Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 297

Chapter 297: SPAR AGAINST DRACULA VI
“That aside, you just released your own blood toward me. What happened to you having a curse?” Aaron asked Dracula, his skeletal form tilting curiously, the absence of flesh making his voice echo hollowly.

“I have been in a state of death for many years. Of course, the universe’s curse on me would be destroyed. It’s only natural,”

Dracula informed calmly, his posture shifting as he prepared to resume his offensive. The revelation carried a hint of inevitability, a byproduct of his long dormancy.

“Anti-Mana Field,” Aaron called out decisively, the runes etched across his body glowing with fervent intensity.

The symbols pulsed like living veins, drawing upon his arcane reserves with unyielding purpose.

Dracula felt the mana in the surrounding area being sucked away rapidly, creating a vast vacuum between him and Aaron.

The air grew still and empty, devoid of the ethereal energy that fueled so many abilities, leaving a palpable void that weighed heavily on the senses.

Dracula allowed a faint smile to grace his face for the first time since the battle’s inception, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke volumes. It was a rare expression, one of quiet approval amid the chaos.

Aaron’s actions in the latter half of the battle had been remarkably smart and calculative, each move building on the last with strategic foresight.

The crowd sensed the shift, their murmurs growing in intensity as they witnessed the tactical depth unfolding before them.

First, he had prevented Dracula from drawing his blood by adopting an undead form, stripping away the vampire’s primary advantage.

Now, he had crippled Dracula’s ability to utilize his own blood by draining the mana from the surroundings, leaving the ancient lord severely handicapped, relegated to his formidable physical prowess and the limited supply of Aaron’s blood to press the fight.

“You know, there was a time when the entire universe did something similar to what you are doing now.

They ensured I couldn’t use my blood or theirs. Did you know what I relied on then?” Dracula asked, his voice carrying a reflective tone.

His entire body tensed, muscles coiling like springs beneath his robe, ready to unleash.

“I do,” Aaron nodded his head affirmatively, his skeletal frame standing resolute.

He braced himself, anticipating the shift in Dracula’s approach, the air between them thickening with impending violence.

“Good. I used just my physical prowess,” Dracula informed, his form exploding into motion in a blinding flash toward Aaron.

The ground cracked faintly under the force of his launch, propelling him forward with explosive speed.

He appeared before Aaron in the blink of an eye, throwing a devastating blow aimed squarely at his face.

The punch whistled through the air, carrying the momentum of a meteor, the force behind it capable of shattering mountains.

But Aaron simply bent his head with precise timing, dodging the attack by a hair’s breadth.

The fist grazed past his crown of souls and bones, stirring a faint wind that rustled the shadows cloaking him.

Dracula pressed his assault relentlessly, following up with a sweeping kick toward Aaron’s legs.

The motion was fluid and powerful, aimed to sweep him off balance and expose vulnerabilities in his stance.

Aaron leaped upward with agile grace, escaping the leg’s path by inches.

In mid-air, he conjured a massive cube of earth, its density surpassing that of an entire solar system, compacted into a colossal block that loomed ominously.

He controlled it with focused will, hurling the immense construct toward Dracula like a falling star.

The cube hurtled through the air with ground-shaking momentum, casting a vast shadow over the arena as it descended.

Dracula utilized the scant amount of Aaron’s blood he possessed, shaping it into a dark shadow that pooled under his feet.

He sank swiftly into the inky void, escaping the crushing descent just as the cube slammed into the platform with a thunderous impact that sent tremors rippling outward.

“Gotcha,” Aaron muttered, a note of pleased satisfaction in his hollow voice. He sensed the opportunity, his undead form poised for the counter.

Dracula emerged from the shadows back onto the surface, his body riddled with fresh wounds that resembled deep stabs.

Blood trickled from the gashes, his robe torn in places, but his expression remained unflinching, pain a mere inconvenience to his ancient resilience.

“You can control only a little of my blood. Going to the shadow realm where I have so much control is just begging to be hurt by me,” Aaron explained, his skeletal grin widening slightly.

The shadows obeyed him like loyal servants, twisting and lashing within their domain at his command, turning Dracula’s escape into a perilous trap.

Dracula refrained from speaking, slowly realizing the battle was slipping out of his hands.

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, the ancient vampire’s mind racing through centuries of combat experience, assessing the shifting tides with cold precision.

The air in the arena grew heavier, charged with the unspoken acknowledgment of a turning point.

Controlling the scant pint of Aaron’s blood that he still possessed, he shaped it into several needles of sharp shadow spikes.

The blood twisted and darkened, forming elongated points that gleamed with ominous intent, hovering briefly before him like suspended daggers forged from night itself.

He sent them hurtling toward Aaron afterward, the spikes slicing through the air with a faint whistle.

They moved with deadly accuracy, trails of shadowy essence lingering in their wake, aimed to pierce and disrupt in a swift barrage.

The spikes flew relentlessly toward Aaron, who awaited them with open arms, his skeletal form standing resolute.

His bone structure gleamed under the arena’s ethereal lights, exuding an aura of unyielding defiance, ready to counter whatever came his way.

Before the shadow spikes could connect with him, he drew out Black Sphere, the weapon materializing in his grip with a low hum.

It remained transformed into Dragon’s Forge, its blade pulsing with raw, annihilating energy that warped the space around its edge, promising utter obliteration.

He struck the incoming shadow spikes with the blade, the impact resounding like a thunderclap.

The destruction inherent within Dragon’s Forge erupted on contact, consuming the blood constructs in a flare of dark light, erasing them from existence without remnant.

The immortal blood was destroyed in totality, its essence scattered to nothingness, preventing any chance of regeneration.

Wisps of smoke curled upward from the point of annihilation, the air clearing as the threat dissolved completely under the blade’s unforgiving power.