100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? Chapter 843: Exchange

Lucien slowly raised both hands.

“Should we begin with nice to meet you?”

Seran did not answer immediately.

The easy smile remained on his face, but Lucien had known him long enough in another life to see what sat beneath it.

The expression was harmless only on the surface. His weight had shifted subtly onto the balls of his feet, and the hand hidden beneath his coat had not moved.

He was ready to act.

Seran glanced toward the alley.

Then he looked toward the warehouse entrance.

Only when he confirmed that nobody else had followed did some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“You’re the one I bumped into earlier.”

Lucien nodded.

Seran’s smile widened.

“So why did you follow me?”

Lucien considered the question.

He could hardly tell Seran that a mysterious resonance tied to a fractured identity had guided him through the city.

That would be difficult enough to explain to someone who trusted him.

Seran currently had no reason to trust him at all.

Lucien lowered his hands slightly.

“I heard about you.”

The effect was immediate.

The smile on Seran’s face did not disappear, but his eyes sharpened.

Lucien continued before the misunderstanding could deepen.

“I heard that you encountered a dragon.”

For the first time, Seran’s expression truly changed.

The humor vanished.

His jaw tightened.

A moment later, something narrow and metallic slid from beneath his coat.

It was too short for a sword. It was closer to a sharpened stage knife or concealed blade.

Lucien remained still.

“What exactly did you hear?” Seran asked.

“Enough to know that people did not believe you.”

Seran’s eyes stayed on him.

Lucien continued.

“My village was attacked recently.”

That made Seran pause.

“By a dragon?”

“By boars.”

Seran stared.

Lucien almost smiled.

“The dragon came after.”

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Lucien could see the doubt forming.

He understood it.

So he explained.

He told Seran about the forest suddenly emptying.

About animals fleeing.

About the herd crashing toward the village.

About the enormous creature appearing afterward with blood on its jaws.

He described its scales, its wings, the pressure created by a simple movement of its body.

Seran’s expression slowly changed.

Not because the story was dramatic, but because parts of it were familiar.

Lucien saw it.

“You believe me now.”

Seran’s grip tightened around the blade.

“I believe you saw something.”

“That is enough.”

Seran studied him again.

Lucien decided there was no reason to circle around the real point.

“Would you like to come with me?”

Seran blinked.

The question clearly did not belong anywhere in the conversation he had expected.

“Come with you where?”

“My village.”

Seran stared at him.

Lucien continued before he could dismiss the idea as madness.

“The world is changing. Animals are moving strangely. Forests are becoming unstable. Dragons are appearing where people thought they existed only in stories.”

He glanced toward the dark warehouse around them.

“I do not know what is causing it yet.”

Seran said nothing.

Lucien’s voice remained calm.

“But I know I do not want my village helpless if something worse happens.”

He thought briefly of Luke bleeding against the wall.

Of the two graves outside the village.

Then of the creature looking down on all of them as though the entire settlement had barely been worth noticing.

“I want to reach a point where something like that does not decide whether we live simply because it is stronger.”

Seran’s eyebrows lifted.

Lucien smiled faintly.

“I would like to be able to kill a dragon one day.”

Seran stared at him for a long moment.

Then the smile returned.

“That is a large dream for someone who looks like he should still be asking permission to stay out this late.”

Lucien ignored that.

Seran rolled the blade once between his fingers.

“Are you even capable of using a weapon?”

Lucien’s smile widened.

“Try me.”

The silence changed.

Seran tilted his head slightly.

Then he moved.

There was no warning, no formal stance, and no honorable challenge.

He simply stepped forward and drove the blade toward Lucien’s side.

Lucien shifted just enough for the edge to miss.

Seran immediately redirected.

It was fast and efficient. Not elegant in the way trained soldiers often fought.

His movement had the economy of someone who had learned what worked under pressure and discarded everything else.

Lucien caught his wrist.

Seran let him.

That was the first warning.

The second came from Seran’s other hand.

Lucien saw it a fraction too late.

A handful of dust snapped toward his face.

Lucien turned his head and closed one eye.

Seran twisted free at once.

“There it is,” Lucien muttered.

Seran grinned.

“You asked me to try.”

He came in again.

Lucien stepped back and redirected the blade.

Seran changed levels immediately and kicked toward Lucien’s knee.

Lucien lifted his leg.

The kick missed.

Seran’s elbow followed.

Lucien blocked it with his forearm.

Pain traveled through both arms.

This body was ordinary.

Lucien could read the motion.

That did not make the impact painless.

Seran pressed.

Lucien gave ground.

Then his fingers brushed something inside his pocket.

A coin.

His eyes shifted.

Seran noticed.

That was exactly why Lucien used it.

He pulled the coin free and flicked it.

Seran reacted instinctively.

The coin struck his shoulder instead of his face.

He flinched.

Lucien stepped in.

His palm struck Seran’s wrist.

The blade dropped.

Seran did not even look at it.

His foot hooked behind Lucien’s ankle.

Lucien felt the trap immediately.

A feint.

The lost weapon had been bait.

Seran pulled.

Lucien allowed his balance to break.

Seran’s eyes brightened.

Then Lucien twisted as he fell, caught Seran’s sleeve, and dragged him forward.

Seran stumbled.

Lucien hit the ground first, rolled through the impact, and used the momentum to kick Seran’s supporting leg.

Both of them nearly went down.

Seran caught himself against a crate.

Lucien was already rising.

Seran laughed.

“That was rude.”

“You tried to throw dirt in my eyes.”

“That was practical.”

Lucien brushed dust from his sleeve.

“Exactly.”

Something about the answer amused Seran.

His smile widened again.

Then he attacked differently.

This time he did not rush.

He circled.

Lucien recognized the change immediately.

Seran had realized that ordinary combinations would not surprise him.

So he stopped fighting like someone trained.

He began fighting like Seran.

He shifted his weight without committing.

He looked toward Lucien’s shoulder while kicking low.

He stepped back when Lucien expected pressure.

Then he suddenly closed distance again.

At one point, Seran grabbed a loose plank from the wall and threw it.

Lucien knocked it aside.

Seran was already somewhere else.

A hand closed around Lucien’s sleeve.

A knee drove toward his stomach.

Lucien turned.

The strike grazed his side.

Seran slipped behind him.

Lucien felt the pressure of an arm coming toward his neck.

He ducked.

Seran changed direction again.

Lucien smiled.

This was familiar.

Not the exact body.

Not the exact habits.

But the principle.

Seran did not care whether a fight looked good.

He cared whether he won.

Lucien had fought beside that mentality enough times to understand it.

He stepped into Seran’s next trick instead of away from it.

Seran blinked.

Lucien caught his forearm.

Seran tried to rotate free.

Lucien shifted with him.

The movement brought both of them dangerously close to the wall.

Seran attempted another sweep.

Lucien moved his foot before it arrived.

For the first time, Seran’s smile faded.

Lucien saw the question in his eyes.

How?

Seran changed tactics again.

He reached toward Lucien’s collar.

Lucien slapped the hand away.

Seran’s other hand moved toward Lucien’s pocket.

Lucien caught that wrist too.

Seran laughed.

“You are annoyingly difficult to rob.”

“You are annoyingly predictable.”

Seran’s eyebrows rose.

Lucien realized what he had said.

Too late.

“Predictable?”

Seran sounded personally offended.

Lucien smiled.

“To me.”

That was enough.

Seran twisted suddenly, planted one foot against a crate, and used the leverage to pull both of them sideways.

Lucien expected a strike.

Instead, Seran kicked the fallen blade across the floor toward the darkness.

Lucien’s attention followed it for half a second.

Seran used the opening.

He drove his shoulder into Lucien’s chest.

Lucien stumbled back.

Seran swept his leg.

Lucien went down.

Seran dropped with him and reached for Lucien’s throat.

Lucien had already anticipated the follow-up.

His knee came up between them.

Seran was forced to shift.

Lucien caught his sleeve and turned.

Their positions reversed.

Lucien ended above him, one hand pinning Seran’s wrist against the floor.

Seran stared up at him.

Then he looked toward Lucien’s other hand.

Lucien followed his gaze.

Seran had somehow slipped another small blade into that sleeve.

Lucien laughed.

Seran did too.

“You really do know me.”

The words were spoken lightly.

Lucien’s smile weakened.

Before he could respond, another voice came from the darkness.

“Seran.”

Both men stopped.

Aurelia stepped into view.

She was still holding the crystal ball close to her chest, though one hand had moved away from it as if she had been prepared to intervene.

Her expression was not amused.

Seran sighed.

Lucien released him and stood.

Seran rose a moment later and brushed dust from his clothes.

Then, almost automatically, he moved half a step in front of Aurelia.

Lucien noticed.

Some things had not changed at all.

He looked at Seran.

“Am I proficient enough?”

Seran picked up his fallen blade.

“Good.”

A pause.

“But not enough.”

Lucien tilted his head.

Seran’s expression changed again.

The humor remained, but it became quieter.