100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 542 - Changes

Days ebbed away.

A semblance of normalcy returned.

Or at least, that was Lucien’s preferred term for the current state of affairs.

In reality, the world had undergone another transformation.

The lingering effects of Oblivion were gone, and memories had been restored to those who had previously possessed them.

With the return of memory came the inevitable reckoning.

The first to appear was Dawnbinder.

And Lucien could discern it clearly on his face: the frustration, the profound shame, and the deep gash to his pride.

For someone who identified as a Pathfinder, forgetting a path previously traversed was not a minor slip-up; it was a source of intense humiliation.

Before Lucien, within the stillness of a private chamber, Dawnbinder bowed his head.

"I had forgotten you," he confessed.

Lucien remained silent.

"I stood before you. We spoke. I sensed that something vital was absent, yet I still failed to find the path back to the truth."

Dawnbinder’s voice cracked slightly.

"For one who claims to be a Pathfinder, this is a significant failure."

Lucien observed him for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"You were not deceived by a mere faulty illusion. You were overwhelmed by the influence of something far surpassing ordinary laws."

Dawnbinder’s head snapped up.

Lucien elaborated, "It was an Abyssal authority. The sort that doesn’t just conceal a route but implants the conviction that no such route ever existed."

The atmosphere palpably shifted.

Dawnbinder’s guilt didn't vanish, but its nature changed.

His eyes widened first, then narrowed with focused intent.

"Abyssal authority," he echoed, the words resonating with newfound gravity.

Lucien gave a nod.

"One of the most insidious kinds."

A heavy silence fell upon Dawnbinder.

Then, gradually, a spark ignited within his gaze.

"If such a power can obliterate a path from one’s mind," he stated softly, "then a Pathfinder incapable of resisting it is, by definition, incomplete."

A small smile nearly formed on Lucien’s lips.

This was a far more constructive reaction.

Dawnbinder straightened, lifting his head fully.

"Then I have a new aspiration."

Lucien crossed his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You seek to defy Abyssal influence?"

"I intend to become the sort of Pathfinder who can uncover the way, even when the path itself has been actively denied existence."

That response pleased Lucien more than he outwardly displayed.

"Excellent."

Dawnbinder’s personal growth would inevitably benefit others as well.

Elias, in particular, would receive positive repercussions.

Indeed, Lucien had already begun to observe the subtle shifts.

Under Dawnbinder’s tutelage, Elias was showing signs of awakening the dormant Luminarch bloodline within him.

Lucien didn’t claim to fully grasp the methods Dawnbinder employed.

However, Elias was now capable of wielding abilities that were once exclusive to Luminarch pathfinders.

That was sufficient.

If Dawnbinder’s remorse could transform into genuine progress, Lucien certainly wouldn't voice any complaints.

• • •

The subsequent communication arrived through an ancient connection.

Vaelcar, referred to as the Oath-Buried and the Cataclysm Wyrm.

The Concord Pact pulsed, and Lucien felt Vaelcar’s essence brush against his consciousness.

Vaelcar remained situated on the North Continent, occupied with calming the region following the prior upheaval. He had solidified his position as one of the anchors stabilizing the area.

However, his voice, transmitted through the pact, bore no trace of pride; instead, it was tinged with shame.

"Little Brother."

Lucien paused, surprised.

He had never before heard Vaelcar adopt such a tone.

"I remembered," Vaelcar stated.

Lucien closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"It was not a failing on your part."

Vaelcar’s reply came after a deliberate pause.

"Perhaps. But I am the Oath-Buried. My very nature is to retain the memory of bonds. To forget someone to whom I swore an oath under the pact is a profound dishonor."

Lucien understood the root of Vaelcar’s distress.

For Dawnbinder, the wound had been to his pathfinding principles.

For Vaelcar, it was a violation of his sworn commitment.

Different source of pride, yet the same sharp pain.

Lucien responded with calm but unwavering conviction.

"Then, consider it evidence of the enemy’s immense power, rather than a reflection of your personal failure. If a force exists that can obliterate an oath from one known as the Oath-Buried, then we gain crucial insight into why such powers must not be taken lightly."

Vaelcar remained silent for a considerable duration.

Finally, his voice regained its steadiness.

"Your words are generous."

"My words are practical."

A low sound, almost a chuckle, emanated from the other end of the connection.

Lucien then continued, "Brother, I plan to journey to the North Continent soon. I will establish a teleportation array there for convenience."

The shift in Vaelcar’s demeanor was immediate and palpable.

"That would be most welcome."

Lucien could almost sense Vaelcar figuratively straightening his posture.

"Furthermore, there are others who are eager to meet you," Vaelcar added.

Lucien’s eyebrows rose slightly in curiosity.

"Oh? Who might they be?"

"The Obsidian Collegium."

That statement immediately captured Lucien’s attention.

Vaelcar elaborated, "Their patriarch is an old acquaintance of mine. Upon the dissipation of the superior authority’s influence, he grasped the nature of the events almost instantaneously."

Lucien became very still.

"He understood?"

"He did not comprehend everything," Vaelcar clarified. "However, he recognized the distinctive signature of abyssal interference from a higher source. He was the one who advised me against succumbing entirely to shame."

Lucien leaned back slightly, digesting this information.

It was clear that the patriarch of the Obsidian Collegium was no ordinary individual.

Vaelcar added, "Their scholars are keen to meet you. Arctyx will be among them."

Lucien recalled Arctyx, a flicker of recognition surfacing.

A subtle smile touched his lips.

With considerable haste, the representatives from the Scarlet Sect departed, their exit far more urgent than their arrival.

Lucien observed their departure.

Another fragment, he mused, would likely surface soon.

The network of the Origin Core would expand once more.

And the world, without fully grasping the mechanism, would continue to furnish him with the instruments to make Lootwell an entity too significant to overlook.

•••

Then, another transformation occurred.

Celestials began to frequent Lootwell.

Initially, only a handful made their appearance.

Subsequently, their numbers grew.

When the Celestials started visiting openly, much like intrigued guests exploring new territories, touring the various districts, engaging in conversations with staff, visiting the chapel, marveling at the marketplaces, and making purchases with the serene curiosity of individuals assessing a relative's peculiar new residence, the external world found itself uncertain of its reaction.

On the first day a contingent of winged Celestials strolled through the Market District, a significant portion of the visitors present momentarily lost the ability to feign indifference to their staring.

One merchant nearly let his communication device slip from his grasp.

A sect elder, who had been vociferously extolling the burgeoning influence of Lootwell, abruptly hushed his voice, causing his disciples to glance at him with concern for his vocal cords.

A young practitioner inquired in a whisper, "Are those truly Celestials?"

His companion responded equally softly, "No. Clearly, they are exceptionally convincing decorative illusions."

At that precise moment, one of the Celestials turned and offered them a gentle smile.

Both young men immediately straightened their postures, contemplating a complete overhaul of their personal conduct.

The extraordinary nature of Lootwell escalated dramatically overnight.

The circulating rumors escalated to preposterous levels.

It was rumored that Lootwell received support from the Celestial Race. Some whispered that Lootwell's enigmatic leader had wed into a Celestial family. Others claimed Lootwell had intimidated the Celestials into a pact of friendship. A prevailing theory suggested Lootwell was demonstrably more ancient than its public assertions indicated.

Upon overhearing one of the more outlandish speculations, Lucien almost sputtered his tea.

Shortly thereafter, Virel and Aniel paid a visit.

This event effectively extinguished any lingering hope the outside world held for maintaining emotional equilibrium.

They arrived not with the imposing authority of rulers descending upon their domain, but rather like parents surveying the territory their son had cultivated.

They toured the city's districts, accompanied by Vivian, with several Celestial attendants maintaining a respectful distance in their wake. Virel and Aniel observed every detail with evident fascination and a warmth of pride that they made little effort to conceal.

Their tour included the Market District.

They visited the chapel.

They inspected the training grounds.

They observed the Ascension Spire, pausing for a duration that prompted Virel to cast a meaningful glance at Lucien, conveying his full understanding of the structure's inherent challenges.

Aniel, meanwhile, listened with patient delight as the city's inhabitants explained its various facets.

As they traversed the city, they bestowed blessings.

Light graced weary laborers. A delicate infusion of divine energy settled upon the children. Old ailments received a quiet purification. A radiant pulse alleviated the fatigue of guards who had stood vigil for extended periods. A conferring of clarity enlightened a group of young scholars as they entered the Monsterdex hall.

The populace of Lootwell received these gestures with awe.

The external observers, however, reacted with terror masked as reverence.

This was because these were no ordinary Celestials.

These were Celestials of the Eternal Realm.

And they were personally walking through Lootwell, bestowing their blessings upon its people.

Lootwell's standing ascended so precipitously that even the most obstinate factions were compelled to revise their internal assessments.

Whatever assumptions they had previously held about Lootwell were now supplanted by a single, daunting reality:

The Celestial Dominion was not merely aware of Lootwell.

It had come to pay a visit.

By the close of that day, the news had disseminated through every available communication channel, along all merchant routes, within every sect's assembly, and echoed in the hushed, fearful whispers that traveled beyond the grand protective barrier.

Lootwell was not merely prosperous.

It possessed crucial connections.

And within the vast expanse of the Big World, established ties to influential powers could evoke far greater dread than any military force.

Lucien observed this societal shift unfold with a sense of quiet amusement.

His intention had not been to orchestrate a political spectacle.

He had simply wished for his parents to experience his home.

The world, predictably, chose this opportune moment to descend into panic.