Apocalypse: System of lotteries



Lined up in a row, the music from the vehicles in the rear suddenly burst forth, its sound waves powerful and resonant. Both warring sides were jolted, as if bewitched, and stopped their skirmish. The seven dancers moved gracefully, their dance—known as the "Siren's Charm"—captivating everyone in its range. Those who had intended to resume fighting now stood still, captivated by the bewitching dance. The heavenly troops, zombies, and demons were in silent appreciation, their eyes wide in fascination.

Collective enchantment.

Suddenly, the dance of the seven sirens shifted, causing the heavenly troops within its range to join in, their eyes filled with infatuation. Strangely, none among the zombies and demons followed suit.

"Keep your wits about you!" Napoleon cautioned the puppets under his control. "Remember, you are zombies interested only in brains. This beguiling dance is but an illusion." 

Foodie's voice tinged with interest, it added, "They dance quite well."

Napoleon, appearing somewhat fatigued, drew a sympathetic glance from the flying leech. "No need to exert yourself; we're all disenchanted with worldly illusions."

After receiving the blood of Raoul and Frank, the injected group experienced a chain reaction. Their evolved bodies now possessed the talent of "Transcending Worldly Illusions." Given the potent influence of Raoul's bloodline combined with Frank's duplicative capabilities, their combined blood effect was astonishing, leaving the zombie horde entirely disenchanted with worldly illusions.

At that moment, the heavenly beings in the vicinity had been collectively charmed into joining the dance while Ming's zombie army remained immobile. Ming mused, "Well done, everyone."

Behind the heavenly formation, the gods strained to maintain their composure, their faces flushed. 

"Take this quick-clearing pill; it'll steady your mind. Look at me, as stable as a pine tree."

"If you're going to make such a claim, at least open your eyes!"

"Look at his hands! He's touching that blue bull behind, the old lecher!"

The God of Wealth frowned. "Why does the dance have no effect on those demons and zombies?"

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"It... it takes time for the enchantment to work. Do you expect the zombies to be as instantly bewitched as you?" 

Atlas responded calmly, glancing at Pangu, expecting some agreement. However, he was entranced by the dance—performed by his stepdaughters, no less. Annoyed, Atlas coughed for attention. 

Pangu, unfazed, retorted, "Clearly, they are rusty. Look at their rigid movements. After this, I'll issue a new decree: all gods must enhance their self-cultivation. We can't afford to be this careless."

The surrounding gods looked on in awe. Composed and unflustered, Pangu had the gift of gab. Truly, a role model for them all.

Amidst the battlefield, the Black-haired Pig Demon smirked and spoke to the Red Horse Knight beside him. "Young brother, had it been earlier, I'd already be comforting those lovely women. But not now; your elder brother has matured. I know these women are but poison that would drain me, so I remain utterly unmoved."

"Would you kindly remove your hand from me?" the Red Horse Knight responded, "Thank you."

"I've been fighting for so long; can't I rest by leaning on you?" argued the Black-haired Pig Demon.

"You may lean on me, but place your hand on my shoulder, not my waist. You should know that's a sensitive spot for me."

Ming shook his head. Though they had transcended worldly illusions, it seemed the worldly illusions were now turning upon them. So it was, perhaps, a deeper form of brotherhood at play.

Just then, trident in hand, Poseidon stepped out from the formation and approached the Seven Sirens. He thrust his trident into the ground as if it were a pole... and began to dance.

Poseidon had not transcended worldly illusions after all. What a shame!

Your Da Vinci looked at Poseidon's beaming expression. "He's truly asking for it. He's tarnished the face of the House of Ming."

Your Merlin stuck out his tongue, suggesting, "Why not turn their trap against them?"

Ming paused, considering the idea. Then he mentally commanded, "Everyone, heed my order—plunge back into the world of worldly illusions!"

The Black-haired Pig Demon looked at Ming, a sense of ecstatic thrill within. Yet he voiced solemnly, "If I don't enter hell, who will? What need do I have for my kidneys? Let us all descend together!" A sly smile spread across his face as he mused, "My word, such enthusiasm from everyone!"

Amidst the clash of swords and sorcery, Ming observed the performance of his troops following his orders. He noticed the Black-haired Pig Demon emanating pure joy and excitement. The creature holstered his rake-like weapon and began to roll his portly form among the Seven Sirens.

Ming had ordered each ace to engage with another ace, yet what unfolded before him suggested that the Black-haired Pig Demon could take on all seven at once.

It must be an illusion, he thought.

Sensing disorder, the Red Horse Knight, who was close by, cautioned, "Don't break the formation. We all have performance targets and KPIs if you will. What are you doing?"

The Pig Demon chuckled, "The capable should do more. Learn from me." He then approached a Siren in red, clearly entranced, and sniffed the air around her. "Ah, the scent."

The Seven Sirens began to distance themselves, possibly to break the formation or perhaps merely to avoid the Pig Demon. The Red Siren was puzzled. The essence of their seductive dance was to lure others into joining them, but here, the Pig Demon was practically dancing the rumba right up against her. Something was amiss.

As the Seven Sirens dispersed, the Black-haired Pig Demon was left circling the Red Siren. He felt momentarily disappointed but quickly adjusted his mindset; having one was better than none.

Elsewhere, Raoul flailed his six arms in an awkward twist. It was likely his first dance, as each movement was accompanied by the creaking sound of his joints, much like cracking knuckles.

The Purple Siren beside him frowned upon hearing the sound, thinking, "This six-armed Minotaur looks robust, but he probably has severe osteoporosis."

Frank, now a werewolf, slobbered and panted to cool himself while dancing in front of the Yellow Siren. His wolfish eyes gleamed a predatory green.

Ming felt a sense of relief witnessing this; at least they were focused on the task at hand. Yet, as always, an anomaly occurred—Poseidon. His rapturous expression was genuine. "He truly is ineffective on land," Ming lamented.

Behind the heavenly array, Atlas observed the bewitched scene and scoffed at the surrounding deities, "See? No one can resist the allure of beauty."

Pangu coughed, "I can."

"Really?" Atlas inquired softly.

"Absolutely," Pangu grinned, "except when it comes to you. You understand."

The surrounding gods collectively looked away. "Here they go again, showing off their love," they thought.

Your Foodie spirit saw you face-to-face with a Green Siren, swaying your hips, and felt delighted. "Ming, you've finally come around. "