Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

Chapter 319: Let The Ball Roll

Vane froze as Nymera’s fingers tightened around his throat.

The instant she touched him; it was as if a silent signal rippled through the hall—every Anvil Lord hidden among the crowd snapped their attention toward them.

“I… didn’t ste—” He tried to speak, surrounded on all sides and pinned by someone two full ranks above him.

But before he could finish, Nymera collapsed at his feet.

Then another fell. And another. One by one, every Anvil Lord dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Across the room, Ash watched the scene unfold with a smile he didn’t bother to hide.

To him, the Anvil Lords were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

All it took was a single activation of his Quantum Eclipse. As the power bloomed, his mana spread outward, blanketing the entire land of Weaving.

He wasn’t sure how many Anvil Lords were present—or how many might be lurking elsewhere.

So he chose the simplest path.

He eliminated every Anvil Lord in the vicinity…. and those in their home dimension would soon follow.

He simply severed their souls from their bodies.

With a single glance… a cascade of erasure unfolded.

And with the help of the codex, such a thing went unnoticed by those gathered… Well, it should have but, once again the Land of Weaving was not a realm made up of normal cultivators.

Even the weakest transcendents here could fight across a major rank.

Not because of cheats, nor because of some external system like the Records of Eternity, but because their foundations ran deep—rooted in ancient factions, old pacts, and artifacts that predated most civilizations.

Such things—Ancestors, hidden lineages, deep factions—were never concerns Ash bothered with.

His approach was simple: destroy completely, so quickly and so thoroughly that no one had the chance to call for an Ancestor in the first place.

But this time was different.

These beings weren’t the kind to think they were so arrogant that nothing could harm them.

So, in the event that something did happen… their deaths could be tracked.

Their souls were tethered to artifacts designed for one purpose: alert their home dimension the moment they died.

And unlike the other times, Ash he was… well a bit caught up in his own matters. And didn’t destroy the Anvil Lords down to nothingness.

Primarily because… it was not his problem. He kept his word… and that was that.

But when Ash severed their souls in an instant…

Way in Dimension 8…. Pike felt it.

—-

Slow music shimmered through the hall—the kind that curled around the dancers like warm smoke.

Lucy moved with an easy, predatory grace, her hand resting lightly on the waist of the woman she danced with. The woman laughed at something Lucy murmured, spinning under her arm, causing their dresses to flare.

But Lucy’s eyes weren’t on this woman. She like everyone else, was playing the game of the Eternal Masque.

And, though she couldn’t see through these concealments… she could feel when someone was eyeing her.

Which was why her eyes were on the woman approaching through the crowd.

Isa glided forward with a smile bright.

Her steps were unhurried, confident, as if she already knew the outcome of this encounter. When she reached them, she dipped her head politely to the woman dancing with Lucy.

“May I?” Isa asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

The woman stepped aside without protest—almost relieved—and Isa seamlessly took her place, one hand finding Lucy’s waist, the other lifting her hand into the next turn of the dance.

Lucy arched a brow. “Only a few could be so bold… even with these concealments.”

“You’re not wrong,” Isa replied, spinning her with a practiced ease. “And I didn’t intend to hide who I am.”

The music swelled, and the two fell into rhythm—Isa’s movements sharp and deliberate, Lucy’s fluid and teasing.

Lucy’s voice dropped to a purr. “Fufufu, bold indeed. Well, go on.”

Isa leaned in, her breath brushing Lucy’s ear like a secret. “Do you know of the Infinite Weavers?”

Lucy didn’t miss a step. Her smile curved, slow and knowing, as she guided Isa through the next turn with practiced grace.

“Who doesn’t? They’re the foot soldiers of this realm’s creator after all…”

“I am one of them,” Isa said plainly. “And I’m looking for allies among the Eternal Sins.”

Lucy’s smile sharpened.

Most outsiders thought Eternal Sins

was a faction name. But it wasn’t so simple…

It was a race—a lineage born from the fusion of every sin, every vice, every forbidden impulse. Games, tricks, manipulation, temptation… these weren’t hobbies.

They were more like instinct.

And Lucy? Well, she thrived on such things.

“The oh‑so‑great Weavers… need help?” she asked, dripping sarcasm like honey.

Isa didn’t flinch. “Not help, but partnership.”

Lucy’s eyes gleamed. “… Is that what you’re calling it?”

Isa’s grin widened, unbothered by Lucy’s sarcasm. “We intend to bring ruin to the Third Dimension. And the Eternal Sins are… uniquely suited for such work.”

Lucy hummed, amused. “Your flattery is not bad. But you should know… flattery can be dangerous~”

“I wouldn’t say that… especially when it’s accurate flattery,” Isa corrected.

“And in return, you would gain co‑rulership of the Land of Weaving. And an audience with the Infinite Weaver himself.”

Lucy’s steps slowed—not in hesitation, but in interest.

’The Infinite Weaver… is it some deeper motive?’ She thought as one thing that was known by all…

The Infinite Weaver, he had never been seen by anyone.

And yet Isa spoke as if offering tea.

Lucy tilted her head, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “You’re offering quite a lot.”

“Because we want quite a lot,” Isa replied.

Lucy’s smile returned, sharper than before. “Alright…”

“I’ll think about it. After speaking with a few of our higher ranks.”

Isa accepted that with a graceful nod. “I expected nothing less.”

As the song ended, Isa slipped something into Lucy’s hand—a folded note, sealed with nothing, marked with nothing.

It felt weightless, almost too ordinary to be meaningful.

“This is from a very charming fellow,” Isa said, her smile bright and sly. “He insisted.”

Before Lucy could respond, Isa was already stepping back, swallowed by the crowd as if the room itself had opened to let her vanish.

One moment she was there—and the next she was gone without a trace.

—–

When Lucy unfolded the note.

There were no words, but the moment it opened the world around her dissolved.

She found herself standing in a vast, shifting dreamscape—it was filled with endless color twisting like smoke, forming and unforming shapes.

Then the scene snapped into clarity.

It was the destruction of the Ninth’s Lower Dimension.

The moment she had barely escaped—the flame that drowned everything, the crushing heat, the power that had nearly ended her—rose around her again.

The dreamscape forced her to watch it, every detail replaying with merciless clarity.

Then he appeared.

Ash stepped out of the shadows with a smile far too calm for the nightmare swirling around them. His presence bent the dream itself, warping the air like gravity struggling to hold him.

“You know…” His voice layered over itself, echoing like a chorus speaking in unison. “Not many escape my grasp.”

Hearing that voice—no, all of those voices—and seeing her near‑death replayed around them, Lucy should have felt fear.

Instead, she felt drawn in.

Pulled toward the raw, impossible power radiating from him. Her pulse quickened, not from terror, but fascination.

“I could say the same,” she murmured, stepping closer. “Ah… what was it again? Forger of the Unwritten Cycle?”

It wasn’t just the power.

The moment she saw him, she felt it—Ash had once fallen under her records. He had already purged that influence completely, but she knew the scent of someone she had gained something from.

And… It clung to him like a ghost.

Ash’s smile widened.

’She doesn’t even know the person she’s teasing,’ Creara sighed from his shoulder, invisible to Lucy.

“Interesting…” Ash said, eyes gleaming. “Speaking of those records… may I see?”

The question hung between them, and in a realm shaped entirely by Ash’s wants, it wasn’t really a question at all.

Whether she revealed her records or not, he would take them.

Not by force—he didn’t need force.

Not when her affection was already tipping past the point of resistance.

[Lucy Ravelle’s Affection: 99%]

Lucy tilted her head, a slow, teasing motion. “Are you sure about that?”