100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 215
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- Chapter 215 - Chapter 215: Chapter 215 - Battle Royal
Chapter 215: Chapter 215 – Battle Royal
The Fate Platform vibrated faintly as if the massive stone disc itself sensed what was about to erupt.
Hundreds of contenders stood in the ring. The silence was strangling. No one dared breathe too loudly. No one wanted to be the spark.
Tension coiled tighter…
A heartbeat…
A pause…
Then the shaved-head leader raised his arm.
“NOW!”
His voice tore through the air like flint to powder.
The twenty independents who had joined forces launched forward in formation.
A half-moon wave surged toward whoever stood closest.
The other contenders were forced to draw together for survival.
The independent group’s first target was a trio of Feykin, an Ironclad, and an elf who just happened to be standing beside one another. A coincidence turned into a battlefield.
The arena detonated.
Stone cracked. Dust flew. Fists met flesh with hollow booms.
A dozen bodies staggered backward from the initial collision.
This was no disciplined duel. This was like a survival game painted in mortal colors.
Those who were eliminated turned into motes of light and reappeared outside the barrier.
Lucien didn’t join the chaos.
Not yet.
He half-opened his eyes and used Divine Sense.
A faint shimmer flickered across his pupils—
And the world lit up.
He saw their colors.
The bad ones, the good ones. Some calculative, some surprisingly pure.
“…Sigh. There really are all kinds of people,” Lucien muttered.
Lucien felt a surge of relief that his skills remained.
He sighed inwardly.
“…Honestly? This is unfair. For them.”
Just then…
The battle swept toward him.
The others clearly thought he was an easy target.
Weapons flashed. Several contenders had already drawn items from their storage rings.
Axes tore through the air.
Twin daggers curved toward his waist.
A staff shot straight for his head.
And Lucien… simply stepped aside.
Not dramatically.
Not with flashy dodges.
Just… naturally.
A tilt of the head…
…and a blade cut through the space where his cheek had been.
A half-inch shift backward…
…and a spear passed in front of his nose.
A single turn…
…and three fighters crashed into each other instead of him.
Whispers spread immediately…
“What the—?”
“He’s not even trying!”
“Is he predicting our moves?!”
Lucien didn’t answer.
He activated his Parallel Thoughts.
His thoughts split.
One set focused entirely on the movement patterns around him.
Another observed the battlefield ahead.
There, a surprising scene took shape. The truly formidable people stood out.
Lythrae of the Lunareth Sect. She looked half-asleep as she reclined on her floating pillow as if napping… yet a lazy flick of her palm sent opponents skidding away with invisible force. Lucien was genuinely surprised that a pillow could be used as a weapon too.
The monk from the Silent Monastery of the Ninth Bell was formidable as well. He was barefoot, calm… and terrifying. Each step was like a clock striking fate. His martial arts were so refined he could send people flying with a single palm.
The fourth scholar of the Obsidian Collegium was a true strategist. He was already directing five other contenders like chess pieces, organizing a mini-coalition with crisp hand signs.
A space-element prodigy from the Star-Forge Cartel was a nightmare for everyone around him, warping inches at a time and appearing behind opponents with uncanny precision.
There was also a spear-wielding reptilian whose reflexes were monstrous even under mortal suppression.
And of course, Ignathar and Varun were surprisingly good at coordinating. They were strong too. Ignathar would create bursts of light with his fire, casting sharp shadows… and in that moment, Varun would strike from those shadows at an opponent’s blind spot.
But just then… Lucien’s instincts rang.
His gaze sharpened.
His eyes shifted to a black-robed woman.
She was one of the five robed figures Eirene had warned him about.
And Lucien could clearly see something was wrong.
Her movements were wrong… and unnatural… as if her limbs were following strings she herself couldn’t see.
“…She’s being controlled?” Lucien murmured.
He focused his divine sense on her…
…and it bounced off.
“Shit. No wonder the record keepers failed to identify them. The robe isn’t simple fabric… it’s like a barrier.”
The wind shifted.
The woman lifted her greatsword.
Lucien tensed—
He wanted to move aside but other contenders were harassing him from all angles.
That’s when it happened…
WHOOOOOOOM—!!
A whirlpool of wind roared outward from the black-robed woman’s single swing.
Dozens screamed.
“What the—?!”
“WAIT, THAT’S CHEATING!”
Even the monk lost his footing for a second.
The Star-Forge prodigy warped away in panic.
Lythrae rolled lazily off her pillow while somehow still staying on it.
Lucien wasn’t so lucky.
The gust slammed into his back… along with the group attacking him.
“Tch—!”
He was lifted like a leaf.
Spun.
Thrown.
Straight toward the platform’s edge…
The moment he crossed it—
the spectators erupted.
“He’s OUT!”
“That robed woman is a menace!”
“She eliminated TWENTY in one swing!”
“Verdant Veil is DONE—”
Marie covered her mouth.
Eirene stiffened.
The Verdant group sank into despair.
But then—
A miracle. A wisp of hope.
Lucien twisted midair.
He somersaulted.
Then… he extended a foot into empty space—
Tap.
He stepped on air… as if it were stone.
The sky rippled.
Then stilled.
Skywalk.
The viewing stands went dead silent.
“…He’s… walking in the air?”
“Can a mortal… even do that?”
“No. No, that’s impossible.”
“Wait! He’s not out yet!”
Within the platform, everyone felt it…
The pressure fell like a slow eclipse.
Lucien let a sliver of his Aura of the Unyielding Sovereign escape.
Then… he started walking mid-air like a sovereign taking a stroll.
But to the suppressed fighters—
It felt as if an ancient king were descending, while they were forced to kneel.
Some staggered back.
Some froze mid-attack.
Some trembled outright.
Even Ignathar’s pupils shrank. Varun’s shadow flickered once.
Up above, Lucien exhaled faintly.
“…Enough warm-up.”
Marie screamed from outside.
“STOP ACTING COOL AND FINISH THEM!”
Lucien’s lips twitched at the unexpected commentary.
He stepped forward, still in the air.
Just then…
The Goliath below roared up at him.
“COME DOWN, LITTLE WOLF!”
The giant leapt—
Lucien used Glide Dash.
His figure dissolved into a streak… and he reappeared above the Goliath’s skull.
Lucien raised his foot.
“You’re first.”
CRACK—!!
The kick echoed like a thunderclap.
The Goliath’s eyes rolled back.
His massive body toppled like a collapsing hill.
He hit the ground outside the platform.
He was… ELIMINATED.
He turned into motes of light and reappeared outside the barrier, looking utterly confused.
The audience erupted into chaos.
“That was INSANE!”
“He flew like a bird!”
“He just kicked the Goliath out of existence!”
“Just who is this kid REALLY?!”
Lucien landed lightly on the stone platform.
Instantly, dozens turned toward him.
Some in fear. Some in fury. Some in pure desperation.
Then… Ignathar and Varun acted, just as Lucien expected of them.
The Nephralis conjured flames… and the Varkhaal emerged from the shadows behind him.
Both lunged at Lucien.
Lucien whispered…
“Procrastinate.”
Ignathar’s flames flickered and stalled.
Varun’s shadow strike froze mid-flow.
With Parallel Thoughts, he could now use Procrastinate on multiple enemies at once.
Lucien then walked past them casually.
“Misplaced confidence is dangerous, you know.”
He appeared above them and went for the kicks—
But then…
Two barriers flared. Treasure shields.
Lucien clicked his tongue. They had recovered fast.
“Tch. Annoying.”
Before he could break through—
A roar went up from behind…
“The robed woman… ELIMINATE HER FIRST!”
“She’ll kill us at this rate!”
“She’s the REAL threat!”
The battlefield roared.
Almost all of the contenders joined forces against the black-robed woman.
The threat was too big to ignore.
Lucien rolled his neck.
“…Sheesh.”
More than forty people were left and it wouldn’t be long before the battle royale reached its conclusion.
The final phase began…
The black-robed woman carved arcs of devastation.
The sect elites unleashed their hidden trump cards and the platform shook under the force of desperate fighters.
The monk of the Ninth Bell crouched low with his palms glowing with a faint bronze.
Lythrae drifted down from her floating pillow, now hovering beside her like a sleepy guardian.
The Obsidian Collegium’s fourth scholar barked orders as five small-sect representatives moved in formation.
Behind them came the independents who had joined forces with gritted teeth and arms trembling… but refusing to back down.
Someone shouted:
“DON’T LET HER BUILD MOMENTUM!”
“EVERYONE—TOGETHER!”
Dozens rushed.
But the woman didn’t raise her sword.
She tilted her head. A strange, eerie motion that made their skin crawl.
Then—
WHOOM.
She moved.
Not a step. Not a dash.
Something between a slide and a glide. Speed without sound.
The first clash was instant.
The monk struck her center-mass with a bell-palm… the kind of strike that could make mountains ring.
PING!
Her robe trembled, absorbing the technique like a sponge drinking sound.
The collision flung the monk backward. His feet carved two deep trails into the platform.
“Impossible…” He coughed blood. “I can’t… damage her…”
The Obsidian scholar shouted.
“SPREAD OUT! DON’T CLASH DIRECTLY… USE SUPPORT TECHNIQUES—”
But before his orders finished—
Her sword moved.
A single draw. A faint hum.
And five fighters were blown off their feet, tumbling toward the edge.
Lythrae chopped her pillow forward lazily… yet with such control that a shockwave rippled out like a soft breeze turned deadly.
It bought a single heartbeat.
But the black-robed woman turned her head toward Lythrae.
Lythrae blinked owlishly.
“…Ah. Dangerous.”
Her greatsword descended upon her.
Lythrae’s pillow moved to block the strike. It absorbed the attack, but… the impact still made her cough blood.
She fell on her butt, unable to stand.
“…I can’t… stay upright…”
Others were also struck down.
One by one, the strongest knees hit stone.
Strangely… their bodies weren’t cut. Their bones remained intact.
And yet—
They could not stand anymore.
It was as if the platform itself rejected their attempts to rise.
Lucien’s brows lowered.
“…What kind of bleak technique is that?”
Just then…
His vision sharpened.
Danger flared.
Ignathar and Varun refused to take another step toward the robed woman. The black silhouette’s presence pulled the entire battlefield taut.
But—
Ignathar hadn’t forgotten his grudge.
He suddenly roared and hurled a fire-tipped punch straight at Lucien’s ribs.
“DIE, WOLF CUB!”
Varun lunged from the shadow beneath Lucien.
“Your arrogance ends HERE!”
Lucien didn’t even sigh.
He simply lifted a foot… and stepped sideways.
Ignathar’s strike ripped past him…
And Lucien’s heel slammed into his side.
THWACK!
Ignathar’s eyes went wide.
“GA—?!”
Before Varun could blink…
Lucien pivoted midair, twisted gracefully, and—
POW—!
A clean, perfect, merciless kick.
Varun’s face distorted.
“You—BAS—TI—”
The both of them flew in a perfect arc… straight toward the black-robed woman.
It was a bait. The sects might hold a grudge against Lucien later—
so it was better if she was the one who finished the two.
And he was right.
The woman raised her greatsword.
And then… she struck the two enemies Lucien had sent flying at her, swinging like someone playing baseball.
The two were hit cleanly, sent flying until they crashed into the invisible barrier.
Lucien whistled.
“Whew. That’s a home run.”
But then…
His expression darkened.
Now that the petty distractions were out of the way…
He finally sensed it fully.
Danger.
He looked around.
Lythrae knelt barefoot with her pillow limping beside her.
The monk pressed a fist to the ground, still trembling.
The Obsidian scholar clutched his chest, gasping.
And then…
The wind stilled.
Because now—
The only ones still standing were…
Lucien.
And the robed woman.