100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 675 - Warning

Later that day, Alanthuriel came to see Lucien.

That alone was enough to make Lucien pay attention.

Alanthuriel never visited for simple conversation.

He did not appear because he was bored, curious, or in need of company. Whenever he came to Lootwell, there was always a reason.

Usually, it was not a pleasant one.

Lucien rose from his seat.

"Senior Alan."

Alanthuriel gave a slight nod.

He wore his human form.

Even so, the shrine seemed quieter around him.

Alanthuriel looked toward the place where Deadman had been sitting earlier.

"It seems Eternity has recognized him."

Lucien’s eyebrows rose.

"Deadman?"

"Things will change for him from this point onward."

Lucien studied Alanthuriel’s face.

There was no surprise in it. No uncertainty either.

It seems Alanthuriel had known something about Deadman long before the Primordial legacy awakened.

A suspicion formed in Lucien’s mind.

"Senior Alan, did Deadman play an important role in one of the parallel timelines?"

Alanthuriel did not answer immediately.

The silence lasted long enough to confirm that Lucien had struck close to the truth.

Then Alanthuriel nodded.

"He belonged to one of the timelines that nearly succeeded."

Lucien froze.

Inside his mind, an entirely different reaction erupted.

’I knew it. He really was a protagonist!’

Lucien kept his expression composed with considerable effort.

Alanthuriel continued as though he had noticed nothing.

"His timeline came close to becoming the outcome the Arch-Lords sought."

Lucien’s amusement vanished.

He knew what that meant.

The Arch-Lords did not watch timelines out of curiosity. They searched for the one that best served their purpose.

Deadman’s timeline had almost become that answer.

"Almost?" Lucien asked.

Alanthuriel’s gaze became distant.

"Before it reached completion, he lost himself to the path laid before him."

Lucien’s expression changed.

"His power overwhelmed him?"

"His power. His grief. His role."

Alanthuriel’s voice remained calm.

"Eventually, he could no longer distinguish between enduring fate and obeying it."

Lucien said nothing.

Deadman had always been tired.

Not physically. The exhaustion was buried much deeper than that.

Lucien had seen only fragments of it before.

Now he understood how dangerous those fragments could have become.

Alanthuriel turned toward him.

"That outcome has been avoided this time."

Lucien looked up.

"You gave him the opportunity to become something else before the old path closed around him."

Lucien exhaled slowly.

The Fruit of Creation.

The Primordial legacy.

The final farewell Eternity had preserved for him.

A danger he had never known existed had passed without him even realizing it.

That did not lessen the relief.

It made it heavier.

•••

After a brief silence, Lucien asked another question.

"Senior Alan, would a Fruit of Creation affect you?"

Alanthuriel did not answer at once.

His eyes moved toward the Tree of Creation within Lucien’s conceptual space, as though the distance between them meant nothing.

Then he spoke.

"Save them for those who need them."

Lucien waited.

"The Abyss does not receive Creation the way your world does."

That answer was not a refusal.

It was a warning disguised as one.

Lucien fell silent.

He still understood very little about the Abyss.

Its Laws did not behave like those of the Big World.

Lucien’s thoughts had only begun moving in that direction when Alanthuriel looked directly at him.

"Do not stare too deeply into the Abyss."

Lucien paused.

Alanthuriel’s voice lowered.

"If you continue looking, eventually something will notice."

Lucien nearly choked.

So that saying was true after all.

He resisted the urge to ask whether the Abyss had invented it first.

Alanthuriel did not appear interested in explaining further.

Then his expression changed.

Only slightly.

But the atmosphere inside the shrine became heavier.

"My true purpose in coming here is to warn you."

Lucien’s amusement disappeared immediately.

"Does this concern the sealed timelines?"

Alanthuriel nodded.

"The Arch-Lords have destroyed the first layer of restriction I placed upon the Key to the Prime Continuum."

The light of the shrine seemed to dim.

Lucien remained still.

Alanthuriel continued.

"The remaining restrictions will not hold forever."

"How long?"

"I cannot give you an exact measure."

Alanthuriel’s gaze hardened.

"But the timelines will open."

The words settled over Lucien like pressure from an approaching storm.

He had known this was coming.

Knowing did not make hearing it easier.

Parallel timelines were not merely alternate histories. They contained people who had made different choices.

Wars that had ended differently.

Enemies who had won.

Friends who had fallen.

Versions of the world shaped by decisions Lucien had never made.

What happened when those timelines were unlocked?

Would they remain separate?

Would they begin influencing one another?

Would changes in one create new branches?

Could a decision in the present rewrite something already completed elsewhere?

Lucien did not know.

That uncertainty frightened him more than a visible army ever could.

An army had numbers.

A battlefield had boundaries.

A war between timelines might have neither.

Alanthuriel watched him quietly.

"You do not need to behave differently."

Lucien looked at him.

"You are doing well. Continue what you are doing."

Alanthuriel paused.

"And do not hesitate."

The words were simple.

Coming from an Arch-Lord of the Abyss, they carried more weight than praise from almost anyone else.

Lucien released a breath he had not realized he was holding.

"Then I will continue my plans."

"Good."

Alanthuriel glanced toward the merged Origin Core.

"You handled the previous war efficiently."

Lucien did not mistake that for comfort.

Alanthuriel’s next words confirmed it.

"The next one will not be as forgiving."

Lucien nodded.

He already knew that.

The previous war had tested the Thousand Race’s strength.

The next might test whether the world itself could remain coherent.

Alanthuriel turned away.

"I will warn you when the Abyss moves again."

His body began fading into darkness.

"Until then, continue."

He vanished before Lucien could answer.

•••

Lucien remained alone inside the shrine.

For several moments, he did nothing.

The threats around him had begun pressing from every direction.

The Black Mass was changing.

The Primordial Incarnations were stirring.

The seas no longer obeyed normal distance.

The Key to the Prime Continuum was losing its restrictions.

The Arch-Lords were preparing for timelines to reopen.

And somewhere among all those possible histories was the one they considered best.

The best timeline. A world in which Lucien did not exist.

He remembered Alanthuriel telling him that before.

The thought had sounded distant then.

Now it felt much closer.

Lucien imagined enemies formed from failed histories.

Versions of allies who had never met him.

Worlds where Lootwell had never been built.

Worlds where the Keepers had won.

Worlds where something worse had.

A small shiver passed through him. Lucien immediately straightened.

"Must have been the wind."

The wind answered.

"It was not me."

Lucien froze.

A soft current curled through the shrine.

Sylra appeared within it, her pale hair drifting around her shoulders.

She looked mildly offended.

"I did nothing."

Lucien stared at her.

Then three more presences entered.

Marie stepped from a faint distortion of metal authority.

Kaia arrived in a pulse of warm flame.

Marina emerged from a ring of water that vanished before touching the floor.

Lucien looked from one woman to another.

"Did you hear what we were discussing?"

"No," Marie answered.

"When we arrived, you were blaming Sylra," Kaia added.

Marina tilted her head.

"My prince, it is unbecoming to accuse the wind whenever you shivered."

"I was not."

None of them replied.

That silence was far more insulting than disagreement.

Lucien cleared his throat.

"I forgot Sylra is effectively the wind now."

Sylra’s expression softened.

"I accept your apology."

Lucien had not formally apologized.

Somehow, that no longer mattered.

He decided not to argue.

Then he looked at Kaia.

"Fire."

Kaia’s eyes narrowed.

"Brother, you may call me Kaia like usual."

Lucien paused.

Women were difficult. Elemental women appeared to be worse.

"Fine. Kaia."

She immediately smiled.

Lucien chose not to examine the matter further.

Instead, he remembered something more important.

"You should visit your family."

Kaia’s smile disappeared.

"Darian has complained to me twice."

Her eyes shifted away.

Lucien stared at her.

"Why have you not gone?"

Kaia remained silent for several breaths.

Then she answered reluctantly.

"They will scold me."

Lucien blinked.

"I caused trouble in the void. My parents will know. They always know."

The Eternal flame wielder who had faced dangers beyond the world suddenly looked like a child avoiding home after breaking something expensive.

Lucien almost laughed.

"Send them a message at least."

Kaia lowered her head.

"I will."

Her obedience was so immediate that Lucien became suspicious.

He decided Darian could handle the rest.

•••

The four women had not come merely to disturb him.

They had grown restless.

Since returning, much of Lootwell’s work had been handled by construction teams, administrators, and crafters.

The elemental division had assisted where needed, but they had not received a large project of their own.

Lucien could see it in them.

They wanted something difficult. Something important.

He considered the coming threats.

Then an idea formed.