100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 4 - Dreggor

Lucien motioned for Sebas to trail him into the study.

"Sebastian. Can I trust you?" he questioned, his tone laden with gravity.

Sebas stood upright. "Young master—no, young lord. You can trust this SEBAS."

His voice rang firm, stressing his name heavily.

Lucien offered a slight nod, yet deep down, he wasn’t one to simply believe words.

Talk was worthless. Thus, he triggered SCAN.

***

Name: Sebas ♂

Age: 52 years old

Race: Human

Job: Assassin

Level: 65

Title:

• Quiet Fang

• Iron Butler

Skill:

• Blade in the tray

• Silent Step

• Torture

• Poker Face

Magic:

• Household Magic

Loyalty: 100

Status: calm/steady/genuine

***

’Assassin?!’ Lucien’s pulse raced as his eyes bulged in shock... But soon he scanned lower.

Rather than the typical Favourability figure, Sebas displayed Loyalty. Maxed out at 100 no less. Lucien guessed it stemmed from Sebas being male... or maybe his servant role.

A wave of ease flooded him. Sebas proved way more powerful than he’d ever suspected.

All those times he’d deemed the butler merely "creepy" for his quiet steps. Turns out, it was a real skill. And that Torture ability... it chilled him to the bone.

In that moment, he grasped it... He truly knew zilch about Sebas.

Yet he shoved those notions away. No clue why Sebas held such unwavering loyalty, but it sufficed. Lucien believed Sebas would never betray him.

At first, a sinister doubt had stirred within. Had his parents really fallen to illness?

That enigma could wait for later.

Right now, Lucien held proof. Sebas was reliable.

"Good. Summon the mining manager. I’ve got questions for him."

Thanks to SCAN, sniffing out betrayers would prove easy. He kept a Nectar Crystal close to munch if SCAN’s toll hit hard.

Sebas inclined his head and departed at once.

Lucien lingered quietly, sorting his mind.

He’d picked this moment deliberately... right after Vivian headed to the academy. She’d never condone his next moves. Like their parents, her heart was too soft. But Lucien embraced being the family’s ’villain’. The dirty worker so her hands stayed pristine.

He sensed his warped justice bubbling up once more, yet this realm differed. Here, he could impose his brand of righteousness free from judgment.

At last, Sebas came back, escorting a stout, marked man into the study. The fellow appeared frail and unkempt, hacking roughly now and then.

"Young lord... the butler mentioned you called for me. Apologies for skipping reports since... that incident. Been healing... picked up a cold too." He coughed again.

Lucien’s stare turned icy. He nodded wordlessly and fired up SCAN.

***

Name: Dreggor ♂

Age: 35 years old

Race: Human

Job: Rogue

Level: 19

Title:

• Coalheart’s Loyal Servant

• Lootwell’s Mine Manager

Skill:

• Deception

• Preemptive Strike

Magic:

• Household Magic

Loyalty: -20

Status: evasive/alert/deceptive

***

Lucien’s gaze sharpened.

’A Coalheart lackey... and loyalty in the negatives. Faking his illness as well. Exactly as suspected.’

Beneath the desk, his fists tightened. He’d studied schemes in tales, but confronting one was another beast.

A clear image formed in his thoughts. The culprit behind it all was the rival lord next door.

"Coalheart bastards..." he whispered. The mutter was faint, yet both heard it clearly.

Sebas stayed impassive. Dreggor, however, jerked.

The Coalhearts formed another Baron lineage, renowned for blacksmith craft. Lootwells had fed them ore for years. Lucien had assumed friendly ties between the houses.

Clearly wrong.

They’d failed to spot a Coalheart spy in their midst. Small wonder mine yields dropped steadily. Dreggor must have funneled ores to Coalhearts the whole time.

Lucien’s words sliced cold and keen. "Dreggor. Do you grasp what you’ve wrought?"

His charisma-boosted aura pressed down heavily.

Dreggor stuttered, "Y-Young lord, I don’t know what you—cough, cough—mean."

Feigning ignorance still.

"Still acting foolish? Did that Coalheart cur dispatch you?"

The room’s mood flipped. Dreggor’s pretense crumbled fast. His weak mask shifted to cocky sneer.

"GAHAHA! How?! I hid it all flawlessly! Why’d I freak out? Just a kid and his butler? You’re powerless against me!"

His guffaws boomed, gaze taunting Lucien.

Sebas advanced, but Lucien lifted a palm, halting him.

"This land’s practically ours already! What’s a mere boy to do?"

He blabbered on, sure no threat lingered. Lucien stayed mute, letting him spill.

His claims carried real menace.

In Vaultmere Kingdom, a lord’s death or vanishing passed the title to kin usually. Absent suitable heirs, nearby lords could claim oversight.

Lootwell’s remote spot on the map? Who’d meddle for a minor house in the sticks?

"Sigh... gotta hasten things, eh," Dreggor grumbled idly, like bar talk. "Never figured the mine my lord craved would spawn a dungeon? Ha, perfect twist. Now, silence the witnesses. Good thing my lord’s talisman sealed the entrance."

Arrogance blinded him fully, leaking key details carelessly.

"Enough yapping. You get what’s coming, yeah?" His lips twisted into a wicked smirk. "I’ll claim your faithful butler lost it and offed you. GAHAHA!"

Then, he dropped low, snatched a hidden dagger, and... surged ahead in a flash, targeting Lucien’s throat.

Or that’s what he planned.

Truth was, Sebas struck first.

With ease, he seized Dreggor’s arms, stripped the weapon, and crushed him down.

He tied him using rope. From whence? Lucien couldn’t say.

It all flashed by so swiftly Dreggor scarcely registered.

Lucien remained poised at his desk, observing coolly.

Dreggor writhed wildly, but level 65 Sebas’s hold proved unbreakable.

"Idiot," Lucien sneered, voice thick with scorn. "Why’s a low-tier cur like you posturing? Guess Sebas’s tier, go ahead."

Here, strength scaled by tiers. Lucien learned Tier one spanned levels 10-19, Tier two 20-29, onward. Level 65 Sebas sat solidly in Tier six.

Lucien’s System let him view exact levels and traits.

Rage warped Dreggor’s features. He bit the lure, snarling as he strained with all might.

’Impossible,’ he mused, ’for a rundown house like Lootwell to hide real power.’

Resistance meant nothing.

Sebas had braced since entry, primed to strike at danger’s spark. Yet surprise hit him too. Not from Dreggor, from Lucien.

’The young master’s evolving...’ Sebas pondered quietly. ’Mirroring "him" more each day...’

Sebas proposed, "Young lord, I handle tortu... specific techniques. I can draw out vital intel."

Lucien agreed instantly. "Good. Make him suffer. No killing though. Half-dead works."

Dreggor blanched.

He’d anticipated a weak, mourning lad. Met a budding despot instead.

Inside, Lucien winced. ’Ugh... always dreamed of that line. Sounded like a mobster?’

Sebas hauled the wriggling traitor elsewhere.

Muffled shrieks and desperate pleas soon pierced the air.

Lucien shuddered. He’d ordered pain, but this exceeded bounds.

Pity evaded him still. Dreggor had wrecked his calm life. Mercy was off the table.

Sebas reappeared, face stoic as always.

"Young lord, please... avoid facing such foes alone. Too risky."

Lucien scanned and saw Sebas’s concern. Poker Face concealed it, SCAN revealed truth.

"I know, Sebastian. I risked it only with you present. I know your power."

Sebas went quiet at Lucien’s reply. Yet even sans scan, Lucien sensed his approval.

After all... no correction on the Sebastian name.

Next, Sebas relayed the extracted facts.

•••

"Got it," Lucien affirmed with a nod. "Now, aid in readying the plaza. Assemble all territory folk."

Sebas hesitated. "May I ask your scheme?"

"The folk’s discontent festers long. They crave a scapegoat. Human nature... It soothes them."

Sebas inclined his head, grasping his young lord’s scheme.