Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

Chapter 159: Back to Astralis

While the sects participated in the events of the Conclave, the universe never stopped moving. Back in the Venia Galaxy, on a world that had once again risen to prominence, a clan was doing everything they could for their safety.

This was the world of Astralis—and more importantly, the home of the Galactic Astral Clan.

Floating in the skies under the light of the four suns, Celeste stood motionless, her silver hair flowing through the warm, golden winds like liquid starlight. Her adaptive robes shimmered faintly with the colors of the heavens, and her eyes—deep violet with faint constellations—were fixed on the immaculate structure rising before her.

It was the Originat Base she had built for Ash.

The structure was breathtaking—a towering citadel of pure astral crystal that seemed to drink in the light of the four suns and reflect it back in soft, ever-shifting hues of dawn, midday, twilight, and midnight.

The central tower rose like a spear of frozen starlight, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the cosmos.

Surrounding the spire were twelve floating rings—each one a perfect circle of translucent crystal, wide enough to house entire armies, connected by bridges of living light that shimmered and reformed at will. The base itself was suspended in a pocket of manipulated space, gravity bent just enough to make it feel weightless yet unshakeable, the entire structure radiating an aura of quiet, absolute power.

At the very peak, a massive throne of rose-pink and void-black crystal awaited its master—simple, yet unmistakably regal, carved with the symbol of the Originat Clan: an infinite loop of blood and starlight.

“Hm, I hope he likes it,” Celeste muttered, a soft smile touching her lips as she turned toward the two people behind her.

“Tsk, Aunt Celeste, he better like it,” Elias spoke, arms crossed as he stood next to his mother. His silver hair was tied back, revealing sharp features and eyes that held the same violet constellations as Celeste’s.

“We spent useful months building this thing. Months we could’ve used to crush the remaining traitors.”

“Elias, I’ve told you several times now,” Celeste said, shaking her head with faint exasperation, “the Astral Clan are official branch leaders under the Originat Clan.”

“And it still doesn’t make sense,” Elias shot back, voice edged with frustration. “How can us—a Galactic Ranked Clan with thousands of worlds under our control—be under the banner of an Unranked Clan?”

Celeste’s eyes narrowed, irritation flickering across her serene features. The air around her thickened slightly with suppressed power.

Seeing this, Mika spoke out to cool the tension, her voice calm and measured. She stood slightly behind her son, silver hair flowing freely, robes of deep indigo shimmering with faint starlight.

“What’s done is done. We can only hope it doesn’t lead to our doom.”

Hearing those words, Celeste sighed even more deeply, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens.

’Speaking of our doom… fifty years,’ she thought briefly, the weight of the future pressing against her chest like a cold star. It had been a little over two years since they’d returned to Astralis, and since then, aside from taking the time to nurture their world and restore its vitality…

They had made their presence known throughout the galaxy once again. It had been an entire Era since their subordinates had heard from them—this long silence had led to betrayal, submission, and losses.

Many worlds had fallen to rival clans, others had sworn loyalty elsewhere, and some had simply vanished into the void. But now, everything had been quelled… mostly. The betrayers were hunted down, the submissive worlds reclaimed, the lost ones mourned.

The Astral Clan stood tall once more—but the shadow of fifty years loomed larger every day.

“Mika, have you made any contact with the Veil Syndicate?” Celeste asked, shifting focus.

“They agreed to our meeting,” Mika replied. “We can expect their representative in a few hours.”

Celeste nodded, eyes returning to the Originat Base.

Time passed—hours slipping by in quiet preparation.

The throne room of Astralis’ central citadel was vast and majestic—walls of living crystal that shifted slowly between dawn and midnight hues, floors of polished starstone that reflected the four suns like liquid mirrors, and a ceiling open to the sky where auroras danced in perpetual twilight.

Massive thrones of astral diamond lined the walls for the elders—each one unique, carved with the sigils of their ancient lineages. At the center rose the Grand Throne—taller, grander, reserved for Celeste herself, though she rarely sat.

Today, the room was filled with the clan’s most important figures.

Patriarch Felix Astral stood to the left—tall and regal, silver hair bound in a warrior’s knot, eyes the same violet constellations as Celeste, armor of star-forged plate gleaming under the light. His presence was steady, commanding, a pillar of strength.

Matriarch Mika Astral stood beside him—curvaceous and graceful, silver hair flowing freely, robes of deep indigo embroidered with constellations. Her eyes held quiet wisdom, though worry flickered beneath the surface.

Elias Astral, the heir, stood at the front, silver hair tied back, violet eyes sharp with impatience and pride. His armor was lighter, more modern, but no less deadly.

A dozen elders lined the walls—ancient Astral Humans whose power had shaped worlds and entire star systems, their auras restrained but palpable.

The air shimmered.

A rift tore open—soft violet light spilling through.

The representative of the Veil Syndicate stepped out.

She was tall and slender, skin like liquid mercury, hair a cascade of living shadow that shifted between black and starlit silver. Her eyes were pure white, glowing faintly, and she wore robes of translucent void-silk that rippled like smoke. Her presence was quiet, dangerous—an assassin’s grace wrapped in diplomat’s calm.

She bowed slightly—perfectly polite, perfectly controlled.

“Celeste Astral,” she said, voice smooth and melodic, “the Veil Syndicate greets you. I am Veyra Shadowveil.”

Celeste inclined her head, aura flaring subtly to match the visitor’s. “Veyra. Thank you for coming. We have much to discuss.”

The room fell silent as the two women faced each other—elders, Patriarch, Matriarch, and heir watching intently.

Celeste spoke first, voice calm but carrying the weight of a woman who had seen eras.

“The Astral Clan is back, but we’re not who we used to be. We need protection—world barriers and teleporters that can move our controlled worlds into our own star system. Hide them well, shield them, and make them impossible to reach.”

Veyra’s pale eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s no small favor. The kind of tech that can shift whole worlds, hide them from scrying, fate, and war… it costs universes. The Veil Syndicate doesn’t hand out that kind of power for free.”

Felix stepped forward, voice steady. “We are prepared to pay. Name your price.”

Veyra smiled, calm and calculating. “The price? We want a full alliance—your star maps, your essence mines, your Astral Legions at our call. And one more thing…” Her eyes flicked to Elias with a sharp glint.

“A marriage. Between your heir and our heiress.”

Celeste’s expression stayed calm, though her aura briefly flared—violet constellations sparking to life, the air around her thickening with the faint presence of a Stellar Sovereign. She reined it in quickly, as no one yet knew her true rank, having only ever shown herself as a Peak Calamity expert.

In the throne room of Astralis, it was as if the air itself paused, the living crystal walls dimming in quiet respect for the gravity of her words.

“Interesting…” she said slowly, her voice smooth as starlit silk yet edged with a reminder of why she was the Ancestor. “But I can’t agree to those requirements.”

Veyra’s pale eyes narrowed slightly, her liquid-silver skin giving a faint ripple—the only hint of surprise. She tilted her head, waiting, her void-silk robes drifting like smoke caught in an invisible breeze.

’Her power feels stronger than what we saw in the files,’ she thought as she listened. As an Early Stellar Sovereign herself, she could faintly sense the difference.

“First off,” Celeste said, stepping forward with calm confidence, her silver hair streaming behind her like a comet’s tail, “the Astral Clan won’t just be on standby for you. We’re not your vassals, and we never will be. That said… I’m willing to agree to a fixed number of calls. When you summon us, we’ll come—no matter what. Ten times. Ten unshakable promises. After that, our alliance will be built on mutual respect, not servitude.”

The elders shifted in their seats—some nodding in agreement, others trading uneasy looks. Felix’s armored hand gripped the armrest of his throne, while Mika’s fingers tightened around her robe, her violet eyes darting between her son and the Syndicate’s representative.

Veyra’s lips curved—cool, calculating, yet tinged with curiosity. “Ten calls. Generous… but not enough. Our protection doesn’t come cheap, Celeste. Worlds don’t just slip from scrying and war without a price.”

Celeste’s smile was faint, almost kind, but it held the quiet resolve of someone who had faced the abyss of fate and never looked away.

“Secondly,” she said, voice dropping softer, “why does it have to be little Elias in particular?”

The tension in the room deepened—Elias’s violet eyes burned with anger, his fists tightening at his sides, silver hair seeming to crackle with starlit energy. He started to speak, but a quick, knowing look from Celeste stopped him cold.

Veyra’s gaze drifted to Elias—assessing, lingering on the raw strength of youth, the sharp cut of his features, the star-mapped eyes that marked him as heir—then returned to Celeste.

“Because” Veyra said, her voice smooth and measured, “your heir is the future of the Astral Clan. Joining our bloodlines isn’t just politics—it’s power. Our Syndicate’s shadow essence and your Astral starlight… a child born of such a bond would be unmatched. A weapon. A bridge. A promise of loyalty.”

Elias’s aura flared—violet constellations blazing with anger—until Mika’s trembling yet firm grip on his arm held him back.

Celeste’s gaze stayed locked on Veyra. “You speak of guarantees,” she said calmly. “I speak of choice. Elias is not a bargaining chip. He is my blood. My future. If you want an alliance, it will be forged in mutual strength—not in chains.”

Veyra regarded her in silence, the air heavy with unspoken threats, before smiling—slow, sharp, almost approving.

“Very well. Ten calls. No marriage. But the Syndicate will demand one more thing: full access to your star-maps. Every world, every route you hide. In return, the barriers and teleporters will be yours, and your worlds will vanish from all sight—fate, karma, scrying, war.”

Murmurs rippled through the elders, some relieved, others uneasy.

Felix stepped forward. “And if we refuse the star-maps?”

“Then the price doubles—twenty calls—and your heir’s betrothal is non-negotiable,” Veyra replied without losing her smile.

Celeste’s aura pulsed once, then steadied.

She glanced at Elias’s furious, fearful face, then at Mika’s worried eyes, before turning back to Veyra.

“Ten calls. Full star-map access. No marriage. Deliver the barriers and teleporters within the year.”

Veyra inclined her head. “Then it is done.” She extended a shadow-silk gloved hand, and Celeste took it.

The pact was sealed, but the stakes were far from small. “Call the others—we have no time to waste,” Celeste ordered, already thinking of her packed schedule.

“Felix, ready the clan for conquest.”

And with that, she was gone.