100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 218

Chapter 218: Chapter 218 – Top 10
Deeper in, the Mirage Ruin began showing its teeth.

There weren’t just traps. There were temptations too.

Because the Echoes weren’t neutral puppets… they were manifestations of intent.

Greedy hearts made their Echoes lean toward treasure.

Battle-hungry souls found their Echoes drifting toward noise and combat.

Those who craved safety unconsciously guided their Echoes toward empty, looping corridors.

If a contender didn’t clamp down with sheer will, their Echo wandered according to what they truly wanted.

In treasure halls, chests overflowed with relics and spirit stones. Echoes drawn too close had their hands sink into the gold… and found chains underneath. The more they struggled, the faster their link frayed until the Echo shattered.

In battle-heavy halls, phantom beasts and illusory enemies appeared, provoking anyone whose intent screamed “fight me.” Each unnecessary clash drained will, slowing the Echo until monsters (real ones this time) pounced from the dark.

In the so-called “safe” routes, the floor remained steady. Traps were sparse… but the corridors bent into subtle loops. Echoes that circled too long without a decisive choice simply faded, judged stagnant by the ruin.

From outside…

“This ruin doesn’t just want courage. It wants clarity.”

“If you don’t know what you want, it just erases you.”

“That’s… kind of terrifying.”

The first few eliminations came quietly.

An Echo in a treasure hall broke its chains too late… shattering as the greed in its master fought the fear of loss.

A cautious Echo walked safe circles until its projection dimmed and vanished.

Their discs darkened.

“Two eliminated already.”

“And they never even saw a real enemy. Just… themselves.”

•••

Lucien guided his Echo with steady calm.

His crowned Echo walked through the labyrinth… and the labyrinth reacted.

Monsters lurked at junctions. Some slunk forward toward weaker, wavering Echoes…

…but when the crowned Echo passed, most things stepped aside.

Aura of the Unyielding Sovereign.

He moved as if the path already belonged to him.

Lucien realized it at the same time the crowd did.

‘…Choosing the crowned form was the right call,’ he thought.

Monsters that would pounce on a greedy Echo skittered away like lesser beasts sensing a predator higher in the chain. Traps that triggered on hesitation never caught him.

Lucien’s commands were too clean. Even illusions offering shortcuts barely registered.

…

Outside…

“Why does he look like a sovereign just touring his own labyrinth?”

“Is he… just walking toward the heart… just like that?”

“Even the monsters are ignoring him. That’s… cheating, right?”

Eirene’s eyes shone faintly.

“Even the monsters are scared of him… Is that only the skill of his Echo, or something greater?”

Marie wore a wide smile.

“That Luc. Acting like he owns the place.”

…

Lucien couldn’t hear them, but he felt the truth.

This was a trial of will. And his Echo’s will was simply… not interested in being tempted. Well, he has greater treasures than the illusions in this place.

‘Forward.’

The crowned Echo obeyed with a steady pace.

And the Mirage Ruin slowly shifted from enemy… into a simple corridor.

•••

The same could not be said for everyone else.

— The shaved-head independent traitor had a rough time. His Echo lunged at every glimmer of treasure, fueled by a lifetime of “grab whatever you can.” He had to fight himself every few steps, yanking his Echo away from chests that practically hissed his name.

More than once, his Echo’s hand sank into illusion-gold that became shackles. Each time, he barely forced himself to let go… willing his Echo to abandon the loot and move on.

Outside, the boos were relentless.

“Look at him, still going for treasure!”

“He even betrays himself!”

“Why is he still advancing?!”

But he kept going.

Not cleanly.

Not nobly.

Just stubbornly.

— Lythrae’s Echo floated through narrow blade corridors. Every time spinning blades or sudden spike traps lunged, she lazily flicked her weapon. The Echo’s skill, Somnolent Wave, washed over the mechanisms, slowing their rhythm just enough for her to drift through like someone walking in a dream.

Once, an illusion offered her a room full of soft beds and moonlit wine.

Her Echo paused.

“…Tempting,” she murmured.

Then it drifted past without entering.

The audience groaned and laughed.

“She refused the nap?!”

— The monk’s Echo walked into some of the harshest sections. Hallways full of phantom cries and apparitions of people begging for help. Each time, he stopped, pressed his hands together, and used his skill: Resonant Palm.

The walls and floor answered with silent chimes.

Illusions that held no weight faded.

Real threats rang louder in his senses, allowing him to step with unwavering purpose.

At one point, a monster manifested as a child clutching his robe, eyes hollow.

He knelt, placed a hand on the boy’s head, whispered something inaudible…

…and then walked on, leaving the fading mirage behind.

The crowd fell quiet for a moment.

“…That monk…”

“He chose to acknowledge it, then still advance.”

“That’s a different kind of courage.”

— The Obsidian scholar’s Echo treated the maze like a board. Vector Shift nudged pebbles, dust motes, even falling sparks to probe for invisible flows.

If something fell too straight, he avoided it.

If light bent strangely, he marked it as a hidden path.

He rarely took the shortest route… but he took the route with the fewest unknowns.

Outside, a fellow scholar muttered, half-proud, half-annoyed:

“He’s mapping probabilities in his head. Of course he is.”

— The black-robed woman’s Echo was the strangest. It looked hollow and eerily quiet.

Where others had to resist illusions, she simply walked through them.

Walls parted. Mock monsters dissolved before touching her.

Traps that tried to cage her lost their form around the ripple of the skill: Null Pulse.

It wasn’t that she dominated the ruin.

It was as if the ruin looked at her intent and decided.

‘This one does not belong to this system.’

So it just… slid aside.

Lucien watched her projection and let out a low breath.

“…You’re going to be trouble.”

•••

Some Echoes caught glimpses of each other down parallel corridors or in shared chambers.

Battle maniacs felt their Echoes lurch sideways, eager to clash.

Those who held grudges like some sect prodigies still salty over the Battle Royale… had to wrestle their Echoes back from charging instantly.

A few failed.

— One hot-headed genius from a sect saw Lucien’s crowned Echo pass through a nearby junction and snapped. His Echo veered off its safe path, chasing.

Lucien felt the hostile intent like a mosquito bite at the edge of his perception.

He didn’t even bother reacting much.

Just as the attacker lunged with its spear blazing, Lucien’s crowned Echo’s aura surged. The sovereign pressure washed over the reckless Echo, destabilizing its will.

The master of that Echo felt fear he had never felt before. Something primal. Something like facing the ancestor of his sect he could never defy.

That moment of hesitation was enough.

His Echo shattered instantly.

Outside…

“Another one eliminated!”

“Chased the wrong target.”

“Yeah, maybe don’t hunt the guy the ruin itself is avoiding.”

— In another section, the shaved-head traitor’s Echo encountered a battered Echo from a minor sect, cornered by monsters.

For a split second, his intent wavered.

Help?

Use them as bait?

His Echo’s skill, Opportunistic Cull, practically howled in glee at the second option.

He clenched his jaw and chose himself.

His Echo shoved the other Echo into the monsters and sprinted past while they tore into the decoy.

The trapped Echo shattered.

The audience exploded into curses.

“Trash!”

“Fight me outside, you bald rat!”

“Why is he always like this?!”

But he endured the hate.

His Echo survived.

And the ruin only cared about that.

•••

Eventually, the maze began to converge.

One by one, Echo projections blinked out. Each time, the crowd groaned or sighed. Even the eliminated had fought their way deep into the Mirage Ruin. None of them had been weak.

When the number of Echoes dropped near ten, something shifted.

Multiple Echoes, each navigating very different routes, stepped into a final region—

A vast circular chamber at the labyrinth’s heart.

Floating in the center was a core of shifting sigils and light, pulsing like a beating heart.

The Solar Concordium’s voice echoed.

[ The heart of the Mirage Ruin stands before you.

Any Echo that reaches beyond this chamber and passes through the final gate… earns qualification. ]

[ When ten contenders remain, whether by reaching the gate or by others falling behind, the Trial will end. ]

From the stands:

“So if you reach the end, you’re auto top ten?”

“And if you don’t, you better hope the others die first.”

“That’s… harsh. I like it.”

Lucien counted quickly through his projection.

He saw:

His own crowned Echo, emerging from a side passage. Lythrae’s moonlit Echo, floating in from above. The Silent Monk’s bell-shadow, scarred but upright. The Obsidian scholar’s flickering Echo, aura thin but precise. The black-robed woman’s hollow Echo, gliding in like a cut in reality.

And further back in the maze, he could still sense other Echoes struggling. Among them were the shaved-head independent and several major-sect prodigies.

‘Five of us are at the heart,’ he thought.

The core pulsed.

Lines of light traced three exits behind it. Three final gates.

One straight, bathed in shining runes.

One narrow, edged with dim shadow.

One plain, almost dull.

The temptation to rush was intense.

Even through the link, Lucien could feel how the core tugged at greed, fear, and ambition.

Take the bright gate if you crave glory.

Take the safe gate if you fear loss.

Take the dull gate if you can’t stand uncertainty.

Lucien’s lips curved faintly.

“…You’re really that lazy, ruin?”

He issued his command without hesitation.

‘Walk straight past the core. Ignore the gates. Circle once. Read the pulses. Only then choose.’

His Echo moved as if on a casual stroll in his own courtyard, circling the core while it probed him with bursts of pressure.

He met each pressure directly.

Behind him—

The monk’s Echo stepped toward the dimmer gate with palms together, accepting the harsher path without complaint.

Lythrae’s Echo drifted toward the brighter gate, but timed her Somnolent Wave to soften the core’s testing pulse, turning a potential blast into a firm push that she rode through like a slow tide.

The scholar’s Echo watched how each pulse bounced off the walls, calculated their intervals, and slipped through the most “boring” gate with impeccable timing.

The black-robed woman’s Echo simply crossed the center.

The core’s probing force that struck everyone else… slid off her like water poured into a crack.

One by one, those five Echoes passed through their chosen gates.

The moment Lucien’s crowned Echo stepped through his, the labyrinth projection flared around his window.

[ One contender has reached the end. ]

The crowd howled.

“He made it!”

“He walked like he was sightseeing and still made it first?!”

“Is this Trial just his playground?!”

But it wasn’t over.

Out in the maze, Echoes were still fighting.

The count sat at eleven.

Five at the heart, six scattered in the corridors.

Only one more needed to fall.

•••

The remaining Echoes struggled through collapsing paths and tightening corridors.

A major-sect prodigy, exhausted and bleeding light, overused his ability to force one last shortcut.

His will buckled and his Echo crumbled mid-leap.

[ Nine contenders confirmed. One slot remains. ]

In another passage, the shaved-head independent’s Echo staggered through a gauntlet of monsters. Every time his will wavered, Opportunistic Cull flared… pushing him to use an enemy as a stepping stone and survive by any means.

He did.

Not gracefully.

Not heroically.

But he did.

His Echo dragged itself into a side chamber mere moments before the Trial’s threshold of ten survivors was reached.

At that instant—

The Mirage Ruin stilled.

[ Ten Echoes remain.

The Trial of Echoed Intent has ended. ]

The floating labyrinth folded in on itself. The corridors collapsed and the chambers dissolved into a single point of light that burst like a silent star.

One by one, the surviving Echoes..

Lucien’s crowned sovereign, the black-robed woman’s hollow outline, Lythrae’s sleepy moonlight, the monk’s bell-shadow, the scholar’s analytical form, and the other four hardened Echoes, including the shaved-head traitor…

Turned into motes and streaked back toward their masters.