Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Retribution (Aaron) appeared in Annabelle's city, his presence shadowed by the silent figures of his Doppelgangers and the first wave of hybrids who had finally awakened from their deep sleep. Their eyes glowed faintly with a predatory light, still adjusting to the new strength flowing through their veins, but their focus remained sharp on the command they awaited.

"Your job is simple," Retribution said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that pressed into their chests. "Raid every dungeon within this city and bring the dungeon cores to me."

The order was absolute.

Annabelle's city wasn't particularly vast compared to the federation's major capitals, but its foundations held an unusual density of dungeons. There was one S-rank dungeon lurking like a sleeping dragon, five A-ranks scattered across its regions, and around forty B-ranks, with the rest trickling down into the common C-rank and below.

Retribution wasn't here for scraps. He had no interest in the weaker bosses that B-rank and below offered. Their dungeon cores were still useful, but the monsters themselves were trivial—fodder better suited for his hybrids to sharpen their teeth. His own eyes, however, were locked on the real prizes—the A-rank bosses for his Doppelgangers, and the single S-rank dungeon whose core he would personally claim.

The S-rank dungeon was infamous. A labyrinth-like forest that twisted upon itself, the air within heavy with an oppressive miasma. And at its center, ruling as absolute monarch, was a Basilisk. A massive serpent with a petrifying gaze, a predator whose legend was enough to keep adventurers cautious and nations wary.

To the world, it was a calamity.

To Retribution, it was little more than a larger earthworm waiting to be crushed.

He stepped into the dungeon, the shift in atmosphere immediate. The canopy above sealed away most of the light, shadows crawling across the forest floor. A hiss echoed faintly, followed by the slithering rustle of scales against foliage. The air itself seemed alive with hostility.

Dozens of baby Basilisks slithered from the undergrowth, their emerald scales glittering faintly in the dim light, venom dripping from their fangs. Yet before they could approach, Retribution simply lifted his hand.

Bolts of lightning gathered at his fingertips, coalescing into the shapes of dragons. The creatures roared with a crackling fury as they surged forward, tearing through the lesser Basilisks like predators culling prey. Charred scales and burnt flesh fell around him, the forest momentarily lit with flashes of electric death.

Retribution walked calmly, his steps unhurried as though the dungeon itself were nothing more than a garden stroll. His senses stretched ahead, guiding him straight toward the source of the oppressive energy—the lair of the Basilisk.

At last, he stood before it. A massive ancient tree, its trunk thick and roots sprawling like veins through the forest floor. Coiled around it was the Basilisk, over twenty meters long, its scales dark as obsidian, its eyes closed in a lazy slumber.

Retribution tilted his head, studying it briefly. "What happens," he asked the system, voice dry with curiosity, "when you turn something that isn't even remotely human into a vampire?"

[Usually a vampire can't just turn any race. The compatibility between the bloodline and the host must be extremely high. But considering your cheat bloodline… it's worth the attempt. Let's call it an experiment.]

"Fair enough," Retribution said, cracking his neck. "But before that, I should show this overgrown lizard who's in charge."

The Basilisk stirred, its eyes snapping open. Twin golden orbs, cold and merciless, locked onto Retribution. The snake hissed, muscles tightening as its body uncoiled. To it, this intruder was prey—another arrogant fool who had wandered into its dominion.

"Seriously?" Retribution's lips curled into a faint smirk. "You think of me as food? Quite rude."

He blurred from sight. The Basilisk barely had time to process the movement before Retribution appeared before its head, hands clasped together. With a single devastating punch, he drove his fists into the serpent's skull.

The Basilisk's scales cracked inward, the sheer force launching the creature like a ragdoll through the forest. Trees snapped like twigs, splinters and dirt spraying violently until the beast finally crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact.

The Basilisk screeched, writhing in pain. It had fought adventurers before, and had even been wounded once by a scythe-wielding woman whose blood-crafted weapon had torn it apart. That woman had been a nightmare incarnate. But this? This was worse. This wasn't just danger—this was despair.

"Get up," Retribution said flatly, appearing in front of the broken serpent again. His golden eyes narrowed as he examined the damaged scales. "We're not done."

Fear rippled through the Basilisk's body. It lashed its tail in a desperate strike, trying to swat away the enemy. But Retribution merely raised a hand, catching the tail with ease. His fingers dug into its flesh, crushing scales and muscle alike as if they were brittle clay.

"That's rude," he repeated, twisting his grip. Then, with a surge of monstrous strength, he flung the creature skyward. The Basilisk's massive body slammed back into the ground, a pained shriek escaping its throat as the earth trembled beneath it.

[Host doesn't have to be this cruel. Stop tormenting the poor Basilisk,] the system interjected, unable to pretend anymore.

Retribution's smirk widened. "Sometimes the fastest way to earn loyalty is to beat them into submission."

The Basilisk hissed weakly, its strength fading. Its eyes glowed ominously, unleashing its last desperate card—petrification. The deadly gaze spread across the air like an invisible wave, turning anything caught within it into lifeless stone.

But Retribution was already gone. By the time the power released, he was standing atop its head, completely unharmed, smiling down at the beast.

"That won't save you either."

The Basilisk's fear became primal. It didn't want to die—but more than that, it didn't want to keep suffering.

"I'll make you a deal," Retribution said softly, almost like a whisper of mercy. His hand tapped its battered skull. "Take me to your core, and I'll stop hurting you."

[Seriously, Host? This trick again?]

"Relax," Retribution muttered, his voice low but deliberate so the serpent could hear. "If it's loyal, it will give up the very thing that ensures its resurrection. If not, I'll just keep coming back. Over and over again. Until it breaks."

The Basilisk shuddered violently, despair sinking into its very bones. Death, it decided, was kinder than endless torment. With a low hiss, it slithered weakly toward a tree whose roots pulsed faintly with unnatural energy.

"See?" Retribution grinned as he hopped off its head. "Loyalty tasted."

He tore the dungeon core free with casual strength, its crystalline surface glowing faintly in his hand.

"But before I devour this," he said, storing it away in his inventory, "we should proceed with the experiment."

He sank his fangs into the Basilisk's flesh, injecting his werewolf bloodline. The beast convulsed, its body trembling under the foreign power flooding through it. Then, without hesitation, he followed with his own vampire blood, binding it permanently before ending its life.

With a thought, Retribution opened a rift, sending the serpent's massive body into the sanctuary. He had already prepared an underground cell within it—an isolated chamber, just in case the experiment went wrong.

Now, all that was left was to see whether the monster would awaken… as something entirely new.