100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 257

Chapter 257: Chapter 257 – Verdict
The narrow ribbon of starlight rose higher, curving like the spine of a sleeping dragon.

The air grew colder.

Above them, the celestial gavel hung suspended in the false sky.

The group stepped onto the final rise.

And then—

They saw it.

A circular platform hovered above the mirror-firmament, rotating ever so slightly in the void.

Its edges glowed with a ring of symbols older than kingdoms.

The floor was not solid marble or glass.

It was a galaxy. A living galaxy.

Stars the size of fireflies spun beneath a thin transparent layer, swirling in gentle currents. Constellations drifted past their feet like migrating schools of light.

But the strangest part was… The stars were not moving.

They drifted, but inside invisible cages of law.

It felt as if time had been wound backward and then frozen mid-breath.

Marie whispered,

“…This should be beautiful, but why does it feel like walking on a sealed tomb?”

Lilith’s eyes narrowed.

“Because that’s exactly what it is.”

They stepped forward.

The Dais responded.

A vibration rolled across its surface like the low groan of a god imprisoned for millennia.

Runes ignited around the perimeter:

[ WHEN THE GAVEL HALTED, MOTION CEASED. ]

[ WHEN MOTION CEASED, DESTINY WAS DENIED. ]

[ TO RECLAIM FATE, LET THE STAR MOVE AGAIN. ]

Eirene murmured softly,

“So that’s the final verdict… We must make a star move.”

Marie blinked.

“…How? Kick it?”

Lucien shook his head.

“No. The Court doesn’t test strength. It tests intent.”

Lilith glanced upward.

“And the frozen people? The ones turned into stars?”

Lucien followed her gaze.

The false sky was littered with constellations. Every failed practitioner was trapped as a person-star, suspended in judgment.

A thin thread of light connected each imprisoned star to the Dais like a sealed verdict.

Marie shivered.

“…How do we get them back?”

Before Lucien could answer—

Eirene stopped walking.

Her eyes were fixed on the center of the platform.

Because there, sitting perfectly still at the heart of the galaxy, was a single star.

A star perfectly motionless. A star that refused even the smallest drift.

Runes shaped themselves around it:

[ THE UNMOVED IS THE AXIS. ]

[ CLAIM IT, AND MOTION MAY BE RESTORED. ]

Marie whispered,

“…That star is different. Its aura feels like the keys we claimed from the other stages.”

Lilith raised a brow.

Eirene nodded slowly.

“Yes. And its name is…”

More runes flickered into existence:

[ KEY OF VERDICT ]

A key that governed motion by defining where stillness began.

Marie murmured, “A fitting name for the heart of the Court.”

The gavel twitched above them.

A ripple shook the Dais.

Marie jumped. “It’s moving again!”

More runes snapped into existence:

[ IF THE GAVEL STRIKES, STILLNESS SHALL BECOME ETERNAL. ]

Lilith’s jaw tightened.

“So this place collapses if we’re too slow.”

Lucien nodded.

“We need that key.”

The galaxy beneath them pulsed, reacting to their intent.

But none of them… not Lucien, not Marie, not Lilith… could approach the unmoving star.

The moment they stepped closer, the transparent surface thickened, turning rigid like cooling metal.

Every path to the star closed.

Except one.

Eirene.

Her pendant, shaped like the Scales of Justice, glowed faintly, resonating with the galaxy beneath them.

Eirene took one careful step forward.

To the shock of the others, the surface beneath her feet softened while for Lucien, Marie, and Lilith… it remained rigid as hardened law.

Marie blinked rapidly.

“Wait… why can she move?”

Lilith frowned.

“Every time I try, the floor locks up like it’s rejecting me.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, observing. He noticed that nothing about Eirene’s advance looked forced as though her steps carried a weight the Dais recognized.

But he said nothing. He couldn’t prove anything.

All he saw was that the Dais allowed Eirene to continue.

Eirene’s fingers tightened around the small scale-shaped pendant resting against her chest. The Scales of Justice shimmered faintly… or perhaps it was only the reflection of the galaxy-light.

She inhaled slowly.

Then took another step.

Again, the galaxy shifted for her—

Lucien murmured,

“…It reacts to her steps.”

Marie whispered back,

“But why?”

Lilith crossed her arms, irritation mixing with curiosity.

“Whatever the reason, we don’t have time to argue.”

Eirene said nothing.

She steadied her breath…

And continued.

The space around her grew quieter. The stars dimmed to a respectful hush as she reached the center of the Dais where the unmoving star hovered like the heart of a dead constellation.

KEY OF VERDICT.

The axis that decided where stillness ended… and where motion could begin again.

Eirene reached toward it.

For the briefest moment, the star resisted as though testing her intent.

Then—

FWMP.

It folded into her palm, collapsing into a small, crystalline star-shaped core, cool and impossibly heavy for its size.

The entire Dais trembled.

Lucien, Marie, and Lilith braced themselves—

“What happened—?”

Eirene’s eyes widened.

Because of what she suddenly felt.

A pulsing thread of connection.

A tension in the air.

The frozen stars overhead… the people trapped in stillness…

Each one was tugged faintly at her senses, like cords tied around her fingertips.

“I… I can move them,” she whispered.

Marie’s jaw dropped.

“Move—wait, as in control?”

Eirene swallowed, looking at the crystalline core in her hand.

“I don’t know how I know. I just… feel it.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes, studying her.

“Is it the key?”

Eirene nodded slowly.

“It must be. The Key of Verdict doesn’t force the stars… it recognizes which motions are allowed to resume.”

Lucien straightened.

“So with that key, you can release them from stillness.”

Eirene held the crystal closer to her chest.

She was now holding the only tool capable of restoring motion to the stars above.

Just then—

The gavel shifted.

Its massive form trembled, shrank, and folded in on itself. Light bent like molten gold around an unseen axis. The crushing pressure over them suddenly receded, fading like a storm pulling back from the horizon.

Everyone tensed, preparing for attack—

But then… the gavel drifted downward in a slow arc.

And it moved toward Eirene.

The hammer, once large enough to crush mountains, descended until it was no bigger than a palm-sized token.

It stopped just above her hands.

Eirene hesitated only a breath before lifting her palms.

The gavel touched them…

…then collapsed into a smooth, weightless token of starlit metal.

She let out a quiet exhale and tucked it beneath her robes, close to her heart.

All around, the pressure of Stillness dispersed like fog in sunlight.

Lucien tried stepping forward and the Dais no longer resisted him.

Marie flexed her fingers.

Lilith rolled her shoulders once, cracking the tension from them.

They could move again.

Lucien gave a small smile.

“Looks like this trial is in your hands.”

Eirene lifted her gaze to the countless imprisoned person-stars above them.

The crystalline core of the Axis Key pulsed faintly in her grasp.

Resolve settled in her eyes.

“Then,” she said quietly, “I’ll set them free.”

Eirene stepped forward, raising the Key of Verdict.

WHUM—

A soft tremor spread outward from her hand.

The frozen galaxy beneath their feet brightened, as though recognizing a new axis around which it could revolve.

She channeled her mana into the key.

Just then—

Every chain of light connected to the person-stars quivered, as if the verdict binding them was finally being questioned.

The runes around the Dais flickered.

[ VERDICT CAN HALT MOTION. ]

[ VERDICT CAN RELEASE MOTION. ]

[ HOLDING THE VERDICT GRANTS THE RIGHT TO DECIDE. ]

Lucien nodded slowly.

“…The key doesn’t move stars for you. It grants authority. You decide which verdict stands.”

Lilith crossed her arms.

“So she’s not forcing anything to move. She’s annulling the stillness.”

Eirene inhaled, steadying her breath.

At once, thin strands of starlight shot downward from the false sky, connecting every person-star to her hand like threads awaiting judgment.

The sight was breathtaking—

and terrifying.

A thousand threads of frozen destinies, drawn taut, waiting.

The galaxy beneath her feet pulsed again.

THRUM.

Eirene spoke softly:

“Motion denied…

Motion restored.”

The Key of Verdict flared.

Every frozen thread shattered like brittle glass.

Above them, the unmoving stars flickered—

dim at first…

Then brighter…

Then alive.

One by one, the person-stars trembled, cracked their shells of stillness, and fell like shooting stars toward the Dais.

Practitioners hit the ground in scattered clusters—coughing, shaking, crying in relief as motion returned to their bodies.

Gasps and quiet sobs filled the chamber.

Marie’s eyes were wide.

“She… she freed all of them at once.”

Lucien smiled faintly.

“She overturned their verdict.”

Lilith nodded.

“A judgment undone by another judgment.”

Eirene lowered her hand.

The Key dimmed.

She turned to them.

“It’s done.”

Lucien stepped beside her.

“Let’s finish this.”

Soon…

They descended the spiral walkway.

As they neared the lower levels, a ripple of motion spread through the ruin—

The once-frozen practitioners staggered back to life.

Cries of shock, disbelief, and overwhelming relief echoed across the platforms.

The Verdant Veil group spotted them and hurried over.

The Starforge Cartel group were equally stunned that their bodies obeyed them again.

Eirene only nodded gently as people thanked her, some even bowing deeply in gratitude.

Lilith crossed her arms and declared boldly,

“Since we finished the trial, I’m taking the treasures left in this place and sorting them later. I’ll donate them to you, Flower Girl.”

Eirene shook her head softly.

“It would be better if Brother Luc holds the treasures. He’s the one keeping us alive the longest.”

Surprisingly, Lilith did not argue… and for the first time, the two agreed on something.

Just then—

A voice called out sharply from the side.

“Oi!!!”

They turned.

It was Vorren… the shaved head practitioner from trial… limping toward them while supporting his partner. His face was also pale, but he was alive.

Marie muttered under her breath, “Oh great. The shiny-head lives.”

Vorren ignored the comment completely and bowed.

“Thank you. I don’t know how you did it… but we know it was you who saved us.”

Eirene nodded once in quiet acknowledgment.

But then—

Her hand twitched.

The keys she held began to vibrate, reacting to something nearby.

Vorren blinked, confused.

He reached into his storage ring, and a triangular crystalline object appeared,

glowing faintly. “What—? Why is the Key of Shadows reacting?”

Eirene’s other keys pulsed even more strongly.

Marie gasped.

“You— you have one?!”

Vorren rubbed the back of his shaved head, embarrassed.

“Got this back in the Hall of Quiet Footsteps. Nearly died for it, actually.”

Eirene hesitated.

“Would you… be willing to sell it?”

Vorren let out a tired but genuine laugh.

“Sell? Miss, if not for all of you, I’d still be stuck in the sky doing nothing for eternity. Take it. I owe you my life anyway.”

To everyone’s surprise, he placed the key into Eirene’s hand without another word.

Marie whistled.

“Well… that’s convenient.”

Eirene looked down at her palm.

All five keys pulsed together.

The moment they gathered—

The ruin reacted.

The ground trembled.

The walls lit up with ancient script.

A deep, echoing sound rolled through the chamber…

As though the entire ruin were inhaling after thousands of years of silence.