Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

"Indeed.... but we have made preparations for the unexpected."

Dono Prime’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a blade.

"We will host the greatest Festival this world has ever witnessed," he said, the words carrying absolute certainty.

"On that day, we conquer this novel once and for all. The Main Character dies... and his entire faction dies with him."

The chamber grew deathly quiet.

Vaelor Origin shifted his six radiant wings, the first to break the stunned silence.

"That kind of confidence... where is it coming from, Dono?"

The White Elf leader leaned back on his throne, his emerald eyes gleaming with cold resolve.

"The Ancestors have already entered the Unknown. They are searching for the second anchor... and the power it contains. If they claim it, we will have everything we need."

The Anchors, as mentioned, held the boundary of the Novel together, and the Source already possessed one of them.

Having two—while not enough, to their knowledge, to fully shatter the boundary—would be sufficient to create cracks, and perhaps even more.

He turned his gaze toward the Oracle. She stepped forward, her dark hair neatly bound in a bun, her expression as calm and clinical as ever.

With a single, quiet word, she bent the source itself to her will.

"Show."

A shimmering projection bloomed in the center of the hall.

Ten figures — five men and five women — floated motionless inside crystalline pods atop a mountain peak.

It was obvious now—these were the same traversal pods Irene had used to enter Pantheos.

The Oracle’s voice remained calm as she explained, "This began the moment Irene died. It was an agreement between Dono, the Ancestors, and myself. We realized we could no longer afford to wait."

HUMMM!!!

Alex’s eyes flew wide in disbelief just as Tamaka the First’s aura burst forth in a surge of violet-black energy, her draconic presence rattling the entire chamber.

"What?," Alex demanded, his voice breaking, "Irene i... is dead?"

Dono met his son’s gaze without flinching.

"Indeed... she died not long ago... seemingly being controlled by someone."

The revelation landed like a hammer.

Dono Prime rose from his throne, his voice steady and commanding.

"Until the cycle passes and the Festival arrives, we protect every valuable land we still hold.

At the same time, we begin stripping power from the rest... funneling everything to strengthen the top four of the younger generation, ourselves, and the Ancestors when they return."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, letting the weight of his next words settle over the chamber.

"The Festival... will be war. War before glory."

The five Leaders sat in heavy silence as the projection of the traversing Ancestors continued to glow before them, the future of the Source of Expansion suddenly feeling far more fragile — and far more desperate — than it had ever been.

----

Back at the sprawling weapon convention nestled between the majestic mountains, the atmosphere thrummed with raw energy under the vibrant red sky.

Ash and Primordia moved leisurely through the bustling stalls; her arm still lightly linked with his.

Countless legendary artifacts from across fiction gleamed on display — blades that sang with forgotten songs, spears that destroyed futures, and stranger things that whispered promises of endless strength.

A group of convention referees — stern evaluators from the various branches — approached them with measured steps.

Their eyes scanned Ash with open curiosity.

"Where is your weapon?" one of them asked, voice carrying the weight of authority. "All participants must present a primary armament for grading."

Ash let out a low, amused chuckle.

He turned his head slightly, his ever-shifting eyes meeting Primordia’s with clear affection.

"Hmm, My weapon? She’s right here."

Primordia giggled softly, the sound light and playful as her long red-and-lavender hair swayed. She gave a graceful little wave, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

The referees exchanged quick, uncertain glances.

Before they could respond, Primordia floated upward with elegant ease, rising into the open sky above the convention grounds.

Her form shimmered with latent power as she looked down at them, voice carrying clearly through the bustling noise.

"Just watch."

The air around her began to shift, a quiet promise of something far greater lingering on the edge of manifestation.

Ash stood below with a small, knowing smile, hands in his pockets as the entire section of the convention gradually turned their attention upward.

’Hmm, after this... I’ll give the others a few more weeks of fun before bringing it all down,’ he thought, already aware of the Ancestors’ plan and everything else the Primedivas had prepared.

At first, he intended to wait for the Festival, but instead, he decided to move it up rather than wait for the full cycle.

Not only that, since those beings had already ventured into the Unknown, he figured he’d do some cleaning up while also seeing what the place had to offer.

’Killing two birds with one stone...’

----

Primordia floated gracefully high above the convention grounds, her long red-and-lavender hair drifting in the warm breeze beneath the four suns.

A serene smile played on her lips as she began to shed her humanoid form.

She dissolved into a pure, radiant white orb of divinity — brilliant, flawless, and humming with overwhelming presence.

The moment the orb appeared, every being in the vast convention felt it: a sudden, inexplicable pressure in their chests, a strange hollowness that made their hearts stutter.

They glanced at Ash, puzzled.

In that very moment, Primordia’s gentle laugh rang through the sky like silver chimes.

And then... every weapon throughout the entire Source of Expansion responded to the call.

HUMMMMMMMM!!!!!!

Swords, spears, axes, bows, gauntlets, living artifacts, and forgotten relics from countless fictions tore through space itself, materializing in a swirling storm around her radiant orb.

The sky darkened with their sheer number — thousands upon thousands of legendary weapons spinning in a deadly galaxy of steel and power.

"Prepare yourselves," Primordia’s voice rang out, sweet yet terrifying, "for the greatest to ever do it."

As Ash’s longtime weapon since his days as a mere Nosferatu, she had gone through nearly every transformation he had.

And if he was the One God, the Origin of All, then what did that make her, his weapon?

Well, in so many words... she was the Origin of all forms of combat—not just weaponry, but any method of fighting—and she could shape it however she pleased.

In this moment, she wanted the Source stripped of every weapon... except herself.

HUMMMMMM!!!!!

Feeling her mere intent... the weapons trembled.

Then, one by one, they began to dissolve into pure, shimmering essence — flowing toward her like rivers of light.

The transformation was breathtaking and merciless.

The Ineffable weren’t just here to unwind after all—they were carefully plotting ways to sabotage the Source before the big showdown.

In that moment, as she drew the essence of each weapon into herself, the holders of those weapons across the entire source... simply died.

All but a few beings were spared.

A colossal black greatsword melted first, and in the crowd below, a hulking Primadiva warrior suddenly clutched his chest as his heart turned to ash inside his body.

A glowing scythe dissolved next, and across the convention, another being’s shadow detached from him and devoured him whole.

FWOOOOM!!!!!!

A flaming spear unraveled into essence, and a woman in the stands burst into white flames that left nothing but drifting embers.

HUMMMMMMM!!!!!!

Finally, the torrent of essence converged completely.

Primordia reformed in her original, breathtaking weapon form — a sleek, majestic red-and-black katana that pulsed with divine malevolence.

Elegant characters shimmered along the blade:

The One God’s Blade

The referees stood frozen, half-unconscious from sheer overwhelming shock, their knees buckling as Primediva died in masse around them.

Ash lifted his hand with effortless ease, and the katana dropped softly into his grasp, settling there as though it had always been his.

"Good show... good show indeed love."

A faint smile curved his lips.

With a single lazy swing, he unleashed a thin, almost careless sword beam. It streaked upward and struck the massive conceptual clock he had placed high in the sky earlier.

DINGGGGG!!!!

"THE FESTIVAL IS ONLYYYYYY TWO WEEKS AWAY!!!! PREPARE FOR DAMNATION"