100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 524 - Drops and Parade

Lootwell had found its rhythm, a rhythm that no longer required his constant, vigilant supervision over every minute detail, as if waiting to catch disaster before it could even manifest. With the Jade Tablet now in his grasp, Lucien's senses extended gently across the entire territory. He observed the thriving entity that was Lootwell and finally came to a personal admission: he was no longer obligated to oversee every single moment. This didn't signify a cessation of his watchfulness; rather, it meant the territory had progressed to a stage where he could afford to broaden his gaze. A subtle smile graced his lips, indicating that this new freedom allowed him space for other pursuits. His attention initially turned towards the chapel. The energy-gathering halls remained diligently at work, and the chapel attendants moved among them with an air of serene efficiency. Then, Lucien paused. New individuals were present. He refined his perception, focusing his observation on one particular side hall. A small group of outsiders were now integrated into the chapel's operations, performing limited service tasks. They were not yet citizens, not by any stretch of the definition. Yet, the profound reverence in their gazes as they looked towards Clara’s inner sanctum was so genuine that Lucien, almost out of sheer principle, felt a twinge of weariness. He let out a sigh. "So, she has begun gathering people again." Vivian, who had just entered and caught these words, tilted her head curiously. "Gathering who?" Lucien’s eyes remained fixed on the tablet. "Believers." Vivian moved closer, peering at the Jade Tablet, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Those aren't believers. They're workers." Lucien offered her a deadpan expression. "Sister, with Clara, that distinction is merely temporary." Vivian let out a laugh at this, which, unfortunately for Lucien, only solidified his conviction that he was correct. He then directed his gaze deeper into the chapel's network, reaching the Covenant Items. They now pulsed with significant power, the accumulated energies having coalesced beautifully. And there, nestled among them, lay the item retrieved from Severance. Lucien's expression shifted. That particular battle had imprinted itself too deeply within him to ever fade into mere memory. Nevertheless, the drops obtained were indeed quite useful.

***

SEVERANCE DROPS:

Legendary:

• Edge of Final Division — This artifact weakened continuity, disrupted ongoing enchantments, and impeded the healing of any entity wounded by its edge.

• Mantle of Unbinding – A shroud meticulously woven from severed connections, bestowing resistance against seals, bindings, suppression effects, and forced linkages.

Mythical:

• Core of Severance — This core contains the refined Law of Severance, granting absolute command over division, disjunction, and the clean separation of formerly unified entities.

• Axis of the Severed Path – This item reveals the intrinsic fracture-lines within fate, established structures, and flows of power, enabling its wielder to discern points of vulnerability for breaking, interrupting, or inducing collapse.

Divine:

• Covenant of the Final Threshold — This sacred artifact stabilizes transitions, brings incomplete separations to fruition, purifies distorted transitional states, and compels any entity lingering between continuation and dissolution to make a definitive choice.

— In combat, it converted wavering outcomes into irreversible conclusions.

— Outside of battle, it could preside over rites of completion and sanctioned divisions.

***

Lucien exhaled slowly. Every single drop acquired from Severance was extraordinary. Each one would undeniably prove significant. He nodded to himself, then shifted his focus onward. Midas, Augustus, Leo, and the others who had returned from their expeditions were diligently continuing their dungeon dives with an almost absurd level of dedication. When they were not within the Spire, they engaged in sparring matches against outsiders in the public combat arenas. There, their status as citizens of Lootwell elevated them to the status of minor legends in the eyes of visitors who hadn't yet decided whether to harbor envy, issue challenges, or humbly seek their guidance. They appeared content. Elsewhere, Luke and Cienna had also established their new routines. Following Lucien's successful replication of the Eclipse Attribute from the Lunarians, he had bestowed it upon them. Their progression had accelerated even further since then. More importantly, they had provided Lucien with something else of substantial value: their law records. These included the Law of Skill and the Law of Magic. Lucien had already embarked on an earnest study of these laws, with plans to compile them into Law Books in the future. Nevertheless, the Grand Archives remained under restricted access, and the most profound law books would continue to be exclusive to Lootwell’s citizens. While information certainly represented opportunity, certain forms of opportunity had to be preserved internally. Then, his senses shifted once more—and he stopped. As was customary, the slimes were undertaking their patrols. Skittles, the diminutive tyrant, led the procession, bouncing along one of the wide public avenues. Tens of thousands of slimes followed in meticulously structured waves behind him. Their myriad colors flashed under Lootwell’s illumination, resembling a moving tapestry of impossible jelly and legitimate menace. Oreo bounced along one flank, while Nyxis kept pace on another. Spryn and Drayn, the slimes embodying Life and Death, moved in an eerily synchronized rhythm, as if existence itself had been assigned a role in a grand parade.

The Nihility Slimes glided behind them with an unnerving, orderly quiet, causing more than a few outsiders to instinctively veer away without quite grasping the sudden caution gripping their souls.

These outsiders had long since become accustomed to the many peculiar occurrences within Lootwell.

The slimes were just one such oddity.

The scholars, or at least a portion of them, understood what these creatures were.

Slimes. A species long vanished from ordinary history.

And yet, here they were.

Not a mere handful, but an entire legion.

Spearheading this procession was a small, amorphous entity named Skittles, who had already attained the Ascendant Realm and now navigated Lootwell, embodying the roles of a mascot, a commander, and a minor divine symbol all at once.

Children adored the slime processions.

Outsiders gazed at them in wonder. Citizens offered cheerful waves. Certain merchants had even begun repositioning their stalls, aiming to guide the parade route through areas with greater foot traffic, as it turned out that even slimes could boost commercial activity simply by existing with such conspicuous confidence.

Lucien observed an outsider step onto the avenue, chuckle inwardly at the spectacle, then abruptly halt as Skittles turned and fixed him with a gaze that inexplicably carried the gravitas of authority—despite possessing no visible eyes.

Without hesitation, the outsider bowed deeply.

Skittles, apparently content with this display of proper deference, resumed its rhythmic bouncing.

Lucien covered his mouth, stifling a quiet laugh.

"They’ve become a full-fledged parade," he remarked.

Vivian glanced down, sighing as if the sight had exhausted her capacity for surprise at the unfolding reality.

"A beloved parade," she corrected gently.

Indeed, that was the truth of it.

People stepped aside for them with smiles. Even battle-hardened visitors found themselves watching, captivated, as the slime legion passed with a semblance of military order and an absurd degree of dignity.

It had transformed into one of Lootwell’s quintessential, accepted spectacles.

A place where a concealed civilization, a celestial sanctuary, a formidable dungeon tower, primeval beasts, and now, extinct slimes could somehow coexist without any sense of inherent contradiction.

Lucien nearly chuckled aloud at the thought.

Then, his mind began cataloging potential enhancements.

Not because anything was fundamentally flawed.

But because any thriving domain perpetually possesses areas ripe for refinement.

Public wayfinding could be ameliorated. Certain transit corridors might be expanded. Several high-tier exhibition halls required a more equitable distribution of visitors. The anticipated influx of future guests indicated that more auxiliary structures, situated beyond Lootwell’s core, would soon be indispensable.

Kael would undertake a portion of this expansion.

Lucien had already determined that once another week elapsed, Kael would venture further afield, armed with a larger inventory, augmented authority, and a more clearly defined directive. He was to engage in trade across different territories, establish formal outposts, and commence the founding of maintenance stations directly linked to Lootwell’s central infrastructure.

Not everyone possessed the means or opportunity to journey to Lootwell.

Some were constrained by time. Others by financial limitations. Some were too firmly rooted in their distant homelands. A number had not yet encountered sufficient enlightenment to comprehend the true nature of the communication devices.

Lootwell needed to transcend its status as a singular destination.

It had to achieve a pervasive presence.

Ubiquity.

With the advent of instantaneous teleportation arrays and the perfected instant-return talismans, this ambitious future had become considerably more attainable. Lootwell’s inhabitants could now disperse, establish nodal points, and return with utmost ease. This decentralized strategy would not diminish the core; rather, it would nourish it.

This prospect brought Lucien considerable satisfaction.

Subsequently, another matter arose.

Reaper and Eldran had already resolved to depart once more in the near future.

The recent festivities had not sustained their interest for long. Reaper harbored a distinct aversion to crowded celebrations, akin to how certain predators instinctively avoided brightly illuminated theaters. Eldran, for his part, was intent on continuing the development of clandestine routes and intelligence networks that would fortify Lootwell against unforeseen external threats.

Lucien convened with them prior to their impending departure.

Reaper was already semi-corporeal, cloaked in shadow as Lucien arrived—a state Lucien had come to suspect was less a practiced technique and more a reflection of his preferred disposition.

Eldran stood beside him, his characteristic composed demeanor radiating an enigmatic blend of unwavering dependability and veiled roguishness.

Lucien regarded them both and stated, "Before you embark, I require something from each of you."

Reaper’s eyes instantly ignited with interest.

"What manner of 'something' do you need?" Reaper inquired.

Lucien crossed his arms.

"Lootwell requires a clandestine branch," he declared.

Eldran’s sharp gaze intensified. Reaper visibly straightened.

Lucien elaborated, "Scouts. Watchers. Covert operatives. Spies, to use the blunt, honest term. Perhaps even assassins, when the situation demands. I seek an elusive force operating within Lootwell's shadows—a contingent skilled in stealth, intelligence gathering, silence, and, when necessary, elimination."

Reaper beamed with an almost audacious sincerity.

"Young Lord," he declared, "that aligns perfectly with my expertise."

Lucien had anticipated precisely those words.

Eldran gave a slight shake of his head, though a smile played on his lips as well.

"He means he's been anticipating an opportunity like this," Eldran clarified.

"That is also accurate," Reaper readily conceded.

Lucien allowed the banter to subside.

"I desire established training protocols," he continued. "Rigorous selection criteria. Paramount importance placed on loyalty. Undeviating patience as the second prerequisite. Competence as the third. Absolutely no rash individuals who mistake covert actions for ostentatious displays of ego."Reaper's expression turned almost pained. "I would never engage in training for mere vanity," he declared. Eldran eyed him skeptically. "Yet, you christened three of your knife forms with your own name," Eldran pointed out. "That was merely strategic branding," Reaper retorted. Lucien observed the two of them for a considerable duration. Then, a chuckle escaped him. Before long, he bid them farewell. Lucien found himself once more at the precipice of the Stillness Palace, extending his senses for a final survey of the territory's pervasive aura. The need to grasp it with both hands had vanished. He could now permit it to expand and flourish. And this, above all else, confirmed that Lootwell had undeniably solidified into reality.