100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 312

Chapter 312: Chapter 312 – Lucien’s Plan
Lucien reacted without hesitation.

The moment the miasma brushed the edges of his perception, calculation replaced surprise.

He turned and moved. His figure blurred as he dashed through the deeper parts of the Obsidian Tower.

He was not the only one who felt it.

The ancient beings did.

The howling that had once filled the chamber was gone.

The beings inside the cages had gone eerily still. Their gazes were no longer wild with rage or humiliation. They were fixed outward, toward the unseen void beyond the tower’s walls.

Miasma. Black Mass Monsters.

Their mortal enemies.

Lucien arrived before them in a breath.

For the first time, none of them shouted at him.

They looked at him with expressions layered and complex. Hatred remained, but it had been overlaid by something heavier. A shared understanding of danger.

This was not a petty conflict.

This was unprecedented.

Lucien did not speak.

He acted.

He expanded his domain without restraint. The cages were swallowed by the light in an instant.

They vanished from the containment chamber and reappeared inside Lucien’s Divine Energy Core.

That was when their voices came.

“Release us.” The Behemoth started.

The words were no longer insults. They were commands born of urgency.

“Unbind these cages,” another growled. “This is not a matter of pride.”

“Human,” a deeper voice rumbled. “This is an emergency. Our enemy dares approach openly.”

The Titan’s voice carried disbelief sharpened by ancient memory.

“To think the Black Mass Monsters would step into open existence… their arrogance knows no limit.”

Lucien ignored them all.

He did not slow. He did not turn back.

He blinked away.

His presence vanished from the Divine Energy Core and reappeared before the Gargoyle Dungeon.

The ancient beings were left behind. Their words echoed uselessly.

The other beings who had yielded earlier felt the sudden appearance of their peers and stiffened.

They had assumed they too had complied with Lucien’s conditions.

But then, the Behemoth spoke. Its voice was low.

“Black Mass Monsters are outside.”

The effect was immediate.

Every ancient being froze.

The words carried weight that transcended time. These were not just rivals or challengers. These were annihilators. The force that had driven them from their domains, shattered their empires, and reduced eternity into a war of attrition.

In their current suppressed state, they would be slaughtered.

And now, their survival rested on a single variable.

Lucien.

If he chose betrayal. If he chose expedience. If he offered them up as currency to the Black Mass Monsters—

That would not be a negotiation.

That would be extinction.

The realization settled heavily.

For the first time, the ancient beings understood something clearly.

Their lives were no longer governed by their own strength.

They were being held by the will of a human.

Meanwhile, Lucien now stood before the bound Gargoyle Monster Emperor.

Lucien did not waste time.

He shaped his intent. And its blood flowed.

He had a good use for it.

Lucien then sealed the gathered blood carefully.

This would decide what happened next.

Then… He vanished again.

Lucien reappeared within the Obsidian Tower. The void beyond the obsidian walls felt wrong now. It was heavy and pressurized as though something vast lingered just outside perception, waiting for an opening.

Lucien inhaled slowly.

Then exhaled.

He braced himself.

Whatever came next would not be solved by force alone.

Just then…

The Obsidian Tower went unnaturally still.

Lucien felt it immediately. The Tower was no longer drifting freely through the void. It was being held. As if something vast had wrapped invisible fingers around space itself and decided that this structure would not move unless permitted.

Lucien swallowed.

This was bad.

His instincts screamed at him to act, yet every option carried a blade.

He could not release the ancient beings. Not now.

The moment their seals were broken, the space would become a battlefield between eternals. A clash like that would tear space apart, and Lucien would be the first casualty. He did not yet possess the authority to survive collateral existence-level warfare.

Running was also impossible.

He could not outrun eternals who moved through laws. Worse, he did not even know how many stood outside, or what tier they occupied among the Black Mass hierarchy.

Hiding inside his Divine Energy Core crossed his mind for a fraction of a second.

Then he dismissed it.

Folded reality was not invincible. He had already proven that. If those outside were capable of piercing layered existence, then retreating inward would only turn his sanctuary into a coffin.

There was still the Abyssal One.

But Lucien’s jaw tightened.

‘No.’

The Abyssal One had deliberately restrained itself for eons. Whatever it was hiding from… Lucien did not want to be noticed by the same gaze. Borrowing its power would be like lighting a beacon in the deepest abyss.

So he returned to the only path left.

Deception.

Lucien inhaled slowly.

Then he moved.

His mind locked onto the blood he had taken earlier. At the same time, his awareness turned inward, toward a skill he possessed.

Origin Rewrite.

Just as he prepared to activate it, the system reacted.

A translucent warning panel unfolded before his vision.

[Warning.]

[Target existence exceeds safe assimilation threshold.]

[Origin Rewrite will initiate forced structural convergence.]

[Estimated consequences: partial identity erosion or instinctual contamination.]

[Current state: Ascendant Realm detected.]

[Recommendation: Abort.]

Lucien froze for half a heartbeat.

The system had never spoken like this before.

It was no longer merely reporting outcomes. It was evaluating risk.

Lucien recalled the original description of his skill:

Origin Rewrite – Rewrite your body and soul’s structure to integrate another creature’s power, race traits, or skills.

(Warning: Using this skill will cost a part of your identity. Must master the Law of Reflection to ease side effects.)

He exhaled slowly.

“So you can think now,” he murmured.

Lucien closed his eyes.

He did not have time.

The pressure outside the Tower intensified. Space groaned. The seals embedded into the obsidian walls flickered faintly as something tested their limits.

Lucien opened his eyes.

“Proceed,” he said.

The panel vanished.

Origin Rewrite activated.

The change was immediate and violent.

Lucien’s body did not transform smoothly. It expanded.

Bone reshaped itself with thunderous density. Flesh crystallized into stone-like layers. Each stratum folded into the next with brutal efficiency. His frame surged outward, growing massive, until the chamber itself felt smaller around him.

His skin darkened into jagged plates veined with faint light. Wings of stone unfurled from his back. Each span heavy enough to warp the air around them. His fingers thickened into talons capable of tearing through fortified reality.

His face elongated. Horns curved back like ancient crowns. His eyes ignited into cold, blood-red embers.

And then—

Silence.

His presence was so dense it compressed inward, as if the world itself refused to allow it to leak.

Lucien’s thoughts slowed.

Everything felt… different.

Angles sharpened. Sound carried weight. Distance felt irrelevant. The Tower no longer felt like shelter. It felt like territory.

Something surged from deep within him.

Wrath. Bloodlust. An instinctual urge to dominate whatever dared to exist nearby.

Lucien clenched his talons.

“Focus,” he growled, forcing his mind into alignment.

Still, This was not enough.

The shape was correct. The presence was right.

But the scent was wrong.

There was no miasma.

Lucien turned his attention to the sealed blood.

He lifted it and let his Law of Creation and Reflection intertwine. Carefully and precisely, he refined the blood.

He stripped memory from essence, violence from history, and identity from origin.

What remained was resonance.

Lucien spread the refined blood across his frame like ritual ink. It sank into the stone, glowing briefly before vanishing.

The effect rippled outward.

His aura bloomed.

Dread poured from him in slow, suffocating waves. It carried the unmistakable signature of the Gargoyle Monster Emperor. The same pressure. The same dominance. The same claim upon space.

But still—

It lacked corruption.

Lucien snarled softly.

Then he reached for something else.

The Crown of Transcendence.

The artifact settled upon his massive head effortlessly, sinking into place as if it had always belonged there. Divine authority and miasmic essence merged within him without conflict.

A thin veil of black fog seeped from his frame.

Miasma.

Not wild. Not consuming. But controlled.

Lucien inhaled.

The world tilted.

His senses sharpened beyond reason. He felt the Tower’s every fracture, every rune, every suppressed scream of ancient matter. He felt the void outside, and more importantly—

He felt them.

Entities pressed against the Tower’s exterior like predators circling a sealed vault.

Lucien flexed his wings.

The instincts howled.

Kill.

Crush.

Dominate.

Lucien forced them down.

He was not a beast.

He was wearing one.

The obsidian maw at the Tower’s entrance ruptured.

A breach.

Miasma flooded inward.

Shapes emerged from the dark.

Black Mass Monsters.

Lucien’s blood-red eyes locked onto them.

The dread he radiated surged.

He sat in crosslegs unmoving.

When the monsters that had breached the Tower came into view, Lucien was struck by an even greater surprise.