Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 296

Chapter 296: SPAR AGAINST DRACULA V
What Aaron didn’t realize was an important piece of information Dracula had deliberately withheld from him, the sheer difficulty of controlling Aaron’s blood and forcing it out of his body. The revelation hung unspoken in the air, a hidden layer to their intense confrontation, adding depth to Dracula’s calculated demeanor.

For others, Dracula could easily manipulate their blood with effortless command, bending it to his will like a puppet master pulling strings. But for Aaron, given the profound nature of his origin bloodline, it demanded immense effort from Dracula, a combination of meticulous probing, unwavering focus, and a significant expenditure of his own blood essence just to gain even partial control.

This was the reason he could only draw small amounts of Aaron’s blood at a time, all while channeling the full extent of his formidable strength. The process drained him subtly, each droplet a hard-won prize in their escalating duel, the crimson liquid shimmering with reluctant power under his influence.

But there was no need to reveal this truth to Aaron and make things easier for him. Dracula’s silence was strategic, a veil that preserved his edge, allowing the battle to unfold on his terms without handing over unnecessary advantages.

And with Aaron’s blood possessing immortal qualities, Dracula didn’t require vast quantities anyway. More blood would merely amplify the output, but even a scant amount could be wielded with devastating precision, turning limitation into a focused weapon of destruction.

Soon, the battle of wits and raw might resumed between them, the arena pulsing with renewed energy. Aaron, ever adaptive, made the first drastic move, his transformed figure cutting an imposing silhouette against the starry backdrop, shadows and runes dancing across his undead frame.

“If I want to win, I need to limit his abilities,” Aaron muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl of determination. His body began to shift even further, bones creaking and reforming until he embodied the stark form of an undead being, devoid of flesh, blood, or vital fluids, just a skeletal structure hardened to absolute perfection through his mastery of Primordial Terra.

The transformation was eerie, his frame rattling slightly as ethereal energy coursed through hollow sockets where eyes once gleamed. The absence of blood made him a hollow vessel of unyielding bone, impervious to Dracula’s signature manipulations, the air around him growing colder with the chill of undeath.

Dracula nodded his head subtly in a form of quiet approval, his crimson eyes reflecting a glimmer of respect for Aaron’s swift thinking.

The ancient vampire’s expression remained composed, but inwardly, he acknowledged the clever counter, a tactical pivot that narrowed his options in this high-stakes spar.

“Just a pint of blood. That’s all I can bank on,” Dracula thought to himself, his mind racing through contingencies.

The limited resource floated in his grasp, a precious tool he would have to wield with utmost efficiency, each drop a potential game-changer in the unfolding chaos.

Aaron wasted no time, channeling his undead variant ability to summon forth several spectral warriors from the ether.

He infused them with enhanced might, drawing upon his dominion over life and death to amplify their forms, skeletal frames clad in shadowy armor, eyes glowing with necrotic fire, their movements jerky yet unnaturally swift.

Aaron commanded the undead horde with a sweeping gesture, sending them surging toward Dracula like a tidal wave of bone and shadow.

They clattered across the earthen platform, weapons materializing from wisps of darkness, swords of rusted iron, claws of jagged obsidian eager to overwhelm their target in a relentless assault.

Dracula charged into the fray with blinding speed, his form a streak of night cutting through the ranks. He dismantled the undead with brutal efficiency, his fists smashing through brittle bones in explosive impacts that sent fragments scattering like dust in the wind, the air filled with the crunch of shattering skeletons.

He seized the head of one particularly resilient undead, its hollow eyes flickering with defiant energy.

With a powerful hurl, he launched it toward the barrier, the skull crashing against the invisible shield with a resounding crack that echoed through the amphitheater, ripples of force distorting the protective field.

Aaron, on the other hand, wasn’t merely standing idle, observing from afar.

He moved with purposeful intent, his undead form cloaked in swirling shadows for enhanced stealth, blending seamlessly into the dim surroundings like a phantom stalking its prey.

Springing forth suddenly from the shadow cast by an undead Dracula had just crushed beneath his boot, Aaron emerged like a vengeful specter.

He released a burst of compressed mana from his rune-covered hands, the glowing symbols flaring with intense light as raw energy surged outward in a concentrated blast.

Dracula, as sharp and perceptive as ever, dodged Aaron’s attempt with a fluid twist of his body, evading the mana wave by mere inches.

In retaliation, he stretched his fingers toward Aaron, firing thin streams of blood from his fingertips aimed precisely at Aaron’s left shoulder, the crimson projectiles whistling through the air like deadly arrows.

Aaron, sensing the incoming assault just an inch away, reacted instinctively. He conjured a thin slab of unyielding rock from his Primordial Terra talent, the barrier materializing in a flash of earthen solidity to block the attack, the blood splattering harmlessly against its impervious surface with a sizzling hiss.

Aaron stretched his hand outward, summoning Black Sphere into his grasp. The weapon transformed seamlessly into Dragon’s Forge, its blade gleaming with an ominous edge that hummed with latent destruction, the air around it warping faintly from its aura.

He swung the sword at Dracula with powerful intent, unleashing a wave of destructive energy that cleaved through the space between them.

The aura of annihilation surged forward like a tidal force, promising to erase anything in its path.

Dracula’s eyes opened slightly wider, caught momentarily by surprise at the raw potency of the attack.

He dodged with agile precision, not even attempting to block it, his body contorting away as the destructive wave gouged a deep scar into the earthen platform behind him.

“Destruction, huh. That’s the purest form of destruction I have seen,” Dracula mused aloud, staring at the ravaged earth where the attack had landed.

The ground smoked and crumbled, a testament to the blade’s unforgiving power, the scar lingering as a raw wound in the arena’s surface.