Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Aaron stood speechless, staring at the lifeless C-rank ogre crumpled against the dungeon wall, its chest a ruined crater.

"Well, shit. Seems I underestimated myself," he confessed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Shaking off the initial shock, Aaron pressed deeper into the dungeon's shadowy depths, the air thick with the stench of mold and monster blood. His heightened senses tingled, picking up the presence of more ogres—five of them, lumbering a few meters apart, their heavy footsteps echoing through the stone corridors.

"Let's see if I can manipulate monster blood or just human," Aaron muttered, his mind racing with possibilities. He planned to test every ability his vampire Primogenitor bloodline offered, leaving no stone unturned.

He moved like a phantom, closing the distance to the first ogre in a heartbeat. His eyes blazed crimson as he focused, willing the ogre's blood to bend to his command.

The beast let out a guttural scream, its body convulsing as its own blood turned traitor, coalescing into razor-sharp spikes that tore through its insides. The ogre collapsed, impaled from within, its lifeless form twitching briefly before going still.

Aaron's grin widened, a thrill coursing through him. He was beginning to love his bloodline. The raw power of a vampire Primogenitor was more satisfying than he'd ever imagined.

Pushing deeper into the dungeon, Aaron became a relentless predator, cutting down ogres as easily as a butcher slaughters lambs. He experimented further, manipulating his own blood into weapons. The results were devastating—his blood-formed blades sliced with lethal precision, dealing far more damage than when he used the ogres' own blood against them.

Next, he tested his regeneration, deliberately taking hits from the hulking beasts. A club smashed into his side, fracturing ribs with a sickening crack. Pain flared, sharp and fleeting, but Aaron's wounds knitted shut in an instant, leaving no trace of injury. No strain, no urge to drink blood as he'd feared—just pure, effortless healing. The ogres' vaunted regeneration paled in comparison, their wounds struggling to close under his onslaught.

Aaron carved a path through the dungeon, his presence so terrifying that surviving ogres fled at the sight of him. Not a drop of blood stained his clothes, nor a bead of sweat marred his brow. He was as pristine as when he'd entered, the dungeon less a threat than a playground. Soon, he stood before the massive doors of the boss room, their ancient carvings pulsing with faint magical energy.

With a confident stride, Aaron pushed the doors open, their hinges groaning under the weight. Prepare his mind for battle? Unnecessary. What could a B-rank boss monster possibly pose as a threat to him?

The dungeon had lost its menace. To Aaron, this run was no different from a morning jog—except he'd sweat more from exercise than from this slaughter.

Inside the boss room, his eyes locked onto the beast: a towering, five-meter-tall, two-headed ogre, its grotesque faces twisted in menacing snarls. In its right hand, it clutched a massive wooden club studded with jagged iron spikes.

"Growl!" The ogre's dual heads roared in unison, charging at Aaron like a starved lion pouncing on prey.

"Come now, I'm not a fan of being looked down on by mere monsters," Aaron muttered, his eyes flaring red with unshakable confidence, not a flicker of worry crossing his face.

"Kneel!" he commanded, his crimson gaze boring into the ogre's four eyes as he unleashed his hypnotic power.

*Thud!*

The beast crashed to its knees, its massive frame trembling under Aaron's command, unable to defy the vampire's will.

From his earlier experiments, Aaron had learned his vampire powers weren't limited to humans, unlike the movies he'd seen back on Earth. They worked on any living being. He'd also discovered his blood had anti-regenerative properties when used as a weapon, crippling the ogres' famed healing abilities. Compared to his own regeneration, theirs was laughably slow, unable to keep pace with the damage he dealt.

If hunters in this world could peek into Aaron's thoughts, they'd be cursing him to high heaven. Some might even slap a bounty on his head. "It's not our fault you've got a cheat-code bloodline, you bastard!" they'd probably shout. "Try fighting these ogres without it!"

To be fair, Earth's vampire movies rarely featured anything beyond vampires, werewolves, and humans. This world was different—wilder, deadlier.

"Hmm, what should I do with you?" Aaron mused, strolling toward the kneeling ogre, his steps casual yet predatory.

"Alright, I'm bored as hell. Let's wrap this up. I've got a governor to visit," he sighed, his tone almost lazy. A sickle materialized from his blood, flowing from his fingertips like liquid obsidian, solidifying into a gleaming, razor-sharp weapon.

With a single, effortless swing, Aaron sliced through the ogre's necks, severing both heads in a spray of dark blood. The massive body slumped to the ground, cold and lifeless.

Aaron didn't pause. He manipulated the ogre's blood, forging it into a precise blade that carved through the corpse, extracting the mana crystals embedded within and harvesting the valuable parts with surgical efficiency. He stood motionless, his mind guiding the blood-forged tool like a conductor leading an orchestra.

When he finished, he pulled a bottle from his space-enchanted bag, its faint runes glowing under the dungeon's dim light. He filled it with the ogre's blood—prized in the market for its alchemical properties—then turned to leave. The dungeon would collapse in fifteen minutes, and he had no intention of being caught inside.

Aaron strolled leisurely back toward the entrance, where Blade waited obediently, still under his hypnotic thrall.

"Good," Aaron said, his voice calm but commanding. "Let's leave. If anyone asks, you took down the ogres. I just supported you with what little I could. Here, sell the monster parts and blood. Consider it payment for our next raid." He tossed Blade a sack of harvested ogre materials, the crystals clinking softly inside.

With everything set, they exited the dungeon, passing the awakeners' association checkpoint with its routine inspections. Once cleared, they went their separate ways—Blade to the association's market to sell the loot, and Aaron to a waiting taxi, his destination the governor's office.