100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 484 - Home

Edric's entire face transformed upon seeing Lucien.

In that single fleeting moment, he shed his humanity and embodied raw, unshielded relief.

Then that relief burst forth explosively.

"GAHAHAHA! Nephew!" Edric bellowed, surging ahead with the grace of a tumbling avalanche. "I knew you wouldn’t stay dead for long!"

No one had a chance to step in before he enveloped Lucien in a bone-crushing hug and smacked noisy kisses on both cheeks.

This time, Lucien allowed it.

He'd already learned from the others about the efforts of the Silvermine and Copperrock families during his time as a mere fragile remnant in the field of remembrance.

They had returned repeatedly. They had invoked his name amid the ritual, as if sheer persistent love could serve as yet another tether pulling him back.

Thus, even as Edric’s beard scraped his skin and the kiss hit with the finesse of a bar fight, Lucien merely wiped his cheek later and grinned.

"Uncle Ed," he said, "I’m back."

Edric's laughter boomed so fiercely it scattered birds from the adjacent rooftops.

Tears streamed freely down his cheeks.

"Rain," he announced promptly, thumping his chest. "Awful rain today."

The sky overhead shone clear and sunny.

No one called him out.

Lucien’s smile broadened.

He had longed for this.

Not just the individuals.

Their essence. Their unfiltered way of loving. The absence of barriers.

Maxim stepped up next, shaking his head as if Edric had shamed the whole family line, yet the glow in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"You really came back, nephew," Maxim said.

Lucien nodded his head.

"I did."

Maxim grinned unavoidably and gripped Lucien’s forearm rather than hugging. The gesture was more controlled, but its strength conveyed plenty.

Ellen trailed right after.

She welcomed him with gentle warmth and evident relief, and only after reciprocating did Lucien’s eyes dip down briefly and linger.

That’s when he spotted it.

Her belly.

Lucien blinked once, then glanced up at Maxim.

Maxim cleared his throat into his fist, his awkwardness only highlighting the obvious fact.

Lucien chuckled quietly.

Ellen beamed. It was the beam of a woman bearing precious new life ahead.

Lucien dipped his head respectfully.

"Congratulations to both of you."

"Thank you," Ellen replied warmly.

Next, Sylvia advanced, bringing along a boy of about eight years.

Lucian.

Edric and Sylvia’s son.

The child’s eyes sparkled with thrill, yet he possessed the training to avoid lunging forward like his father might.

He offered a formal bow instead.

"Big Brother."

Lucien’s features softened.

He bent down a bit so the boy wouldn’t strain his neck upward.

"You’ve grown."

Lucian lit up instantly, though he attempted to conceal his delight.

Lucien’s gaze darted momentarily to the bracelet encircling the boy’s wrist.

The Tear of the First Light remained there.

Unharmed.

That sight alone eased a tension within Lucien. Its preservation meant no dire crisis had befallen the child during his absence.

He stood back up and placed a hand lightly on Lucian’s head.

"We’ll talk later," he said. "I think all of you have too many things saved up to say."

"That is because you’ve been gone for too long," Edric declared gleefully.

"That sounds like a skill issue on my part," Lucien replied.

Edric roared with laughter once more, prompting even Maxim to stop feigning detachment.

The reunions continued unabated.

Shortly, the lords of nearby territories arrived.

Roneth hailed from Needlehard.

Aldren from Hornvale.

Lucien knew them at once, and they recognized him equally fast. Both had evolved from the figures he remembered. Their stances were firmer now. Their gazes carried the keen edge of leaders who had shaped others’ destinies. Lordship suited them uniquely, yet undeniably.

Their fathers had stepped down.

The lands now belonged to them.

And those lands had thrived.

Perhaps not matching Lootwell’s splendor, but sufficiently to prove that allying with Lucien had sown more than mere schemes—it had ignited drive.

Aldren arrived first.

He began with formality, dropped it midway, and finished by seizing Lucien’s shoulders with a look blending mirth and reproach.

"You are impossible," Aldren said.

"So I’ve been told," Lucien answered.

Roneth shook his head.

"No. Impossible in the insulting way. We finally become proper lords and then you return from death as if that’s an acceptable form of travel."

Lucien smiled.

"I’ll try to behave more reasonably next time."

"You will do no such thing," Aldren shot back instantly.

They all burst into laughter.

The ensuing chat was short, as crowds still clamored for Lucien’s attention, but it flowed with the cozy bond of friendships enduring time and madness.

Another guest appeared then.

The atmosphere changed.

Representatives from the ducal houses materialized.

Jadecrest. Rubycrest.

Caelum stepped out leading, ever poised, but upon viewing Lucien, his poise fractured more genuinely than any peasant might risk openly.

Lioren joined him, showing zero pretense of dignity if he clung to any.

They hurried to him.

"Brother," Caelum said, his voice steady yet laced with leaking relief.

Lioren appeared ready to weep before uttering a word.

Then she wept and spoke.

"You came back," she said.

Lucien chuckled gently.

"It seems I did."

Lioren dabbed at one eye, ignoring all decorum.

Once the initial surge ebbed and she regained her spark, the torrent of words began.

And once begun—

it flowed endlessly.

She expressed fresh gratitude for the mana circulation and breathing methods he’d shared ages ago. With rising fervor and fading inhibitions, she detailed how her Euphoric Vein had transformed through true mastery.

No longer overwhelmed by everyday meals or beverages. No longer enslaved by her body’s whims. Now she could selectively ingest materials, process them, and convert them into precise boosts and enhancements without succumbing.

Lucien endured it all with patience.

Her elation was far too authentic to cut short.

When she halted for air, Lucien nodded firmly.

"That means you turned a curse into an asset."

Lioren smiled.

"No," she said. "You showed me how."

Her response touched him deeper than flattery could.

King Midas and Pope Augustus arrived next.

As they neared, Lucien’s allies and the junior lords parted almost reflexively.

The instant Lucien focused on Midas, his eyebrows rose.

The king had attained the Metamorphosis Realm.

That feat alone warranted genuine astonishment.

In this confined realm, with diluted laws and brutal ascension paths, such progress was monumental. Beyond Lucien’s companions and freakish outliers, none had breached it.

Midas caught the surprise immediately and radiated smug delight.

Lucien couldn’t fault him.

Augustus, at his side, appeared far frailer.

Excessively ashen.

The Cryogenic Chamber had merely staved off his scant remaining days, but staving wasn’t vitality. Merely postponement.

Upon reaching him, both men’s eyes gleamed with undeniable awe.

Midas chuckled first.

"You really did it," he said.

Augustus chuckled as well, his more like relief that had burned out into pure glee.

Lucien regarded them, then mirrored the smile.

Midas quickly boasted of his milestone.

With immense pride and slight embellishment, he recounted shattering into the Metamorphosis Realm through sheer determination.

Lucien praised him earnestly.

He possessed his system. Insights from the Primordial Slime. Loot. Backup plans. Absurd aids disguised as trials. Endless stacked edges.

Midas wielded sheer drive, audacity, and unyielding confidence to pry open a realm against a hostile world.

That merited admiration.

"You did well," Lucien said.

Midas crossed his arms, feigning no extra height.

"I know."

Then Lucien faced Augustus.

He spared the elder the plea.

Rather, he pulled from his inventory an epic item from the Revenant Asphodel.

Petal of the Last Dawn.

As soon as Lucien noted its lifespan-prolonging power, Augustus grabbed and gulped it down so eagerly he almost gagged on urgency.

Midas stared in shocked revulsion.

"At least pretend to be holy," he said.

Augustus was already shifting shades.

The transformation struck swiftly.

His ashen tone receded. Vital color flushed his skin. His frail debility eased. In mere heartbeats, he appeared years rejuvenated, yanked from death’s doorstep.

Augustus caressed his face in disbelief.

Then he roared with laughter.

Boomingly.

So thunderously that Edric, lingering close, pivoted to gauge the rival.

The assembly observed quietly for three seconds.

Clara then appeared and smacked Augustus’s head.

"Please mind your manners in front of my Lord, Pope," she said.

"Ugh! Clara, my daughter!" Augustus whined at once, clutching his scalp. "The Marquis just gave me more life. You should be celebrating properly!"

The term daughter slipped out so casually that bystanders feigned deafness courteously.

Clara caught it crystal clear.

And while her response stayed pious protocol—

"As expected of my Lord."

—the grin she couldn’t hide revealed her profound joy in that instant.

Lucien erupted in full laughter.

That even post-death, resurrection, and empire-wide devotion, Clara still swatted the Pope’s head like divine endorsement was pure absurdity worth chuckling at.

More arrivals kept coming.

The afternoon dragged longer, yet rather than wearying, Lucien immersed himself further in a coziness he’d denied himself for years.

He chatted with Leo, Supreme Chief of the Beastman Tribes, who promptly craved another duel.

Lucien refused with clear sincerity.

"It would be unfair right now," he said.

Leo tsked, sulked profoundly for two breaths, then yielded with a fighter’s realism.

Elunara’s father visited too, and that exchange revealed another truth.

Elunara had finally started releasing segments of her history. Not erasing, but slackening its hold to exist unburdened by constant pain.

She had redirected her energies to nurturing the former young charges, now grown.

That update delighted Lucien.

Then, via a casual word with southern heads and Sebas’s barely concealed reaction, Lucien grasped yet another revelation.

Sebas was succeeding romantically.

With Elunara.

Lucien almost guffawed right there.

He restrained it... just.

Sebas, sensing too tardily the converging topics pinning him, stiffened like a devoted servant whose secrets had surfaced abruptly.

Lucien merely smiled.

Sebas merited joy as well.

And somehow, grasping that amid this realm of origins, enduring bonds, and subtle life shifts lightened Lucien’s heart more than loftier triumphs ever could.

That’s when Marie and the rest perceived what they’d only half-grasped earlier.

Lucien differed here.

He was less guarded.

He no longer resembled someone bracing for the next hidden strike.

He appeared—

At home.

The Big World had honed him keener. Perpetually active. Perpetually scheming.

This domain cradled something ancient beyond that.

Here, Lucien required no constant vigilance to stay true.

Here, facets of him muted in the Big World resurfaced effortlessly.

Marie observed him long and smiled.

The others did too, though hers shone gentlest and most eased.

Lucien, amid the throng, simply embraced the stark reality:

This formed his foundation.

And regardless of distances traveled, empires expanded, or worlds ballooning impossibly—

this essence of him had lingered here eternally.