100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 842 - 852 - Direction

The mood changed again when Lucien asked about the Iron Jackals.

The drunkards stopped smiling.

"They are different."

The broad man’s voice lowered.

"The people Seran usually targets have something to lose if they make noise. The Jackals do not care."

The Iron Jackals were one of the most violent gangs operating in the city.

Extortion. Protection money. Illegal gambling. Debt collection. Smuggling.

They controlled several streets near the warehouse district and the southern docks.

The city guards occasionally arrested ordinary members.

The organization itself remained untouched.

"Why?" Lucien asked.

Both men exchanged a look.

"Because someone important likes them alive."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

Rumor claimed the gang had protection from a noble whose rank exceeded the local lord’s authority.

Nobody knew exactly who.

Or perhaps people knew and were simply intelligent enough not to say it aloud in a crowded pub.

Either way, the result was the same.

The guards could interfere with obvious violence, but they could not dismantle the organization.

"What did Seran do to them?"

The men shrugged.

"Nobody knows yet."

"Whatever it was, they are furious."

The broad man emptied his bottle.

"They were searching half the market today."

Lucien leaned back.

That complicated things.

He had hoped politics might remain a problem belonging to another era.

Apparently, politics had followed him into the past.

Lucien thanked the men and ordered them one final drink before leaving.

The night air felt cooler after the warmth of the pub.

He walked slowly.

’A dragon.’

That detail remained in his mind.

Seran had lost the people who raised him, traveled with him, and helped him escape with Aurelia.

If his account was true, they had died because of the same disturbances spreading across the kingdom.

Lucien’s expression grew more serious.

Then another thought surfaced.

Aurelia.

A noblewoman.

He pressed his palm to his forehead.

Seran truly did have courage... or very poor survival instincts.

Possibly both.

Lucien continued walking.

He now knew more about them.

Seran was no random criminal.

Aurelia was no random companion.

They had already been touched by whatever was happening to this ancient world.

Lucien wanted answers.

He wanted to know where the caravan died.

He wanted to know what Seran actually saw.

He wanted to know whether the creature that attacked them was similar to the one near his village.

Then something brushed against the edge of his awareness.

Lucien stopped.

The street continued around him.

People walked past. Lantern flames moved gently in the night air. A distant cart creaked over stone.

But Lucien heard none of it properly anymore.

The sound had returned.

That strange resonance.

His eyes widened.

This time nobody had bumped into him.

Nobody familiar stood in front of him.

Lucien closed his eyes.

He listened.

The sound remained.

Then something changed.

For the first time, it did not simply exist around him.

There was direction to it.

Lucien slowly turned his head.

The resonance shifted.

He stopped, then turned again.

It became stronger.

His eyes opened.

The sound was leading him somewhere.

Lucien stood motionless beneath the lanternlight.

The strange resonance remained at the edge of his perception.

It was still difficult to describe.

Calling it music felt wrong.

Calling it a voice was even worse.

There were no words and no rhythm he could properly follow.

Yet there was something inside it that his fractured spirit understood instinctively.

Direction.

Lucien turned slightly to the left.

The sensation weakened.

He returned to his previous position.

It strengthened again.

His pulse quickened.

The sound had always appeared without allowing him to understand why.

Young Lucien had heard it near the river, inside the forest, and around certain people.

This was different.

Lucien took one step.

The resonance remained.

Another.

Still there.

He began walking.

The route carried him away from the busier streets.

Lucien did not run immediately.

He wanted to be certain.

At the next intersection, he stopped and deliberately chose the wrong direction.

The sound weakened.

When he returned, it recovered.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

"So you can do this."

The words came quietly.

He did not know whether he was speaking to the sound, the fractured spirit, or himself.

He continued.

The farther he moved, the quieter the city became.

Shops disappeared.

Warehouses replaced homes.

The roads widened in some places to accommodate carts during the day but were nearly empty now.

Lucien recognized the area from what he had heard inside the pub.

Warehouse district.

The same general part of the city associated with the Iron Jackals.

That realization slowed him.

He looked around.

Lanterns were fewer here.

Several buildings were dark.

Others had guards posted outside, probably protecting stored goods.

Lucien continued more carefully.

The sound strengthened.

His thoughts moved rapidly.

Was it leading him toward Seran?

That possibility was obvious.

It had appeared when he first encountered Seran earlier.

Now, after Lucien spent the evening investigating him, it had returned.

’Too convenient.’

Lucien distrusted convenient answers.

Perhaps it was leading toward Aurelia.

Perhaps toward whatever they had been involved with.

Perhaps toward something beneath or beyond the warehouse district that had nothing to do with either of them.

Still, the coincidence was becoming difficult to ignore.

Lucien picked up his pace.

The resonance pulled him through another narrow street.

Then another.

He passed a closed cooper’s workshop, several storage yards, and a long brick building with boarded windows.

The sound grew clearer.

For the first time, Lucien felt excitement beneath the caution.

He was actually following it.

Young Lucien had spent years wondering what the sound meant.

Lucien had inherited the same mystery.

Now, finally, it was giving him something he could test.

He turned the next corner.

The resonance became stronger.

Lucien stopped.

A warehouse stood ahead.

It was older than the surrounding buildings.

The walls were darkened by years of weather, and one side leaned slightly enough that Lucien questioned whether the structure remained safe.

No lantern burned above the entrance.

One shutter hung crooked from an upper window.

The building looked abandoned.

Lucien stared.

The sound was coming from there.

Or at least, it was stronger whenever he focused on the building.

His excitement faded slightly.

There were many reasons an abandoned warehouse at night could be dangerous.

Very few of them were interesting in a pleasant way.

Lucien approached.

Slowly.

He did not have Morphis.

He did not have a Domain.

He did not have magic.

The knives and clubs carried by ordinary criminals were now legitimate threats.

That fact remained irritating.

Lucien circled part of the building before approaching the main door.

He did not enter immediately.

He listened.

There was nothing obvious behind the main door.

No footsteps.

No conversation.

The resonance remained.

His hand rested against the door.

He thought about returning to the inn.

That would be the sensible decision.

He knew where the building was.

He could come back tomorrow with Tavian, Auren, or even city guards if necessary.

Lucien almost laughed at himself.

Since when had he become sensible enough to stop after reaching the answer to a mystery?

He pushed the door slightly.

It opened with a quiet scrape.

Darkness waited inside.

Lucien stepped forward.

Then stopped.

Something was wrong.

The sound had changed.

It was no longer pulling him straight ahead.

For a moment, it seemed to surround him.

Lucien frowned.

His fractured spirit reacted.

A faint warmth passed through his chest.

Then the sensation moved behind him.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

He turned.

Too late.

A voice came from the darkness behind his shoulder.

"Champ..."

Lucien froze.

The tone was light.

Almost amused.

But there was caution beneath it.

Lucien slowly looked back.

A familiar face emerged from the shadows.

Seran leaned against the corner of the warehouse with one hand hidden beneath his coat and the same easy smile Lucien had seen earlier.

His eyes, however, were far sharper now.

"You followed me?"