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

They gathered the subjects of Coalheart in the central square.

Sebas disguised once again as Noctra. He oversaw the arrangement while the guards followed strict orders. "Close the gates early and allow no one to leave."

Lucien and his companions stood ready. What was about to unfold would change everything.

•••

The townsfolk crowded into the square, murmuring among themselves. It had been a long time since they were summoned like this and curiosity rippled through the crowd.

"Did something good happen?"

"Maybe the Madam will bless us again."

"Could this be about those travelers?"

Excitement buzzed in their voices as they tried to guess what awaited them.

But time passed and Noctra never appeared.

Instead, Sebas emerged, dragging forward a grotesque figure. The woman's body hung limp. Her face was twisted and hideous.

Then came Lucien, leading the procession toward the stage.

The murmurs grew louder.

"Who are they?"

"Is this boy trying to play a prank on us?"

"Who is that ugly woman? She looks monstrous!"

Then Lucien stepped onto the stage. He carried himself with such poise and authority that the crowd involuntarily swallowed hard. His bearing was noble... far too commanding for a prankster.

Confusions flickered across their faces.

Some tilted their heads in uncertainty.

Some watched with curiosity.

Others still thought him a fool playing a prank.

Lucien's gaze swept over them.

"People of Coalheart…" His voice rang out.

He paused.

"I have come to tell you a grave truth. The very ones you trust... the ones who were meant to protect you... have failed you!"

His words hit with weight and certainty.

But the people only stared back in silence. Their expressions twisted into disbelief as though waiting for the punchline to what they assumed must be a cruel joke.

But Lucien ignored their jeers. Calmly, he pointed at the slumped figure beside him.

"This thing right here," he said, "is the true face of your Madam. Noctra Coalheart."

The square erupted.

"Lies! The Madam would never look like that!"

"How dare you insult her!"

"You dare slander her name?!"

The outrage boiled instantly... just as Lucien expected.

Then he released his Sovereign Aura.

The uproar died in a heartbeat.

An invisible weight crushed the crowd.

Faces turned pale. Mouths snapped shut. In that suffocating silence, every one of them understood...

This was no prank. The boy before them was deadly serious.

Lucien turned to the limp figure and snapped his fingers.

Noctra stirred then jolted awake. Her eyes burned with madness.

"Cursed bastards! Return my ring at once!" Her hoarse scream echoed across the square. It was chilling in its desperation.

The people stared in silence. Some shifted uneasily as pity flashed in their eyes. Others were stunned, unable to make sense of her words.

Then Noctra's gaze locked onto Lucien. Recognition twisted her face.

"You… I know you!" she shrieked. "Cursed brat! I should've killed you that day and claimed your territory! You're doomed once my husband Harold returns. You dare meddle in my Coalheart domain? Gahahaha! You won't live to regret it!"

But she did not see the people staring. She couldn't.

The Eye-Cage Seal Lucien had drawn restricted her vision to the stage alone. In her mind, she was still in the mansion, ranting unseen.

Lucien raised a hand. A pulse of magic and Noctra crumpled back into unconsciousness.

"You heard her yourselves," Lucien said. "I am Baron Lucien Lootwell. I have not come here to condemn you but to open your eyes. The Coalheart family has been sabotaging nearby territories and brainwashing their people. They are not who you believe them to be."

The square erupted once more.

Voices clashed in disbelief. Faces twisted in denial. Doubt spread like wildfire but no one wanted to believe him.

After all, tearing down long-held faith was never easy.

Lucien raised a hand. "Of course… I would not make such claims without proof."

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned stacks of documents from his INVENTORY.

"These," he held them high for all to see, "are records of their crimes."

He descended from the stage, moving among the crowd. Though he kept the papers out of reach... aware their blind loyalty might drive them to destroy the evidence... he made sure every pair of eyes could see.

The sacrifices.

The brainwashing.

The theft of territories.

But still… hesitation lingered.

They had been taught that the neighboring lands had fallen to famine. That their gracious lord had offered mercy, taking in the suffering as servants regardless of birth or status. That the Coalhearts were givers of hope.

The documents told another story but belief is stubborn. Hope is even harder to kill.

So Lucien dealt the final blow.

"And your so-called guardian," he said, "is nothing but a conspiracy. It does not protect you. It feeds on you. On your very souls and life force!"

That shattered them.

The square roared in outrage, not against the Coalhearts but at him.

"Blasphemy!"

"Our guardian is real!"

"Stop this! Enough!"

Anger boiled over. Some cursed his name. Others pleaded for him to stop what they thought was sacrilege.

Seeing the mob's anger swell, Lucien fell silent.

'So even my Deception skill can't sway them? Normally it should've made my words believable… but this time…'

He exhaled slowly. Forcing his truth onto them would only deepen their hatred.

"I still lack experience," he muttered under his breath. "Tch… I should've handled this better."

Then his eyes shifted to the far side of the square. He gave a small nod.

A lone figure began to walk forward.

It was Maxim.

The crowd's hostility wavered the moment they saw him.

Unlike Lucien, Maxim was no stranger. He had spoken with them, laughed with them, even when collecting taxes. He treated them with respect and for that... he was known and trusted.

"Everyone," Maxim said firmly, "I can guarantee that the Baron speaks the truth."

The square stilled. Not a single murmur rose.

"And the evidence you see," he gestured to the documents, "I have verified it myself."

That broke the crowd's resistance.

The reason they had doubted Lucien was clear. He was an outsider. They had no bond with him, no reason to trust his words. Anyone could claim to be Baron Lootwell. Even his noble bearing and overwhelming aura had not been enough.

But Maxim's words were different. His voice carried into the cracks of their doubt and for the first time… they faltered.

Questions flickered in their minds.

They trusted Maxim. He had never looked down on them.

Maxim's gaze shifted toward the looming statue.

'The atmosphere here… it's far worse than I thought.'

He remembered all the times he had come to collect taxes.

Back then, he had noticed the unease. He dismissed it as nothing more than his own distaste for the place. Even during his most recent visit, he failed to realize what was wrong. Well, his strength had not yet returned at that time.

'No wonder my escorts always hurried to leave this land… they could feel it too.'

And this time... he knew exactly why he noticed it so strongly.

Lootwell Territory.

The air there was the opposite. Fresh, vibrant, almost brimming with life. Having lived in that contrast, Maxim could now feel every thread of corruption woven into Coalheart lands.

He turned back to the people. They stood silent, hesitant, unsure. And he understood why.

'They had lived here their whole lives. To them, this bleakness was normal. How could they sense the difference when they had never known anything else?'

Maxim's voice rang out.

"Look around you. Do you see any elders among you? Where are your grandparents? Your uncles? Your neighbors who should have lived long lives? All of you… your lifespans have been cut short by the very thing you've been told to worship."

His words struck like thunder.

The crowd froze. Their thoughts churned.

It was true. No one here lived past forty.

The young looked prematurely aged. Their faces weathered. Their bodies frail.

And then their eyes shifted. To Noctra. To her withered true face exposed before them.

Their expressions twisted. Doubt. Fear. Anger. A storm of emotions they could no longer hide.

Is it true…?

The square had fallen into heavy silence.

Betrayal clawed at their chests.

Hopelessness dulled their eyes.

And above all... they felt like fools.

"I assure you," Maxim's steady voice cut through the air, "Baron Lucien Lootwell is here to help you."

The people turned toward Lucien again. Guilt churned in their hearts for cursing him earlier.

They had heard whispers before. Rumors of the Lootwell Territory and its strange prosperity. Stories of a young lord who defied expectations.

But they dismissed it. A child accomplishing such things? Impossible.

Yet here he stood before them and Maxim vouched for him.

Maxim nodded to Lucien and Lucien answered with a grateful smile.

'This is what I needed,' Lucien thought. 'A push. From someone they already trust.'

He stepped forward.

"Everyone. I may be young but I will not stand by and let you suffer. I know your faith in your guardian runs deep. I am not here to strip you of belief."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"I only ask this. Do not blindly believe. To believe is to feel… to see the truth for yourself."

Lucien's steps echoed as he approached the gargoyle statue. The crowd watched with their breath held.

Then he raised his hand.

From his INVENTORY, the Essence of Purity gleamed like crystallized sunlight.

"Let there be light," Lucien declared. "Light that will guide you… my people."

He pressed the Essence against the cold stone.

And then—

The statue blazed.

A radiant brilliance burst forth, flooding the square in blinding light.

Immediately, cracks spider-webbed across the black statue.

From within, miasma oozed out like tar as if the corrupted idol itself were resisting. The crowd recoiled.

But the divine energy pouring from the Essence was overwhelming.

A rare sight unfolded. One none of them had ever imagined possible.

The miasma became visible.

It writhed in the air. An oily black fog twisted and shrieked as the light consumed it.

Gasps rippled through the square. For the first time, the people saw the very thing that had haunted their lives in silence. The true face of the bleak energy.

Lucien's companions narrowed their eyes.

The sight turned their stomachs.

So it wasn't merely corrupted mana... it was something fouler, parasitic, unnatural. And in contrast, the bright energy shone as its natural predator.

The contrast was horrifying.

And yet… beautiful.

The dark miasma screeched as it was devoured by the light, collapsing in on itself like shadows burned away by the sun.

The people could not look away.

Meanwhile, Lucien's heartbeat spiked.

'Shit. Shit. Shit…!' His grip tightened. 'The Essence of Purity... It's shrinking too fast!'

The radiant crystal in his hand was thinning.

For a moment, Lucien almost pulled away.

But then... With a final surge, the last of the miasma dissolved into nothingness.

The statue stood cleansed.

Lucien glanced at his hand...

...and his chest tightened.

What had once been a radiant crystal was now no larger than a seed.

'My heart… it bleeds to see this…' he thought bitterly.

But then… a change.

The light slowly dimmed...

...revealing something greater.

The gargoyle was no longer jet black.

Its surface gleamed with a subtle radiance. Its stone features were no longer twisted and foul but noble and reassuring. Now, it looked like a true guardian.

And in that moment, a shift occurred.

The statue seemed to breathe. The air itself turned lighter as though the choking miasma from before had only been a cruel joke.

Lucien's voice rang out.

"Everyone. Now you see what we mean. This is the real guardian... Not the ugly husk you once worshipped."

The crowd fell silent.

For the first time in their lives, they felt it. Rejuvenation.

The heaviness in their lungs faded.

Their bodies no longer dragged with exhaustion.

It was as if their very lifespans had been given back to them.

And then... cheers.

One after another, voices rose, tears mixed with laughter until the entire square echoed with raw relief and joy.

They finally believed.

But Lucien's group exchanged wary glances.

They knew.

This wasn't the end.

Faint traces of miasma still seeped from elsewhere… a darker source.

Lucien lifted his hand.

"Everyone, it's not over. I will show you another crime the Coalhearts committed. Follow me... into the mansion."

The people quieted again but now their eyes no longer held suspicion... only the fragile beginnings of trust.

Because Lucien hadn't dismissed their beliefs.

He had listened.

He had endured their doubt without anger.

And now… they were willing to walk with him.

As they walked, the people couldn't help but glance at Lucien's small figure. Admiration flickered in their eyes. This boy carried himself with the weight of a leader.

Finally, they stopped just outside the mansion grounds.

Lucien lifted his gaze toward a certain direction.

"Grandpa Ciel. Please."

Cielius stepped forward, staff in hand. With a calm motion, he struck the ground.

The world rumbled.

The earth itself groaned like a living beast, shaking beneath their feet. Gasps echoed through the crowd.

And then...

...the impossible happened.

The Coalheart Mansion rose into the air, torn from its very foundation as though plucked by an unseen hand. Walls cracked, soil crumbled, and the massive estate floated toward them with majestic inevitability.

When it drew near, Lucien extended his hand. With but a thought, the mansion vanished... collected into his INVENTORY.

Silence followed.

Not because the mansion was gone...

...but because of what it left behind.

The ground where it once stood was laid bare.

And beneath, exposed to the open air, was the mansion's basement.

Bones.

Thousands upon thousands of bones.

Men. Women. Children.

Stacked in heaps like discarded livestock.

Horror etched itself into every face. Some dropped to their knees. Others covered their mouths, trembling.

And there... in the center of the cavern of death... stood another gargoyle statue.

But unlike the purified guardian before, this one radiated pure malice.

The people turned silent again.

No words were needed.

Documents could be forged. Rumors twisted. Lies spread.

But this… this truth was undeniable.

Only true monsters could have built their power atop such cruelty.

And in that silence, something shifted.

Doubt crumbled.

Faith in the Coalhearts burned away.

What remained was anger.

"This is the evidence of the countless wrongdoings of the Coalhearts," Lucien declared. "How many innocents have perished? How many of your loved ones lie among these bones?"

The crowd wavered.

Some collapsed to their knees in despair.

Some wept openly, voices breaking as tears fell to the earth.

Others gagged, unable to stomach the sheer cruelty before them.

The sight was overwhelming.

"But still…" Lucien raised his voice. "We must not act recklessly. This evidence. These souls. We will present before the court. Please, I ask you, wait until then. I swear, these innocents will be given a proper burial… so they may finally rest in peace."

His words tempered the rising storm. The people nodded. They agreed.

In truth, with Cielius and Edric's authority, they could have crushed the Coalhearts immediately. A few documents would have sufficed. But nobles were cunning and papers could be dismissed as forgeries.

This massacre, however, was undeniable. A truth carved into the very earth. Even the Golddust family would not be able to silence it.

Cielius stepped forward. The ground shifted once more, gently closing over the basement. Layers of sealing magic spread outward, locking the site with heavy enchantments.

Silence settled again.

Sebas approached Lucien. "Young Lord… I noticed something. Beneath that statue in the basement... there seemed to be an entrance."

Lucien's eyes widened.

An entrance?

And then memory struck him. A scene from the memory orb. Harold had spoken of a dungeon… a dungeon hidden within Coalheart territory.

He scanned the sealed ground again, heart racing.

"Could it be…" he muttered. "The entrance to that dungeon?"