Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

Chapter 266: A New Progenitor Rises

BOOOM!!!

The sound was not heard with ears—it was felt in the marrow, a detonation that rolled through every layer of the Lower Dimension.

Across the multiverse, the sky wept.

First it was blood.

In Universe 37, crimson droplets began to fall from cloudless skies, pattering against marble streets and rose-gold plains.

In Universe 19, the Narakava Asuras looked up from as red rain hissed against hot steel, turning to steam that carried the scent of iron and iron-willed death.

In Universe 10 and beyond, the oldest, most heavily guarded realms—where ancient beings slept or plotted—felt the first warm drops touch their timeless walls. All at once, the multiverse began to bleed.

Then the color changed.

The red darkened—deepened—thickened—until it was no longer blood, but black blood.

Obsidian tears.

Ink made of night.

It came down harder now, no longer a gentle patter but a relentless pour, draping the land in a liquid darkness that devoured light and gave nothing back. Rivers turned against their course.

Stars faded behind curtains of midnight rain.

Even the oldest beings—long past remembering fear—felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

In hidden corners of the Lower Dimension, ancient mirrors splintered without reason. In the deepest Abyss, souls frozen in eternal ice opened their mouths and screamed in perfect silence.

And for all those old enough to know what such things meant, they would know one thing.

A new Progenitor had emerged.

The sign was clear.

The black rain poured harder, falling in sheets, curtains, and torrents that swamped the lowlands and streaked the high places.

Wherever it touched life, it didn’t destroy—it transformed.

Vampires in every corner of existence felt it stir in their veins—an ancient summons that ignored bloodlines and oaths alike.

Their eyes dimmed to shadow, fangs subtly lengthening, their silhouettes sprouting jagged teeth.

Mortals with even a hint of the vampiric taint felt the tug—some shed black tears, others broke into wild laughter as long-dormant channels flooded with unfamiliar power.

And at the heart of it all—where the old realm had once stood—something new was taking shape.

The black rain gathered, closing in.

It twisted inward, becoming a towering whirl of liquid darkness that devoured the fading streaks of crimson sky. Lightning, the hue of dying stars, tore through the shadows.

Then came silence…

…Absolute silence….

The vortex folded in on itself in one quiet, final implosion.

And Kaelthyr stepped forth. Through all of this his appearance hadn’t changed much, as the race itself adapted to him.

He stepped from the heart of the storm—tall, regal, skin pale marble. Long black hair flowed like spilled ink, eyes twin voids ringed in faint crimson that now held galaxies of captured night.

His robes were no longer cloth but woven darkness itself—liquid, shifting, edged with threads of absorbed starlight.

He exhaled once—breath visible as black mist that drifted upward and merged with the storm.

The multiverse felt it.

Every vampire, every shadow, every creature touched by the night felt the shift in their existence. Kaelthyr glanced at his hands, flexing them once.

The black rain eased… then stilled.

The sky cleared—not to light, but to a flawless, starless dark.

[Ding!]

—–

While the multiverse stirred at the awakening of another True Progenitor, only a handful knew the truth—one of them being a True Progenitor as well.

The Phoenix realm was a breathtaking place, with endless skies painted in molten gold and rose, where flames brought renewal instead of ruin.

Floating islands of living embers drifted lazily above, their surfaces adorned with gardens of fire-lilies that bloomed and faded in gentle rhythms, scattering sparks that rose like sunlit fireflies into the warm air.

Golden rivers of sunlight drifted lazily between the islands, their warm surfaces mirroring the endless sunrise in flawless, glassy stillness.

The air carried the sweet blend of smoldering cedar and fresh star blossoms, each breath a gentle whisper of renewal.

On a grand island rimmed with softly glowing crystalline phoenix nests, Aurelia and Seraphiel lounged together on a broad terrace of gleaming sunstone.

Aurelia lay on her side, head propped on one hand, long golden hair spilling across her shoulders like molten metal.

Her wings—smaller than her mother’s, but no less radiant—were half-spread behind her, feathers flickering between flame and flesh in lazy rhythm.

She wore a loose robe of living fire that clung and shifted like liquid gold, mischievous smile playing on her lips as she idly twirled a small flame between her fingers.

Seraphiel sat beside her—posture regal yet relaxed—her own wings folded neatly, vast and blazing with mature, steady light.

Her hair was a deeper gold, almost bronze, cascading in waves down her back, and her robe was a deeper crimson-gold that seemed to drink and reflect the sky itself.

She held a goblet of liquid sunlight, sipping slowly, eyes distant yet warm as she gazed out over the realm.

For a long while, they simply existed—mother and daughter, two flames in a sea of fire—until Aurelia broke the silence.

“So…” she drawled, spinning the flame into a tiny phoenix that circled her finger before bursting into sparks.

“The Originat are up to fifteen universes now. Fifteen. In one thousand years and they call it ’On whims’.”

Seraphiel’s lips curved faintly.

“Fufufu~ It’s really those twins; they are the only two actually keeping up havoc over the multiverse.”

Aurelia laughed—light, playful, but edged with something deeper.

“No kidding, who knew they would be the most battle hungry out of the bunch?” She rolled onto her back, staring up at the golden sky.

“You know… they are not bad people to be around at all. Those Originats really fit my style.”

Seraphiel took a slow sip from her goblet, the liquid sunlight burning warmly down her throat.

“Oh? Is it the Originats, or is it Ash that suits your style?” she teased her daughter with a smile.

Aurelia blushed at the words, but true to herself, she fired back.

“Hmph, it’s not like I’m alone here. You can’t deny you’re in love with someone even younger than me!”

Seraphiel’s expression went flat before a blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Hm, good point, Aury. I can’t beat you there,” she admitted with a shake of her head.

Aurelia giggled.

“There’s no denying it… he’s breathtakingly beautiful and strong… and we are madly in love.”

“Yes, my daughter… yes, we are.”

They laughed softly together, their shared amusement blending with the gentle crackle of flames in the distance.

Seraphiel set her goblet down, her voice pensive.

“I can’t help but wonder what those old ones are feeling now that a new progenitor has emerged. Hopefully, it won’t spark too much chaos again—we’ve had more than our share of that over the cycles.”

Aurelia straightened slightly at those words.

Though she could be considered “old” herself, those who had lived in the earliest Universes were on an entirely different level—beings shattered in ways beyond comprehension, all singularly driven by the pursuit of greater power.

They were nearly impossible to reach, save for Conceptual Existences or True Progenitors. For anyone else, it was simply out of the question.

“You always speak so vaguely about them… Hehe, I wonder how Ash would react if he learned about them?”

Little did she know, the man already knew everything—about them, and far more….