100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 256
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- Chapter 256 - Chapter 256: Chapter 256 - Reflections
Chapter 256: Chapter 256 – Reflections
The group moved onward.
Toward the Star Dais.
The spiral walk narrowed again until it was barely more than a tight ribbon of light, just wide enough for a single pair of feet.
There was no space for retreat. No space for hesitation.
One step at a time, they advanced.
None of them dared look back.
Eventually… the narrow path opened into a small platform suspended above the mirrored cosmos, a lonely island of starlight encircled by a translucent barrier.
No other practitioner had reached this height.
Eirene lifted her gaze toward the runes drifting above the platform:
[ WHEN MOTION AND SELF CANNOT AGREE,
THE BODY SHALL BE STILL UNTIL THEY DO. ]
A soft, collective breath left them.
Just then—
Lucien’s reflection trembled beneath his feet…
…and rose.
Another him stood before Lucien.
It did not lunge.
It didn’t bare fangs, didn’t attack, and didn’t distort into something monstrous.
It simply stood.
It’s a perfect copy of him in stance, build, and posture… save for one thing.
Its eyes.
Those eyes were void of micro-expressions. No flickers of instinct, no warmth, no emotional anchors.
Eyes that did not react, only observe.
A reflection stripped of everything that made movement human.
Between them, runes rippled in the air and reassembled into meaning:
[ YOU MOVE: BECAUSE YOU CHOOSE TO GROW ]
[ YOU CHANGE: WITH EVERY STEP YOU CLAIM ]
[ AND THE ONE YOU MAY BECOME WATCHES FROM AHEAD ]
The reflection’s lips parted.
No sound came out, yet understanding pressed against Lucien’s thoughts:
“If all your motion is to escape a future version of yourself… Are you truly moving by your own will?”
Lucien inhaled deeply.
This trial wasn’t about lies.
It was about alignment of self and future.
He studied the still-eyed version of himself.
A Lucien who made no unnecessary motions. Who acted only after perfect calculation. Who felt no impulse, no instinct, no doubt.
A Lucien who had cut away so much… that only motionless reasoning remained.
He exhaled through his nose, amused.
“I see,” he murmured. “You’re one of the futures I fear… the version of me that stops reacting and becomes pure strategy. Someone who stops being… me.”
He stepped forward.
Their silhouettes overlapped.
A jolt of cold sensation ran up his spine,
like watching himself from outside his own skin,
like a tether between identity and action stretching to its breaking point.
He didn’t resist the feeling.
He accepted it.
Not as a fate, but as an option… One he could take without losing who he was now…
A stillness he could integrate without letting it consume him.
The reflection regarded him silently.
Then… it bowed.
It dissolved into streams of starlight that flowed into Lucien’s chest, like a lantern reclaiming its lost flame.
He had passed.
Lucien turned to the others.
Marie’s reflection rose next… and the moment she saw it, she went cold.
Because the reflection of Marie didn’t smile.
It did not joke.
It did not twitch with mischief or sarcasm.
It was utterly blank.
A Marie without laughter.
A Marie without mischief.
A Marie stripped of levity, laughter, and reckless charm… the very things she believed kept her alive.
She whispered,
“…You’re horrifying.”
But the reflection did not mock her.
It only watched her with heavy, steady intent.
As she stared, a realization formed in her mind… not from the reflection’s expression, but from the vision behind it.
In that mirrored possibility, humorless Marie still walked beside Lucien.
She still shielded him.
She still matched him with unwavering loyalty.
Her jokes weren’t her purpose.
Her worth wasn’t bound to laughter.
Even without her levity, her presence still mattered.
Her throat tightened.
“…Fine,” she muttered. “You’re allowed to exist. But don’t you dare —ever— try to take over.”
Her reflection’s lips curved in the faintest smirk.
A quiet, knowing acknowledgement.
Then it shattered into shimmering silver fragments and flowed into her chest too.
Marie blinked twice.
“…Did my reflection just sass me?”
Lucien didn’t answer.
But his faint smile said enough.
The platform’s starlight pulsed once, acknowledging their acceptance of their futures and continued to glow, awaiting the next reflection to rise.
•••
Lilith stepped forward.
Her mirrored form emerged slowly… almost reluctantly. As if ashamed of being seen.
A thin, ragged silhouette stood before her.
A woman wearing frayed robes.
Hands calloused not from forging wonders, but from begging scraps.
Her single horn cracked and its glow was dim as dying embers.
A beggar.
A version of Lilith who could not make anything of value… who could not sell anything… who could not even trade her pride for a meal.
Lilith’s jaw locked instantly. Her entire body reacted as if someone had slapped her.
“…This is insulting.”
The beggar-Lilith lifted her head.
One empty eye stared at her with no pride left.
Just existence without worth.
The real Lilith trembled but not with fear.
With fury.
She took a step forward…
…and instantly, chains of starlight coiled around her ankles, tightening.
Lucien raised a hand.
“Don’t move without intent. The Court will bind you.”
Lilith exhaled through her nose like a caged beast.
Then she looked at her reflection again.
The beggar-Lilith extended a hand, weak and trembling…
She was not asking for charity.
She was asking:
“Will you become me one day?”
The question struck her deeper than any weapon.
Her throat bobbed.
She forced herself to breathe.
“…No,” Lilith said, voice low. “I refuse.”
The beggar-Lilith tilted her head as though unconvinced.
Lilith lifted her chin.
“I refuse,” she repeated. “But not because I hate you.”
The reflection blinked.
“I refuse because you are a path where I surrendered. A future where I stopped forging. A future where I stopped moving.”
The starlight around her ankles loosened.
Lilith stepped closer.
She reached out and placed a hand over her reflection’s cracked horn.
“You are a version of me who was broken,” she whispered. “But even a broken material can be reforged.”
The beggar-Lilith’s shoulders shook…
And then—
She smiled.
Lilith continued…
“You remind me of what will happen if I let my craft stagnate. If I forget why I began. If I let the world decide my worth instead of forging it myself.”
Her reflection brightened, approving her reasoning.
Slowly, the beggar-Lilith dissolved… turning into shimmering silver light that flowed into her chest.
When the light settled, Lilith stood straighter.
Prouder.
Transformed not by denial, but by acceptance.
She exhaled once and murmured,
“Thank you… for showing me what I must never allow to happen.”
Marie whispered to Lucien, “She passed.”
Lucien nodded. “And in the scariest way possible.”
Lilith turned to Lucien and the others with a smile that carried new steel.
“This Court won’t tame me.”
Just then…
They turned toward Eirene.
And something strange happened.
The platform dimmed.
Lucien, Marie, and Lilith exchanged wary glances.
Nothing rose from Eirene’s reflection.
Not at first.
Her mirror-self remained flat against the surface. A dark silhouette floated beneath the glass like a figure trapped under ice.
Then—
FWMP.
The mirror surged upward beneath her feet.
A reflection rose…
It had no crisp form and no solid outline. Its body blurred and re-blurred, like wet paint smeared by an invisible brush.
A feminine shape yet every attempt of the starlight to define it fractured and dissolved.
Marie felt goosebumps crawl down her arms.
“What… why can’t I see it clearly?”
Lilith stepped half-behind Lucien without shame.
“The Court shows what lies deepest. Just what is this flower girl hiding?”
Lucien didn’t reply.
He had noticed something crucial.
There was no scent from the reflection. Not even the faint, earthy sweetness that naturally surrounded Florans. The silhouette before them did not carry the fragrance of Eirene’s race.
It carried nothing.
Instead, he could feel the Law of Stillness around it.
Eirene slowly stepped closer. Her eyes were locked on the figure.
And then—
Her pupils contracted.
Because to her alone… the blur sharpened.
In Lucien and the others’ eyes, it remained warped like an unfinished painting.
But for Eirene—
It became crystal clear.
Her breath trembled.
“…You. That’s…”
The reflection was her.
But not a Floran.
It was a version of herself from a life she had forgotten—
A past that might also become her future.
The reflected Eirene did not speak.
Her lips didn’t move.
Her body didn’t shift.
But a pressure radiated outward… a wordless truth pressed directly into Eirene’s mind.
“You walk toward what you abandoned.”
Eirene’s fingers curled.
Her reflection stepped forward.
Only Eirene could see its face… It’s a face carved with longing, sorrow, and a destiny she chose to rewrite.
Marie whispered, voice trembling,
“Luc… what is she seeing?”
Lucien shook his head, clueless.
Whatever Eirene was confronting… it was not fear of the future like the rest of them.
It was something different.
Something buried so deep the Court itself struggled to shape it.
The reflection raised a hand toward Eirene… not to strike, not to threaten…
But to invite.
To force her to acknowledge what was lost… and what part of her wanted to return to it.
Eirene’s breath hitched.
But she didn’t step back.
She stepped into the reflection.
Her silhouette merged with the blurred figure… and the platform trembled with a low, resonant hum.
The reflection dissolved into her chest like drifting petals of starlight.
Eirene staggered once, clutching her pendant, but she did not fall.
Her eyes shimmered with something new.
Lucien exhaled softly.
“…She passed.”
Marie let out a shaky breath.
“That was… different.”
Lilith’s voice was low.
“Some truths do not look forward or backward. They stand in both places at once.”
Eirene straightened.
Her expression was calm.
Almost serene.
“Let’s continue,” she whispered.
And the starlit platform brightened… inviting them toward the next peril waiting at the Star Dais.
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