Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Planet Buis, stronghold of the Illusionists, was a fortress world, its every entry and exit guarded by the race's masters of deception. Surveillance was omnipresent, each Illusionist's mind attuned to the planet's boundaries, their illusions weaving a net of unyielding scrutiny. But Aaron scoffed at their defenses, unbound by their rules. With a single time-step, he bypassed their barriers, appearing in the heart of their palace—a grand hall of crystalline spires and shifting mirages, its walls alive with illusions that danced like liquid light.

"Who are you?!" The cry rang out as guards scrambled into defensive formations, their weapons drawn, illusions flickering around them like spectral blades. Within moments, dozens more poured in, surrounding Aaron in a ring of bristling hostility, their eyes glinting with suspicion and fear.

"Who are you? Or what are you?" King Otis, ruler of the Illusionists, rose from his throne, his voice a thunderous demand that echoed through the hall. His red eyes, inscribed with arcane sigils, bored into Aaron, while the gem embedded in his forehead pulsed with a sinister, dark glow, casting an eerie light across his regal features. "How dare you invade my domain without my consent?"

"I am Aaron Highborn," Aaron declared, his voice calm yet laced with unshakeable confidence, each word resonating with the authority of one who reshaped reality itself. "And I'm here to demand that you and your people bend the knee and serve me." His proclamation drew gasps from the Illusionists, their illusions faltering momentarily as shock rippled through the hall.

"How dare you?!" King Otis roared, leaping to his feet, his eyes blazing with fury, the gem's glow intensifying as he prepared to unleash his power. His presence was formidable, a master of mental manipulation, yet Aaron remained unfazed, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You should stop," Aaron said, his tone deceptively mild as he sensed Otis's attempt to weave an illusion around him. "Your tricks are the last thing that'll work on me." His words were a warning, his eyes glinting with the certainty of one immune to deception.

"Oh?" Otis's interest piqued, his sigil-inscribed eyes narrowing as he studied Aaron, his gaze predatory, as if dissecting him cell by cell. The gem's dark glow pulsed rhythmically, a heartbeat of malevolent intent. "Aaron Highborn, is it? What do you want?" he asked, reclining on his throne with feigned nonchalance, though his posture betrayed a coiled readiness.

"Hmm," Aaron mused, his voice dripping with calculated insolence. "It's a bit rude to keep me standing while you lounge, no?" With a flourish, he wove blood and shadow into a magnificent throne, its form a masterpiece of crimson and obsidian, blooming like a dark flower from the floor. He sat with deliberate swagger, as if the palace were his own, his presence dominating the space. "As I said, I want your loyalty. Pledge it, and I spare you and your people. Refuse, and I'll ensure your death, followed by every rebellious soul on this planet. One way or another, Buis will bow to me."

"You're far too arrogant," Otis sneered, his voice laced with disdain. "Do you truly believe you can threaten me? Especially now, when I'm expecting guests?" A sly grin spread across his face, his confidence bolstered by the promise of an ally.

"Guests?" Aaron asked, his curiosity piqued, one eyebrow arching as he leaned forward, intrigued.

"Indeed," Otis replied, his tone smug. "Another overlord of this solar system is en route for a diplomatic summit. You may be bold, appearing from nowhere with your gathered strength, but you cannot defeat two overlords alone. Surrender quietly and seek my mercy—it's in your best interest." His words were a challenge, his eyes searching Aaron's for the fear he expected to find.

"So, who's this overlord supposed to have me quaking?" Aaron asked, his voice laced with mockery, unfazed by Otis's bravado.

"A king like me," Otis boasted, his chest puffing with pride. "He commands the seas and excels in physical might. Combined with my mental prowess, our victory is assured. His name is King Oreon, royalty like myself." His grin widened, expecting Aaron's resolve to crumble under the weight of his ally's reputation, his eyes scanning for the telltale signs of surrender he was accustomed to seeing.

But Aaron's expression remained unchanged, save for a smirk that dripped with derision, his eyes glinting with amusement. Otis's confidence faltered, confusion clouding his features as he failed to find the fear he sought. "When was the last time you heard from this friend of yours?" Aaron asked, his tone deceptively casual, a predator toying with its prey.

"Hmm?" Otis blinked, slow to process the question, his mind grappling with the implications.

"Never mind," Aaron said, his voice a low purr of anticipation. "Let me show you." With a flick of his will, he bent the fabric of space, the air shimmering as reality warped. King Oreon appeared in the grand hall, his screams piercing the air as he writhed, his once-proud form reduced to a trembling wreck, his eyes wild with terror.

"Ladies and gentlemen, King Oreon," Aaron announced, his mock smile a blade of scorn as he gestured toward the broken king. Oreon, hearing his name, turned to Aaron, his gaze frantic. Like a rabid beast, he lunged to Aaron's side, collapsing to his knees, his head kissing the ground as snot and tears streamed down his face, his pleas a desperate litany.

"Please, my lord, please!" Oreon wailed, his voice raw with anguish. "Just kill me! I can't endure this any longer! End this torture!" His body shook, his pride shattered, reduced to a shadow begging for release.

"O… Oreon?" Otis stammered, his blood running cold, his face paling as he beheld his once-mighty ally reduced to a groveling husk. The proud King Oreon, who had scoffed at lesser foes, now pleaded with an unknown man, his dignity forsaken.

"Otis?!" Oreon cried, his head snapping up, hope flickering in his tortured eyes. "You're here! Thank goodness! Please, plead on my behalf! Make him stop this torment! I swear I'll do anything—be your dog, your servant, anything! Just make it stop!" His voice cracked, his body trembling as he clung to Aaron's side, refusing to rise.

"You," Otis growled, turning to Aaron, his red eyes blazing with uncontainable rage, the gem on his forehead pulsing furiously. "What did you do to him?"

"I merely administered a fitting punishment for his insolence," Aaron replied, his tone calm but laced with an icy edge. "Now, back to our conversation. Will you bow, or not?" His eyes glowed crimson, tendrils of blood rising around him, weaving into the shapes of blooming flowers, their petals glistening with a deadly beauty that enveloped the hall in a surreal tableau.

"You dare threaten me in my own home?" Otis roared, all pretense of diplomacy shattered by Oreon's pathetic state. His fury was a palpable force, his illusions flickering as he yearned to see Aaron's head on a spike, his throne room reclaimed.

"Have that thought one last time," Aaron's voice infiltrated Otis's mind, cold and invasive, a telepathic warning that bypassed spoken words. "And I'll erase your entire bloodline from existence." His thoughts were a blade, sharp and precise, cutting through Otis's rage with the promise of annihilation, his presence an unyielding force that left no room for defiance.