Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

"Forgive me, boys, but this battle will have to come to an end," Professor Elias muttered. His tone was calm, but the pressure in his voice carried a weight that silenced the crackling storm of flames and lightning still swirling between Aaron and Michael. With a firm motion, he caught both Excalibur and Michael's twin blades with his bare hands, redirecting the clash of forces skyward.

The shockwave that had been building tore free, splitting into the air above them, shredding what remained of the arena's roof. Metal and reinforced stone scattered like paper under the release, daylight pouring in through the massive opening.

Aaron lowered his weapon, displeasure plain on his face. "We were just about to get to the fun part, professor," he complained, voice dripping with annoyance. His adrenaline was still boiling, his blood singing for the fight to continue.

"I'm afraid you'll both have to end this prematurely," Elias said, a sigh escaping him. His gaze shifted across the ruined battlefield, the cracked arena floor, and the dangerously trembling walls. "Our training room wasn't built to endure a battle of this magnitude."

Aaron's eyes followed his teacher's. The sight was indeed pitiful. The once-pristine training arena looked as though a natural disaster had torn through it. Craters smoldered on the ground. The wall dividing spectators from combatants was fractured beyond recognition. Even the roof — or what remained of it — hung in pieces. And to top it off, the so-called president of their class lay sprawled unconscious nearby, looking less like a dignified leader and more like a victim of circumstance.

Aaron clicked his tongue. "Hah. This won't do. I can't be in a school where I can't fight to my satisfaction. Professor, tell me—what's the procedure? I'll sponsor a better training arena. Stronger equipment, sturdier structure. Not this shabby excuse for a building."

Elias's brows rose slightly. "Are you serious about that? The cost of constructing a proper high-grade training ground is enormous." Even as he spoke, a part of him knew Aaron wasn't the type to make empty boasts.

"Please, professor." Aaron's grin widened, sharp and confident. "My parents weren't the wealthiest awakened for no reason. If I wanted, I could tile every inch of this university in gold and still have enough left to spend recklessly until my eternal death."

Michael chuckled, wiping dried blood from his lip. "Right. Your parents are highborns—the child born with a divine spoon in his mouth." His smile was laced with mock jealousy, though his tone carried no real malice.

Aaron turned and gave him a playful smirk. "Don't give me that look. I wasn't the one who told you to stop speaking to your rich old man."

That jab earned genuine laughter from Michael, even from Elias who tried to keep a straight face.

Aaron stepped closer, patting Michael on the back as if comforting him. "It won't be long, though. I'll help you kill your father, and then you'll inherit all that wealth."

Michael's expression hardened, though his grin didn't falter. "Nah. I'm killing him myself. Don't interfere in family drama."

Their casual banter left Elias speechless. The two had just shaken the entire building with power fit to level cities, and now they were bickering like mischievous children. He exhaled heavily and released their blades, stepping back.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "If you're serious about funding a new arena, come to my office tomorrow. But until then—you two are forbidden from fighting each other. Not until the event is over. And Michael—no fighting Alice either." His lips curved into a thin, dangerous smile. "But that doesn't mean the event itself has ended."

Aaron's eyes gleamed, excitement returning as he scanned the area. "That means I can still collect points before the day runs out."

Michael's smirk mirrored his. "Some spare change won't hurt. Easy pickings."

Across the stands, the sophomores who had been trying to melt into the background felt icy dread crawl down their spines.

"We have to run," one muttered, sweat beading at his neck. "If they catch us, we're finished."

His words sparked panic. The crowd of students scattered like prey before predators, but Aaron, Michael, and Alice were already on the move. What followed was less a competition and more a hunt.

---

By evening, Aaron's villa was once again his sanctuary. Flameborn rested lazily on his shoulder, flicking its fiery tail with contentment.

The day had been… fulfilling. Between hunting points with Michael and Alice, sharing laughs, and testing each other's strength, Aaron felt oddly satisfied. Still, something gnawed at him. His gaze flicked to Flameborn.

The dragon had perched itself on Alice's shoulder during his duel earlier, yet Aaron hadn't felt even a ripple of domain suppression. It wasn't that Flameborn resisted him—his system explained otherwise. Dragons, as creatures blessed by the universe's will itself, existed beyond the rules that bound ordinary beasts.

"Figures," Aaron muttered to himself, smirking. "Domain means nothing to you, huh?"

He headed to the sanctuary as night deepened, indulging in elf blood for dinner. Soon after, he collapsed into bed, mind lingering on his ultimate goal: a blessing. No matter what, he'd secure one. Plans for his vampire kin, Blade and the others, could wait. Even the elusive vampire queen could remain untouchable for now.

Tomorrow, his real game would begin.

---

Far from Aaron's peaceful sleep, in a lavish but dimly lit chamber, Geralt sat slumped on his couch. A glass of strong alcohol trembled in his hand before shattering against the floor.

His expression twisted with rage. The humiliation from his battle with the vampire queen still burned fresh. Worse than the wounds was the mockery. The internet replayed his defeat endlessly, humans sneering and calling him useless.

"When I get that family," Geralt snarled, bloodied palm curling into a fist, "I'll end them myself and scatter their ashes."

A ripple of energy filled the room. Another young man appeared silently, as though space itself bent to admit him. A girl with twin ponytails stepped out alongside him, her eyes sharp and mocking.

"You should show more restraint," the young man said coolly, taking a seat across from Geralt. "Losing your composure doesn't suit someone of your stature."

Geralt relaxed slightly, though his glare remained. "You're here. I assume you've made progress with our plan?"

"Pretty much." The young man leaned back casually. "I've gotten closer to Aaron. It's only a matter of time before he trusts me completely."

"And you remember your task?" Geralt's tone hardened.

"Yes. Get the key from him. Nothing more."

Geralt nodded approvingly. "Good. Then your mission is clear. But until then—no more drama, no reckless moves. We can't harm him until we have what we want."

"I know." The young man's tone was sharp, almost annoyed. "Just be patient. If things go smoothly, I'll succeed soon. But until then—don't do anything stupid." He stood, heading toward the waiting portal.

The ponytailed girl tilted her head, voice dripping with suspicion. "Are you sure we can trust him, Geralt? Your method seems… sloppy."

Geralt's lips curved into a sinister smile. "Absolutely. Liam's brat won't even realize he's being played. He's just a child—children fall for the illusion of friendship easily."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about." Her eyes narrowed, her aura pressing faintly against the room. "What if he falls for true friendship instead, and spills everything? If he betrays us, I'll kill him myself. And you won't be spared the consequences either."

Geralt waved her concern away, reclining once more. "Relax. I trust him. My son will not fail me. He knows what's at stake."

Her lips curled into a dark smile. "For your sake, I hope he doesn't. I don't deal well with failures… as a demon."

The portal closed behind her, leaving Geralt alone in the dim light. His smirk lingered, though unease flickered in his eyes.