100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 552 - Care
Previously on 100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?...
At a waterfall, four spirits convened. Earth arrived first, its form tumbling unevenly across the rocks and grass. Fire followed, leaving faint sparks with each bounce. Wind descended in a rapid, circular motion, nudging Earth gently. Water ascended from the pool below, droplets shimmering as it floated upward. For a moment, the four orbs regarded each other. Then, Fire bounced. Wind responded with a bounce of its own. Earth bounced again, with more force this time. Water pulsed with a quiet, joyful energy. Afterward, they merged softly in the air, spinning away from each other. Communication was unnecessary. They had always existed separately. Yet, the instant they met, it was as if separation had merely been a prelude to reunion.
...
The women observing this vision felt the golden radiance intensify. Memories began to seep into them, not fully, but sufficiently. Marie gasped, her fingers gripping the carpet below. Kaia leaned forward, one hand pressed to her chest. Sylra’s eyes widened in stunned silence. Marina covered her mouth, tears finally escaping. Understanding dawned. They were the spirits themselves... Their perceptions of themselves shifted dramatically. Their human memories remained intact. Their lives persisted. Their friendships, their decisions, their sorrows, their laughter, and their personal growth all remained. However, underlying these lives was something far more ancient: four elemental spirits, existing long before they ever took human form. “What are we?” Marie whispered. Kaia’s voice trembled, “I don’t know.” “But the memory is ours,” Sylra said softly. Marina shook her head, asking, “Why did we forget?” No answer was provided. Only the next vision unfolded.
•••
The initial encounter of the four spirits concluded with jubilation. Following this, all four turned towards the cavern concealed behind the waterfall. A thread of destiny led them there. They proceeded together. Inside, the cavern was enveloped in darkness, yet darkness did not impede them. Earth perceived the texture of stone. Fire sensed warmth. Wind felt the expanse of space. Water detected moisture on every surface. They ventured deeper. Then, they saw him. A man.
...
The four women, watching from the present, became rigid. The man bore a striking resemblance to Lucien. However… this man was not the Lucien they were acquainted with. His hair was longer, unkempt. His face appeared thinner. His attire was worn and neglected. His skin possessed a pallor indicative of someone who had ceased to care about living cleanly or dying slowly. His eyes were the most unsettling feature. They were hollow. Empty. The kind of void left behind when grief had consumed everything else, and even anger had fallen silent. Marie ceased breathing. Kaia’s heart pounded fiercely. Sylra’s fingers tightened on the table's edge. “My prince…” Marina whispered. But the man in the vision remained oblivious. He sat near the cavern wall, knees drawn up slightly, his gaze fixed on nothing. The surroundings of the cavern were identical to the place where the women now sat. The same carpet. The same fire pit. The same table. The same bed. Yet, in the vision, the place was desolate. Neglected. Barely alive.
...
The spirits entered. Their luminescence illuminated the cavern. For the first time, the man looked up. But then… the man lowered his gaze once more. It was as if even light had lost its significance. The spirits hovered nearby. Fire initiated, bouncing forward. There was no reaction. Wind circled his head. No reaction. Earth nudged his foot. Still no reaction. Water floated closer, pulsing gently. Not even a flicker of response. The man’s stare remained blank. Yet, the spirits did not relinquish their efforts.
•••
The visions shifted. Days turned into weeks. The four spirits exhausted every possibility. Initially, they danced around him, intensifying their glow whenever they perceived a possibility of him looking. They shaped stones into small figures. Fire created miniature sparks that danced in the air. Wind orchestrated the spinning of leaves in circles. Water formed small, reflective bubbles. The man remained unresponsive. Thus, they changed their approach. They began to tend to him. Earth was the first to recognize the man’s physical frailty. The brown-gold spirit positioned itself beneath him, gently lifting stones, softening the ground, and aiding in supporting his limbs when he needed to adjust his position. Occasionally, Earth applied a warm, mineral-rich energy to his body, akin to a massage, to ease muscles long unused to movement. Fire discerned that the cold afflicted him during the night. Consequently, the red-gold spirit ignited small flames in the fire pit, maintaining a constant, moderate heat. It dispelled dampness. It purified decay. It made the cavern feel less like a tomb. Wind observed that the air within the cavern grew stagnant. Therefore, the pale green spirit circulated continuously, clearing away smoke, channeling fresh air inside, sweeping dust from the corners, and sometimes, with comical persistence, attempting to nudge bits of food toward the man’s mouth. Water perceived that his body required the most frequent care. The blue-white spirit attended to his cleanliness. It wiped away grime. It delivered droplets to his lips. It soothed fevers and cleansed wounds. When he offered no resistance, Water interpreted this as tacit permission to continue its efforts.
...
The four women observed in absolute silence. The visions presented were not filled with grand battles.
Just four diminutive sprites tended to a broken man, and he seemed utterly indifferent to his own continued existence.
This indifference only amplified the pain they felt.
...
Daily, the sprites would depart the cavern to procure sustenance.
They gathered fruits, roots, and herbs—anything yielding enough to be consumed by the man.
Their return was always marked by immense pride in their findings.
Yet, the man paid them no mind.
Regardless, their efforts persisted.
On one occasion, the sprite named Wind managed to maneuver a small fruit towards the man's lips.
He deliberately turned his head away.
Fire reacted with indignant heat.
Earth shifted closer, pressing against his knee.
Water emanated a gentle pulse.
The man closed his eyes.
The sprites clustered around him.
They remained in vigil, waiting.
And waiting.
Eventually, perhaps because his physical endurance reached its absolute limit, or maybe a deeply buried part of him grew weary of rejecting kindness, or possibly the sheer stubbornness of the four tiny beings proved more potent than despair, the man finally opened his mouth.
He took a bite of the fruit.
He chewed once.
Then, he chewed again.
The sprites were instantly stilled, frozen in anticipation.
And then...
They erupted into joyous celebration.
Fire twirled so rapidly that sparks showered the area.
Wind whirled ecstatically throughout the cavern.
Water leaped up and down, creating small effervescent bursts of blue light.
Earth rose from below, gently lifting the man to his feet.
The man nearly toppled over.
The sprites swiftly caught him.
Then, with a display of ludicrous seriousness, they commenced to dance.
Four miniature orbs held up the weakened man, spinning him in an off-kilter circle around the rudimentary fire pit.
The scene should have been utterly preposterous.
Indeed, it was preposterous.
Yet, it was also profoundly moving.
This was because a subtle change flickered within the man's eyes.
It was only a small shift.
But it was significant.
Something stirred beneath the profound emptiness that had resided there.
Perhaps it was a distant memory.
Or a feeling that predated his overwhelming grief.
A faint bewilderment surfaced in someone who had forgotten the possibility of receiving care, only to be suddenly confronted with an inability to fully reject it.
...
The women watching openly wept at this point.
Marie let out a single tearful laugh.
"They were so foolish."
Kaia offered a pained smile.
"So incredibly stubborn."
Sylra whispered softly, "And so full of kindness."
Marina wiped her face and responded, "Naturally, we were."
The witnessed vision shifted once more.
•••
This time, the perspective was no longer that of the sprites.
It was the man's own viewpoint.
The world appeared desaturated through his eyes.
Every movement demanded immense effort. Every sound seemed to reach him through an immense, isolating distance. The tiny sprites flitted around him incessantly, radiating brightness, a persistent warmth, and perhaps a touch of irritation.
They had become an ingrained part of his existence.
He remained silent.
But he began to notice them.
Earth appeared to enjoy resting upon the floor covering.
Fire remained close to the central hearth.
Wind would find a spot by the table when fatigue from its ceaseless circling overcame it.
Water seemed drawn to the bed, likely due to its frequent task of arranging the blankets around the man.
They each had their preferred spaces.
Their own designated small territories.
The man registered this detail as well.
Then, one day, they departed to seek out food.
They did not return.
Initially, the man made no move.
Evening descended.
The fire pit remained cold and unlit.
Night enveloped the cavern.
The atmosphere within grew heavy and stale.
No small form nudged his hand.
No water touched his lips.
No wind attempted to compel him to eat.
No earth offered support to his frail legs as he shifted his position.
Morning arrived.
Still, there was no sign of their return.
A subtle alteration began to manifest in the man's gaze.
For the very first time, a flicker of worry surfaced.
It felt stiff and awkward, almost alien.
He struggled to sit up from the bed, his body trembling uncontrollably. His muscles had regained only a fraction of their former strength, a recovery painstakingly facilitated by them, day after day, through a nurture he hadn't solicited and, in his own estimation, hadn't earned.
He carefully lowered his feet to the ground.
His breathing became visibly strained.
Then, a distinct glint appeared in his eyes.
It was the spark of decision.
He knelt down.
Moving with agonizing slowness, he reached beneath the bed and retrieved a simple wooden box.
The four women observing this vision felt the surrounding atmosphere grow perceptibly tense.
The man opened the box.
Within its confines lay an object of impossibility.
The Origin Core.
Not merely a fragment, but an entire, luminous, and terrifyingly complete core, pulsing with the very authority of genesis itself.