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

"Nephew, you're truly fortunate to have Sir Cielius's favor."

Edric remarked as the two of them made their way toward home.

Lucien tilted his head, puzzled.

Edric caught the look and chuckled softly.

"The King favored Sir Cielius not only for his strength..."

His words trailed off and his tone dropped into something like reverence.

"Did you know? He's the one who invented Household Magic. That single invention has saved countless lives. It's no exaggeration."

His gaze lifted toward the night sky as though reliving old memories.

"Household Magic can be used by anyone with mana, even those without any attribute. Imagine that? It's not just a tool for survival... it brings comfort.

Commoners no longer need to walk miles to fetch water from the river.

They need not spend hours gathering firewood or struggle to spark a flame.... Household Magic gives them warmth with a whisper.

Food can be prepared faster.

Wounds tended more swiftly.

Even homes lit at night without costly oils.

For those who have nothing else, it is the difference between despair and hope."

Lucien fell silent.

He hadn't expected this... that his grandfather was the mind behind something so miraculous.

"Sir Cielius understood the world in a way few others could."

Edric continued.

"He realized mana could mimic the smallest workings of nature. While not as powerful as someone with the attribute, it's enough to aid daily life. With his knowledge, people learned to call forth drinking water, kindle a flame, stir a breeze and many other things... just enough to ease the burden of living. That... is the greatest contribution to mankind."

Lucien's eyes gleamed with wonder. A warmth stirred in his chest.

'Crap! Grandpa Ciel… you were that incredible?'

A smile tugged at his lips.

'That's… freaking awesome!'

•••

Soon... they reached the Silvermine Estate.

Lucien bid Edric goodnight and went straight to his room.

He hopped onto the bed, crossed his legs and closed his eyes.

His mind reached outward, searching for the distant tether...

The world shifted.

When Lucien opened his eyes again, he was no longer in his chamber but seated at the long table inside the Town Hall.

Across from him sat Sebas.

At the sight of him, Sebas exhaled as relief softened his features.

"Young Lord. Welcome home," he said with a faint smile.

Mini Lucien returned the smile with a nod before cutting straight to the point. "Sebas, what happened in the middle of the night? Was there an emergency?"

The butler's expression hardened. His voice lowered. "Young Lord... I have something to report."

Lucien's eyes narrowed.

"There were assassins who slipped into Lootwell," Sebas explained. "They came disguised as merchants but I noticed them surveying the territory. They're staying at the inn right now. If you command it, I can intercept them at once."

Lucien's eyes widened.

"Are they possibly from the Assassin's Guild?"

Sebas's heart tightened at the mention. His gaze flickered away before he let out a heavy sigh.

"Young Lord... it seems you already knew of their existence. Yes. I confirmed their affiliation through Cecil who learned the skill: SCAN."

Lucien nodded slowly.

SCAN.

He had compared it before and found it strangely different. His own version was far more detailed. Out of curiosity, he once had Cecil write down exactly what he saw when he used SCAN.

The result had startled him.

***

Cecil's SCAN Display:

Name:

Age:

Affiliation:

Skills:

Magic:

***

That was all.

No jobs.

No titles.

No favorability or loyalty indicators.

Lucien was confused.

'So... it's only me who sees more. Could it be because of the System?'

Lucien exhaled heavily, forcing his thoughts into order.

He turned to Sebas.

"Sebas, I have a thousand questions for you," he started. "But those can wait until I return here. For now, we deal with the emergency at hand."

Sebas bowed his head. His expression remained composed but something flickered in his eyes... an unspoken truth Lucien's words seemed to brush against.

'The Young Lord already suspected... perhaps even knew...'

But Sebas chose not to dwell on it. Not now.

"As you will, Young Lord." He replied simply.

Together, they laid out a plan.

The assassins lurking in the inn would not escape this night.

And it was a task that suited Sebas perfectly. Few could move as silently as he with the Silent Step that erased both sound and presence.

When darkness thickened and the town fell into slumber, Sebas vanished into the night. Lucien remained behind, trusting his retainer completely.

Minutes passed.

Then without warning, Sebas returned... dragging two limp Tier 6 figures by their collars. They look just like ordinary merchants...

"Young Lord," Sebas said as he lowered the unconscious men at the ground, "I caught them just as they prepared to end their own lives. I recognized the trick... they carried poison beneath their tongues. But I was quicker."

Lucien's eyes sharpened. "Well done, Sebas."

He raised a hand and channeled a faint ripple of mana to rouse the captives.

The assassins stirred.

Their eyelids fluttered as they regained consciousness. Confusion clouded their faces until they noticed the ropes binding them... and the cold eyes watching from above.

It was at this moment that they knew. They fucked up.

Mini Lucien sat at the table, looking down at them. "Who sent you?"

One of the men bared his teeth but kept silent. His defiance masked the fear in his eyes.

Lucien's expression hardened. "Your intentions. Speak."

His aura condensed, pressing down on the captives like a suffocating weight. The assassins flinched and dread crawled over their skin.

The second one trembled. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

His mouth opened, closed, opened again... each time faltering as though something unseen held him back.

Then at last... his eyes shifted. Resolve flickered there.

He drew in a shaky breath. "We... we were ordered to—"

But the words died.

His body jerked violently and his eyes widened in sheer horror. Veins bulged beneath his skin, darkening like charred roots. A blinding light seared across his chest as a hidden magic circle carved itself into his flesh.

"Aaa—AaaaHHHHHHHH!" The scream ripped through the hall.

Raw and bloodcurdling.

Lucien shot up. "What—!?"

He reached forward but Sebas caught him and yanked him back, shielding him.

The butler's voice was sharp. "Stay clear, Young Lord!"

Mini Lucien's eyes blazed, fixed on the assassin writhing against his bindings as the stench of burning mana filled the air.

The second assassin convulsed violently. His eyes rolled back as he struggled to force words past his lips.

His fist clenched and resolve hardened in his gaze. "B-Bags! Look at our bags! T-they… they wanted us to—"

His voice broke into a guttural scream. Glowing sigils seared across his flesh, burning like brands.

His jaw locked open in agony as smoke curled from his skin. His very life force scorched away from within.

Moments later...

Silence.

Both assassins lay still.

Their bodies twisted.

Veins blackened like charred roots.

The glowing circles etched on their flesh faded into nothingness, leaving only the acrid stench of burnt mana hanging in the air.

Lucien clenched his fists, unable to speak.

He realized that the assassins weren't truly loyal. They had wanted to reveal something. And yet... they were shackled, silenced, even in death.

His gaze lingered on the corpses. A chill threaded through him.

That magic circle... he didn't recognize it.

Not the attribute. Not the element. Nothing he had seen before.

Just like... Malrik.

Lucien's eyes sharpened. Fury simmered beneath his stillness.

Sebas straightened slowly. His voice turned grim.

"I've never witnessed this, Young Lord. It isn't poison. It's a forced seal... made to torture and erase its bearer should they defy their master's will."

Lucien stared down at the blackened corpses as unease twisted his chest.

'Not just disposable… bound in chains even unto death.'

Lucien's eyes seethed and his jaw tightened.

This was bleak.

Twisted.

And he hated how powerless it made him feel.

"Bring their belongings here," he ordered.

Sebas bowed and vanished into the dark bringing the corpses with him skillfully.

Minutes later... he returned, laying down the assassins' bags on the table.

Lucien rifled through them.

His gaze turned sharp.

Silver dust.

Glowstone powder.

Vials of beast blood.

Monster threads.

Other reagents...

All unmistakable. They were ingredients for inscribing magic circles.

Then his hand paused.

Among the clutter lay a parchment. Its surface was etched with a diagram.

A magic circle.

But... it was a design Lucien had never seen before.

His breath hitched.

Unknown. Again.

Lucien exhaled sharply.

He hated it... Being left in the dark with mysteries piling higher and higher around him.

He folded the parchment with deliberate care and turned to Sebas.

"Sebas. I'm giving you tasks. Tell the others to complete it swiftly. I must return here... fast."

For beneath all his anger, a gnawing instinct tugged at him.

A whisper that grew sharper by the second.

Something was waiting.

And he needed to return.

•••

Later that night, in the Golddust Estate.

Magnus, Dorian and Harold gathered in a dimly lit chamber. The air was thick with expectation.

They were waiting.

At last... the door creaked open and an old man stepped inside.

Malrik.

Their eyes lit with excitement until they saw the weariness etched on his face.

"I failed," Malrik said simply. His hoarse voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Shock rippled through the trio.

"T-that can't be…" Magnus stammered.

"Father, what happened?" Dorian pressed.

Malrik's eyes flicked toward him. They flinched and fell silent.

"Cielius," Malrik muttered, his gaze distant. "Is that boy somehow connected to him?"

The three froze. Realization struck them like thunder.

So that was it. The reason Malrik had failed.

Cielius.

Magnus's face twisted. "As far as I know, this was their first meeting. Cielius seemed to take a liking to the boy… but I didn't think he'd go so far for him."

"Cielius is said to be the kindest in the kingdom," Dorian added hastily, almost defensive. "Surely, he acted on impulse. It must have been nothing more than that."

Harold leaned forward. His voice was cautious and respectful. "Sir Malrik, the boy is merely a Baron from the borderlands. How could he hold any true connection to Cielius?"

Malrik studied them quietly. His silence stretched as if weighing truths they could not grasp.

Finally, he spoke.

"Continue the plan on the other side. But be cautious. I will make another attempt... once the boy leaves the capital." His words settled like a decree and his gaze settled on Harold.

Harold bowed low. "As you command."

"Tomorrow," Malrik continued. "You will return and take direct control. Begin with the surrounding territories. One by one, they will fall. Dorian... you will accompany him."

Dorian straightened. He nodded firmly despite the unease curling in his gut.

With that, the gears began to turn again...