Previously on 100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?...
Lilith returns to Lootwell, having clearly made significant progress in her power and quickly begins helping Lucien and Anvil-Horn with the city's redevelopment. Lootwell is rapidly transformed with new districts designed for its inhabitants, and the small worlds are repurposed for industry. Meanwhile, a message arrives detailing the chaotic but successful birth of Ellen and Maxim's child during a mission. With mass production of communication devices underway, the need for raw materials becomes the new focus. Lootwell nears completion, poised to open to the world.
That day, Lucien ventured into Marina’s realm. Others had been consumed by concern for her well-being. Since a particular incident, Marina had deliberately distanced herself, confining her presence to her own domain. Lucien could only heave a sigh. A dedicated district had already been allocated for her people within Lootwell; the pace of change was rapid, perhaps too swift for one of its most crucial figures to remain isolated in a private ocean while the world outside underwent such significant transformations. Therefore, he decided to make the journey himself. Upon his arrival in Marina’s world, her people recognized him instantly. Previously, many had regarded him with apprehension, uncertainty, or that peculiar reverence reserved for individuals whom their Water Goddess obviously held in too high esteem to be deemed ordinary. Now, however, that reverence had solidified into something more stable: respect. They offered bows. Some addressed him by his title, others by their posture, and some with the straightforward sincerity of those whose lives had demonstrably improved under his safeguarding. To them, Lucien represented the man the Water Goddess esteemed, the sovereign of the expansive territory where their people had flourished, finding greater strength, security, and a closer connection to the goddess they adored. He acknowledged their greetings with practiced ease, engaged in brief conversations with several individuals, inquiring about their integration, their training regimens, their water resources, and their overall comfort, before proceeding towards Marina’s secluded island. It was at this juncture that the ocean itself began to stir. Water surged upwards in a singular, elegant column, coalescing into a humanoid form before him. Her hair cascaded like a deep, flowing current, and her countenance bore the precise brand of divine sternness that Marina often adopted when aiming for an intimidating aura. It was a water projection of Marina herself—the Water Goddess. Lucien halted, observing the manifestation with evident amusement. The projection gazed down at him, its voice cool and formal. "What is the purpose of your visit?" Lucien crossed his arms. "I have come to converse with the Water Goddess." The projection's eyes seemed to narrow. "Depart. I do not engage in discourse with playboys." Lucien nearly sputtered. He cleared his throat subtly, meeting the gaze of the divine water figure for a moment before remarking, "That is a rather egregious misapplication of religious iconography." The projection responded with a dignified dismissal, though its claim to dignity was somewhat undermined by the clear indication that it was Marina channeling her sulkiness through the water. "Begone," it reiterated. "Womanizers are unwelcome within these sacred waters." With that, the figure dissipated back into the sea, executing a dramatic exit characteristic of someone actively seeking to be pursued. Lucien watched as the water surface returned to normal. He let out another sigh. "Well, at least she's communicating," he murmured. He continued his advance nonetheless. Upon reaching the island, he found the atmosphere decidedly more theatrical. Warnings were conspicuously displayed throughout the area. Some were suspended from tree branches, others drifted upon the water's surface, and a few were meticulously carved into polished stone, displaying a level of effort disproportionate to the message's content. NO PLAYBOYS ALLOWED. WOMANIZERS FACE A HORRIBLE DEMISE. LIARS, CHEATERS, AND SUSPICIOUSLY CHARMING MEN ARE WARNED TO RETREAT IMMEDIATELY. TRESPASSERS MAY BE DROWNED WITH MORAL JUSTIFICATION. Lucien paused before one such declaration for an extended period. He then gently pressed the bridge of his nose. "I find myself uncertain whether to laugh or weep." Opting for neither, he proceeded directly towards her residence. There was a notable absence of any genuine obstruction. This fact, far more than the posted signs, conveyed a complete picture to him. Had Marina truly desired his departure, the very island would have resisted his presence. Instead, nothing impeded his progress. Thus, Lucien entered the house. He discovered Marina absent from her usual form, replaced by a simple puddle on the floor. Or rather—he found a puddle. A puddle exuding a distinctly sullen mood. Lucien regarded it intently. He slowly knelt down. "Marina." The puddle quivered once, then spread itself more thinly across the floor, an action that bore a striking resemblance to deliberate melodrama. Lucien released a breath of resignation. She was, undeniably, an unusual individual. Possessing an excess of honesty in certain aspects, a lack of shame in others, a tendency towards dramatic displays when distressed, and an almost infuriating endearing quality when she had no right to be so. He had once perceived her as a peculiar, younger sister figure. However, her persistent provocations gradually rendered that perspective untenable. Now, inexplicably, after navigating such a tumultuous period, she had reverted to the guise of someone so fragile, introverted, and emotionally wounded that she would, on principle, transform into a puddle. Lucien resolved to humor the peculiar situation and address the puddle with sincerity. "Marina," he repeated, his tone softer this time, "the others are concerned. Would you consider coming outside with me?" The puddle shifted. A small crest rose from its surface. Then, the water extended, forming a shape that pointed directly at him. A voice emerged from it at last. "And what about you?" Lucien's eyes widened slightly. The puddle rippled once more. "Are you concerned about me as well?" Her question lacked any trace of accusation, which, paradoxically, made it more impactful. Lucien offered no falsehood. "Naturally, I am concerned," he stated plainly. "Were I not, I would not have made the journey here myself." The puddle became motionless. Then, gradually, the water began to gather, rising upward and coalescing into a discernible form.
Marina reappeared, standing before him in one of her looser outfits.
Lucien let out a breath of relief. "That’s better."
Marina observed him for a moment before a smile bloomed. It wasn't her usual brazen grin, but a quieter one this time. "My prince," she began, "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately."
Lucien tilted his head.
Marina placed a hand over her chest. "You are essentially the king of this place now."
Lucien remained silent.
Marina’s smile subtly shifted, becoming a touch more perilous. "A king," she continued, "can have as many consorts as he desires."
Lucien stared, his eyes widening. Marina’s own eyes gleamed. "So," she said, her tone light, "how about you take me as one?"
Lucien felt a part of his soul momentarily detach, only to be yanked back by the sheer weight of responsibility. 'What a succubus,' was the only thought that echoed in his mind. Marina possessed a dreadful talent for appearing helpless one second, then disarming him with words that triggered cascade failures in his mental defenses.
Lucien opened his mouth, then closed it, only to open it again. "That," he finally stated, navigating the conversation with the caution of someone crossing a minefield, "is not a decision I can make alone."
Dissatisfaction immediately clouded Marina’s expression. "Hmph." She turned her face away, a clear sign of her displeasure.
Lucien scratched his head, acknowledging his ineptitude with such direct propositions. Fortunately, Marina didn't prolong his discomfort. After a few more breaths of silence, she glanced back at him. "I will go outside," she declared, "if you carry me out."
Lucien almost sighed in relief. That, at least, sounded manageable. "Just carry me?"
Marina’s eyes instantly brightened. "Yes." Lucien nodded once. "That is acceptable."
The instant the words left his lips, Marina’s demeanor transformed. She stepped forward and, with alarming speed, climbed onto his back, her arms encircling him. Her body pressed close without a hint of shame. Lucien froze for a critical heartbeat before forcing himself to move as if he were a normal person.
Or as normal as one could be while carrying a woman who seemed to believe that personal boundaries were optional if one was sufficiently charming. As he walked, Lucien’s mind conjured unwelcome thoughts. 'Would Sera get angry?' He swiftly suppressed the notion, redirecting his focus to the reason for his excursion. Thus, while carrying her, he began to explain the recent developments within Lootwell. Marina listened intently.
Then, he conveyed the more significant news. "There's a district designated for your people now as well," he informed her. Marina's grip tightened slightly. Lucien proceeded, "You can bring them into the greater territory. They can reside there properly as part of Lootwell." Marina remained silent for a moment. Lucien then added the final, crucial piece: "And I need you on the outside." This statement caused her to still completely.
Lucien shifted her slightly higher on his back. "When Lootwell opens to the public, I'll need trusted individuals in visible positions. I'm not planning to step forward and announce myself to the entire world just yet. I intend to remain behind the scenes for the time being." Marina lifted her head slightly, while Lucien continued, his gaze fixed ahead. "You," he stated, "are one of the people I trust implicitly. I want you helping to oversee things when the time comes." This time, her silence was different – it was luminous. Lucien could almost sense the surge of determination within her before she even uttered a word.
"And," he added, "brief your people. No one is to use my name openly. No one is to reveal the truth about who governs Lootwell." Marina nodded against his shoulder. "Of course." Her voice had transformed; the last vestiges of her earlier melancholy had vanished, replaced by an intensity that was uniquely Marina’s. He had bestowed upon her a genuine role, a significant one, and that mattered to her more than she would likely ever admit directly.
As they finally emerged, the others immediately took notice. Marie was the first, followed by Kaia, and then Sylra. All of them looked from Lucien to Marina, clinging comfortably to his back, and then back to Lucien once more. Noticing their expressions, Marina promptly stuck out her tongue with the playful air of a child who had just secured a minor but emotionally resonant prize. Marie pointed at her. "You little—" Marina tightened her hold around Lucien’s shoulders and declared with unashamed boldness, "I'm not getting down yet." Lucien simply chuckled. And so, for a period that day, he walked through Lootwell, carrying a peculiar girl on his back while several others observed them with complex expressions. It was absurd. It was peaceful. It was, regrettably, becoming their new normal.
•••
Later, Lucien began summoning everyone back. Certain matters could no longer be postponed.
The territory of Lootwell was approaching a critical juncture; soon, its concealment would transform from a passive state of being hidden into an active, strategic maneuver. It was imperative that before the territory was unveiled to the masses, the right individuals needed to be in place.
Lootwell recognized the necessity of addressing them all, assigning them their respective roles, and establishing clear guidelines before the public gaze fell upon them. Thus, a general summons was dispatched.
Furthermore, he requested Astraea to locate and bring Luke and Cienna back, entrusting her with the Spatial Compass for this task. He also expressed a desire for Midas, Augustus, and any others who had departed to return if feasible.
Instructions were also sent for Reaper, Eldran, and their respective teams to make their way back.
Every significant figure associated with the territory needed to be summoned.
This gathering was essential because a momentous undertaking was on the cusp of commencing.
Lootwell was on the verge of transitioning from a mere whisper of a rumor to a tangible reality.
Before long—
it would inevitably have to determine the initial impression it wished to present to the world.
