100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 645 - Announcement

The testing for the newly created Intercontinental Teleportation Array continued.

So far, everything worked.

That did not mean Lootwell trusted it blindly.

Every route was tested again and again.

Short-distance transfer.

Long-distance transfer.

Single-person transfer.

Group transfer.

Cargo transfer.

Forced shutdown.

False-entry rejection.

Unstable item rejection.

Hostile mark rejection.

Each test left another line of confirmation across the control records.

The arrays were fast, stable, and clean.

But public use was different from internal use.

Public use meant strangers.

People with honest reasons.

People with hidden reasons.

People who wanted to travel.

People who wanted to run.

People who wanted to smuggle, spy, steal, threaten, or carry old grudges across continents that had not seen each other properly for too long.

Lucien welcomed the world.

That did not mean he trusted every person in it.

So the public arrays were not simple gates.

They were checkpoints.

Each approved array site had staff assigned before the opening.

Public staff would handle registration, route guidance, cargo inspection, records, emergency instructions, and crowd order.

Hidden staff would handle the things the public did not need to see.

Intent screening.

Communication-device records.

Identity echoes.

Every traveler who entered the network would leave a trace. Enough for Lootwell to know who had entered, where they had gone, what route they had taken, and whether they carried hostile intent, forbidden cargo, active curses, foreign command lines, or dangerous marks.

The communication devices helped.

To the world, they were gifts.

They were also eyes.

Lucien did not deny that.

He simply made rules for himself.

No one would be punished for a passing ugly thought.

No one would be detained because they disliked Lootwell, feared Lucien, mocked the chapels, or privately cursed the fees.

That was normal.

People were allowed to be people.

The arrays would only act when intent became danger.

If the array detected danger, the route would not open toward the public destination.

The traveler would be diverted into an inspection chamber.

There, trained staff would verify the evidence.

If the danger was accidental, the person would be warned, cleaned, fined, or redirected.

If the danger was deliberate, Lootwell would act.

Confiscation.

Detainment.

Binding contract.

Restricted travel status.

Public ban.

Or, if the crime was severe enough, transfer to the proper authority with evidence attached.

Lucien did not want a network that became a tyrant’s net.

But he also refused to build roads that let disaster walk politely from one continent to another.

The Intercontinental Teleportation Array existed to shorten distance.

Not consequences.

That rule became the foundation of the public network.

Welcome everyone.

Trust slowly.

Screen always.

Punish only with proof.

And never allow another war to begin because Lootwell was too polite to check a traveler’s bag.

•••

One day before the promised opening, the five continents could no longer pretend to be calm.

The public channels of the communication devices had become restless seas of messages.

Some people asked about route prices.

Some asked whether children could travel.

Some asked whether tamed beasts counted as cargo, passengers, companions, or emotional support problems.

That question was sent to three departments and returned with a temporary classification that satisfied no one.

Some people did not dare celebrate yet.

Lootwell’s announcement had been too sudden.

The world had just survived a war.

Intercontinental teleportation was not a roadside stall that could be built because someone felt motivated.

Old powers had spent generations creating the now broken Intercontinental Teleportation Array.

Now Lootwell had promised public routes within a week.

It sounded impossible.

But that was the problem.

Lootwell had made impossible sound like a schedule.

So the people waited.

Because by then, the name Lootwell had already become closely related to the word impossible.

•••

Then Lucien released the announcement.

Communication devices across the five continents lit up.

[Lootwell confirms that the first stage of the public Intercontinental Teleportation Array network has entered final testing.]

People listened.

[In a day, the first approved public routes will be introduced.]

Across the continents, the reaction was immediate.

They were too excited.

The idea of the five continents being connected again was not a simple matter.

The announcement continued.

[The initial network will connect selected districts, healer hubs, trade centers, and regional transfer points across the five continents.]

For healers, it meant patients could cross distances that once killed them.

For families separated by war, it meant graves, memorials, relatives, and old homes were no longer unreachable.

For merchants, it meant ledgers across the world were about to suffer from excitement.

For rulers and sects, it meant the world had changed whether they liked it or not.

The message continued.

[All first-stage routes will operate under identity verification, cargo inspection, safety screening, emergency shutdown authority, and route restrictions.]

[The arrays are not toys. They are not shortcuts for smugglers, private wars, sect disputes, or unauthorized military movement.]

[The network exists to connect the world, support recovery, strengthen defense, and preserve life.]

The message paused.

Then the final line appeared.

[In a day, the five continents will stand closer than they have ever stood before.]

The announcement ended.

For one breath, the world seemed to hold still.

Then the reaction arrived.

It did not arrive the same way everywhere.

In the West, children shouted first.

They always did.

They ran through streets asking whether snow from the North could be brought back in baskets, whether South Continent fruits tasted different, and whether one could visit the Middle Continent and return before dinner.

Adults tried to correct them.

Many failed because they were smiling too.

In the South, healers cried quietly over patient lists.

Some names that had already been marked as too difficult to move were rewritten.

In the North, merchants went silent.

That frightened people who knew merchants.

Then ledgers opened.

Calculations began.

Several people discovered that joy could look very similar to panic when enough profit and logistics attacked the mind at once.

In the East, proud sect elders declared that proper practitioners should not become dependent on convenient travel.

Then their disciples asked whether they should refuse route access.

The elders coughed, adjusted their robes, and explained that understanding the enemy’s infrastructure was also a form of cultivation.

In the Middle Continent, the reaction was quieter.

Many survivors did not cheer immediately.

They looked toward memorial tablets, ruined cities, rebuilt roads, and distant names.

Some had promised to visit the place where someone had died, but distance had made the promise feel cruel.

Now, that distance had weakened.

Across the five continents, joy spread.

The kind that came when people who had been forced to endure finally saw one part of the future become less cruel.

The world did not explode in one voice.

It bloomed in many.

Cheers. Prayers. Arguments. Laughter. Questions. Plans.

•••

While the world rejoiced, Lootwell stayed busy.

That was also normal.

The surveys for the first stage of the World Fortification Plan had been completed.

The major locations were marked.

The public opening of the Intercontinental Teleportation Array would happen first.

After that, construction would begin in earnest.

Lucien had already assigned the first major production task to Elk.

Soul Harbor Lamps.

The recipe had come from the Craft Feature, and Lucien had purchased it without hesitation.

When people died beneath their light, their souls would have a better chance of remaining whole long enough for the Reincarnation Disc to receive them.

The Keeper war had taught Lucien too much about what could happen after death.

He had no intention of letting the next disaster harvest the fallen before the world even finished mourning them.

Elk received the recipe and immediately began breaking it apart into production layers.

Mass production was not as simple as copying a lamp.

Each part had to be reliable.

Each material had to be replaceable where possible.

Each finished lamp had to be strong enough to matter, but stable enough for ordinary staff to maintain.

Elk would lead the Crafting Division again.

She had already begun producing blueprints, material lists, assembly tiers, quality tests, and failure warnings.

Lucien saw the first draft and nodded.

It was terrifyingly thorough.

That was good.

For Soul Harbor Lamps, thoroughness was mercy.

•••

The construction teams were assigned next.

Lilith, Morphy, and Seren would take the Lifeline Routes.

That group was fast, flexible, and dangerous to unreasonable deadlines.

The Lifeline Routes needed exactly that.

They were not ordinary roads.

Each route had to function under pressure.

Public evacuation paths for civilians.

Hidden paths for emergency movement.

Protected corridors for healers.

Backup roads for supply teams.

Lilith would handle the core structures.

Morphy would mirror repeated patterns and correct small flaws.

Seren would forge the copies into something stable.

Celestial teams would follow them to reinforce, inspect, protect, and repair.

If the plan worked, entire coastal districts would have more than one way to survive.

...

Anvil-Horn would join the Tidewatch Network.

That assignment had been obvious.

The Tidewatch towers needed strength.

They needed foundations that could endure sea pressure, storm backlash, spatial vibration, and whatever ancient thing decided to breathe from beneath the waves.

Anvil-Horn understood heavy construction better than most beings alive.

Eirene and the Lunarians would support him.

Their Stillness and lunar precision were perfect for stabilizing watch arrays, measuring abnormal rhythm, and preventing warning towers from reacting to every harmless tide like panicked chickens.

Lootwell workers would join both groups as the hands that would make the plan real.

The World Fortification Plan was no longer just a map in Lucien’s chamber.

It had become assignments, teams, deadlines, and people who were about to become very tired for the sake of a world that had only just learned how much worse things could become.

Lucien looked over the final list.

It was not perfect.

It was not complete.

But it was ready to begin.

•••

For the first time in days, there was a little breathing room.

The Intercontinental Teleportation Array would open tomorrow.

The World Fortification construction would begin after that.

The slimes had stabilized the five continents.

The Soul Harbor Lamps had entered production planning.

The Lifeline Routes and Tidewatch Network had their teams.

The monster legions had begun the first restricted Golden Blood Tempering trials.

The world was still wounded.

The seas were still marked red.

But tomorrow, the five continents would be connected.

For one quiet moment, the world looked less like a battlefield and more like something being stitched back together.