Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 207

Chapter 207: DREAM
“In the end, the fastest and most effective path to amassing strength lies in the rewards I receive from the system ,” Aaron declared, a relaxed smile playing across his lips.

“Speaking of which,” he muttered under his breath, a spark of mischief igniting in his dark eyes as a wild, audacious plan unfurled within the labyrinth of his mind. The sheer audacity of the scheme sent an irrepressible grin spreading across his face, his features alight with the reckless ambition of a man who danced on the edge of omnipotence. “I have a crazy idea.”

“But first, there’s a matter I must attend to,” Aaron said with measured calm, his form materializing within the hallowed halls of the sanctuary in an instant, bypassing the need for rifts or portals. To one who wielded absolute mastery over space, such trivialities were as unnecessary as a crutch to a titan. The air shimmered faintly around him, a subtle ripple of displaced reality that marked his arrival, as if the universe itself had bent to accommodate his presence.

“Son, you’ve returned,” Liam’s voice rang out, warm yet tinged with the gravitas of leadership, the moment Aaron appeared within the towering, obsidian-walled castle. The sanctuary’s grand chamber loomed around them, its vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate constellations carved in glowing runes that pulsed faintly, casting an ethereal glow across the polished black marble floors.

“Yes,” Aaron replied, striding toward the throne. “Fill me in on the empire’s administration and whatever demands my immediate attention.” He settled onto the throne with an air of effortless authority, his posture relaxed yet radiating a quiet menace, like a predator at rest but ever-ready to strike.

Liam nodded, his weathered face creasing with a mixture of pride as he began his report. “It’s not overly complex, thanks to the codex streamlining our operations. We’ve implemented a sweeping reform across the empire. Each planet now operates under its own hierarchical structure, governed by nobles chosen from their native races to manage local administration. These nobles answer solely to the imperial emperor, ensuring unity under your command.” His voice was steady, methodical, as he detailed the necessary updates, from resource allocations to diplomatic tensions simmering on the empire’s fringes, each point delivered with the precision of a seasoned advisor guiding his sovereign through the labyrinth of rule.

The briefing stretched across an entire day, a relentless deluge of reports, decrees, and paperwork that tested even Aaron’s indomitable will. By the end, Aaron’s patience frayed at the edges, his love for action and conquest drowning beneath the suffocating weight of bureaucracy. “I should conjure a doppelgänger to endure this drudgery in my stead,” he groaned, his voice heavy with exasperation as he massaged his temples.

Liam’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as he noted the exhaustion etched into his son’s face—a rare glimpse of vulnerability in a being who seemed carved from the cosmos itself. He felt a surge of pride, marveling at Aaron’s meteoric rise, achieved through sheer will and unrelenting power, forged in the crucible of a world that offered no aid. “That’s all for now,” Liam said, his tone merciful, sparing his son further torment.

“Finally,” Aaron exhaled, rising to his feet with a fluid grace that belied the weariness tugging at his bones, his silhouette framed against the throne’s ominous glow.

But before he could depart, Liam’s expression shifted, the warmth giving way to a somber gravity that stilled the air. “Aaron, can we have a serious conversation? I need your help,” he requested, his voice heavy with a sadness that seemed to pull at the very light in the room, dimming the runes above.

Aaron paused mid-step, turning to face his father, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “What is it?” he asked, his tone even but laced with a guarded curiosity. He suspected the nature of Liam’s request but held back from assuming, his mind a fortress of secrets even among those he trusted.

“I think it’s best I show you,” Liam replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words carried a weight too great for casual utterance. “Take us to my home.”

With a silent nod, Aaron extended his will, folding space with the ease of a painter brushing strokes across a canvas. Reality bent, and in an instant, they stood before Liam’s home.

Stepping inside, Aaron’s gaze fell upon his mother, Charlotte, standing beside a frail, elderly woman who lay upon a cushioned bed, her breath shallow yet strangely vibrant, as if life and death waged a silent war within her fragile frame. The woman’s face was etched with the ravages of time, her skin thin as parchment, yet her eyes burned with an unsettling vitality that defied her apparent frailty.

“It’s Dream—or rather, Abigail,” Liam said, his voice thick with worry as he gazed at the woman. “Please, help her.”

Aaron’s eyes lingered on Abigail, the woman who had once been Dream—the one who had abandoned him and his sister, Isobel, in their youth. She had conceded so much to Geralt and the other demigods, all under the guise of fairness, yet had never lifted a finger to shield them from the cruelties of their world.

[It seems the immortality you granted her has worsened her condition,] the system’s voice chimed in his mind, clinical and unyielding, like a physician diagnosing a terminal affliction.

“Yeah,” Aaron sighed, his tone tinged with a rare note of regret. “I’d hoped it would mend the abnormality within her, but it appears that was mere wishful thinking.”

Charlotte stepped forward, her face a canvas of sorrow and quiet resolve, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Aaron, please,” she implored softly, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. “I know you and Isobel harbor deep resentment toward her for, especially given her complicated ties to our family. But there’s more to her story—a truth you both deserve to know.”

Aaron remained silent, his expression unreadable. In truth, he had long since uncovered the reasons behind Abigail’s actions, piecing together the fragmented history during his last drastic reversion of time—a feat that had allowed him to witness every pivotal moment tied to his existence. Yet he kept this knowledge locked away, a trump card held close, even from those he held dear. Trust was a luxury, even among family, and some secrets were too potent to share.

“Dream—Abigail—everything she did was ultimately for your sake,” Charlotte continued, her voice barely above a whisper as she resolved to unveil the past. “Her decisions may not have been flawless, but they were driven by a purpose you need to understand.”

“I think she needs to hear this more,” Aaron said calmly, his will bending space once more with effortless precision. In an instant, Isobel appeared in the room, yanked from the distant battlefield where she had been waging war alongside Michael, her armor still streaked with the dust and blood of conquest.

“What just happened?” Isobel blurted, her voice a mix of confusion and irritation as she struggled to orient herself, her senses reeling from the abrupt translocation. “I was in the middle of—Aaron?” Her eyes widened as they landed on her brother, his imposing presence anchoring the room’s tension.

“There’s a story you need to hear,” Aaron said, his tone steady but carrying an undercurrent of insistence. “Considering how much you despise Dream, it’s only fair you learn her side of the tale.”

Isobel’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll hear it later,” she countered, her voice sharp with defiance. “I was in the thick of battle with Michael. He can’t hold that front alone.”

“He’ll be fine,” Aaron dismissed with a casual wave, a sly smile tugging at his lips that sent an involuntary shiver down Isobel’s spine. “He can afford to die a few times—immortality has its perks. It’s not a big deal.” He gestured toward Charlotte, signaling her to begin the tale, his demeanor unshaken by his sister’s protests.