Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Dracula walked with deliberate steps toward the fortress of the conservatives, each stride exuding a quiet finality. His purpose tonight was singular, unshakable, and merciless—nothing less than the complete annihilation of the conservative clan.

The night itself seemed to recoil from his presence. The moon, pale and distant, bled faint crimson as if paying homage, and the air thickened, burdened with the silent weight of his intent.

"Dra…dra…cu…la…" one of the vampires stationed atop the watchtower stammered, his face twisting with dread. He snapped toward his companions with frantic urgency. "Let Lord Veylar know of this at once!"

Before the order could even be carried out, a voice rolled across the field—not shouted, not forced, but spoken as though it were a casual musing. Yet every single vampire on the wall heard it as if Dracula himself whispered directly into their ears.

"There will be no need for that," he said, his tone light, unhurried. "As long as he has not lost his touch, Morvane will appear before me."

The guards froze, blood running cold. His words were neither loud nor menacing, but there was a terrible intimacy in them—like a blade gently tracing one's neck before the inevitable strike.

"Before he arrives," Dracula continued, tilting his head slightly, "I should… take interest."

His gaze drifted over the wall. Every vampire he looked upon, no matter how strong their will, could not resist. One after another, they burst apart in gruesome silence, their bodies unraveling into crimson mists. The night sky bloomed with grotesque fireworks, explosions of blood painting the darkness with fleeting blossoms of red.

"Dracula!" A furious voice cut through the horror.

From the walls stepped a figure—white-haired, his long locks flowing like silver strands in the moonlight. His skin was pale as bone, and his eyes shone obsidian black, filled with cold fury. His aura trembled with power, anger stoked by the slaughter of his soldiers.

"What is the meaning of this insanity?!" he demanded, glaring down at Dracula with seething rage.

These fallen vampires had not been mere fodder. They were demigods—nurtured and cultivated under his clan's banner. And vampire demigods were far superior to their human counterparts. A single one could eradicate entire legions of human demigods with ease. Their deaths were not just a loss of numbers, but a wound carved into his very pride.

Dracula's crimson gaze rose to meet him, unflinching. His voice was low, but it carried the weight of ages.

"I should be asking you, Veylar Morvane. How dare you meet with my child without coming through me? And worse still…" His tone sharpened, anger slowly boiling. "What is this I hear of you trying to lure my son into your pitiful clan?"

The earth beneath Dracula's feet quivered, trembling as though even the ground bowed to the wrath of the Lord of Eternal Night.

Veylar scoffed. "Who cares what you think? It is no secret your child cannot stomach your ruthless ways. My clan is merely showing him that one can live as a vampire without being evil."

Dracula's expression did not change, though the crimson glow in his eyes deepened. "A fool you truly are. Because of your actions… your clan shall cease to exist."

The words were not shouted. They were a verdict.

In an instant, Dracula vanished.

---

When he reappeared, it was not in the Noctra, th world of vampires, but in the Void.

The Void—a desolate dimension where life itself could not take root. Its skies were endless darkness, broken only by violent streams of chaotic energy that surged and collided in perpetual destruction. Colors that should not exist bled into one another, creating a realm both terrifying and alien. Here, reality itself was unstable, a storm of lawless forces.

And Dracula stood within it as though he were its master.

Moments later, another figure tore through space, materializing behind him. Veylar had followed. He had no choice. Dracula had left behind traces of his aura, deliberately guiding him here. If Veylar had refused, if he had cowered, then Dracula would have unleashed his fury upon Noctra itself—ripping apart the planet with the sheer pressure of his power.

"I suggest you reconsider, Dracula," Veylar said coldly, his voice steady though his heart trembled at the weight of the presence before him. "I have no wish to fight you to the death."

Dracula turned slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dark expanse. "The moment I finish with you, Veylar… I will erase your clan from existence." His words were calm, yet final, like a god passing judgment.

Veylar's own eyes, obsidian and endless, hardened. "Say what you must, but I will not fall. Not even to you."

The Void itself responded to their clash. Energies raged violently, as if the dimension feared the collision of these two monsters. Turbulent distortions spread outward in waves, and the normally wild chaos of the Void seemed tame before the pressure of their unleashed power.

Veylar acted first. His body pulsed as countless streams of blood surged forth, condensing into microscopic bullets, each no larger than a nanometer. In the next instant, he unleashed them.

The blood bullets cut across the Void faster than light, tearing at reality itself. Space distorted wherever they passed, the fabric of the dimension unable to keep up with their speed.

But Dracula merely sighed. "Veylar… how weak have you become, that your very blood bends to my will?"

In a display of casual dominance, every single bullet—billions in number—froze a hair's breadth away from his skin. Suspended in the air, powerless, awaiting his command.

The battle he had anticipated with faint excitement lost its flavor instantly. Disappointment flickered across his face.

"Dracula… how?!" Veylar's voice cracked, disbelief etched across his features. He was a vampire primogenitor. His blood was sovereign—untouchable, unbendable by any other of his kind. Not even another primogenitor should have been able to exert control over it. Yet here, before him, Dracula had seized it with effortless ease.

Dracula shook his head slowly. "Perhaps if you had left your comfort, if you had grown instead of stagnating, things would have been different. But this… this is why I will never allow my son to fall into your hands."

Veylar's jaw clenched, refusing to accept it. His body surged with defiance, black blood pouring from him, gathering into a pulsating cluster. It beat like a grotesque heart, writhing with unnatural vitality.

"Armageddon, arise!" he roared.

The cluster exploded outward, reshaping itself into a monstrous abomination—a blood beast of nightmare form. Armageddon, Veylar's ultimate creation. Its body towered, reeking of primal bloodlust, its every breath distorting the Void.

Dracula did not flinch. Instead, he spread his arms slightly, as though greeting an old friend. His voice thundered across the dimension.

"Armageddon—the Drainer of Blood, the Destroyer of Life. Bow before me!"

"Give up your arrogance, Dracula," Veylar snapped back, confidence flaring. "Armageddon is a blood familiar forged from blood drawn directly from my heart. Even you cannot hope to control him."

But Dracula's response was only pity. "Foolish Veylar. If only you understood the true weight of the being standing before you, you would tremble instead of boasting."

With a roar that shook the Void, Armageddon lunged forward. Its maw opened wide, jagged with teeth that shimmered like obsidian blades. Its speed was terrifying—hundreds of times faster than light—as it streaked toward Dracula to tear his head clean off.

Dracula's gaze never wavered. His crimson eyes glowed like burning suns. "Do you not hear me, Armageddon? Or must I be more forceful?"

And suddenly… the beast froze.

Its titanic body quivered, its jaw snapping shut as though bound by unseen chains. The Destroyer of Life—the unyielding familiar created from the very essence of Veylar's heart—was forced still under Dracula's will.

Veylar's face twisted in horror. "What is this?! Why?! How can you control my blood familiar?!"

It was impossible. Blood familiars obeyed their masters alone, and a blood familiar born of a primogenitor's heart-blood was immutable—beyond the reach of even the universe's laws.

But here Dracula was, bending it to his command.

"Veylar…" Dracula's voice cut through the Void, calm and cold. "Do you know what my blessing is?"

"The Blessing of Blood," Veylar spat. "So what? You lost it the moment you defied the Universe Will."

Dracula's smile was bitter, yet proud. "And that is where you are wrong. I did refuse to be shackled by the universe's leash. Unlike dragons, who fancy themselves apostles of its will… unlike angels, who bow as obedient servants… I am Dracula, Lord of the Eternal Night. I bow to no will. I am bound to no law."

The Void trembled as his words echoed.

"The universe recognized this rebellion, yes. It sought to curse me, to strip me of the gift it once gave. But hear me well, Veylar—the curse they placed upon me was nothing more than liberation. A liberation that has made me far more than what this universe could ever comprehend."