100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 588 - Situations

They worked at once.

No one delayed.

Lilith moved first.

She took the Covenant of Pathless Sovereignty and leapt directly to the former Starforge territory.

For a moment, Lilith stood alone above the land.

This had once been home.

Then her eyes sharpened.

Memory could wait. Construction could not.

Lilith raised one hand.

Genesis Forging ignited.

Within minutes, the first Instant Teleportation Array began forming.

Within an hour, it connected to Lootwell.

Within two, the first construction teams crossed over.

Within three, Lilith returned to Lucien with the Void Disc.

She placed it in his hand.

Lucien looked at her.

"You look excited."

Lilith’s expression remained calm.

Her eyes did not.

"I am going back."

"You just came back."

"I know."

Then she turned around.

Lucien watched her walk away.

"Sister Lilith."

She stopped.

"I’ll leave the East to you."

Lilith was silent for a moment, then she gave him a radiant smile.

She then left immediately.

•••

Anvil-Horn also accelerated.

The moment he learned that Lilith had returned to the East, the old craftsman became much more efficient than before.

He did not say outright that he wanted to finish the northern branches quickly so he could join his daughter.

He began compressing work schedules with such ferocious calm that several younger craftsmen looked as if they had received enlightenment and trauma at the same time.

Ironhaven’s minor branch expansion surged forward.

The North responded well to visible work.

They did not trust speeches easily.

They trusted roads that survived snow.

Anvil-Horn gave them those things.

•••

While everyone moved, Lucien began planning again.

He sat alone in his private chamber and closed his eyes.

His awareness sank into his conceptual space.

The Divine Energy Core turned below him like a living sun.

Above it, the Tree of Creation rose in silence.

Dozens of fruits still hung from its branches.

Lucien counted.

Then counted again.

His expression slowly changed.

The branch where he had plucked his own fruit remained empty.

No new fruit had begun growing there.

Lucien stared.

Then his face fell slightly.

"Oh."

That one syllable carried an impressive amount of disappointment.

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

"Are you telling me the supply is limited?"

The Tree of Creation remained majestic.

Also unhelpful.

Lucien’s mood became complicated.

Dozens of fruits sounded like a lot.

It was not.

Not when he began listing the people who might need them.

He studied the tree more carefully.

Then his dissatisfaction eased.

The Tree of Creation was vast now.

But it was not complete yet.

Lucien could feel it.

Its roots were deeper, its branches stronger, its leaves more connected, and its fruits more profound. But somewhere in its structure, there were gaps.

This was still not the true Tree of Creation.

There were still more barks of the Tree of Creation somewhere in the universe.

Lucien’s eyes sharpened.

If he wanted the Tree of Creation to become whole, he needed the missing barks.

Then he began listing names.

Marie. Kaia. Sylra. Marina.

The four elemental women were a must.

They were already Eternals.

The Primordials of the four elements existed.

If Marie, Kaia, Sylra, and Marina continued along ordinary elemental Laws, then no matter how powerful they became, they would eventually approach a ceiling that belonged to someone else.

Lucien did not like that.

His people were not being raised to become leashed candles under old suns.

They needed branching Laws. Laws that belonged to them so deeply that no ancient source-holder could simply reach down and turn them off.

Lucien continued the list.

His close people would become the foundation of the new world he was building.

They did not only need strength.

Strength could be suppressed.

They needed authority that could not be casually controlled by higher powers.

That was the true value of the fruits.

Lucien leaned back in his chair.

His expression was calm.

His thoughts were not.

The list was too long.

The fruits were too few.

The world was too slow.

And the enemies were too close.

This was why rulers aged.

Lucien was not supposed to age easily anymore. He felt spiritually old anyway.

•••

The next day, Clara sent a message.

[My lord, I successfully made an appointment with the Silent Monastery.]

Lucien read it twice.

Then smiled.

That was good news.

[Good. I will leave it to you.]

Clara replied almost immediately.

[I will not disappoint you.]

...

Over the next few days, Clara sent reports directly to him.

Her messages were clear, detailed, and calmer than Lucien had feared.

She described the southern reception as cautious, polite, and watchful.

The Silent Monastery had not rejected Lootwell’s envoy.

That alone meant they were either open-minded or confident.

Possibly both.

Clara’s reports became more serious as she learned more.

Then one message made Lucien stop moving.

[My lord, I have identified the direction of their worship.]

Lucien’s expression changed.

Another line appeared.

[The South does not fully understand the beings they revere. They call them the High Ones, the Returning Bells, and the Silent Guardians.]

Then a third line.

[I believe they are Primordials.]

Lucien fell silent.

The Silent Monastery of the Ninth Bell... worshipped Primordials.

Lucien leaned back slowly.

This had become much more complicated.

Not all Primordials had stood against the world.

Some had fought for humanity.

Some had stood beside the living races.

Some had helped preserve worlds that should have been devoured.

When the enemy incarnations were sealed, the friendly incarnations made a different choice.

They broke their own incarnations.

They returned to the Primordial Space.

Perhaps they had known that remaining would break the balance.

Perhaps they had feared being worshipped into tyrants.

Perhaps they understood that beings at their level could save the world once, then become the next reason the world could not breathe.

Whatever the reason, they left. But they did not vanish from memory.

The Silent Monastery seemed to worship those Primordials.

The friendly ones. The ones who had once stood with the world.

Lucien stared at Clara’s report.

His fingers tapped once against the desk.

Then stopped.

This was not a cult he could dismiss.

This was not a corrupt faith waiting to be exposed.

This was a legacy.

And legacy was harder to negotiate with than greed.

Greed could be bought.

Fear could be soothed.

Doctrine could be debated.

But gratitude toward ancient saviors settled into the bones of a people.

If Lootwell mishandled this, the South would not see them as helpers.

They would see them as the arrogant new miracle trying to replace the old bells that had once protected their ancestors.

Lucien closed his eyes.

Everything fell on Clara now.

This conversation was no longer merely about land for a branch.

It was about whether two systems of faith could stand together without one devouring the other.

In the end, Lucien could only believe in her.

That felt unfamiliar.

Lucien was used to preparing too many backup plans.

This time, he still prepared them.

Obviously.

But the most important part could not be forced.

Faith had to be met by faith.

Trust had to be earned by someone who understood it.

Clara was the right person.

Lucien looked at the report again.

Then replied:

[Do not rush. Listen first.]

Clara’s answer came after a while.

[Yes, my lord.]

A second line followed.

[Their bells carry grief.]

Lucien looked at those words for a long time.

Then he understood why Clara had grown careful.

•••

After handling Clara’s report, Lucien turned his attention elsewhere.

Origin Core fragments.

Lucien closed his eyes, and let the merged Origin Core authority unfold.

His attention moved west first.

Three individual Origin Core fragment holders appeared in his perception.

They were not moving.

That was the first suspicious thing.

Powerful people with treasures usually moved carefully, hid poorly, or gathered resources aggressively.

These three did none of those things.

They remained sealed inside isolated caves, each far from public roads, old cities, and normal regions.

One cave lay beneath a dead mountain where no birds landed.

One was hidden behind a waterfall that flowed upward at night.

One sat inside a stone forest where every pillar carried old cut marks, as if something had once practiced killing there for centuries.

The three individuals meditated.

Constantly.

As if waiting for a signal.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

"Suspicious."

Then, he shifted his attention toward two hidden factions in the West.

Their locations were better concealed.

Unlike the three individual holders, these factions had disciples, elders, training grounds, storage halls, and defensive structures.

Their people were strong.

Several Eternal signatures brushed against the Origin Core fragment resonance.

The fragments there were being used in rituals.

Lucien watched.

At first, the rituals looked different.

But beneath the surface, the rhythm was similar.

Lucien’s gaze sharpened.

The two factions were connected.

Not openly.

Perhaps not even knowingly.

But their rituals were answering the same hidden structure.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.