100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 495 - More Progress

Not long afterward, the initial spirit crystal mines sprang open.

Lucien made a personal visit to inspect them.

Positioned atop the freshly secured extraction platforms, he observed the laborers navigate the sparkling subterranean tunnels with expert precision. Faint streaks of spirit crystal snaked through the stone like solidified bolts of lightning, forking across rock and casting gentle hues upon the mine's surfaces.

He had picked the perfect crew for the job.

The Lithrens adapted to it with startling efficiency.

Of course they did.

They knew minerals like warriors knew the heft of their blades and aged farmers knew the weather from its scent alone.

The initial squads advanced with steady poise, tapping, sensing, attuning to the ground prior to slicing.

Recklessness was absent from their methods.

That discipline delighted Lucien even more than the harvest itself.

Although the harvest proved immensely satisfying.

The opening haul neared the millions already.

Shimmering piles and organized trays of spirit crystals flooded the refining areas, leaving several nearby overseers gaping at the totals until they recalled to draw breath.

A subtle smile crossed Lucien's lips.

'Excellent. Truly excellent.'

Riri awaited his arrival there.

She donned white robes accented with silver motifs of earth. She remained the same figure who had once shattered the Lithrens' resolve beneath Alloykin dominion. Yet peace had transformed her.

Or maybe peace had merely unveiled her complete essence.

Composure clung to her like protective plating.

She retained a leader's unyielding calm.

Yet warmth now infused her. A assurance born not solely from enduring hardship.

Her folk had evolved too.

The elders, formerly bowed by frailty and fading vitality, appeared decades rejuvenated. Prospect had achieved what mere compassion could not. Numerous Lithrens had attained the Ascendant Realm. Others ascended steadily.

Their numbers had swelled as Lucien anticipated. More young ones now played joyfully in their communities, additional families raised dwellings, and hope gleamed in their gazes where dread once dwelled.

This shift instilled in the Lithrens a fresh resolve.

Gratitude no longer defined them alone.

They felt deeply committed.

Riri offered a gentle bow as Lucien drew near.

"My Lord."

Lucien huffed softly through his nostrils and shot her a glance.

She caught it immediately and permitted the faintest grin.

"Yes," she stated before he uttered a word. "That one is Clara’s fault."

Lucien tilted his gaze skyward briefly.

At least Riri preserved her poise.

That counted for much.

The rest of the Lithrens had altered their form of address as well. Previously, they hailed him as savior with its inherent remoteness. Now, most embraced a plainer, riskier bond.

They regarded themselves as his own.

Lucien pondered if this marked advancement or the initial sign of Clara's devotional framework spreading across whole peoples.

Riri traced his look and remarked evenly, "You needn't fret overly. The term shifted, yet our resolve stands firm."

"I'm glad to hear it."

She motioned toward the crystal veins beneath.

"We've merely unlocked the primary passages. When the profound clusters settle, production shall surge once more."

Lucien peered down across the platforms.

"Excellent."

Riri pivoted a touch, lantern glow illuminating her profile.

"We shall enrich your domain below the earth," she declared. "And this time, we embraced the task by our own choice."

Her words warmed him more than the crystal tallies.

•••

In other regions, the Desert Folk kept ascending.

Sahrin and Khasari had both entered the Ascendant Realm, and with considerable fanfare. Their kin trailed them with growing assurance, positioning the Desert Folk as prime assets in the vast building projects.

Their tattoos accounted for it.

Or rather, how those tattoos served as precise prolongations of form and intent.

Under proper guidance, they morphed into implements, frameworks, hoisting rigs, etching paths, slicing tools, thermal controls, bolstering holds, shifting braces, and provisional frame extensions simultaneously.

Observing a unified Desert Folk labor squad in action had emerged as one of Lucien's subtler delights.

To the sightless, it resembled mere toil.

To those with vision, it evoked graceful combat against waste.

Sahrin and Khasari guided them adeptly.

And to Lucien's mounting entertainment, they had grown intimate with Clara too.

Riri. Sahrin. Clara.

These three had inexplicably forged a bond of kinship from devotion, steely calm, and the subtle threat of uniting perilously in novel fashions.

He learned this truth starkly when Clara neared him one afternoon bearing a beaming visage that heralded mischief.

"My Lord," she had declared, "after some time, I would like to travel outside the territory with them and spread fate."

Lucien gazed intently at her.

"Spread fate."

Clara nodded as though those words made complete sense.

Sahrin lingered at her side, wearing an overly pure look on her face.

Riri made no effort to conceal that she had already mapped out paths in her mind.

Lucien crossed his arms over his chest.

"No."

The trio blinked in unison.

Clara recovered quickest. "May I ask why?"

"You may. The answer remains no."

Sahrin cocked her head slightly. "Because we are weak?"

Lucien shook his head sharply. "Because the world still does not remember me correctly, and I have no intention of helping it notice me through missionary enthusiasm."

Clara pressed a hand to her chest like she was truly hurt.

"I would be very subtle."

Lucien eyed her steadily.

Clara dropped her hand.

"Eventually subtle," she amended.

Riri shut her eyes for a moment.

Sahrin cleared her throat into her fist.

Lucien allowed the quiet to speak for itself.

Then he spoke. "Strengthen yourselves first. When the time is right, I will let you move. Until then, do not spread anything beyond the territory except competence."

Clara let out a sigh, yet her regret failed to fully dim the sly spark lingering in her gaze.

That spark troubled him.

Deeply.

•••

The three Liberators from those other small worlds kept advancing steadily too.

Tavian. Mirelle. Auren.

Each had ascended to the Ascendant Realm and continued their ascent.

Lucien gathered with them one evening, anticipating a routine chat on training schedules and inter-world blending.

But they laid their Origin Core fragments right before him instead.

For a few breaths, Lucien just stared at the offering.

Then at the fragments again.

Then back to them.

"No," he stated firmly.

None of the three budged.

Lucien narrowed his gaze. "That was not symbolic refusal. I mean, it’s yours."

Mirelle offered a soft smile. "We understood."

Auren inclined his head. "And we already rejected your refusal before coming here."

Tavian, ever the bluntest speaker, declared, "They belong with you."

Lucien scrutinized them more intensely.

He verified their intent once more.

Then again.

And yet again.

The response stayed unchanged every time.

Their minds were set.

The logic was straightforward yet powerfully convincing. They knew of the communication network. They had witnessed the fragments' transformation under his care.

They realized they had no comparable purpose for them, grasping that each piece fused into Lucien’s expanding creation boosted not just a tool, but a budding framework for civilization.

Thus, they presented them freely.

Lucien accepted at last, as rejecting further would shift from modesty to dismissing the purity of their decision.

With the merger complete, the communication network's reach surged dramatically.

The improvement hit right away.

What previously halted at Sareth and nearby areas now stretched vastly wider, prompting the network engineers to erupt in unrestrained delight that demanded caution.

Lucien expressed his genuine gratitude to the trio.

Tavian merely grinned. "We should be thanking you."

Mirelle chimed in, "Before this, life moved in circles."

Auren chuckled softly. "Now it climbs."

They laid it out clearly afterward.

In this place, strength grew rapidly. Here, skills came at speeds that once seemed impossible. Here, magic transformed from elite privilege into an accessible craft. Here, dungeons honed their edges. Here, folks from varied worlds could converse, barter, drill, tease each other, and forge alliances.

Their current existence lacked dullness.

It pulsed with vitality.

That drove their desire to give back.

Lucien couldn't counter that without seeming small-minded, so he posed the smarter query.

"You can suggest things to me. What does this territory still need?"

The discussion shifted to far more engaging ground.

They conversed at length from there.

Tavian called for tighter transport protocols across worlds. Mirelle proposed smoother onboarding for newcomers to ease cultural shocks. Auren pushed for diverse inter-world squads over prolonged stays in home groups.

Lucien weighed every idea.

As they shared, a subtle satisfaction bloomed within him.

Lootwell was starting to feel like home to them.

That confirmed his chosen path stayed true.

•••

Updates from Reaper and Eldran now came frequently enough that Lucien gauged the outer world's shifts by the gaps in their dispatches.

All was advancing smoothly.

The Shadow Information Network hadn't attained its ultimate configuration yet, but it throbbed with vitality at this moment. Cells shifted positions. Contacts expanded. Listening outposts took root. Even amid operations, training pressed on. Subordinates stayed rigorously disciplined, ensuring no one's expertise dulled into sloth simply from venturing beyond the primary domain.

Nothing reassured Lucien more than that fact.

He wanted no intelligence arm brimming with theatrical idiots.

Professionals were what he required.

Reaper and Eldran were forging precisely those.

Via their dispatches, Lucien observed the external realm from perspectives previously unattainable.

•••

Soon afterward, the ancient beasts made their way back to base.

Accompanying them was the Covenant of Pathless Sovereignty, restored once more to Lucien’s grasp.

Armed with it, he could now journey to Liberator Headquarters and collect the Origin Core fragments Seran had vowed to him in person.

Rushing held no appeal.

No urgency existed.

Lootwell’s grander edifice was truly approaching its finale. Perhaps a year or shorter, and the era of feverish construction would conclude.

A peculiar contentment accompanied that notion. Not from halting labor—work never ceased—but from the domain soon ceasing to resemble a grand endeavor still piecing together.

It would simply exist.

The ancient beasts, witnessing the transformations since their prior extended stay, displayed clear awe.

Even millennium-old entities could still reel from magnitude when wielded with purpose.

Lucien encountered them multiple times in those days.

He stated directly that they were welcome to visit kin, roam freely, or vanish into the vast world for whatever duration suited them.

Astraea chuckled gently at his words.

"You speak as if we are prisoners being granted a good mood."

Lucien arched a brow. "You are not?"

Condoriano tsked in mock indignation.

Saber averted his gaze, lest his thoughts emerge too bluntly.

Ultimately, all grasped the shared truth.

Departure lay open.

Yet return beckoned.

For this improbable haven had already woven itself into home.

•••

Lucien also devoted moments to those dearest.

Vivian advanced at a rate stirring his silent pride.

She had fused with the Law of Light, a match ideal for her. As comprehension intensified, her innate and advancing abilities deepened correspondingly.

Wings of Atonement now echoed the holy wing-form of the Celestial Race proper.

And a fresh ability had stirred within her.

Halo of Absolution.

It cleansed oppressive force, diluted enemy malice, bolstered resolve, and infused her aura with a tranquil decisiveness that instinctively stalled lesser foes.

With both powers engaged, Vivian transcended the look of a talented mortal.

She appeared otherworldly.

Nearly a true Celestial Race member.

Yet Lucien's Inspect on her yielded the same verdict.

She is pure human.

That enigma resurfaced whenever deeper vision pierced her form.

Intensifying his probes into Virel and Aniel.

How had they infiltrated the small world as humans precisely?

No full resolution emerged yet.

…

Near her, Cielius proved no less remarkable.

He had merged with the Law of Nature, suiting him in the most awesomely instinctive manner imaginable. Grasping his Worldroot Staff, his mastery of vital expansion, terrain currents, and elemental harmony defied neat labels as mere spellcraft or dominion over biospheres.

The staff had transformed as well.

It had expanded.

Now it held Mythical rarity.

With the Elder Treant embedded as the Worldroot Staff's spirit nucleus, Cielius no longer brandished a mere instrument.

He commanded a partner.

Their shared harmony elevated them both.

…

Lucien approached Lootwell's guardian tree several times too.

Upon his demise, grief and bond-rupture had caused it to wither.

Revitalization now stirred its growth.

An elusive uniqueness lingered in the tree, beyond Lucien's current full grasp.

One dusk, standing before it, he sensed an odd force ascending from within.

Insight struck.

Should its expansion persist unbroken as before, the tree could breach reality itself.

It might traverse planar barriers, forging a innate pathway robust enough for small world denizens to access the Big World sans full dependence on outer transport or lordly guidance.

Lucien mulled the idea.

For careful scrutiny of the tree revealed that potential vividly.

And that prospect alone drew a smile to his lips.