100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 522 - First Day

With Vivian and Eirene overseeing the proceedings, the grand opening unfolded with far less chaos than many outsiders had anticipated.

That isn't to say it was a tranquil affair.

The instant the initial queues began to form, the slumbering ancient beasts stirred, their presence reasserting itself. They merely exerted a fraction of their formidable power, a potent reminder to the assembled populace that Lootwell's patience was not a sign of weakness, and its imposed order was absolute.

This subtle display proved sufficient.

The vast throng outside seemed to collectively straighten, their posture shifting as one.

The enrollment process commenced.

Progressing line by line, and group by group, the eager visitors moved towards the initial reception points. Here, expertly trained Lootwell attendants distributed access credentials with a blend of polished grace and unnerving precision.

Entry itself was entirely without charge.

This generosity came as a genuine surprise to many.

However, any lapse in vigilance, any carelessness, would swiftly incur a hefty price.

Vivian positioned herself at the forefront, embodying the epitome of calm authority and organized composure. Eirene, standing just a step behind, projected an aura that instilled an even greater sense of caution in the attendees than Vivian's established power alone could achieve. Surrounding them, the attendants executed their tasks in a synchronized, flawless rhythm.

Every movement was executed with immaculate cleanliness.

For the better part of the first hour, Lootwell's opening ceremony appeared almost anticlimactically orderly.

Then, an individual decided to test the boundaries.

He had strategically waited until the dense crowd presented ample cover, until the collective attention seemed sufficiently diffused to mask a daring act amidst the cautious majority. This slender man, clad in opulent robes, activated a concealment artifact, blurring his physical presence, and attempted to bypass the entry queue without acquiring the necessary token.

His attempt at subterfuge lasted for precisely three steps.

It was then that the protective barrier responded.

A blinding flash erupted.

A sharp, cracking sound split the air.

And the man instantaneously vanished from within the line, only to reappear far beyond the establishment's perimeter in a spectacle of fractured light and utter humiliation, leaving behind a cloud of indignant dust.

The assembled crowd fell into a hushed silence for a mere half-beat.

Then, Astraea's voice, laced with a cool, almost detached amusement, resonated across the expanse.

"This individual attempted unauthorized entry without possessing a valid access token."

Far from the main procession, the summarily ejected figure had only just managed to regain his footing when a powerful restraint formation enveloped his limbs, simultaneously marking his unique mana signature within the public offense registry.

Astraea continued, her pace unhurried, "His signature has been officially logged. He is now the inaugural visitor to be permanently blacklisted by Lootwell."

The crowd extending outwards reacted precisely as crowds invariably do when an unknown figure is made into a public example.

A spectrum of emotions rippled through them: some were visibly horrified, others deeply impressed, and a number openly chuckled.

An elder merchant standing further back in the queue murmured, "To achieve historical first and still choose utter disgrace."

His grandson, struggling visibly to suppress a grin, whispered back, "At least he'll be remembered for something, right?"

This sentiment, simple and sharp, spread like wildfire through the waiting multitude.

And just like that, the atmosphere of the day shifted, a palpable edge sharpening the air.

The attendees now clearly understood that Lootwell's declared laws were not mere decorative pronouncements sent through communication devices to project an image of seriousness.

They were actively enforced.

This realization fostered a much greater degree of respect among everyone present.

However, this newfound respect did not, unfortunately, translate into universal wisdom.

Further instances of expulsion soon followed.

One visitor, after receiving his token, stepped aside and then subtly attempted to probe its internal mechanisms using his spiritual sense. The token fractured in his grasp, launching him violently backward, out of the protective barrier, before he could even register his offense.

Another man, harboring suspicions about "unnecessary restrictions," deliberately shattered his own token while already within the outer district, ostensibly to "discover what the consequences would be."

He learned the answer immediately.

He dematerialized from the market entrance, reappearing outside with such abruptness that several individuals in the queue spontaneously applauded the educational efficacy of his experience.

A third individual, a young swordsman whose hereditary pride significantly outweighed his self-control, allowed a flicker of killing intent to escape when another visitor accidentally brushed against the hem of his robes.

He was ejected before he could even utter a single insult.

Astraea, clearly deriving considerable amusement from this didactic approach, provided a running commentary on each incident for the benefit of those still awaiting entry.

"This unfortunate soul attempted to tamper with the token."

"This one intentionally destroyed his access token, apparently as some sort of misguided experiment."

"And this individual decided that broadcasting his killing intent in public was an acceptable form of personal expression."

That final pronouncement nearly triggered an uncontrollable outburst of suppressed laughter throughout the assembled group.

The system, however, remained demonstrably equitable.

Those committing minor infractions were simply expelled and required to rejoin the end of the queue, provided their transgression did not warrant permanent exclusion. Individuals who inadvertently damaged their tokens through sheer foolishness rather than deliberate malice were issued replacements after a thorough review and a visible display of their contrition.

The truly malicious offenders, however, were unequivocally blacklisted.

This clear-cut differentiation offered a greater sense of security and calm than any vague promise ever could.

Before long, the entire process evolved into something approaching sheer elegance.

Form an orderly line. Receive your token. Enter the premises. Adhere to the designated pathways. Purchase the items you desire. Remain within approved areas. Enjoy your visit. Depart with your dignity fully intact.

Travelers opting for speed chose paid transport, while those preferring a leisurely exploration were permitted to wander at their own pace. Flights were regulated within specific corridors but not entirely prohibited in public areas, provided visitors steered clear of restricted zones and did not loiter in forbidden airspace.

Each route was designed with purpose.

Every liberty was structured.

By midday, even those new to the area began to perceive the underlying significance.

Lootwell maintained strictness.

Yet, it was not unwelcoming.

This distinction held weight.

• • •

Hours later, the Market District pulsed with a vibrant, chaotic energy.

The primary draw for most newcomers was singular.

The communication devices.

This was evident from the extensive queues.

The sprawling halls dedicated to these devices at the market's core featured waiting lines so lengthy and convoluted that some individuals began evaluating transit expenses against walking durations, akin to how military commanders would compare strategies for a siege.

Those who utilized paid transport possessed a clear advantage.

The ground and aerial pathways swiftly conveyed them to the device halls, whereas pedestrians had to traverse the district's entirety by foot. Numerous indignant yet composed members of various sects observed the gliding transport users, silently resolving to categorize the expense as a strategic necessity later.

However, once individuals acquired their communication devices, a majority chose to remain.

This marked the day's first true triumph.

They stayed.

Because the instant they were properly immersed in Lootwell, a universal reaction of astonishment washed over nearly all of them.

Disbelief.

The Karesh Desert had once been a desolate wasteland.

It was infamous for its sand, intense heat, and a raw, unforgiving nature that one only traversed when absolutely necessary.

Now, it teemed with life.

Crystal-clear water flowed through channels beneath gracefully designed bridges. The wide, immaculate avenues were structured without feeling sterile. Artfully crafted stone and refined metal formed plazas, inns, market stalls, resting areas, and elevated platforms, creating an environment that was both magnificent and eminently practical. Vegetation flourished where it had no business surviving. Shade offered respite where none had ever existed. An order was present, yet it didn't feel oppressive. Abundance was evident, but without devolving into vulgar disorder.

And underlying it all was something far more unsettling for the outside world.

Proof.

A civilization had emerged, unnoticed by the continent.

This realization struck many individuals more profoundly than the initial spectacle.

Their pace slackened.

Their gazes lingered. Conversations softened. Thoughts became more deliberate.

Not because Lootwell overtly demanded reverence.

But because it evoked awe, regardless of the observer's willingness.

The Market District alone was sufficient to shatter preconceived notions.

It was immense.

A diverse array of beings traversed its expanse.

Humans constituted the dominant population, a fact that itself unsettled many external observers. Humans, long regarded as fragmented, diminished, or politically insignificant depending on one's origin, were present in substantial numbers, moving with assurance rather than apprehension.

This observation immediately sparked conjectures.

And it wasn't solely humans.

Mystical creatures roamed. Unfamiliar species were present. Individuals bearing the marks of different realms stood in solidarity under a single legal framework.

In some squares, gargoyles stood as inanimate stone sentinels until one abruptly turned its head, causing a nearby outsider to nearly drop his recently acquired device in shock.

Beasts patrolled the routes with a disciplined regularity, much like soldiers displaying rank and executing orders.

The more perceptive among the visitors sensed it instantly.

Everything within Lootwell was under vigilant protection.

The very air. The land. The water. The pathways connecting plazas. The tranquil spaces between districts. Even the silence felt monitored.

Watchful eyes were omnipresent.

For numerous outsiders, entering Lootwell felt akin to treading on fragile shells.

But then, they encountered the day's second revelation.

Nothing transpired if the established rules were adhered to.

Lootwell responded with efficient order, not with punitive measures.

This brought a sense of relief to many, more than they were willing to admit.

The market itself continued to unveil wonders.

The communication devices were far from the only remarkable items available.

Then came another jolt.

The Starforge, or more accurately, the remnants of its influence within Lootwell, was openly reflected in the district's architecture and artistic style.

People recognized it.

Or at least, elements of it.

This recognition alone sent ripples of hushed discussion through the market.

"Is the Starforge connected to this place?"

"No, not connected. It feels integrated."

"What has this territory truly amassed?"

The answer began to take root in their minds, unspoken yet undeniable.

Formidable.

That was the primary emotional truth Lootwell imprinted upon most outsiders.

• • •

The Ascension Spire emanated a powerful aura before noon.

Lines formed there almost as rapidly as they did at the communication halls.

The same held true for the Doors.

Skillpedia. Magic Book. Monsterdex.

Some individuals, feigning mere observation, found themselves calculating their household's financial capacity for even a single entry within an hour, lest they face embarrassment.

A sense of vindication washed over many faction representatives.

Their selection, predicated on their people's trust in their judgment for significant matters, now placed them before unparalleled opportunities capable of reshaping destinies.

The more stringent Lootwell's regulations became, the greater the relief felt by many.

It was precisely this strictness, they reasoned, that would prevent such a valuable entity from succumbing to factional avarice.

An elder, gazing intently at the Spire, articulated this thought:

"Should this sanctuary's rules be lax, it would surely crumble within a single season."

His subordinate echoed the sentiment.

"Thus, the rules themselves are integral to the treasure."

The elder regarded him thoughtfully, then remarked, "Excellent. You are beginning to grasp it."

This realization permeated the atmosphere far more widely than Lucien had anticipated.

The adherence to the strictness stemmed from an intuitive understanding of the force behind it.

Lootwell's difficulty was not born of arrogance.

Its challenges were a consequence of the genuine life-altering potential its access offered.

One might enter in weakness and depart with strength. They might arrive in ignorance and leave enlightened. Still others, seeking merely a communication device, could depart realizing their entire sect lagged a decade behind in strategic thinking.

This latter consequence, Lucien suspected, would become a prevalent affliction.

As the first day progressed past its midpoint, the crowd's initial fervent curiosity transmuted into something far more profound and perilous.

Covetousness.

Not merely a desire to witness Lootwell.

But to integrate with it. To engage in commerce with it. To absorb its wisdom. To emulate it, if at all possible. To be accepted into its ranks, if permitted. And, for a select few, to one day ascend to its very apex.

From the Stillness Palace, Lucien observed these developments via the Jade Tablet, a smile gracing his lips.

"Good. Let them yearn."

The inaugural day had accomplished its essential purpose.

It had not merely unlatched the gates.

It had irrevocably demonstrated to the world that Lootwell was no mere legend solidified.

It was a place where ambition had been rigorously shaped into tangible structure.