100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 259

Chapter 259: Chapter 259 – Crossroad
Lucien glanced at the roiling stillness of the Abyssal Pool.

Around him, practitioners argued, panicked, and despaired… yet the black liquid remained perfectly calm as if mocking their helplessness.

He ignored the noise and stared back at the Craft interface.

There it was—

A recipe for a simple wooden boat.

Nothing spiritual. Nothing refined.

Just… a mortal craft.

Exactly what they needed.

He selected it.

There was no need to check for supplementary materials. He and Edric’s shopping spree in the small world had stocked him with iron, cloth, rope, and other resources.

Lucien closed his eyes and peered into the world within him.

A subtle tremor rippled through that inner domain as the monsters finished felling the trees.

Moments later, the logs vanished from the forest floor and reappeared neatly inside his INVENTORY.

‘Perfect.’

Lucien pressed [Craft]. His materials were automatically deducted and a progress bar blinked…

Moments later, it was completed.

He opened his eyes, stepped forward, and approached the edge of the Abyssal Pool.

The Verdant Veil group followed closely.

With a soft exhale, he summoned the finished product onto the black surface.

THUP.

A plain rowboat appeared… something that would be dismissed as laughably crude in any other situation.

But here, on this deathly sea, it radiated the quiet dignity of salvation.

Marie blinked.

“…We’re crossing the Abyssal Pool in that?”

Lucien nodded calmly.

“Energy dissolves here. Only pure physical matter works. A simple vessel is the optimal answer.”

The Celestial proxies approached.

“A mortal craft…” the male proxy whispered, astonished.

“Material with no spiritual imprint. Yes… this is one method to cross an Abyssal Pool.”

Murmurs fell over the onlookers. Envy, fear, awe… too many emotions sparked at once.

Lucien saw the growing hunger in their eyes.

He could already predict where this was going.

Greed. Competition. Violence. Chaos. All the stupidity practitioners defaulted to when they felt cornered.

Lucien was not interested.

So before anyone could speak—

He waved his hand.

FWMP—FWMP—FWMP—FWMP—!!

Mountains of normal logs and planks materialized across the plaza. These things are ordinary yet priceless in this environment.

Gasps rippled across the gathered factions.

Marie whispered, stunned,

“…You brought an entire forest with you?”

Lucien ignored the comment and addressed the crowd without theatrics.

“If you want to cross, make your own raft or boat. Use these. They’re safe.”

He did not craft boats for them.

He provided only the materials. It was generous, but not servile. Helpful, but not binding. A gesture that dissolved hostility before it could take form.

The factions near him dipped their heads in acknowledgment.

A few independent practitioners exchanged solemn nods.

But most importantly—

the dangerous glint of desperation vanished.

No one would rob the man who had just given them the means to live.

The Celestial proxies seized the moment.

“We will maintain order,” one announced. “Construct your vessels. Do not obstruct others.”

That was all it took.

The plaza erupted into controlled activity as the practitioners began sawing, tying, and assembling crude boats with desperation-driven speed.

Practical minds took charge.

The Scarlet Sect burned the wood lightly, fusing planks with heat.

The Obsidian Collegium cut each log with surgical precision, joining them with wooden locks instead of nails.

The Starforge Cartel shaped a functional skiff in record time.

Independents improvised… belts for lashings, cloth for caulking, courage for everything else.

Some cried from lack of skill… and strangers knelt beside them, wordlessly helping.

Fear made allies of everyone.

Meanwhile, Lucien looked to Marie, then to Eirene, then to the Verdant Veil.

He nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Marie hopped in without hesitation.

Eirene entered more quietly.

The others followed.

Lucien pushed the boat forward.

Everyone around them paused, waiting to see if even a mortal vessel would be devoured.

He dipped a single oar into the Pool.

No hiss.

No smoke.

No dissolving.

Just a soft ripple of liquid night.

He released a slow breath.

“…Good.”

He gave one strong push.

The rowboat drifted onto the Abyssal Pool.

Marie clutched the sides.

“This is—this is actually working!”

Someone in the group whispered,

“…This feels wrong. But it works…”

Behind them, more boats entered the ink-black expanse. Some look sturdy, some look pitiful, but all are moving.

The Celestial proxies stood guard, shouting guidance, preventing collisions, and maintaining the order.

Lucien rowed forward.

The Verdant Veil huddled together as tension tightened around them like a coiled cord.

Ahead lay nothing but shifting darkness.

Slowly and steadily…

…the living crossed a sea that hated life.

•••

The journey across the Abyssal Pool felt endless.

There was no wind, no stir, not even the suggestion of movement. Only the soft dip of oars broke the suffocating quiet.

Around them, darkness swallowed darkness. The horizon was indistinguishable from the void below.

Time dragged in a slow, disorienting stretch until—

Marie narrowed her eyes.

“…There’s… something ahead.”

Lucien paused mid-stroke. His gaze sharpened.

Another member leaned forward, squinting hard.

“That isn’t… a shoreline, is it?”

Gradually, the darkness in front of them began to thin.

A faint silver shimmer rippled across the black surface, like moonlight struggling to exist.

And then—

Shapes emerged.

A vast platform rose from the abyssal pool.

Its surface was a vast expanse of obsidian-black stone, etched with silver veins that pulsed in slow rhythms. The sight was both beautiful and ominous.

The boat drifted closer.

THUNK.

The rowboat tapped against the platform’s edge.

It did not dissolve. It did not burn. It simply… rested there.

Marie released a trembling exhale.

“We… made it.”

Lucien stepped off first.

The moment his feet touched the stone, the air shifted. The atmosphere felt heavier and colder.

One by one, the Verdant Veil disembarked.

They didn’t waste time.

The group started walking forward.

The stone beneath their feet thrummed faintly as they advanced deeper.

A gentle silver glow pulsed along the floor, guiding them forward until a vast hallway unfolded before their eyes.

It was breathtaking. It was a cathedral-like corridor carved from obsidian stone, threaded with veins of soft luminescence.

Statues lined both sides of the passage.

More colossal maidens… but different from the kneeling guardians they had seen earlier.

Their posture was upright and regal, giving the illusion of silent overseers watching all who passed.

The group slowed, stepping carefully under their gazes.

Soon, the corridor opened into a massive crossroads.

Three paths.

When they turned toward the left, the atmosphere shifted instantly.

The walls displayed sharp, angular carvings resembling interlocked gemstones.

The floor tiles caught the faint light and bounced it back in geometric patterns.

The colossal maidens guarding this side were distinct.

Their veils resembled faceted prisms, scattering subtle colors as one walked past.

Their expressions held a calculating neutrality as if weighing the worth of whoever dared step closer.

Marie murmured,

“…This place feels… dense. Like the walls themselves are holding something.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Lucien felt the same but its purpose was unclear.

They turned to the right.

Here, the air grew noticeably colder.

Balance scales were etched along the walls. The floor bore faint concentric rings, like ripples upon water frozen mid-expansion.

The colossal maidens here were somber.

Their hands extended forward, palms down, as though pressing invisible weight upon the air. Loose stone shackles hung from their wrists, carved with meticulous detail.

The faint sound of metal ringing echoed softly…

Even though nothing moved.

Marie narrowed her eyes.

“This place… feels like it’s watching us.”

Everyone silently agreed.

Finally, they examined the path directly ahead.

This one was different.

There are no symbols, no statues, no carvings… and no light.

Just untouched darkness stretching endlessly forward.

Marie shuddered.

“…Why does this feel like the only place that doesn’t want us?”

Even Lucien couldn’t sense what lay deeper.

It was as if the darkness swallowed all meaning.

Just as they deliberated—

FWHMP.

A faint vibration rippled through the stone.

Then—

Voices.

Low murmurs. Footsteps. A distant shift of air.

Marie froze instantly.

“Wait—those voices…!”

Everyone turned toward the right corridor.

The sounds grew clearer.

Arrogant tones. Predatory cadence. A language with metallic resonance that grated faintly on the ears.

Marie whispered sharply,

“Nephralis.”

And then—

A deeper, rasping voice followed.

Eirene’s eyes narrowed.

“Varkhaals… They’re here too.”

Which meant—

They had already entered this place long before them.

Whether this was advantageous or disastrous…

no one could tell.

•••

The sound of scraping wood broke the tension.

More boats crashed gently against the landing platform.

Practitioners stumbled ashore, some collapsing to their knees, others gasping with relief.

They were utterly grateful to stand on stone that did not try to consume them.

The Celestial proxies arrived shortly afterward.

Their expressions sharpened as they studied the path.

“Does this path lead outside…?” one muttered.

“We’ll find out,” the other replied grimly.