueness behind ’Primordia Truth’… it could be whatever one envisioned it to be.

And Ash being Ash… he envisioned something that should be considered pure blasphemy.

The Sword Arc never struck the Gates; instead, it slipped underground, weaving through stone and soil like a quiet whisper, unseen and unstoppable. As it moved, Ash called upon every law he knew tied to Light and Life.

Even weakened, he intended to add so many that the debuff became meaningless. The Laws of Vitality, Life, Light, Birth, Radiance, Stellar, Aurora, and countless others fueled the attack—dozens upon dozens surging into the arc in a torrent of radiant, living energy.

The atmosphere began to fight against itself. Life vs Darkness.

The perpetual black sky shuddered—faint cracks of white-gold light splitting the void as the laws clashed against the realm’s suppression. Dead flowers on the streets below twitched—petals unfurling in impossible bursts of color only to wither again instantly.

Cracked earth groaned—tiny green sprouts pushing through stone in desperate, fleeting rebellion, glowing briefly before the darkness crushed them back into dust.

The air itself shimmered pockets of warmth and light blooming then dying in heartbeats, the whole realm trembling as life tried and failed to take root against the endless night.

Then the Sword arc finally shot upward from the ground in the very center of the stronghold.

BOOOOOM!

Through the ground a blinding white-green-pink beam shot up—tearing stone and earth apart in a deafening roar—and formed into a massive figure of… Ash himself. It was a ten-thousand-foot statue of pure Primordia Truth—towering, radiant, terrifying.

The moment it appeared its eyes shifted to the massive Castle of the Draugr’s and his eyes that were rings of fire shot two piercing blades directly into it.

“Bye… Bye,” the giant Ash muttered as two inevitable attacks wiped out the entire castle before the two Peak Sovereigns could even lift a finger.

BOOOM!!!

The blades struck…. clean, silent, unstoppable. The castle’s obsidian walls cracked, then shattered, then dissolved into nothing—towers collapsing in slow, thunderous ruin, the entire structure folding inward like wet paper before exploding outward in a storm of black-purple light and debris.

Then the Giant exploded into millions of miniature swords that took the lives of the already undead… killing them for good.

Each tiny blade found a target—piercing cracked gray flesh, severing necks, splitting skulls—SHK! SHK! SHK!—bodies dropping in perfect rows, the undead finally granted true death as rose-pink light consumed them utterly.

When the dust finally settled Ash turned back to Kaelthyr whom nearly dropped his sword. He then spoke with his trademark smile…

“Come on, Master… The Draugr’s Await.”