Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 215

Chapter 215: DRACULA’S RESURRECTION
Aaron stood before the desiccated husk of Dracula, his expression flat, a mask of indifference that belied the cosmic power coursing through him.

The void’s chaotic storms raged around the withered body, suspended in a maelstrom of primal energy, its flesh shriveled like ancient parchment, veins stark against translucent skin.

Yet even in this ravaged state, the Lord of the Eternal Night exuded a faint, regal menace, a shadow of the terror he once commanded.

“Alright, great-grandpa,” Aaron said, his voice a low rumble, tinged with dry amusement. “Time to wake you up.” With a casual gesture, he seized Dracula’s frail form, bending the fabric of space with effortless precision.

The void dissolved in a ripple of reality, replaced by the sanctuary’s grand chamber, its obsidian walls pulsing with runes that hummed with ancient power, their glow casting eerie shadows across the polished floor.

With measured calm, Aaron inserted Dracula’s heart—retrieved from the infinite myriad blood pool—back into its rightful place within the vampire lord’s chest.

The heart, a dark, pulsating relic, thudded faintly as it reconnected, veins threading through desiccated tissue like roots reclaiming barren soil.

Next, Aaron summoned blood from the infinite pool, a crimson torrent that shimmered with otherworldly vitality, feeding it into Dracula’s body through arcane channels.

The ritual was meticulous, fulfilling the trinity of requirements for resurrection: body, heart, and the sacred blood of Dracula’s lineage, stored eternally within the pool’s boundless depths.

“Just who is this guy?” Aaron muttered, irritation creeping into his tone as he watched Dracula remain stubbornly unconscious, guzzling blood like a parched desert soaking up rain.

For an entire day, the crimson tide flowed, yet the vampire lord showed no sign of stirring, his body absorbing the lifeblood with insatiable greed, as if mocking Aaron’s efforts.

After what felt like an eternity, Dracula’s crimson eyes flickered open, twin embers igniting in the dim light.

The Lord of the Eternal Night surveyed his surroundings with a predator’s instinct, his gaze settling on Aaron, who stood unflinching, a pillar of unyielding authority.

“Who are you?” Dracula asked, rising with a regal grace that belied his weakened state, his voice a deep, resonant command that carried the weight of centuries.

“Aaron Highborn,” Aaron replied, a sly, manipulative smile curling his lips. “Good to see you, great-grandfather.”

His tone was deceptively light, but his eyes glinted with the confidence of one who held dominion over reality itself.

“Highborn?” Dracula murmured, his mind piecing together the lineage, his voice a low growl as realization dawned.

“So, you’re my descendant?” His frame, though gaunt from months of desiccation, still radiated danger, his veins stark against pallid skin, his aura a faint echo of its former glory.

Yet even in his diminished state, the vampire lord’s presence was a storm waiting to break, a latent threat that lingered like a blade half-drawn.

“Walk with me, boy,” Dracula commanded, donning a tattered cloak that materialized around him, its fabric seeming to drink in the light.

“We have much to discuss.” He moved toward the sanctuary’s halls, his steps deliberate, as if he already claimed ownership of the realm.

Aaron stared at Dracula’s retreating figure, momentarily speechless, a rare flicker of incredulity crossing his face.

The audacity of the vampire lord, barely resurrected and already strutting like he ruled the sanctuary, was almost laughable.

“Grandpa, just a reminder,” Aaron called, his voice laced with a smug edge, “I’m the ruler here.”

His own arrogance surged, a mirror to Dracula’s, as he asserted his dominion over the sacred space.

“So?” Dracula retorted, his tone dripping with disdain, as if Aaron’s claim was a child’s boast.

“Before my presence, all kings and queens must bow.”

The air around him shimmered, his weakened aura flaring with what little strength he could muster, a desperate bid to force Aaron into submission.

But against the Night Father, it was a futile gesture, like a candle challenging a supernova.

“You’ll need to do better than that to scare me, grandpa,” Aaron said, his smile widening, sharp and unyielding.

In an instant, he erased the concept of space between them, appearing before Dracula faster than thought, his presence a crushing weight that warped the air.

“I could kill you as easily as I breathe, great-grandpa. Don’t test me.”

His hand clapped onto Dracula’s shoulder, a deceptively casual gesture laced with menace, as his aura erupted—a torrent of power that threatened to drown the vampire lord in its intensity, the sanctuary’s runes flickering in response.

Aaron locked Dracula in a spatial prison, the air solidifying around him like an invisible cage, each molecule obeying the Night Father’s will.

Dracula’s eyes narrowed, but beneath the defiance, a spark of admiration flickered. For centuries, he had sought a scion of his bloodline unafraid to stand unbowed in his presence, and Aaron—bold, unyielding, and infuriatingly arrogant—fit the mold perfectly.

With a measured nod, Dracula conceded, his aura receding like a tide withdrawing from the shore.

Aaron released his hold, his own aura dissipating as he dismissed the spectral forces he had summoned, their presence lingering like an afterimage of his power.

“So, how long until you’re back at your prime?” he asked, eyeing Dracula’s malnourished frame, the vampire’s gaunt features a stark contrast to the legend he embodied.

“No telling,” Dracula replied, his voice gruff but honest. “Rest and time will restore me. The rest will follow.”

His tone carried a quiet confidence, the assurance of one who had defied death before.

“Great,” Aaron said, a spark of impatience in his eyes.

“I’ve got people for you to meet.”

With a flick of his will, he warped space, the sanctuary’s halls dissolving into the familiar warmth of his father’s home, its starflower-scented air a stark contrast to the void’s chaos.

“Why do I sense more of my blood in this house?” Dracula asked, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the dwelling, his senses attuned to the lineage that pulsed within its walls.

“Because your grandson and his family are here,” Aaron replied, his tone casual but pointed.

“Go say hi. I’ve got unfinished business to settle.”

Without another word, he vanished, space folding around him as he pursued his next objective, leaving Dracula to navigate the reunion alone.

The weakened vampire lord was of no use to him yet, and Aaron had no patience for babysitting when entire worlds awaited conquest.

“Next stop: Planet Buis, home of the Illusionists,” Aaron muttered, materializing a distance from the planet, its surface shimmering with a mirage-like haze under the cosmic sky. “Time to collect some debts.”