Ten Lucky Draws: I Became OP

Chapter 656: The Fall of Creation

Ash had often remarked that the battlefield simply hadn’t been entertaining enough for him, which wasn’t surprising given his immense level of power.

After all, he had effortlessly dismantled the "Father" and effectively taken the side of Nonexistence in the war.

The truth was that nothing these beings displayed or attempted could stir any real drive within him, which, frankly, was quite a disappoin---

Ahem—Ash here.

NovelGeek2 isn’t wrong in his lengthy explanation, but let’s not sugarcoat it; before reaching the stage of Divine Absolute Imperfection, I’m sure this place would’ve had far more to offer.

But what’s done is done.

If you’ve followed my journey up to this point, you know I have a habit of discarding things once their entertainment value runs out, and it’s clear the Prime Expanse has dried up in that regard.

So, sit back and watch as I cast aside this entire cosmology.

Still, I can’t help but feel curious about what lies beyond the First Absence... for some reason, even I can’t access the drafts of such Chapters.

Hmm, perhaps I could just read through NovelGeek2’s Volume boards instead.

Anyway, enough rambling—enjoy the show

*wink*.

-----

The Prime Expanse, outside of the battlefield, remained deceptively calm.

In the deeper Thresholds, far from the frontlines, life continued with an almost eerie sense of normalcy.

Floating cities glided calmly through surreal skies, bastions buzzed with life, and cultivators went about their daily routines—all centered on preparing for deployment.

Yet everything felt oddly subdued, as if the world wasn’t quietly falling apart beneath them.

The Primordial Oceans, recently created by the Mother and Father, had successfully slowed the deterioration to a near halt.

The cracks in the sky were still visible if one looked closely, but they no longer spread with the same terrifying speed.

To most inhabitants, it simply felt like another tense period in an already long and exhausting war.

In one such Threshold, within a lively establishment known as the Broken Chalice, the atmosphere was warm and rowdy.

The bar was carved into the side of a floating mountain, its interior lit by soft conceptual lanterns that hovered above wooden tables.

The air was thick with the scent of aged spiritual wine, grilled spirit beast meat, and the faint tang of the conceptual ideas that always lingered in places where powerful beings gathered.

Dozens of cultivators, Wardens, and even a few lower-ranked Sentinels filled the space. Some laughed loudly over drinks, while others spoke in hushed tones about the state of the war.

At one of the larger tables near the center, a group of men and women were deep in conversation.

"I heard another Domain Lord fell yesterday," one man said, swirling his cup. "That makes what... fifteen in the last two hundred years? At this rate... we will have none left at all."

A woman across from him nodded grimly.

"The battlefield has changed. My cousin’s unit was wiped out last month. He said the enemies weren’t normal anymore. They were... unkillable, it’s a miracle he survived."

Another man slammed his cup down with a drunken laugh.

"Bah! You lot worry too much. The higher-ups will handle it. They always do."

At a smaller table near the corner, a familiar man named Netik sat alone, already several cups deep.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his posture was slouched.

He had once been a respected Warden from Threshold Nine, but over the past cycle... maybe even longer, he had become known for his increasingly erratic behavior and dark predictions.

He took another long swig from his cup before slamming it down.

BANG!

"The end is near," he muttered, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "And there’s nothing any of us can do about it."

A few people glanced his way but quickly looked away, used to his ramblings.

Netik let out a dry, bitter laugh and poured himself another drink.

"The Armageddon of both sides," he muttered, as though reciting something etched deep into his soul.

"Once they arrive... that’s it. We’ll just lie down and die like the pathetic insects we are." He took a long, heavy gulp, then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"And with the way things are falling apart? I wouldn’t be shocked if they’re already here. Hell, maybe they’re strolling around among us right now."

The way he spoke... it was almost as he were mentioning something as mysterious as Aliens. And, if one knew just what he’d experienced then... it wouldn’t be too far fetched.

Netik was the man who had discovered a clone of himself, summoned down into the lower True Realities.

At the time, he believed he was gaining a small advantage, far too insignificant compared to the incredible knowledge and strange sights he encountered—though he couldn’t have known that then.

Nearly a trillion years ago, perhaps even longer, he crossed paths with Aurelia, Sonna, Fay, Sia, and Khaos—beings whose power was beyond his comprehension, and more disturbingly, beings who wielded both the essence of existence and the essence of nonexistence.

Needless to say, he was utterly defeated... and his clone was devoured by Ouroboros.

Yet before that grim fate unfolded, Aurelia carved what may have been the first warning of their coming deep into his very being, ensuring that everyone he spoke to would know: Armageddon was on its way.

A woman at a nearby table finally turned around with an annoyed sigh. She was a sharp-eyed cultivator from Threshold Nine, someone who had known Netik before his decline.

"Netik," she said with a firm edge, "enough already. You’ve been off for almost an entire cycle. Just head to your private realm, get some rest, and shake it off. We’ve got a deployment coming up in a few weeks."

Netik gave her a strange, empty smile, his gaze distant and unfocused, like he was staring past her.

"You’ll see soon enough," he murmured, his voice low. "Everyone will know the name."

He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to a near whisper.

"The Ineffable..... Gods bringing Armageddon to all..."

The words hung in the air for a moment, strange and heavy.

Most of the people in the bar simply shook their heads and went back to their drinks, writing it off as another one of Netik’s drunken delusions.

But a few — those who had been paying closer attention to the recent changes in the Prime Expanse — felt a faint, uncomfortable chill crawl down their spines.