100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 667 - Peace

In the end, Seran and Aurelia agreed to help.

Aurelia would assist with the final screening of compatible candidates.

"I cannot trace the roads beyond this plane," she said. "But before a road is formed, I can examine the tension gathering around the candidate’s fate."

Lucien listened carefully.

"I should be able to identify dangerous knots," Aurelia continued. "If the road begins forming incorrectly, consequence will gather around it before the damage becomes irreversible."

That was exactly the kind of help Lucien needed.

Aurelia could not pierce the boundary between planes without suffering backlash. But she could observe the people standing before that boundary.

Lucien nodded.

"Thank you."

Seran folded his arms.

"When the time comes, I will speak with them."

Lucien looked at him.

Seran’s expression was serious.

"Some people may agree simply because they do not know how to refuse you. I can explain the danger as someone who has walked through ruined worlds and watched noble intentions become graves."

Aurelia nodded faintly.

"And I will make certain their answers are not being twisted by fear or expectation."

Something in Lucien’s chest eased.

The process had not become easy.

It had become safer.

"With both of you helping," Lucien said, "the process will be better."

Seran smiled.

"Of course it will. Most plans improve once I join them."

Aurelia looked at him.

Seran’s smile weakened.

Lucien decided not to involve himself.

•••

After leaving them, Lucien did something he had neglected for too long.

He walked.

He simply walked through Lootwell.

The main territory had changed again.

It always did.

Lucien passed several familiar faces.

Some bowed.

Some froze before remembering how to breathe.

Others waved with the confidence of people who had lived in Lootwell long enough to know Lucien preferred sincerity over ceremony.

He returned their greetings.

For once, no emergency interrupted him.

Then he sensed several familiar auras gathered near one of the open training fields.

Lucien changed direction.

Laughter reached him before the group came into view.

At the center stood Moltsage.

He had grown.

His aura had recovered steadily, and the strength hidden beneath his relaxed posture was already nearing the Celestial Realm.

That progress was impressive.

His memories, however, remained incomplete.

Moltsage had once shed almost his entire existence to survive Severance.

He had molted everything that could be cut until barely enough remained to begin again.

It was natural that the past had not returned cleanly.

Still, traces of his former glory remained inside his instincts.

Velun stood beside him.

The younger Serpentile was smiling with the patient irritation of someone who had been arguing the same point for several minutes.

"You are my uncle," Velun said.

Moltsage’s expression darkened.

"I reject that."

"You cannot reject blood."

"I have no memory of agreeing to this arrangement."

"That is not how families work."

Moltsage crossed his arms.

"It should be."

Rhazek stood nearby, openly amused.

Seryth was laughing too, though her laughter remained quieter and more restrained.

Darian looked as though he had already heard the argument several times and still found it worth watching.

Lucien stopped for a moment.

Warmth spread through him. These were the same people he had met in the void.

They had fought beside him against gargoyle armies and Kharzun.

He had been too busy to see how they were doing.

Seeing them together answered more than any report could.

They had found one another again.

They had also grown.

Seryth, who had spent the longest time within Lootwell’s environment, had already reached the eighth stage.

A little more progress and the Liberators would gain another Serpentile Eternal.

Lucien stepped closer.

Darian noticed him first.

His eyes widened slightly.

The others turned.

Their expressions brightened almost at once.

"Young Lord," Velun greeted.

Rhazek inclined his head.

Seryth gave a formal salute.

Darian opened his mouth, likely preparing something more enthusiastic.

Lucien raised a hand.

"None of that."

They paused.

Lucien looked around the group.

"We fought together. You do not need to greet me like strangers reporting before a throne."

The tension eased.

Velun smiled.

Rhazek’s posture relaxed slightly.

Seryth accepted the correction with a quiet nod.

Moltsage studied Lucien for several breaths.

His eyes narrowed.

"Lord of Lootwell. As always, you feel familiar."

Lucien looked at him.

Moltsage seemed troubled by the fact.

"Did I owe you money?"

Velun covered his face.

Lucien almost laughed.

"No."

"Good."

Moltsage immediately lost interest in remembering.

Some things, apparently, survived even the molting of identity.

•••

Lucien stayed with them for a while.

They spoke about their realm, the Liberator headquarters, and the people they had not seen since arriving in the Big World.

Darian eventually moved closer.

"Brother Luc."

His tone carried the weight of a complaint patiently preserved.

Lucien looked at him.

"What happened?"

"My sister happened."

That narrowed the possibilities very little.

"I heard that sister Kaia has been with you since we fell from the void," Darian continued. "She reached the Eternal Realm. She fought wars. She healed people. She probably adopted three more impossible responsibilities without informing anyone."

Lucien nodded.

That sounded accurate.

Darian’s expression became offended.

"She has not visited us to the Liberator headquarters."

Lucien blinked.

Darian folded his arms.

"Our parents are still there."

Lucien nearly choked.

He stared at Darian.

"Your parents?"

"Yes."

Lucien thought back.

Kaia were once a princess of a kingdom of one of the small worlds. She had never once mentioned that her parents were waiting at their headquarters.

Her detachment had been so natural that Lucien had assumed her closest remaining family consisted of him, Marie, Sylra, and Marina.

Darian looked at him accusingly, as though Lucien had personally encouraged Kaia to forget her family.

"She could at least confirm to our mother that becoming an Eternal did not destroy her ability to remember where she came from."

Rhazek looked away, hiding a smile.

Velun suddenly found the sky fascinating.

Lucien rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I will speak with her."

Darian’s expression softened immediately.

Despite the complaint, pride remained visible beneath it.

"She reached Eternal," he said more quietly.

"Yes."

Darian smiled.

A younger brother’s happiness broke through every trace of frustration.

"That is good."

"It is."

"Please still scold her."

"I will remind her."

Darian seemed disappointed by the wording, but accepted it.

Lucien made a mental note.

Kaia could confront Primordial dangers without hesitation.

Apparently, returning home to speak with her parents was the more terrifying challenge.

•••

Lucien eventually left the group.

Their laughter followed him down the road.

As he continued walking, he watched the territory around him.

People worked.

They traded.

They trained.

They complained about prices, schedules, construction noise, and neighbors.

It was peaceful.

It was the living peace of people who believed tomorrow would arrive normally.

Lucien slowed.

He had built much of this while constantly looking toward the next disaster.

Sometimes, he forgot to look at what had survived behind him.

Just then, he saw someone ahead.

Lucien’s eyes widened.

A bald head moved through the crowd.

The man beneath it turned slightly.

Their gazes met.

For one breath, neither moved.

Then the bald man turned around and began walking rapidly in the opposite direction.

Lucien stared.

The pace increased.

It was not quite running.

It carried the desperate dignity of a man hoping speed would not be interpreted as guilt.

Lucien vanished.

The bald man took three more steps before Lucien appeared directly in front of him.

Vorren froze.

Lucien stared into his eyes.

Vorren smiled weakly.

"Young Lord. What an unexpected and pleasant meeting."

Lucien grabbed him.

Eternal force wrapped around Vorren before he could escape.

A moment later, Lucien had one arm locked around his neck.

"You motherfucker, shaved-head traitor."

Vorren’s feet left the ground.

He began tapping urgently against Lucien’s arm.

Lucien ignored him.

"I told you to inform me whenever you sensed serious danger."

Vorren continued tapping.

"Then the war began, the Keepers moved, the world nearly collapsed, and you disappeared from Lootwell without leaving a single useful message."

Vorren’s face began changing color.

Lucien tightened his hold by a fraction.

"You are supposed to be the person with the strongest instinct for danger."

Vorren’s movements became frantic.

"You disappearing should have been the warning."

Only when Vorren’s eyes began losing focus did Lucien release him.

Vorren collapsed to his knees, coughing.

He clutched his throat and stared at Lucien with wounded disbelief.

"I thought I was going to die."

Lucien crossed his arms.

"That was the point."

Vorren coughed again.

"You have become cruel, Young Lord."

"You abandoned the territory before a war."

"That was because I sensed the war."

Lucien’s gaze became flat.

Vorren slowly stood.

He dusted off his clothes, though Lucien had not thrown him onto anything dirty.

The movement was mostly an attempt to recover dignity.

Lucien waited.

Vorren sighed.

"My life was hanging by a thread."

His expression turned serious.

"I did not merely feel danger. I felt death waiting for me if I remained. Every instinct I possessed screamed that if I stayed in here during that period, I would die."

Lucien studied him.

Vorren’s instincts were abnormal.

They were not perfect prophecy, but they had preserved his life through situations that should have killed him many times.

If Vorren said he had felt certain death, Lucien believed he had truly felt it.

Well, if Lucien had seen him before, he would probably have dragged him into the war as a living danger compass.

But Vorren had been nowhere to be found.

Indeed, his instincts were excellent.

But that did not excuse everything.

"You could have reported it."

Vorren grimaced.

"At the time, I believed any delay would close the path of escape."

"You had communication devices."

"I thought speaking about the danger might draw it toward me."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

Vorren looked away.

"That sounds more unreasonable now that I have said it aloud."

"It was unreasonable before you said it."

Vorren sighed.

Lucien looked at him carefully.

"The problem is not that you feared death."

Vorren raised his eyes.

"The problem is that you treated Lootwell as a shelter when it was safe and abandoned it without warning when danger came."

Vorren’s expression changed.

Lucien’s voice remained calm.

"You are part of Lootwell. That gives you protection, resources, and a place here. It also gives you responsibilities."

He let the words settle.

"If you sense danger, report it. If you need to leave, explain why. If you cannot trust us enough to do that, then I cannot continue treating you as one of ours."

Vorren paled.

The humor disappeared from his face.

Lucien did not enjoy saying it.

But rules that vanished when applied to useful people were not rules.

Vorren’s instincts made him valuable.

That made accountability more important, not less.

For several breaths, Vorren said nothing.

Then he lowered his head.

"I was wrong."

Lucien waited.

Vorren’s voice became quieter.

"I have spent most of my life surviving by leaving before anyone else understood that danger had arrived. I trusted my instincts because they were the only thing that never betrayed me."

He looked toward the surrounding territory.

"I forgot that I was no longer surviving alone."

Lucien’s expression eased slightly.

Vorren continued.

"Next time, I will report what I feel. Even if I am afraid that speaking will make it worse."

"And if you need to leave?"

"I will tell you."

"You will trust me to help."

Vorren hesitated.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

Vorren immediately nodded.

"I will trust you."

Lucien accepted that.

He did not want to drive Vorren away.

The man was an unusually effective warning system.

Unfortunately, warning systems were only useful when they reported warnings instead of quietly fleeing the building.

Lucien released the remaining pressure around him.

Vorren touched his throat.

"Was the strangling necessary?"

"Yes."

"I apologized."

"You apologized afterward."

Vorren looked offended.

Lucien ignored him.

Then a thought occurred to him.

He looked at Vorren more carefully.

Vorren was here.

He was walking openly through Lootwell.

That meant his instincts were not currently screaming.

Lucien felt a small measure of relief.

"There is no immediate danger?" he asked.

Vorren understood the question.

His expression became thoughtful.

"Nothing close enough to make me run."

Lucien stared at him.

"That is your standard?"

"It has kept me alive."

Lucien nodded slowly.

For now, that was enough.

He looked toward the streets of Lootwell.

Children ran past formation lamps.

Merchants argued over ordinary prices.

The world remained peaceful.

Not forever.

But long enough to prepare.

Lucien glanced at Vorren.

"You are staying where I can find you."

Vorren sighed.

"I knew returning was a mistake."

Lucien reached toward him again.

Vorren immediately stepped back.

"I meant that returning was a courageous and responsible decision."

Lucien lowered his hand.

Vorren smiled carefully.

Peace returned to the street.