Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 217

Chapter 217: DECIDE YOUR FATE
King Otis sat rigid on his throne, the crystalline spires of his palace hall shimmering with illusory light that flickered like a dying star, mirroring his faltering composure. Aaron’s ability to pierce his mental defenses and project thoughts directly into his mind was a violation of everything the Illusionists held sacred. A feat Otis, despite his mastery of deception, knew he could never replicate against a mind as fortified as his own. The gem embedded in his forehead pulsed erratically, its sinister glow casting jagged shadows across his face, betraying the fear gnawing at his resolve. His red eyes, inscribed with arcane sigils, darted nervously, grappling with the reality of Aaron’s power, a force that rendered his illusions impotent.

“My lord, should we eliminate him?” the captain of the royal guard asked, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence, oblivious to the peril. The question nearly sent Otis lurching from his throne, his heart pounding like a war drum as panic surged through him.

“Eliminate who?!” Otis roared, his voice a thunderous eruption, his chest heaving with exasperation. “Can you shut up and not risk my life?!” His fury was a palpable force, the gem’s glow flaring as he glared at the guard, whose eyes widened in shock, his stance crumbling under the weight of his king’s wrath. The hall’s illusions wavered, reflecting Otis’s faltering control, the air thick with the scent of ozone and fear.

“So, Otis,” Aaron said, his voice a chilling blend of calm and menace, “what’s it going to be? Pledge your loyalty to me, or suffer like your friend?” He twirled a dagger of blood and shadow, its edge glinting with predatory intent, his crimson eyes gleaming with boredom that masked a lethal readiness, the throne he sat upon, a creation of crimson and obsidian radiating an aura of absolute dominion.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Otis said, his tone strained, desperation creeping into his words like a poison. “I wouldn’t mind serving you, but I’m bound by an oath to Havoc.” His fingers gripped the throne’s armrests, his knuckles whitening, the gem pulsing in sync with his racing pulse as he hoped Aaron would show mercy.

“And why’s that a problem?” Aaron asked, his voice deceptively mild, though his gaze was a blade, cutting through Otis’s defenses with unrelenting scrutiny, the air around him shimmering with barely restrained power.

“Havoc will annihilate us all if we betray him,” Otis whispered, his voice trembling as if the titan’s name alone summoned his shadow. His plea was fragile, a desperate bid for Aaron to spare them from an impossible choice, the hall’s crystalline walls seeming to close in with the weight of his dread.

“You have two options,” Aaron declared, his voice cold and absolute, a decree that brooked no compromise. “Surrender to me, or face the consequences. There’s no middle ground.” His aura surged, a crimson storm that warped the air, the palace’s spires trembling as if bowing to the Night Father’s will, the guards’ illusions faltering under its pressure.

Otis fell silent, his mind a crucible of indecision, weighing Aaron’s enigma against Havoc’s known terror. Aaron was a mystery, his true strength veiled, a wildcard whose power Otis could only guess at. But Havoc was a nightmare made flesh, a titan who had razed a planet before Otis’s eyes, its surface reduced to a smoldering wasteland in a display of apocalyptic might. After agonizing minutes, Otis made his choice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t serve you,” he said, his eyes and gem blazing with power as he seized Aaron’s nonchalance, weaving an illusion to shatter his mind, bolstered by the collective will of his guards, their gems pulsing in unison.

“Kill him!” Otis screamed, his voice a desperate war cry. The guards’ eyes glowed red, their forehead gems flaring, amplifying the illusion into a mental maelstrom aimed at breaking Aaron’s psyche, a storm of deception that sought to drown him in falsity.

“Such a waste of time,” Aaron sighed, shaking his head, disappointment etched across his features as the illusion dissolved like mist before a gale. Otis’s heart sank, his trump card useless against Aaron’s indomitable will, the hall’s air growing heavy with the weight of his failure.

“You’ve signed your death warrant,” Aaron muttered, his voice heavy with regret, as if mourning Otis’s folly. He rose, the mental assault washing over him like water over stone, his crimson eyes glinting with cold resolve as he surveyed the trembling king.

“Can’t you spare us?” Otis pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. “Havoc is a cruel, unstoppable force—you must understand! Let us go!” His words were a frantic grasp for sympathy, his gem dimming as fear overtook his bravado, the hall’s illusions flickering like a fading dream.

“You chose wrongly because you never saw my true power,” Aaron said, his tone calm but laced with icy finality. “Let me show you, so you may regret your choice as you die.” Tendrils of blood, shaped like blooming roses, erupted from his aura, their crimson petals glistening with a deadly allure as they latched onto Otis and his guards, coiling around their limbs like serpentine vines, their thorns piercing flesh with relentless hunger.

“What is this?!” Otis shrieked, panic seizing him as a blood rose anchored to his arm, its stem pulsing as it devoured his lifeblood. The vine grew, wrapping around his body, its growth fueled by each drop it consumed, creeping toward his chest with insatiable greed. “Get it off me!” he screamed, his voice raw with terror, clawing at the rose, his hands passing through its semi-ethereal form, unable to dislodge it. His gem flared, unleashing his final gambit—a searing, compressed laser beam of blinding heat, fired with desperate precision to catch Aaron off guard.

Aaron stood unmoved, a spatial barrier materializing before him, an invisible wall that halted the beam, its energy scattering into harmless sparks. He returned to his throne, reclining with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing lab rats, his eyes fixed on Otis and his guards as the blood roses continued their grim harvest, the hall’s air thick with the coppery tang of blood.

“Please!” Otis begged, his voice breaking as the roses tightened, their stems encircling his chest. “I chose wrong! I’ll serve you, not Havoc—you! Spare my life!” His plea was a frantic wail, his body trembling as the roses sapped his strength, his gem’s glow flickering like a dying ember.

“To entertain thoughts of betrayal renders you unfit to serve,” a cold, emotionless voice declared, slicing through the chaos like a guillotine. Otis whirled, his eyes widening in abject horror as Havoc materialized behind him, his presence a suffocating void. The titan of the Destruction bloodline loomed, his dark, smooth skin absorbing the light, his red eyes burning with contempt, his well-trimmed hair framing a face that regarded Otis as an insignificant speck, his colossal aura shrinking the hall to a mere stage for his wrath.