Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

Chapter 237: The Ineffable Artisan – Who Am I?

Seraphiel watched Ash with a deeper intensity than before, and as his zafu nudged him toward the center of the stage, she noticed something she’d seen him use once before.

In his hand was a black book adorned with an indescribable symbol.

“His progenitor’s artifact?” she asked, as it was the only thing that came to mind.

It carried the same aura she had felt from him as a progenitor, prompting her to raise another brow—he was becoming an even greater mystery.

’So, he’s a true progenitor like us… not one of those phonies. But how did he avoid those damned records?’ She couldn’t wrap her head around it—she knew as much as the oldest beings in this Lower Dimension, those who had lived far longer than before the 21st cycle.

There weren’t many left anymore, as most had vanished, seemingly lost to the passing cycles.

Only a few remained, like the Dragon of Chaos, though even his case was different—a truth perhaps known only to Seraphiel and the Elven progenitor.

Since the emergence of the records, any being born afterward stood no chance of avoiding being added to them. Not even the scions of the progenitors or the Arch Eternal clans were spared.

It was like a complete infestation.

She pushed the thoughts aside and turned her attention to Ash.

To her, it seemed like he was just jotting down words, nothing more.

She couldn’t even figure out what the book was for. She could try to dig deeper, but her instincts warned her not to… which, of course, only made her all the more curious.

—

Ash smiled as he finished writing in the codex.

This time, he didn’t rely on Authoring Potential, feeling he had already mastered all its intricacies.

Now, it was time to move on to the next ability that intrigued him the most—Paradoxical Inscription.

In simple terms, the ability let him grant powers to himself or others.

It was purely imaginative and they evolved with the user, ensuring it never became useless. From what he instinctively knew, there were some limits when it came to raw power.

These powers would adjust to match the user’s own limits, but there was something beyond that—something oddly similar to titles, yet different in many ways.

It was the ability to give traits.

Traits were similar to titles in that they could sometimes take the form of one.

For example, Ash could simply grant someone a progenitor’s title, which would accomplish the same thing and more.

However, traits were different because they could completely alter a person’s existence…. instantly.

They could bestow the most outrageous abilities imaginable—like Infinite Mana, which he had also intended. But in this moment, he simply wrote something that resembled a title.

The Ineffable Artisan

As mentioned before, Ash had been enjoying the showcase and felt compelled to learn some of these art forms.

So, why not become the living embodiment of every art form within the Lower Dimension?

For most, this would transform them into the very concept of Art itself… but for Ash, it was like adding a drop of water to an already boundless ocean—hardly something he minded.

“This might blow these people’s minds,” Elysia remarked as she floated around him.

He smiled and shrugged.

“They’ll be fine. I just need to send a message to a few people before things get messy,” he said aloud before beginning.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, releasing an essence that was no longer just desire, but something more ethereal.

As it spread, the hall transformed into a vast cosmic canvas.

Around the participants were not stars or celestial bodies, but visions of Ash formed from unreadable symbols and paintings of words blooming and breaking apart—symbolic portrayals of who he was.

At the center, floating slightly above Ash as he sat on his Zafu, was a self-portrait fractured into infinite layers, each representing a different ’becoming.’ The portrait shifted and came alive as his layered voice reached the ears of all.

—–

“Who Am I?

I am the blank that becomes the stroke,

The silence that births the note,

The void that paints the light,

The question that devours the answer in the night,

Who Am I?”

—–

As the poem lingered in the ears of participants and onlookers, they found themselves strangely captivated by the shifting self-portrait above.

Each person saw something different, uncovering their own meaning in the words.

It wasn’t a moment of enlightenment, but more a fleeting glimpse into the questions that quietly haunted their thoughts, and for some, the weight of the art felt almost too much to bear.

Ash had one aim for the showcase—to silence the curious or perhaps leave them even more intrigued.

From the Eternal Observation Spire, two onlookers were seeing visions entirely unlike those of the other leaders and progenitors.

Seraphiel, in particular, witnessed something that left her stunned and, if she was honest, a little uneasy.

It was a pure memory from Ash, taken from the dawn of the Third Cycle—slightly altered.

It was the moment the Second revealed to him the birth of the first progenitors.

Among them, there had been one more beautiful than all the rest—Seraphiel herself.

She watched the moment of her own birth play out, flames raging for ages until only a lone, newborn spark remained. Ash held it tenderly, then looked up to meet Seraphiel’s gaze.

“I see you for what you truly are… eternal, unparalleled… and my desires are something even progenitors can’t resist.~”

—

Layla sat frozen, staring at the ever-changing portrait as a completely different scene played in her mind. They were the secrets she had kept close to her heart since the day she met the man himself.

Ash reached out, embracing her hidden desires without judgment, her secrets laid bare. Warmth washed over her as he gently brushed her black hair behind her ear and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Then he whispered, “Follow your heart to its fullest… love without regret, because desires are not meant to be hidden.”

—-

Back down at the center of it all, Ash continued to recite his poem.

“Who am I?

The paradox that walks,

The desire that refuses chains,

The flame that burns what cannot burn,

The end that ever begins again,”

—-

His words were irresistibly vivid, drawing everyone deeper into the mystery of who he was… even if it was just a glimpse.

The more he spoke; the more people felt their curiosity begin to ease.

To Aurelia, it was as if she and Ash were gliding through marvels, his touch lingering endlessly, her mischief ever present. But as the moment reached its height, he met her gaze with a smile brimming with pure desire.

“You played with fire, my unruly phoenix~ Now be ready to be forever bound to a man whose flames never die~”

Elara found herself caught in a tender moment, watching Ash laid bare, encircled by countless women—his most cherished lovers—and the vast expanse of his inner cosmos. He ended with a gentle smile, leaving just one message echoing in her mind:

“This is who I am, my nature… See me as I truly am, and become more with me~”

Shia found herself rewatching some of the painful moments she had caused Ash.

It wasn’t to relive the guilt she was trying to redeem herself from, but rather because the scene revealed more—it gave her a clearer view of who Ash truly was now, not the version she’d built in her mind.

He wasn’t someone who needed coddling or protection. No, he was the protector… and also the one his enemies needed to be shielded from.

“Prove your redemption,” he said with a smile that mirrored the madness simmering beneath Shia’s beauty.

“How far is the oh-so-crazed Asura willing to go for the ’brother’ who needs no protection, yet protects all and brings ruin wherever he sees fit?”

At last, two people saw the world in different ways, though no one else realized it.

Madison, heir to the beast progenitor, envisioned Ash in a raw, untamed wilderness.

He stood among countless beasts, not subduing them, but reigning as Alpha through pure, unrestrained desire.

Then the vision shifted—she was beside him, her own beastly nature heightened, running wild yet tethered to him only by exhilarating freedom. It all faded with words meant for her alone:

“You’ve felt the pull already… and I see you too~ Oh, heir of the beast progenitor… That wild heart of yours is locked in my sights~ So come find me… or I’ll come for you.”

Finally, while everyone else caught a brief, haunting glimpse of Ash—showing himself as the ultimate nightmare, the end of their civilizations, and the start of something new—Kha’Zul saw a far more savage vision.

It was brief but deeply unsettling, rattling him to his core.

Before him stood the Dragon of Absolute Endings, a figure he’d only ever heard about in tales, mentioned by only one other dragon.

The Dragon of Chaos… the very same now lying lifeless in its jaws. Then, in an instant, the terrifying dragon dissolved into Ash, and the scene shifted again, showing Aurelia cradled in Ash’s arms.

“She’s mine… so forget your useless thoughts… or lose the head that makes them.”

It was the final scene witnessed by all, the self-moving portrait concluding with the closing lines of his poem.

“I’m the blank canvas, the tune not yet played,

the poem still waiting to be written—but in every heart,

I’ve already started to take shape.”

—

The hall returned to its original state, leaving millions swaying between mixed emotions, while a select few clutched direct messages.

“And by now, I’m sure they’ve got a hint of who you are… just a little,” Elysia said with a playful giggle.