100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 482 - Truth of the Battle

All reacted simultaneously.

Relief, disbelief, joy, sorrow, thanks, laughter, tears... all these emotions hit together and swept through the assembly like a wave held back far too long by a dam.

Vivian moved first.

She dashed toward him and hugged him fiercely, almost making Lucien stagger back a step.

Lucien chuckled gently and embraced her.

"Sis," he said, his voice warm and truly his own, "I’m back."

That made her sob even more.

"I know," Vivian said amid her tears. "I knew you would return."

Behind her, Sebas bowed his head and cried openly, unconcerned about onlookers.

"Young Lord..." he uttered, the words carrying prayer, vow, and relief in one breath.

Cielius laughed as if years of grief had been returned to him. His aged shoulders trembled with the intensity.

Clara dropped to her knees right away. Her fingers clenched tightly, knuckles turning white, while she murmured another of her overly earnest prayers.

"My lord has come back. Of course. Death was obviously too cocky."

Marie cursed and rubbed her eyes hard. Marina let out a choked sound, then another. Kaia looked away a moment too long. Sylra made no effort to conceal it. She grinned. Even Eirene’s familiar quivered once in clear relief before drifting nearer, the tiny fairy’s eyes gleaming.

Luke and Cienna stayed still initially.

They just gazed at him.

Then Cienna advanced and laid a shaking hand on Lucien’s cheek.

She touched him delicately, as if seeking one last proof from reality itself.

The skin felt warm.

He was real.

Luke gave a brief laugh.

"You ridiculous boy," he said.

Lucien’s grin grew broader.

Around them, the whole territory exploded in response.

Those close by could no longer restrain themselves. Shouts rang out. Cries echoed back. Some laughed, others wept, some knelt, some lifted arms skyward. Many just stared, stunned by witnessing the impossible and realizing that such impossibilities bent to Lucien’s will more readily than normal events did for anyone else.

He endured it all calmly.

As if he had anticipated that reaching this point would bring an overload of feelings first, with answers owed to those who merited them before peace returned.

Thus, he greeted each one individually.

He held Vivian until her breathing steadied. He extended a hand to Sebas’s shoulder, keeping it there until the elder closed his eyes. He nodded to Cielius with grandsonly warmth in the gesture. He grinned at Clara, nearly pushing her devotion to a bolder, riskier height instantly.

Next, he gazed further.

Across the territory.

The land of his birth and former smaller rule, now known worldwide.

Lootwell had transformed.

Its people had evolved too. They stood taller. The former division leaders mingled among them, faces showing instant pride he recognized.

Lucien nodded their way.

Then his gaze shifted even farther.

The five light beacons stood there, changed from his recollections. They had advanced. Their presence felt keener. Yet positioned behind Elunara like cherished rituals, they remained recognizable.

Lucien smiled at them as well.

His subjects, allies, people.

The very reason for his survival.

He shut his eyes briefly.

For a few beats, he allowed the feeling.

The familiar sense of being Lootwell’s lord.

It returned softly.

Opening his eyes, his smile intensified.

•••

Shortly afterward, they assembled in city hall.

They gathered round the big round table, Lucien encircled by those he viewed as kin.

Questions started softly at first.

How was he feeling? Was the vessel steady? Any pain? Full memories intact?

Apologies followed.

For overlooking him. For delaying rescue. For absence in his isolation. For self-unforgivable failures.

Lucien responded to each with patience.

He validated their emotions without letting guilt overwhelm.

"It happened," he explained. "The foe we fought was crafted for such terror. If I fault everyone for falling to something meant to wipe me from existence itself, I might as well blame the universe for poor design."

"That’s just like you," Marie grumbled.

Lucien smiled.

"Yes. But only on exhausting days."

Laughter finally lightened the room.

Then Cecil voiced the unspoken question.

"My Lord! How... precisely did you die?"

Silence descended.

Lucien paused before replying.

That tensed the room.

They feared, briefly, the fight had scarred too deeply to touch.

Cecil noticed and paled in regret.

"Young Lord, I didn’t mean— I just— I wasn’t prying—"

Lucien lifted a hand, halting him.

"It’s fine."

He breathed out and reclined.

Then he smiled, tinged with helplessness.

"It’s not that I object to sharing," he said. "It’s that a straightforward telling sounds false midway."

Confusion relaxed the air.

Lucien raised a hand.

"Luckily," he noted, "Marina provided a handy method."

Marina blinked.

Her eyes widened.

"You mean... the memory bubbles?"

Lucien nodded.

Shimmering orbs appeared above the table’s center. Initially like see-through pearls in light, they expanded, deepened, and replayed events flawlessly.

The room hushed instantly.

From the start, Lucien showed them.

Oblivion. Initial death. Abrupt darkness. The terrifying erasure before any response.

Then the forgetting.

The world discarding him. Strangers passing as if he never existed. The agony of Morveth and Aerolith’s blank stares. Absence invading every bond at once.

No one dared breathe heavily after.

Luke and Cienna froze rigid, eyes locked on the bubbles with fierce intensity. Not just viewing. Analyzing. Memorizing enemy faces for their son’s sake. Gauging. Etching deep for later.

Vivian covered her mouth with both hands. Sebas seemed ready to dive in and slay. Cielius’s features hardened.

Elders grasped the horror quickest.

They knew the absurdity Lucien endured. How insane his endurance amid such despair.

Youths responded otherwise.

Cecil and beacons gaped in fiery denial. Proof of his extreme defiance made faith seem inadequate.

Clara reacted oddest.

Hands under chin. Tears flowing, yet beaming ecstatically, each improbable moment reinforcing her belief in the world’s fortune at centering her lord.

"Ah," she murmured devoutly. "That is my lord. The greatest creation."

Lucien, among them, steered the visions precisely.

When battles sped beyond sight, he slowed them. For unfamiliar items or moves, he halted and clarified.

He detailed consumables burned to prolong life. How he adapted even in dying.

No glorification.

Like a maker dissecting frantic craft with trusted eyes seeing genius and fear alike.

Then hopelessness neared.

Memory of him shattered, trapped, perishing under dual Primordial Incarnations.

Room stilled utterly.

And then—

the eclipse.

Second Moonfall.

The sight making him laugh.

Lucien chuckled now at that recall, pure gratitude shining through.

"When hope vanished," he said, glancing aside, "I was recalled."

That struck women deepest.

Marie wiped her nose, irked at her emotion.

Kaia cleared throat, avoiding eyes.

Sylra averted gaze swiftly.

Marina wept openly, smiling too.

Eirene’s familiar regarded him serenely, revealing most.

Lucien proceeded softly.

"Without them, no chance arose. They created space to shift from enduring to scheming."

He met each gaze.

"Thank you."

Sincerity silenced objections.

Bubbles delved further.

Abyss Mode.

Lucien clarified Alanthuriel’s dark radiance was split wisely into three.

"First portion," he stated, "powered Abyss Mode. Allowed matching Convergence briefly."

Memory replayed conceptual clashes impossibly.

Room watched awestruck.

"But then," Lucien added, "I multitasked."

A mind thread detached amid combat.

It pushed through agony, demise, turmoil to Skillpedia and Magic Book.

Luke and Cienna perked up.

Lucien smiled subtly.

"I crafted a skill."

Marie blinked.

"During that chaos?"

Lucien shrugged.

"Had moments between deaths."

Luke hid face momentarily.

Lucien continued.

"Not ordinary. Part skill, spell-logic, transmission key. Activated only by parents together. Dark radiance targeted Oblivion’s hold, restoring recall."

Cienna eyed him.

"All that while battling?"

Lucien nodded.

"Knew you’d locate me, death first. Laws ignored restrictions for you. Skill Law. Magic Law. Ideal wielders."

Luke chuckled lowly.

"That’s my boy!"

Lucien smiled.

"Surprised me how fast," he confessed. "Thought months."

Luke grinned.

"You made our forms. Old Skillpedia, Magic Book links persisted."

Room reeled anew.

Final scene arrived.

Lucien’s demise.

Or prelude.

Ruined. Warped. Still laughing. Then—

smoking.

Room nearly shattered.

Even Clara wavered if smoking under Primordial Incarnation thrashing qualified as saintly or pure Lucien impossibility.

Lucien coughed into fist.

"Let me clarify before misconceptions."

"You mean," Vivian said, staring, "before I decide you’d lost it?"

"That too."

He indicated the memory.

"Last dark radiance portion used there."

Room stilled again.

Lucien pressed on.

"Couldn’t remove Convergence’s kill urge. Too blatant. He’d detect core change."

Memory decelerated.

Cigarette. Smoke. Exhale into face.

"Instead," Lucien explained, "erased lesser. His wish for my corpse."

Luke’s face shifted first.

Insight struck sharply.

Lucien nodded.

"Still craved my death. But sans possession drive, priorities flipped. So arrivals found him flee my body unhesitating."

He smiled.

"And that sufficed."

Stunned quiet fell.

Now grasping the battle’s depth.

Nothing haphazard.

Lucien died endlessly in unsurvivable fray, yet orchestrated outcomes to exhale’s subtle tweak on foe’s mind.

Cielius exhaled long, leaning back.

"Grandson, you planned every detail."

Lucien grimaced slightly.

"Not all. Just sufficient for wretched survival."

Incredulous laughs followed.

Yet as bubbles faded, shock yielded to pride.

He felled one incarnation.

Not eternally maybe. But Severance barred from Big World ages. Convergence battered, stalled. Foes paid dearly.

And Lucien achieved it forgotten, death stalking, plotting past his end.

Table companions stared.

They had witnessed fully his brutal fight to return.