100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 731 - Breach

"All registered forces, follow wartime command."

Lucien’s order had barely finished echoing across the preserved region when the map above the central platform changed again.

The red sectors multiplied.

Three major breaches had already opened along the northern and eastern boundaries, while smaller incursions appeared farther south. Black Mass signatures spread through ruined valleys, abandoned fortifications, forests, and several of the outer training districts.

Lootwell did not attempt to command every person individually.

It did not need to.

Regional instructions appeared across the communication network, assigning broad responsibilities according to location and capability. Faction commanders received battlefield information directly. Independent coalitions were redirected toward the nearest regional command points. Beast clans received routes adapted to their size and mobility.

From there, the people who had spent the Team Trials learning how to lead took over.

The preserved region stopped looking like a competition ground.

It became a warfront.

•••

The first Black Mass wave reached the northern defenses within minutes.

Gargoyles descended from the darkness in dense formations, their stone-gray bodies covered in veins of black miasma. Some carried crude weapons while others simply folded their wings and crashed into defensive barriers with enough force to shake the surrounding terrain.

Below them came goblins. Their bodies were lean and pallid. Their armor was assembled from blackened metal and bone-like materials, while miasma burned along blades, spears, and bows in different hues.

Some released poisonous fog.

Others covered the ground in frost.

Several wielded distorted flames that seemed to consume light rather than produce it.

Behind them moved creatures that resembled wolves, insects, enormous armored reptiles, and things that had no convenient comparison at all.

They did not use mana. Miasma circulated through every formation they created and every technique they released.

For many participants, it was the first time they had faced an enemy force that truly resembled what waited beyond the territories of the Thousand Races.

There was no time to appreciate the experience.

The first defensive line collided with them.

•••

The impact spread across kilometers.

Domains opened.

Law manifestations rose over the ruined landscape.

Beast roars rolled through the valleys while formation barriers appeared between shattered walls and collapsed roads.

For several moments, the battlefield threatened to become exactly what Lucien did not want.

Thousands of powerful individuals saw enemies and attacked.

Then the commanders pulled them back into order.

A sect force on the northern line had begun advancing after breaking the first goblin formation when its commander stopped the pursuit and redirected half the group toward a weakening defensive corridor.

Nearby, an independent coalition split itself around a medical route instead of joining the larger battle directly.

Flying practitioners who might normally have chased the descending gargoyles climbed higher and began reporting movements deeper inside the breach.

The difference was not perfect.

Some people still overextended.

Others ignored orders until the consequences became obvious.

But the entire region did not dissolve into thousands of separate battles.

That alone told Lucien something.

The competition had worked.

•••

Then the Primordial Incarnations moved.

The first had remained above the northern breach while the Black Mass poured beneath it.

When its authority finally descended, hundreds of practitioners reacted at once.

For most, the sensation was simply oppressive.

Their Laws became heavier beneath the presence of something incomparably greater.

For others, the reaction was far worse.

Practitioners who shared the same Law as the Incarnation felt their authority turn against them.

Manifestations flickered.

Domains destabilized.

Several Laws withdrew so violently that their bearers nearly lost control of their own circulation.

Weeks earlier, that might have shattered an entire section of the defensive line.

This time, people recognized what was happening.

Those directly affected began retreating from positions that depended upon their original Laws.

They did not scatter.

Nearby commanders reorganized them.

Groups of four formed wherever possible, often from people who had trained together during the Interweaving Trial or from compatible participants assembled on the spot.

Reservoirs were checked.

Foreign authorities flowed.

A swordsman whose weapon Law had fallen silent drew from two teammates and interwove them through his body before returning to the line.

A mage abandoned a suppressed Law and relied upon another instead, no longer attempting to fight the same way she had only moments earlier.

Elsewhere, a beast whose reinforcement Law had been seized by the higher authority continued protecting an evacuation route using two stored Laws that had nothing to do with its natural fighting style.

They were weaker than they had been with their own Laws.

They were still useful.

That was what mattered.

•••

The same pattern spread wherever matching Primordial authority appeared.

Some groups had ideal combinations prepared.

Others had to improvise.

Not every merge worked well.

Several participants discovered that the reservoir pairing they wanted consumed too much authority beneath the pressure and abandoned it before exhausting themselves.

Another group lost one of its four members to an injury and immediately redistributed responsibilities around the Laws still available.

Nobody stood around wondering what an Interweaver could do.

They had already spent months answering that question.

Now they were using the answer.

Lucien watched the battlefield map update.

The northern line bent.

But it held.

•••

The situation farther east was worse.

A second Primordial Incarnation descended directly over a ruined city sector while Black Mass forces poured through streets already crowded with spectators, merchants, support personnel, and participants who had never intended to enter another event.

The evacuation began before Lucien issued a specific order.

That pleased him even more.

Lootwell citizens opened sealed passageways that had been incorporated into the preserved region long before the competition began.

Healers established collection points where multiple retreat corridors converged.

Scouts and mobility specialists moved ahead of the crowds rather than remaining behind to fight.

Defensive practitioners occupied intersections only long enough to keep those routes open.

Even spectators who had never competed found something to do.

Those capable of carrying others helped the injured.

People familiar with formations stabilized temporary barriers.

Merchants abandoned stalls and began moving supplies toward the medical districts.

Several high-realm observers who had previously treated the entire competition as entertainment positioned themselves at the rear of evacuation columns and stopped pursuing any enemy that moved away from the civilians.

No ranking board told them to do that.

As far as they knew, there would never be one.

•••

One of the eastern avenues collapsed beneath a wave of miasma.

A defensive formation shattered with it.

For a moment, an entire evacuation route was exposed.

A huge black creature broke through the opening.

Its body resembled a centipede covered in overlapping plates, each one leaking dark vapor. Several smaller monster units advanced beneath it while gargoyles descended overhead.

The civilians nearest the breach panicked.

Then a roar drowned them out.

Saber struck first.

The ancient beast tore across the avenue and crashed into the creature hard enough to throw its enormous body through two ruined structures.

Condoriano descended behind him.

Kira and Aurvang moved toward separate breaches almost simultaneously.

They had been guards throughout the competition.

Now they acted like what they truly were.

They did not chase ordinary monsters.

Their attention remained on threats capable of collapsing entire sectors.

Farther north, Astraea had already risen into the darkened sky.

Several other ancient beings followed her.

So did the Four Dragons.

Their destination was obvious.

The Primordial Incarnations.

•••

The first collision between them made the preserved region tremble.

Astraea’s power struck the descending authority head-on while the Red Dragon attacked from another direction.

The others spread around the Incarnation rather than crowding the same point.

They could not casually overwhelm something modeled after an Extinction Grade threat.

That was the reason it existed.

The Incarnation answered.

Authority distorted the sky.

For a brief moment, every weaker manifestation beneath it disappeared.

The ancient beasts continued forward.

Across the region, people watched only long enough to understand that the strongest threats had been intercepted.

Then their own battles demanded attention again.

That was exactly how Lucien wanted it.

No army survived by staring at its strongest fighters.

•••

The Black Mass kept pressing against the western line until another sound began cutting through the battle.

At first, it was easy to miss beneath the explosions and beast roars.

A heavy, synchronized pounding rolled out from the smoke beyond the staging districts, steady enough that several nearby fighters turned toward it even while the enemy continued advancing.

The sound grew louder.

Then shapes appeared through the haze.

For a moment, people assumed another faction had arrived to reinforce the sector.

What emerged instead was metal.

Rows of armored figures advanced through the smoke with weapons already raised, their movements too precise and too uniform to belong to any ordinary army.

Lootwell’s Automatons had finally entered the battlefield.

They had been designed for a different purpose.

Some carried large ranged weapons mounted directly into their arms. Others bore shields wide enough to cover several humanoid soldiers at once.

Smaller models moved between them carrying ammunition, replacement components, medical supplies, and formation anchors.

Their weapons activated.

The first volley crossed the battlefield in lines of concentrated force.

It struck the advancing Black Mass formation and tore open a corridor through the goblins before detonating against the gargoyles behind them.

The effect immediately attracted attention.

Not because the Automatons were stronger than the experts surrounding them.

They were not.

They were useful because miasma did not frighten them.

They did not panic.

They did not tire from maintaining formation.

And if one was destroyed, nobody needed to carry its corpse home.

The Thousand Races had heard that Lootwell was developing weapons intended specifically for Black Mass warfare.

Now they were watching them operate.

•••

Rurik had built several types for exactly that reason.

Heavy units anchored defensive lines.

Faster models hunted smaller monsters attempting to slip through gaps.

Ranged platforms targeted flying gargoyles and concentrated fire on creatures whose miasma defenses made ordinary attacks inefficient.

Repair Automatons moved behind them, replacing damaged components while the fighting continued.

More importantly, they fought beside living forces rather than replacing them.

A commander in one sector immediately placed Automatons along the most dangerous part of an evacuation route, freeing his own defensive practitioners to reinforce a collapsing flank.

Another faction used them to carry supplies through terrain saturated with miasma.

Several healers began sending the machines into areas they could not safely enter themselves.

Within an hour, people who had never seen an Automaton before had already started treating them like another battlefield resource.

Lucien considered that useful.

When the real Black Mass arrived, nobody should waste time asking what Lootwell’s machines were for.