Reincarnated with a lucky draw system - Chapter 381

Chapter 381: FEAR THAT CONSUMES
Alice swung her sword. The battlefield went into a standstill, time seeming to slow as the arc of her blade traced a path of impending doom.

Not one person dared to utter a sound. The weight of the moment pressed down, hearts pounding in unison with the frozen hush.

They all watched with held breaths, entranced by the attack. Eyes widened in awe and terror, the spectacle unfolding like a nightmare woven from frost and shadow.

Those that were at Alice’s side, and those that were against her, all watched with drawn breath.

Allies felt a mix of pride and unease, while enemies sensed the inevitability of their fate, a cold dread settling in their cores.

The sword of Alice wasn’t the source of the attack, but the signal for the armageddon that followed.

It gleamed one final time, a beacon unleashing the cataclysm.

From the very feet of Alice, chilly air moved toward the enemy she was facing.

The ground trembled faintly, the frost spreading like veins of darkness across the terrain.

Wherever the chilly air passed, was swallowed and frozen to absolute zero. Structures creaked and shattered, the cold so profound it silenced all resistance.

The frozen areas though were different from mere ice. They lacked the translucent beauty of frost, instead embodying an abyssal void.

They very ground itself was frozen, but instead of the clear blue color of ice, or white color of snow, the frozen ground was pitch black.

It absorbed light, creating patches of unnatural darkness that seemed to devour the surrounding glow.

The frozen area was as dark as night. Shadows deepened, the blackness spreading like an ink stain across the battlefield.

The chilly air moved toward the enemy, freezing everything it touched. Soldiers halted mid-step, their forms encased in unrelenting cold.

Enemies were frozen into black sculptures. Their expressions locked in eternal horror, the darkness claiming them wholly.

None could escape. Every soldier, including the general, was frozen, their death all but certain by the attack of Alice.

The once-mighty army stood as a gallery of ebony statues, silent sentinels to her power.

“Yup. That confirms it. She is still very much a monster, just a more dangerous one,” Leo muttered. Fear gripped his heart, a rare chill running down his spine despite the warmth of his own abilities.

“Well, that’s a terrible way to die. I’d rather die from lightning or cut by wind than to be frozen to death,” Michael muttered, chuckling afterward.

His laughter held a nervous edge, his eyes scanning the frozen wasteland with a mix of respect and wariness.

“You seriously can’t be thinking of fighting her,” Isobel hit Michael softly.

She saw the battle-hungry look on Michael’s face, her own expression a blend of amusement and concern.

Her hand lingered on his arm, a gentle reminder amid the aftermath.

“I think a battle with her has been long overdue,” Michael muttered.

He stared at the amount of damage caused by her, the vast swath of blackened ice stretching into the distance, his pulse quickening with the allure of challenge.

“What in the world just happened?” the administrator asked. His mouth hung wide open in shock, his eyes bulging as he stared at the unfolding horror on the massive holographic display before him.

The room, a fortified command center buried deep within the heart of the galactic hub, felt suddenly suffocating, the air thick with the acrid scent of fear and overheating machinery.

He watched from afar, dread plastered across his face like a mask of despair.

The distant battlefield flickered in high resolution, showing the frozen remnants of his forces scattered like dark statues across the void-touched terrain, a chilling testament to the invaders’ overwhelming power.

“We are all going to die if support doesn’t arrive quickly,” his wife beside him commented.

She held her son tightly against her chest, her arms wrapped around the trembling child like a protective shield.

Her voice quivered slightly, betraying the calm facade she tried to maintain, her elegant robes disheveled from the tension gripping the chamber.

“What’s the update about the support we requested?” the administrator asked his aide by his side. He placed his entire hope on their arrival, his voice laced with desperation that echoed off the metallic walls.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temples as he paced unevenly, the soft hum of the display screens amplifying his growing panic.

The fact that the entire vanguard had been vanquished by the attack from one person was enough to let him know the terror of the attackers.

Memories of their once-mighty soldiers, now reduced to ebony sculptures, flashed in his mind, a knot of terror twisting in his gut like a vice.

“They have received our request and have promised to send help as soon as possible,” the aide replied.

He was just as worried as the administrator, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his uniform, his face pale under the harsh glow of the emergency lights that cast long, ominous shadows across the room.

“We need to hold the fort before they arrive. Send every soldier we have to hold the fort till backup arrives,” the administrator ordered.

His command rang out with forced authority, though his eyes darted nervously to the screen, where the invaders loomed like harbingers of doom amid the swirling cosmic dust.

The general beside the administrator stared at him.

His face was one of confusion, brows furrowed deeply, his armored shoulders tense under the weight of the impossible directive.

“What is it?” the administrator snapped, turning to face the general with a glare that masked his own mounting fear.

“Pardon me, my lord, but none of the soldiers are willing to throw their lives away. They are all scared to face the enemy,” the general replied.

A painful look crossed his face, his voice heavy with regret.

He shifted his weight, the clink of his armor echoing faintly in the tense silence that followed.

He had already ordered every soldier to march and hold the line, but they had all blatantly refused to comply.

The refusal hung in the air like a bitter fog, the distant sounds of unrest filtering through the comms channels, murmurs of defiance crackling like static.