100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 545 - Right Path

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Previously on 100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?...
Lucien's growing power allows him to peer into the true name of the Arch-Lord Alanthuriel. He witnesses the Arch-Lords of the Abyss judging and destroying timelines they deem imperfect to create a single, perfect continuum. Alanthuriel steals the Key of the Prime Continuum, locking the main timeline to prevent further pruning and protect it from potential collapse, but this action causes causality to correct any deep interference within that single, linear path.
The world shattered. Lucien's eyes snapped open. The Origin Core Shrine materialized around him in an instant. For a few moments, Lucien found himself disoriented, unsure of his surroundings. Then, feeling gradually returned. His hands clenched the shrine's floor with such intensity that imprints formed in the stone. His body was slick with sweat, his breathing ragged and uneven, like someone who had just been pulled from an unfathomably deep ocean of reality. A single, rough, humorless laugh escaped Lucien's lips. "Of course," he choked out. "Of course it had to get worse." Lowering his head, Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, his thoughts in turmoil. He couldn't recall how much time had passed in that state. He didn't even remember transitioning back to his quarters. One moment he was within the shrine; the next, he found himself standing in his private chamber. He appeared pale, a fact that inexplicably irritated him. Then, another memory surfaced: the Primordial Slime. It had informed him long ago that the Primordial Entities sought the Origin Core for a specific reason. They had glimpsed something beyond the confines of the universe, and the Origin Core was perceived as a means to achieve their aims. Lucien's gaze sharpened. "Are they connected?" he questioned under his breath. The objective of the Primordials. The objective of the Abyss. Could both be acting in response to the same underlying threat? If so, a far more troubling question arose: Were the Primordials inherently malevolent? The mere appearance of this question caused Lucien to recoil. It offered no simple answer. If the Primordials had indeed perceived something beyond the universe, perhaps they, too, believed their actions were necessary for survival. Perhaps they viewed the Origin Core not as a sacred object, but merely as a tool, much like the Arch-Lords regarded entire timelines. They might not have been simple villains; they could have been attempting to preserve something vital. Yet, Lucien's expression grew stern. "No," he stated softly. Even if there was a grain of truth to that, it did not excuse their actions. If their ultimate goal was the preservation of the universe, they could have collaborated with the Primordial Slime, sought cooperation, and protected weaker worlds instead of allowing conflict and destruction to engulf existence. Instead, they relentlessly pursued power. Perhaps they were driven by a genuine fear. Their initial motivations might have been grand enough to appear noble from afar. However, somewhere along the path, the instinct for survival had morphed into a desire for possession, which eventually devolved into sheer cruelty. Lucien took a slow breath. "In the end," he murmured, "they likely just want to ensure their own survival." This explanation felt far more plausible. And infinitely more perilous. He massaged his forehead; his mind continued its relentless churn. He now possessed too much knowledge, not enough to find solutions, but just enough to grasp that every challenge he had encountered was but a component of a greater, unsettling structure. He almost let out another laugh. It was at that precise moment... Lucien sensed it. An absence. A sudden rift in reality, as if a piece of existence had silently opted out. Lucien's eyes flew open. He spun around. And there he was: Alanthuriel. Lucien stared, forcing himself to inhale. "Senior Alan," he greeted formally. Alanthuriel remained silent, then his voice echoed directly within Lucien's mind. "So, you have witnessed the truth." Those words were confirmation enough. What Lucien had seen was indeed real. His heart pounded with greater intensity. He had a dozen questions burning within him, but for a moment, no words could escape his lips. Alanthuriel continued, "The key has been reclaimed by Oblivion." Lucien felt a jolt of paralysis. The room seemed to spin. For one agonizing instant, all he could envision was the vision replaying: the Arch-Lords retrieving the key, the Prime Continuum initiating its sequence, the pruning process resuming, and the primary timeline facing judgment rather than protection. And if this timeline were deemed imperfect? Everything he knew could simply cease to exist. Lucien's throat constricted. Alanthuriel observed him, then, seemingly perceiving the direction of his thoughts, spoke again. "I have granted you time." Lucien looked at him sharply. Alanthuriel's tone remained composed. "The key will not be functional for some time. I modified it before relinquishing it. Its authority remains intact, but its structure no longer responds directly. They must first decipher what I have obscured. They must reconstruct what I have rendered ineffective. This will require years." Lucien exhaled a shaky breath. Years. Lucien closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. "Senior Alan," he inquired, "may I ask how your confrontation with Oblivion concluded?" Alanthuriel paused before responding, his answer delivered with absolute finality. "It was barely a confrontation." Lucien froze. Alanthuriel elaborated, "Oblivion cannot vanquish Nihility. That is an undeniable fact." His statement carried no trace of arrogance, making it all the more convincing. Alanthuriel spoke as if stating the obvious, like describing the trajectory of falling rain. "Oblivion possesses the ability to erase what has existed. Nihility holds the power to negate the authority of that erasure." A shiver traced its way down Lucien's spine. Alanthuriel continued, "However, outright victory in combat was never the objective."

Lucien grasped the truth even before the next words were spoken.

"Should I have refused to relinquish the key, the Abyss would have acted on its own."

The atmosphere within the chamber grew noticeably colder.

Alanthuriel's imposing presence intensified.

"The Arch-Lords would cease their waiting for Oblivion's recovery. They would intervene in this timeline directly. Wounding it would not require the key, nor would they need permission from causality. They are among the very authorities from which such permissions originate."

Lucien's fingers instinctively curled into fists.

So, that was the crux of it.

Alanthuriel had not truly lost.

He had simply chosen the outcome that would result in less catastrophic devastation.

If he had retained possession of the key, the Abyss would have intervened directly.

However, by surrendering it, albeit in a modified and delayed manner, the Abyss would first focus its efforts on restoring its functionality.

Time had been bought.

Yet, the implications were crushingly heavy.

The Abyss existed far beyond the constraints of ordinary causality.

Lucien had only recently come to understand causality as the mechanism by which a sealed timeline corrected any deviations.

But the Abyssal Arch-Lords operated on a plane where they could directly influence the very framework that generated these corrections.

They were not merely pieces maneuvering on a game board.

They were potent forces capable of reaching out and affecting the board itself.

A shiver traced its way down Lucien's spine.

He despised feeling insignificant.

This situation made him feel utterly microscopic.

Alanthuriel's voice echoed within him once more.

"For the interim period, there will be no direct interference from them."

Lucien looked up, seeking the source of the voice.

"The Abyss will not intervene?"

"Not immediately. Their focus will be directed towards the key first."

Alanthuriel paused, allowing his words to sink in.

Then, he added, "I trust that you and this world will flourish during the respite I have secured."

Lucien almost let out a disbelieving laugh.

Only someone like Alanthuriel could refer to a delay before an impending, cosmic-scale judgment of the timeline as mere 'respite'.

He sank into a nearby chair, pressing his palms together before his face.

His thoughts began to spiral inward.

Lootwell had already established a considerable reputation in the West.

His people were showing significant growth.

He possessed the capacity to influence the world now.

Not entirely, perhaps, but significantly.

Enough to steer its general direction.

Still, other formidable threats loomed.

The Black Mass. The Primordial Incarnations. Various other scheming factions.

Lucien leaned back, covering his eyes with one hand.

"I absolutely shouldn't have peeked at a fate I couldn't possibly afford to bear."

The words escaped him, heavy with exhaustion.

He had yearned for answers.

Now, his mind was inundated with the endless implications stemming from them.

He was merely one person.

An utterly ludicrous individual with a cheat ability, yes.

The ruler of an impossibly vast territory, admittedly.

But still, just one person.

What was a single individual expected to do against entities who discussed entire timelines as if they were mere strategic maneuvers, and who could obliterate realities simply because a test, the parameters of which were unknown to anyone alive, had been failed?

Alanthuriel remained silent for a prolonged period.

Then, the void beside him subtly shifted.

Lucien lowered his hand.

Alanthuriel had adopted a humanoid form.

It remained somewhat unnatural, even so.

He appeared as a tall, pale man seemingly sculpted from controlled emptiness, his dark hair resembling a pact made with shadow rather than actual strands.

His eyes, at first glance, seemed calm and devoid of color, but prolonged gazing into them evoked the sensation of staring into a place where all extraneous elements had been purged.

Nevertheless, this form was considerably easier to converse with.

"I shall remain here for the time being," Alanthuriel stated.

Lucien stared, momentarily dumbfounded.

Alanthuriel's gaze drifted towards the distant vista of Lootwell, visible beyond the chamber's confines.

"I wish to observe the evolution of your territory."

Lucien opened his mouth to speak.

Then, he closed it again.

Alanthuriel continued, his voice steady, "Do not concern yourself with the Abyss for the present. You are proceeding on the correct path."

Lucien froze, his body going still.

These words resonated more profoundly than he had anticipated.

Coming from anyone else, they might have offered solace.

But from Alanthuriel, they felt like a calculated assessment.

"Senior Alan, are you certain?" Lucien inquired.

Alanthuriel turned his attention back to Lucien.

"You are collecting fragments rather than solely accumulating power. You are cultivating a tree, not merely sharpening weapons. You are establishing systems that uplift others, instead of standing alone atop a mound of the fallen. You are transforming people. This holds significance far beyond your current comprehension."

Lucien fell into a thoughtful silence.

Alanthuriel's gaze returned to the city below.

"A single individual cannot alter the fate of a universe by remaining detached from it."

Lucien listened intently.

"However, one being can influence the individuals who will carry that universe forward. Sufficiently altered paths generate momentum. Adequate momentum can bend fate, even within a rigidly sealed timeline."

Lucien's breathing gradually deepened and slowed.

The concept settled within him, akin to a key smoothly turning in a newly quieted lock.

He did not need to personally embody the solution to every problem.

His course of action was simply to continue what he had already been doing.

If the timeline was indeed locked, then every individual who grew stronger within its confines became even more crucial, not less.

There were no extraneous branches to conceal failures.

No alternate routes to preserve lost potential.

Each transformed life added weight to this single, unfolding path.

Lootwell was more than just a territory.

It represented a fundamental methodology.

Lucien slowly lowered his hands.

The constricting sensation in his chest began to dissipate.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Right.”

A single individual may not possess the power to alter the cosmos.

However, if that person inspires a multitude of others, and those individuals, in turn, influence yet more, then eventually, the universe might look back and recognize that its destiny had already undergone a profound transformation.

Alanthuriel observed him intently.

For a fleeting instant, the Abyssal Arch-Lord’s anthropomorphic visage appeared almost content.

Lucien met his gaze and let out a breath.

"Then I shall press onward."

Alanthuriel inclined his head in a single, decisive motion.

"That was the sole point I sought to ascertain."

Lucien responded with a weary chuckle.