Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 326

Chapter 326: ECLIPSE IFRIT
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Isobel moved like a plague, taking down the subordinates.

Her form blurred through the shadows, a silent harbinger of decay, her presence alone sending chills through the remaining foes as she closed in.

She controlled her corrosive blood, using it as twin daggers.

The liquid shaped into razor-edged blades that dripped with acrid venom, hissing faintly against the night air, their touch promising swift dissolution.

She cut through the subordinates, her corrosive blood ending the lives of her enemies with just the littlest of touch.

Flesh sizzled and melted where the daggers grazed, screams cut short as bodies crumpled, the acrid stench of burning skin wafting through the street.

Michael was just as ruthless, bodies charred from high voltage or burned from flames falling around him from every side.

Electricity arced from his form in wild snaps, while flames licked at his heels, leaving scorched earth and smoldering remains in his wake, the heat radiating off him like a forge.

They continued with their ruthlessness until just two subordinates were left.

The street fell quieter, the clamor of battle fading to the ragged breaths of the survivors, lanterns flickering uncertainly in the haze of smoke and blood.

One of them was an orc with a strong defensive body as well as strength.

His hide was thick and scarred, like weathered leather, muscles bulging under taut skin that gleamed with a faint, oily sheen in the dim light.

And the second one was a lizard man holding a spear, his body moisturized and constantly wet.

Scales glistened with perpetual moisture, dripping slightly onto the ground, his grip on the wooden shaft steady, eyes slitted and watchful.

“I will be taking care of the orc,” Michael called dibs, his voice carrying a mix of eagerness and focus, lightning crackling faintly along his fingertips as he squared his shoulders.

Using his infernal flames, he appeared before the orc in a flash, swinging his blades toward the neck of the orc.

The transition was a burst of scorching heat, flames trailing like comet tails, the air shimmering from the sudden displacement.

But his actions were easily countered by the orc.

The massive arm swept up in a blur, deflecting the blades with a resounding clang that sparked briefly in the night.

The orc deflected Michael’s attack with one hand, and with the other, he released a punch that sent Michael flying.

The blow connected with bone-jarring force, the impact echoing like a thunderclap, Michael’s body hurtling through the air.

Michael crashed at a nearby wall, causing the entire building to crumble.

Bricks and mortar rained down in a dusty cascade, the structure groaning as it collapsed around him, clouds of debris billowing outward.

“Ouch,” Michael muttered, dusting the dust from his body.

He pushed rubble off his chest, a wry grimace crossing his face, the sting of impact lingering in his ribs as he rose unsteadily.

The orc stood patiently, searching for the opportunity to take to his heels.

His eyes scanned the shadows, posture tense but calculated, the weight of his club resting easily in his grip.

He could see his boss struggling before his enemy and that could only mean one thing for him.

Dread knotted in his gut, the distant sounds of the blood coffin compressing amplifying his unease.

His death if his boss loses. The thought flickered through his mind like a dark omen, sharpening his senses to the inevitable.

The orc didn’t consider Michael a threat, after all Michael was just in the eternal rank, while he was a one-star nebula rank.

Confidence swelled in his chest, the disparity in power a comforting gulf that made the human seem insignificant.

The chasm created by the difference in ranks assuring his confidence against Michael, and the reason he wasn’t bothered with Michael at all.

Arrogance settled over him like a familiar cloak, his gaze dismissive.

To him, Michael was easy to deal with, but the other male ally of Michael? No.

Void’s presence loomed in his periphery, a far more daunting shadow that quickened his pulse.

“Hey. Can you pay attention while fighting me?” Michael asked, a frown on his face as he noticed the lack of attention from the orc.

Irritation laced his tone, his stance shifting with renewed determination.

Moving like a blaze of lightning and flames, Michael appeared behind the orc.

The air ionized around him, heat and electricity merging in a volatile storm that scorched the ground.

He stretched his hand coated with lightning as he tried to grapple the orc.

Fingers extended like claws, crackling energy arcing toward the orc’s back, the intent to seize and shock palpable.

The orc moved forward deliberately, avoiding the grapple.

His step was measured, body twisting just enough to evade, the rush of electrified air brushing his skin.

Then, in one decisive motion, he swung his club toward Michael.

The weapon whistled through the air, heavy and unforgiving, aimed to crush.

Michael was sent flying by his actions, crashing on yet another wall.

The impact shattered stone, dust exploding in a gritty cloud, his body embedding briefly before sliding down.

This time, though, he wasn’t given a chance to catch his breath as the orc appeared before him amid the rubble.

The massive figure loomed, shadows deepening the scars on his face, breath hot and ragged.

Holding the head of Michael, he lifted Michael up, smashing his face to the ground.

Fingers dug into scalp, the slam driving Michael’s cheek into the dirt with bruising force, stars exploding in his vision.

Once again, still holding Michael’s head tightly, he lifted Michael up in the air.

Grip unyielding, muscles flexing with effortless power, dangling him like a ragdoll.

“I will just have to use you as a bargaining chip to gain my freedom,” the orc said to Michael.

His voice rumbled low, eyes calculating the leverage, the plan forming in his mind like a desperate gambit.

Michael was the best shot he could think of to escape peacefully.

Hope flickered faintly, the human’s vulnerability a potential key to survival amid the carnage.

“Using me as a bargaining chip? How insulting,” Michael muttered with dissatisfaction, lightning dancing all over him.

Sparks leaped across his skin, building in intensity, the air humming with rising voltage, his eyes flashing with indignant fury.