Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 327

Chapter 327: ECLIPSE IFRIT II
Michael closed his eyes, drawing upon the ultimate form of his bloodline.

The air around him grew thick with latent energy, a palpable heat radiating from his skin as if the very atmosphere anticipated the unleashing of his power.

“Eclipse Ifrit,” he called out softly, his voice a low murmur that carried an undercurrent of restrained fury, the words resonating deep within his chest.

◈ Eclipse Ifrit Form [Ultimate]

Take on his true astral form: a colossal firestorm entity cloaked in night lightning, towering over the battlefield.

In this state, your destructive aura alone bends battlefields, and each strike carries both flame and thunder of the void, reshaping reality with every blow.

The transformation was sudden and instantaneous.

A surge of raw power coursed through his veins, his muscles expanding with a visceral crackle, the shift sending ripples of heat waves that distorted the nearby air.

Michael grew larger in size, his body becoming more compact.

His frame bulked out, every sinew tightening like coiled springs, the density of his form making him feel unbreakable amid the rubble-strewn street.

The texture of his body was like an active volcano that had been submerged in molten magma.

Cracks of glowing red lava traced across his skin, emitting faint wisps of smoke that carried the acrid scent of sulfur and charred earth.

Tendrils of lightning bounced off his body from time to time, arcing in wild, unpredictable patterns that illuminated the night with brief, blinding flashes, the crackle echoing like distant thunder.

He grew two horns on his forehead, curving upward with menacing elegance, their tips sharpened to deadly points that seemed to pierce the very darkness around him.

One crackling with lightning like a lightning rod conducting electricity, drawing ambient energy from the air, and the other engulfed with flames, flickering hungrily as if feeding on invisible fuel.

His teeth grew sharp like those of a shark, rows of jagged edges glinting in the dim lantern light, a predatory smile forming involuntarily as the transformation settled.

The orc stared at Michael, not the least bit intimidated by Michael’s transformation.

His scarred face remained stoic, eyes narrowing slightly, the grip on his club unwavering amid the growing heat.

“Your petty cosplay won’t change anything,” he boasted, still holding Michael firmly.

His voice rumbled with disdain, fingers digging deeper into Michael’s scalp, the pressure a constant reminder of his physical dominance.

“Lightning,” Michael called out, ignoring the words of the orc.

His tone was calm, almost meditative, as he channeled the storm within.

From the sky, blue lightning that felt like heaven’s might itself descended, hitting both Michael and the orc.

The bolt streaked down with a deafening crack, illuminating the street in a stark white glow, the impact vibrating through the ground.

Despite the lightning blast, the orc held Michael still, his grip not loosening an inch.

Smoke rose from his singed hide, but his expression twisted into a grimace of defiance, muscles tensing against the pain.

“You will have to do better than that to hurt me,” he mocked Michael, raising Michael up for another slam.

His arm muscles bulged, the motion deliberate and forceful, the air whistling as he prepared to drive downward.

“Lightning,” Michael called out again, his voice steady amid the chaos, eyes flickering with inner storm.

Zzzztttt.

Lightning just like the first, except more destructive, fell down again, striking Michael and the orc.

The bolt was thicker, branching out in fractal patterns, the thunderclap shaking nearby windows and sending pebbles skittering across the cobblestones.

“You don’t think your—”

“Lightning.”

“Lightning.”

“Lightning.”

Michael called lightning over and over again, each call causing lightning to strike him and the orc.

The sky lit up repeatedly, the air ionized and heavy with ozone, each successive bolt building in ferocity like a crescendo of wrath.

Each lightning increased in lethality, causing even more damage.

Charred flesh peeled away, the scent of burning meat filling the night, the orc’s roars growing weaker with every strike.

“Light… Oh. He’s dead,” Michael muttered, realization dawning as the grip slackened completely.

He realized he was free from the orc’s clutch, the massive hand falling limp, fingers uncurling in death’s release.

All that remained of the orc was what remained of his charred body parts, blackened bones and ash scattering in the faint wind, the club clattering to the ground with a hollow thud.

“Tsk. I wasn’t even serious yet,” Michael grumbled, feeling a bit disappointed.

The rush of power ebbed slightly, leaving a hollow ache in his chest, the transformation’s euphoria fading into mild regret.

“Maybe next time you don’t zone out and just blast your enemy over and over again with lightning,” Isobel commented, her voice laced with dry amusement, wiping a smear of blood from her lips.

“It seems you are done as well,” Michael smiled, reverting to his original appearance.

His body shrank back with a soft hiss of steam, horns retracting, the volcanic texture smoothing into normal skin under the cooling night air.

“Yup. Couldn’t miss watching you go on a rampage,” Isobel replied, her eyes glinting with a mix of pride and teasing, standing amid the husks of her victims.

“My bad. I was having a hard time dealing with my emotions and anger after transforming to my ultimate form,” Michael admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, the residual heat still warming his palms.

“I understand. No need to beat yourself too much over it,” Isobel assured, her tone softening slightly, a rare glimpse of empathy crossing her features amid the carnage.

“Why can’t I find your opponent?” Michael asked, scanning the shadows, the street littered with desiccated remains that crunched underfoot.

“Drained all of his vitality. He’s nothing but a husk now,” Isobel replied, her words giving Michael a chill.

The casualness sent a shiver down his spine, the air around her seeming colder, tinged with the faint metallic aftertaste of spilled life force.

“All right. You guys can chat later. We still have some unfinished business and some unexpected guests,” Void said, appearing at their side.

His presence materialized silently, coat unstained despite the blood-soaked ground, his gaze already lifting skyward.

With him was the space clone, mirroring Void’s posture, the two figures standing in eerie unison under the starry veil.