100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?

A few ladies still tried to approach Lucien but each time he slipped away with practiced ease.

Some grew bolder, even inviting him to dance outright.

That left Lucien troubled.

In truth, he had never learned to dance.

He felt guilty as he knew that some women weren't scheming or hostile. Just genuinely curious about him.

But instead of making excuses, he confessed honestly that he couldn't dance.

Their smiles faltered and one by one they withdrew in disappointment.

Meanwhile, a few sharper nobles tried a different approach. They sent their sons toward Vivian.

But every time, Lioren intercepted them.

None dared push further. Offending a ducal family was a risk not worth taking.

Lioren flashed Lucien a discreet thumbs-up and Lucien couldn't help but chuckle.

Then... Maxim seized the moment and invited Ellen to a dance.

Ellen smiled and accepted. She slipped her hand into his.

The two moved gracefully across the floor, swaying to the echoing music. For a moment, it was as if they were children again.

Carefree.

Lost in a memory only they shared.

Their friends clapped enthusiastically which only made the pair flush with embarrassment.

But just then…

Lucien froze.

A faint tug pulled at him from within.

His body reacted as though something unseen had brushed against it. He checked himself but nothing seemed wrong.

And then realization struck.

His Split Body.

Sebas was sending a signal.

Lucien had instructed him before.

If an emergency ever arose, pour mana into the Split Body so that he would know something was wrong.

And now... that was exactly what he was feeling.

His expression hardened.

An unease settled over him.

If Sebas was calling for him then it had to be serious.

But here, in this hall, under countless eyes and concealed intentions… shifting his consciousness was impossible.

Lucien fell silent.

Just then...

King Midas returned with Pope Augustus at his side.

Both mighty figures wore broad smiles. Their expressions were radiant as though they had just witnessed something world-changing.

"That confirms it." Midas whispered to the Pope. "Augustus, you sensed it too, didn't you? It's not mana… it's something purer. Something that could shape this very world."

The Pope nodded. "Right. My hope is rekindled. Not just for my scalp… perhaps I won't need to rely on that 'old man' after all."

Their good mood was obvious. But then the crowd noticed something even more shocking.

Hair.

Fresh strands of hair were sprouting across their once-bald scalps.

Gasps and whispers rippled through the hall.

"What?! Already?!"

"What kind of alchemy is this?!"

The nobles turned their eyes in unison toward Lucien.

Something that could restore hair instantly?

The balding lords felt temptation gnaw at them. The craftsmen families too, stared with glowing eyes, already imagining profit and possibilities.

Meanwhile, King Midas laughed warmly with his subjects.

His deep voice that was once stern and cold, now carried an unfamiliar lightness.

And then—

The King's eyes locked on Lucien. With a broad smile, he gave a nod and began walking toward him.

But before he could take more than a few steps…

A powerful presence surged from the entrance.

Midas halted instantly.

"King Midas. I trust I am not late?"

The voice belonged to the man who had just arrived. He looked no older than his thirties.

Handsome.

Charismatic.

His smile flawless.

A pleasant aura seemed to follow him, lifting the very air around him.

Yet Midas's face darkened at once.

Augustus who had been mid-conversation also froze.

His expression shifted. Guarded.

The newcomer's presence was overwhelming and on par with the two.

Silence fell like a veil.

Then as if compelled, the nobles began to greet him.

His aura carried a charm that drew people in, making him appear approachable.

Some even looked relieved as though his very arrival had brightened the room.

The man greeted them back with endless patience, smiling warmly at each one.

But Lucien… Lucien felt something else.

His chest tightened. Something inside his divine core stirred violently.

Warning him.

It wasn't admiration. It wasn't respect.

It was a pull that screamed....

Stay away.

"Uncle Ed… who is that man?" Lucien asked in a low voice.

Edric's eyes narrowed as he glanced at him.

"He is the Supreme Leader of the Wildlands Federation in the South."

He paused then added with a faint scoff,

"They call him the most perfect man. Handsome, flawless… but I don't buy it. A perfect man? That doesn't exist."

Lucien fell silent.

He activated his Divine Sense.

And instantly, he understood.

Edric had been right. Surprisingly right. His instincts were sharper than Lucien expected.

What Lucien saw nearly made him retch.

It wasn't miasma... but something as overwhelming.

Pure evil.

A void-shot crimson writhed beneath the man's surface like shadows bleeding into flesh.

At times it shimmered like oil on water, shifting with impossible hues where no light should ever reach.

It was a sickness that seeped into the eyes. A color that gnawed at the soul itself... whispering hunger without a tongue.

Lucien's stomach twisted.

'How can a man be so evil…?'

And then he realized something more.

Ashreth Vulcan.

That man… was not entirely human.

The shape of the color was different.

Lucien couldn't be sure if it was because of bloodline or something else but the aura did not fit a man.

Its form twisted like the silhouette of a bird. A phoenix perhaps… but corrupted.

And then—

Lucien froze. Panic surged through him.

Ashreth's head turned slowly in his direction.

'He can sense Divine Sense?!'

Lucien cut the skill off immediately and ducked behind Edric, trying to make himself small.

At once...

King Midas stepped forward, intentionally blocking Ashreth's line of sight. Pope Augustus moved as well, diverting the newcomer's attention.

Lucien let out a shaky breath of relief.

"Ashreth," Midas said smoothly, "had I known you'd be here, I would have prepared a proper welcome."

Ashreth chuckled lightly. "Hahaha King Midas, I cleared all my work just to come. Please accept this gift of mine."

He passed something into the King's hand before turning to the Pope.

His smile widened. "And you, Pope Augustus. Long time no see."

The Pope's eyes narrowed but in the next breath his expression softened into benevolence.

"Indeed. Long time no see. I see you haven't changed at all… though perhaps that is the problem."

The words carried weight.

Yet Ashreth only laughed as if the remark pleased him. The three titans chuckled together like old friends and their laughter echoed through the hall.

Then they drifted toward a secluded corner as their voices sink into hushed conversation.

But Lucien gulped hard.

Ashreth's act was flawless. Too flawless. Not a single crack in his demeanor.

Lucien's instinct told him to leave now.

He leaned closer to Edric and whispered, "Uncle Ed… I'm not feeling well. May I go first?"

Edric fell quiet. After a moment, he sighed. "I'll come with you, Nephew. There's no reason to linger. If only your Aunt were here..."

Lucien nodded faintly.

"Go on, say your goodbyes," Edric urged.

Lucien approached the others. He gave Vivian one last embrace.

"I'll go ahead, sis. Take care of yourself."

Then he clasped hands with the rest. "Let's meet again someday. I have to leave for now."

Turning, his gaze found an older figure.

"Grandpa Ciel… I'll be going. We'll meet again."

The two exchanged a smile. Quiet yet full of understanding.

"Grandson," Cielius said with a warm chuckle, "don't make me wait too long hohoho."

And then…

Lucien unclasped two medals from his waist and pressed them into Vivian's hands.

"Sis, take these. This one lets you enjoy anything at the Tea Shop in the Noble's Market and this one works for the Sweets Shop. Just show them and it's free. Bring your friends too."

Vivian's eyes brightened and Lucien gave her a gentle smile before turning away.

Before leaving, Edric called out.

"Hey Max, we'll head off first. Just go with Ellen after this. We'll be taking the Wind Chariot."

Maxim smirked and waved. "Got it. Be careful, you two. Nephew, take care of Ed for me."

That earned laughter from the group. Edric rolled his eyes and shot back a playful jab at Maxim before following Lucien out.

The two departed together.

But unnoticed by them, another figure slipped from the hall... He blended into the background like mist.

Cielius.

He shadowed their steps, keeping his distance. His eyes never left Lucien.

At last, Edric and Lucien boarded the Wind Chariot...

And above them… Cielius rose into the sky, flying in their wake.

For a moment, Lucien stiffened. He glanced back suddenly.

Nothing. Empty sky.

He exhaled, dismissing it as nerves.

The Wind Chariot surged forward, carrying them far from the castle.

And soon…

Cielius stopped in his tracks.

He hovered in the air.

His robes fluttered with the wind and his voice rolled out like thunder.

"Malrik Golddust. Take one more step… and I'll see you laid in a coffin."

From the darkness, a figure emerged. His presence was heavy and his shadow stretched unnaturally long under the moonlight.

It was Malrik.

It was as if Cielius had foreseen this.

As a wielder of the four elements, he was attuned to the very breath of nature.

Every ripple in the wind. Every tremor in the earth. Every faint distortion in the flow of fire or water.

Nothing escaped his senses.

Earlier, he had felt it too. At first, only a subtle shift... a faint wrongness in the harmony of the world.

Suspicion took root and so he quietly followed Lucien.

And now, standing face to face with Malrik Golddust, Cielius knew he had been right to trust his instincts.

"Cielius," Malrik spoke. His tone was low but edged with venom. "I've done nothing to you. Why stand in my way?"

"Do I really need to explain it, Malrik?" Cielius's eyes narrowed.

Malrik's lips curled into a thin smile. "So… you're protecting that boy?"

Silence answered him. The night itself seemed to hold its breath.

Malrik's bleak voice pressed further.

"I only wish to confirm something. That boy may be carrying… what rightfully belongs to my family."

At those words, Cielius's eyes hardened.

"Even if that's true or not," Cielius said as his voice dropped like stone, "you'll have to get through me first."

The air shuddered.

Cielius's aura burst forth like a storm unchained.

The kindly old man's facade stripped away. What remained was a sovereign of nature. A master who commanded the breath of the world.

With but a flick of his hand... the winds answered.

Razor-sharp blades hissed outward, slicing through the night with merciless precision. All aimed at Malrik.

But Malrik was already gone.

His form dissolved into the atmosphere as though the world itself had swallowed him... only to reappear at Cielius's flank.

From the distorted air around him, globes of shifting unstable energy burst forth.

The chaotic orbs pulsed with no discernible rhythm... before lancing toward Cielius.

The elder did not falter.

He swept his palm outward and the torrent of elements answered.

The earth rose, intercepting.

Water coiled and bent their trajectory.

Fire lashed outward, consuming the remnants.

Wind scattered the final shards of corruption like ash.

The battlefield groaned beneath their duel.

Trees bent.

Stones cracked.

The very air shuddered under the clash.

Malrik struck from nowhere and everywhere.

Unpredictable.

His presence slipped through the fabric of space itself. Each of his strikes was alien and impossible to foresee.

But Cielius read the flow of battle as though it were nature's own song.

Fire surged from his body like a rising sun.

Wind bent and curved his strikes with elegance.

Earth rooted him against the storm.

And water rippled as a living shield.

He commanded the four elements with grace. Each flowed into the next, weaving a dance that made him untouchable.

The exchange quickened.

A fiery blast countered by a ripple of black static. A hail of earthen spears swallowed by a rift in space. Wind slashed, water coiled, chaos cracked the air.

Their duel split the silence of the world, breaking the sound barrier itself.

Shockwaves tore through the ground as if creation itself protested their clash.

Yet... no victor emerged.

At last, Malrik stilled. His presence wavered.

"Cielius," he said. "I sought only to… investigate. Nothing more."

Cielius's eyes narrowed.

"Enough. Remember, Malrik... I spared you once long ago. You would not be standing here had I chosen otherwise. And I can end you now if you persist in your schemes."

A flicker crossed Malrik's face.

His tone sharpened, laced with defiance.

"Old man, do not think I cannot harm you."

Cielius only smirked.

"You've tried. And you've failed."

For a heartbeat, Malrik's mask faltered.

Shadows curled around him, swallowing his form until the air itself devoured him. In an instant, he was gone.

Silence fell.

Cielius gazed into the horizon.

The steel in his eyes softened.

Slowly, the stern warrior's visage melted away, replaced by the warm smile of a doting grandfather.

Then, as gently as mist fading in the dawn, he too vanished... leaving behind only a shattered battlefield.