100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 317

Chapter 317: Chapter 317 – Concord Pact
Lucien expanded his domain again.

Space peeled open and the interior of his Divine Energy Core answered him at once. The field where the cages of the ancient beings stood revealed itself.

The moment Lucien’s borrowed gargoyle emperor form stepped into view, the field erupted.

Eyes snapped toward him. Rage flared. Pride remembered itself. Hatred surged like an old poison finally given air.

“Stone-born abomination,” a voice thundered.

“May your name be ground into ash and scattered across void,” another hissed. “May every law you touch reject you like rot.”

A third roared, “Oathbreaker. Little worm in a crown of lies. I will drink your marrow when your tricks fail.”

More voices layered over it, old and vicious.

Lucien’s blood-red eyes flared.

The gargoyle instincts surged. A predatory instint rose through his borrowed veins like magma.

His aura burst outward.

The chamber tightened. The air gained weight. Even the ancient beings flinched as the oppressive dread rolled over them like a falling mountain.

For a heartbeat, the cages vibrated.

Then the ancient beings recovered and the curses resumed, sharper and louder, fueled by the very proof of aggression they believed they had received.

Lucien’s talons clenched.

And then he stopped.

He suppressed the aura so abruptly that the air felt hollow for a moment.

Lucien remained still.

‘Did I just… lose control?’

He had not intended to release it. Their words had scraped something raw in him, and the borrowed template had answered the insult the way an emperor answered dissent.

‘That was dangerous.’

That was how he would die.

The ancient beings mistook the sudden restraint for contempt.

They laughed bitterly. They spat more curses.

Lucien raised one hand.

“Seniors,” he said carefully, forcing the voice to soften beneath the stone. “It is me.”

To prove it, he let divine energy rise.

A clean current threaded through the miasmic haze without being stained.

The Crown of Transcendence gleamed faintly at his brow, anchoring the contradiction.

The howling faltered.

Several ancient beings went still as if the sight had struck them harder than any chain.

Then the fury returned in a different shape.

Betrayal.

“So you have joined the filth,” a voice snarled. “You wear miasma and speak of divinity as if both are yours to misuse.”

“You dare wear their carcass and call it presence?”

“Traitor to the Thousand Races,” another rumbled. “We bled for that war while you put on their skin like a cloak.”

“May the ancestors of your line turn their faces from you,” a third spat.

Lucien closed his eyes.

He compressed space around the cages.

Sound died instantly.

Their mouths still moved. Their throats still strained. But their curses became mute fury, trapped behind a wall of quiet.

Lucien exhaled once.

Then he opened his eyes and spoke into the silence he had created.

“Listen first.”

He did not waste words.

He told them what mattered.

“I deceived the Black Mass Monsters. I just mimicked their ancestor. I did it because fighting was impossible, and hiding would have turned my sanctuary into a coffin.”

His gaze swept over them.

“Earlier, I showed you to their Monster Emperor, Kharzun, to anchor the lie. I needed proof that could not be counterfeited by mere acting. You were the proof.”

Lucien leaned closer.

“With your intelligence, you can see it. This is a borrowed body. If I had truly turned, I would not still wield divine energy.”

He let the divine current pulse again.

The ancient beings could not answer him. The silence held them.

But their eyes changed.

They had already seen him appear as different forms before. Wolf Beastman. Human.

This was only the most extreme mask.

Lucien held the quiet a moment longer, then released the compression.

Sound returned like a flood.

The ancient beings inhaled sharply.

Lucien did not give them time to restart the screaming.

“There is more,” he said. “I cannot fight them alone.”

The words landed heavier than any curse.

Even the most violent among them paused. Eternities did not admit helplessness. Yet the situation outside the tower was unprecedented enough to make even arrogance hesitate.

Lucien’s voice remained steady.

“Seniors. I need your help.”

A low rumble moved through the cages. Stares sharpened.

Then voices came. No longer just hatred but negotiation shaped by necessity.

“What do you want, human?”

“What do you seek, beyond our blood and our humiliation?”

“Speak your condition.”

Lucien stared at them for a long moment, letting them feel the weight of his next words before he gave them.

Then he said it.

“Form a pact with me.”

The chamber went still.

Lucien reached into his inner realm.

The Monsterdex answered immediately.

It drifted into the air between them. Its cover gleamed with restrained authority like a book that had watched empires die and did not bother to mourn.

The reaction was instant.

Shock cracked through their faces.

“That is…”

“No.”

“How does a human hold that codex?”

“A human with divine energy was already an insult to expectation,” another rasped. “But this… this was forged during the war.”

Lucien waited until their disbelief settled into silence.

He nodded once.

“Then you know what it means,” he said. “And you know it is not a leash.”

He lifted his gaze.

“Form a pact with me.”

His voice sharpened.

“Equal footing. Mutual recognition. Consent instead of domination.”

Lucien looked from cage to cage, making sure each of them heard the same thing.

“We will be equals. You will be free.”

A pause.

“And you will not be allowed to turn your freedom into my death.”

He let that line hang.

Then he offered what mattered.

“Freedom,” Lucien said, “without losing yourselves to the Black Mass Monsters. A path to act without chains. In return, you stand with me. Not beneath me nor above me. But with me.”

The ancient beings fell into a heavy silence.

This was not a simple bargain. This was an identity shift.

To accept meant admitting they needed a human.

To refuse meant staying in cages while their mortal enemies prowled outside.

The silence stretched.

Then a voice broke it.

“I am willing.”

Lucien’s gaze shifted.

The Storm Roc. Again.

The chamber exploded.

“Think twice, bird!”

“You would degrade yourself!”

“You would stand as equal to a human?”

“You have no pride left in your bones!”

The Storm Roc flared. Its feathers crackled with dormant thunder. Its eyes blazed like storms remembered.

“Silence,” it roared. “A millennium in cages has dissolved what little sense you had.”

Its voice cut through them like wind through rotten cloth.

“The threat is outside. The void itself stinks of miasma, and you still cradle your pride as if pride will unlock these bars.”

The others stiffened.

The Roc pressed harder.

“What pride is left in suppression? What dignity remains in drifting helplessly while enemies circle?”

Then it turned its gaze toward Lucien and its voice changed, turning strangely personal.

“Do not spit on humans,” it said. “When I was mortal, humans sheltered me. When the war came, humans resisted hardest. Not because they were strongest, but because they refused to kneel.”

The Roc’s feathers hissed with static.

“That is why I fought alongside them.”

Lucien fell silent.

Then a faint smile touched the edge of his mouth.

He met the Roc’s gaze.

“Senior,” Lucien said, “you will not regret this.”

The Monsterdex stirred.

As if pleased.

Its pages turned on their own, flipping to a fresh section written in a script that felt both ancient and newly alive.

A header formed at the top of the page.

Concord Pact.

A pact of mutual recognition.

Lucien stared at the page, then at the cages.

“The next step will take time,” he said quietly. “And it will require will, not force.”

His eyes narrowed.

“But if you choose it, then for the first time in a long time…”

He paused, letting the words settle into every corner of the chamber.

“…you will be free.”

The Storm Roc’s wings flexed once, slow and deliberate.

The other ancient beings watched.

Some with rage. Some with calculation. Some with something that almost looked like fear.

Lucien did not rush.

He drew the Storm Roc’s cage away from the others until the surrounding space quieted.

The ground beneath them reformed at Lucien’s will into a vast circular field of pale stone. Divine energy moved beneath the surface like slow currents.

Lucien raised his hand.

The Monsterdex hovered beside him.

Concord Pact. He read once more, carefully.

Not because he doubted the words. But because this was the first time such a pact would be enacted in this era.

The Storm Roc watched him from within its cage.

“You will not release me?” It asked calmly.

“No,” Lucien replied. “Not until the pact recognizes us both.”

“Careful as always.”

Just then…

The Monsterdex responded to Lucien’s intent.

Runes rose from the pages and unfolded into the air, forming layered formations around the place. They hovered at measured distances like observers maintaining respectful space.

A Concord Pact did not begin with sacrifice.

It began with acknowledgment.

Lucien placed his palm against the air and formed the first array.

It was simple in shape but profound in function.

A Triune Recognition Array.

Three interlocked circles rotated slowly, each representing a pillar of the pact.

Will. Law. Identity.

The circles did not overlap completely. They touched only at their edges.

Equality.

Lucien exhaled and let his divine energy flow first.

The array responded, glowing faintly as his presence was recorded. Not as a ruler, but as a participant.

Then he spoke.

“Concord does not accept anonymity,” Lucien said quietly. “It requires truth.”

The Storm Roc’s gaze sharpened.

“As expected. You need my true name.”

“Yes.”

The air grew heavier.

When one becomes an Eternal, their true name can be concealed from the universe itself. It is neither recorded nor remembered unless they willingly speak it aloud.

True names were not titles. They were not sounds used for convenience. They were crystallized identity, bound to origin and fate. To speak one was to accept vulnerability.

That was why the other ancient beings hesitated earlier.

That was also why the Monsterdex demanded them.

The Storm Roc was silent for a long time.

Lucien did not press.

The ritual could not be rushed.

The Concord Pact did not function on force or speed. It required alignment across layers of existence. Each layer resisted until convinced.

Hours passed.

Lucien remained seated, cross-legged. His focus was split. One part of his mind remained within the ritual, maintaining the arrays and adjusting their resonance as the Storm Roc’s presence shifted.

Another part extended outward through Parallel Thoughts, guarding the boundaries of his domain, listening for disturbances from the Obsidian Tower.

The arrays rotated slowly, recalibrating again and again.

They were not waiting for power.

They were waiting for consent.

Finally, the Storm Roc spoke.

Her voice was no longer thunderous.

It was quiet.

“My name,” she said, “is Astraea Thundersong. A name given to me by a human.”

The moment the name left her, the world reacted.

The air vibrated as if struck by a distant bell. Lightning flared once… then vanished.

The array locked.

Lucien felt it immediately.

He answered without hesitation.

“Lucien Lootwell,” he said.

The second circle ignited.

Then the third.

Law alignment.

This was the longest part.

Lucien did not impose his Laws on Astraea. Instead, he allowed the array to compare them.

Law did not bend easily.

It negotiated.

Slowly…

Lucien felt strain along his spirit as the array pressed against his comprehension limits. Astraea’s presence resisted in places. Not out of hostility, but out of difference.

But Concord did not erase differences.

It acknowledged them.

At last, the formations settled.

The Monsterdex turned a page on its own.

A single line inscribed itself in luminous script.

[Concord Pact Established]

Lucien’s eyes brightened.

The pact was complete.

He turned to Astraea with a faint smile and without hesitation, he shattered the cage.

The stillness runes unraveled at his will. Lucien had already studied their structure and within his own domain, they were nothing more than brittle ideas pretending to be absolutes. With a directed thought, the bindings collapsed and the cage disintegrated into fragments.

Astraea stepped forward. Her wings unfurled fully for the first time. Lightning traced elegant paths along her feathers, but it did not strike. Her form felt… clearer.

Lucien staggered slightly.

He felt a change.

A connection.

If Astraea suffered, he would know.

If he broke his word, the pact would fracture him as well.

Equality was not safety.

It was risk, shared.

Astraea studied him closely.

Then she inclined her head.

“You kept your word,” she said. “I stand with you.”

Lucien let out a slow breath.

“One pact,” he murmured. “Established.”

The Monsterdex closed gently.

Beyond the ritual field, the other ancient beings felt it.

Something had changed.

And somewhere beyond the Obsidian Tower, forces that thrived on domination shifted uneasily, sensing a disturbance they did not yet understand.

Lucien rose to his feet.

This was only the beginning.