Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 317

Chapter 317: INVADING FOREIGN GALAXIES III
The runes close to his mouth glowed subtly, pulsing with a dark purple hue that cast flickering shadows across his chin, the magic building like a storm gathering in his throat.

“Tenebris crepitus,” Astral called out, the incantation rolling off his tongue with effortless command, the words vibrating through the ether and stirring the ambient mana into unrest.

The mana around the elf commander and the surviving elves vibrated as if it was being heated.

Invisible waves rippled outward, the energy humming with increasing intensity, causing the air to shimmer like heat haze over a distant horizon.

The ethereal, colorless form of mana soon changed its color to pitch dark.

It twisted into inky blackness, absorbing the faint starlight and plunging the immediate area into deeper shadows that clung to skin like oil.

The commander frowned, having a bad feeling about it.

A knot of unease tightened in his gut, his pointed ears twitching as he sensed the malevolent shift, his grip on his bow tightening instinctively.

“Scatter!” he instructed, trying to move away from the center of the dark mana phenomenon.

His voice barked with urgency, feet pushing off the invisible platforms of force fields as he urged his remaining troops to disperse.

But it was pointless before the might of Astral’s attack.

The command hung futile in the void, the dark mana already too pervasive, coiling around them like inescapable tendrils.

The dark mana exploded, consuming everyone caught within the explosion.

The blast erupted in a silent roar, a wave of devouring blackness that erased forms in an instant, leaving only faint echoes of screams that faded into nothingness.

Not a single elf lived after the explosion.

The space cleared abruptly, the darkness dissipating to reveal an empty expanse, the stars twinkling indifferently as if nothing had transpired.

“I will say it. You are the most ruthless clone amongst the rest of us,” the space clone accompanying Astral appeared, exiting the isolated space he was in.

He materialized with a subtle ripple, his form solidifying amid the lingering haze of mana residue, a wry expression crossing his features.

Astral had arrived at the galaxy. But unlike the others that decided to plan before attacking, he plunged straight into action, his arrival marked by immediate dominance rather than caution.

Astral didn’t even bother with any of that, going for conquest the very moment he arrived at the galaxy.

The transition had been seamless, his presence announcing itself through raw power, bypassing strategy for sheer overwhelming force.

“You really had to go on a killing spree in a foreign universe. You really are a strange one,” the space clone commented, shaking his head slightly, the vast starry backdrop reflecting in his eyes as he regarded Astral with a mix of amusement and wariness.

“What’s the point of being careful as immortals that are clones? That’s just being stupid,” Astral replied, his tone matter-of-fact, arms crossing under his cloak as he floated effortlessly, the runes on his skin now dormant but ready to ignite.

The space clone stared at Astral speechlessly, unable to rebut what he said. A moment of silence stretched between them, the weight of Astral’s logic hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge.

“Well, you are right,” he replied in surrender, conceding with a slight shrug, the admission easing the tension as he adjusted his stance in the weightless environment.

“Start merging the nebulas and focus only on that task,” Astral instructed, his gaze shifting to the distant swirling clouds of gas and dust, his voice carrying an authoritative edge that brooked no delay.

“Huh? Aren’t we going to conquer the nebulas in question first?” The space clone blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing as he processed the abrupt directive, the vast nebulas glowing faintly in the galactic distance.

“That’s a waste of time and effort. Just keep merging. Any opposition to your actions will arrive here, and I will neutralize them.” Astral’s words were clipped, his posture unchanging, exuding a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance amid the cosmic quiet.

“What if we can’t defeat them?” The space clone’s question hung with a hint of concern, his eyes scanning the horizon for potential threats, the immensity of the galaxy amplifying the stakes.

“Then we die. They interrupt your process, and the merged nebulas self-destruct. We respawn and return. It’s not such a big deal.” Astral’s response was nonchalant, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, as if discussing minor setbacks rather than cataclysmic failure.

The space clone stared at Astral speechlessly once more, unable to follow the thought process of the witch variant.

Bewilderment clouded his features, the radical simplicity of the plan clashing with his own instincts for caution.

“Many will die if we fail. Are you mentally prepared for that?” He pressed, his voice lowering, the ethical weight pressing on him like the gravity of a nearby star.

“Do I look like some white warlock? I’m a witch variant from the night father. Not one from the day mother, so I could care less.” Astral’s retort was sharp, his purple-tinged eyes flashing briefly, embodying the dark heritage that shaped his indifference.

The space clone swallowed hard, slowly realizing he was paired with the most insensitive clone amongst the rest.

A chill ran through him, not from the void, but from the unyielding pragmatism before him, steadying his resolve nonetheless.

Steadying his mind, he slowly began to merge nebulas, merging hundreds of nebulas at once, his concentration fully focused on the task.

His hands moved in intricate patterns, space folding under his will, the distant clouds of color swirling together in a grand, cosmic ballet.

He left the worrying of enemies to Astral as he was instructed, trusting in the witch’s assurance, the process demanding every ounce of his focus amid the growing hum of merging energies.

“Anima link praesidium,” Astral cast another spell, creating a shield around the space clone.

The incantation wove through the air, manifesting as a translucent barrier that shimmered like liquid starlight, encasing his companion in protective layers.

The shield was a forbidden spell that linked its resilience to the soul and life of someone else.

The connection pulsed faintly, an invisible tether that drew from Astral’s essence, ensuring unbreakable defense at a profound cost.

Astral linked the shield to his very soul, ensuring the shield could only be breached on account of his own death.

The bond settled with a subtle warmth in his core, a self-imposed vulnerability that underscored his commitment, the runes on his body flickering once more in quiet readiness.