Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

Chapter 316: The Land of Weaving

When Ash and the others reappeared, they were standing in the middle of a city plaza.

The Mark of the Weaver…. or to be more specific the Land of Weaving—opened around them with quiet, understated beauty beneath a calm night sky.

The plaza was broad but welcoming, paved with smooth obsidian tiles that reflected the lanternlight like polished glass.

Lanterns floated at different heights, held aloft by steady concepts so common here they barely drew attention. Each glass orb held a single warm flame, casting a soft, even glow across the square without a hint of flicker.

The air was cool, the kind that carried distant music and muted conversation, giving the space a comfortable, familiar feel rather than anything grandiose.

The surrounding buildings rose in clean, deliberate lines—tall, narrow structures of dark stone and polished wood.

Their arched windows and wrought‑iron balconies were simple in shape but executed with such precision that the restraint itself became a kind of artistry.

Nothing was ornate, yet everything felt intentionally crafted, as if the city valued balance over spectacle.

The plaza’s atmosphere settled around them in a natural, lived‑in way.

People moved through the space with the ease of those accustomed to gatherings like this, every one of them dressed for what was unmistakably a masquerade.

Men wore tailored suits in black velvet, deep crimson, or muted charcoal.

Their masks—lacquered wood, polished porcelain, or brushed metal—hid their expressions while giving each silhouette a distinct character.

Women crossed the plaza in flowing gowns of silk and layered chiffon, the fabrics catching the lanternlight in soft, natural highlights.

Their masks were decorated with feathers, lace, or beadwork—detailed enough to be beautiful, restrained enough to feel appropriate for a formal gathering rather than a spectacle.

The crowd moved with a steady pace.

Some walked arm‑in‑arm, others chatted in small circles….

From a raised platform at the far end of the plaza, a string quartet played a calm, steady melody—haunting in tone but quiet enough to sit beneath the conversations rather than compete with them.

Ash stood at the center with Aurora still holding one hand and Sonna holding the other while the rest of the Originat fanned out behind them in loose formation.

For a moment, no one spoke—they simply took in the atmosphere, the place where the next phases of their journey’s would truly begin.

Aurora tilted her head, white-blue hair catching the amber lantern light.

“It’s… pretty,” she said softly, almost surprised.

Ash smiled faintly, golden eyes scanning the crowd.

“Yes. It is… for the moment at least.”

The masquerade carried on around them—unaware, for the moment, of the group that had just stepped into the plaza.

Vane moved to the front, his expression the same cautious mix of vigilance and resignation he always wore. His short grey hair was slightly mussed, as though he’d run a hand through it one too many times.

“Grand Ceremonial Ball… that’s a major understatement,” he muttered. His gaze drifted over the group—and he exhaled a long, weary sigh.

None of them were dressed for the occasion.

Nia and Ash were still in their usual baggy, casual clothes.

And Diana… well, Diana was Diana.

Even now she wore little more than strips of fabric covering the bare essentials, her physique and sculpted muscles on full display as always.

“This is the Eternal Masque of the Lower Heaven,” Vane said, tone shifting into explanation as he took in the scene around them.

The event itself operated like a controlled disaster—one everyone accepted because that was simply how the Eternal Masque worked.

All factions—ally, rival, and outright enemy—gathered beneath the same open sky. They mingled, danced, whispered, and schemed.

Here, Chaos wasn’t a risk; it was more like a tradition.

Some arrived, in order to form alliances. Others came to break them. A few intended to flip loyalties through charm, pressure, or quiet threats.

The masks made all of it possible.

No one knew who anyone truly was until they chose to reveal themselves—or slipped up.

The anonymity wasn’t an accident; it was the foundation of the event, crafted by the leaders of the Lower Heaven to keep the balance uncertain and everyone equally wary.

Mira finally spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension just enough to draw the group’s attention.

“And can we still get these specially crafted outfits?”

Vane was about to speak… but Sylvie spoke as she plucked Mira’s forehead.

“Um, did you forget who your Master is?”

It was obvious to them all, that there was no need to have any outfits created.

SNAP!

Ash smiled, and before he could even speak, Creara materialized beside him. A sharp snap of her fingers rippled through the air—and in an instant, everyone stood transformed.

Ash now wore a tailored black suit traced with golden embroidery along the lapels and cuffs.

A sleek black mask covered the upper half of his face, its golden ring motifs echoing the color of his eyes and giving him an enigmatic, regal edge.

Aurora’s attire had become a flowing silver‑white gown, luminous as moonlight reflecting across still water.

The lace at the hem drifted with every breath of movement.

A delicate half‑mask of white porcelain framed her eyes, adorned with tiny golden musical symbols that made her look both ethereal and untouchable.

Nia’s transformation was the boldest. She now wore a deep crimson gown marked with black, flame‑like patterns that seemed to flicker when she moved.

The dress hugged her petite frame with deliberate precision, every curve accentuated.

Her mask—black and shaped like a rising sun—cast her expression in fierce mystery.

Vaeloria stood resplendent in a midnight gown, the fabric flowing like liquid shadow. Silver sword motifs traced her sleeves in elegant, razor‑fine embroidery, each one catching the light with a quiet promise of power.

Her mask—a sleek silver half‑mask marked with slender lunar crescents—gave her an air of serene, dangerous royalty.

Seris’s attire balanced boldness and grace. Layered red and black chiffon drifted around her like shifting smoke, the colors subtly changing with every step she took.

Her mask bore faint summoning runes that pulsed softly, as though responding to her heartbeat.

The rest of the women—Sonna, Yonna, Celeste, Raven, Katherine, Summer, Elara, Layla, Seraphiel, Aurelia, Sylvie, Mira, Diana, Lithia, Madison, Rune, Aeloris, Fay, and Sia—were no less transformed.

Each wore attire crafted to reflect her essence: gowns of harmony, storms, fate, void, blood, and more.

Every detail was tailored, elegant, mysterious—perfect for the Eternal Masque, where identity was meant to be both concealed and revealed.

The men, too, had been dressed in equal care.

Their suits ranged from regal to austere to mythical, each one carrying the weight of their presence even as they blended seamlessly into the swirling crowd of masked revelers.

Ash adjusted his cuff, the rose‑gold embroidery catching the lanternlight. A faint smile curved his lips.

“Thalion, Kael, and Caelum… maybe you can find yourselves a woman?”

These words caused the twins to laugh as they adjusted their suits.

“Haha, Boss… tell me should I smile more like you?” Caelum asked as he walked closer to Ash as if he was receiving a gameplan.

Kael approached from the other side.

“Big Brother… tell me too, should I be mysterious or something?”

“Hehe, Uncles… just be yourselves. I’m sure daddy is not the type to act out for women.” Aurora said as she pushed Caelum out the way, retaking her place.

Thalion didn’t say a word, but his ears were noticeably perked, his attention sharper than usual.

“As Rora says, just be yourself.” He added after a moment, then shot a smirk toward the three men.

“How about this—whoever manages to get a woman first… you can have whatever you want. My treat. Even something the resource fountains can’t produce.”

“Say nothing more, big brother,” Kael replied, lightning flickering faintly in his eyes.

Thalion still didn’t speak. He only smiled, the glow in his eyes deepening with quiet calculations.

Ash, meanwhile, had no idea what he’d even give them if they won.

But with Authoring Potential, the answer was technically anything. So as they approached the entrance, he offered one final comment.

“You all just make sure to have fun… and don’t worry about a single consequence.”

In other words, the Eternal Masque was about to experience something it had never prepared for.

And as they stepped inside, Ash blinked once—just a single, calm blink.