100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 320

Chapter 320: Chapter 320 – Battle
Lucien turned from the distant battlefield and faced the human woman.

“Wake the others,” he said. His voice was steady but urgent. “We will be fighting Monster Kings.”

The woman did not hesitate.

Whatever doubt she had carried vanished the moment she felt the tremors rippling through the fields. She nodded once and moved.

She did not wake them gently. She crossed the short distance, seized the nearest Serpentile by the collar and drove a sharp burst of heat into his shoulder.

The man hissed and jolted awake.

“What—”

“Up,” she snapped. “Unless you want to die asleep.”

She moved to the next one and struck the ground beside his head with a condensed flare. The explosion was small but loud.

The second Serpentile woke with a snarl.

The third received a slap reinforced with heat just painful enough to shock.

The human man groaned as he was shaken awake, blinking in confusion.

“Are we… alive?”

Lucien ignored the commotion.

His awareness had already returned to the battlefield.

Through the layered perception of his Divine Energy Core, he saw Astraea clearly.

She was not losing.

She was constrained.

Lightning tore through the sky in disciplined arcs. Each strike was calculated and each movement was economical.

Astraea’s true struggle was not strength, but division. The Covenant-Breaker pressed her directly while Monster Kings circled like carrion, forcing her attention to fracture again and again.

Lucien exhaled.

Domains were unusable here.

That was a blessing and a curse.

No other domain could manifest inside his Divine Energy Core. But it also meant Astraea could not suppress the field outright.

He did not join the fight.

Instead, he intervened precisely.

When a Monster King crept too close to Astraea’s blind side, space folded.

The creature vanished mid-stride and reappeared dozens of meters away, disoriented.

The goblins shouted in confusion.

Another King attempted to flank.

Lucien displaced it as well, rotating space just enough to ruin its footing.

Openings appeared.

Astraea exploited them immediately.

Thunder descended like judgment.

But when Lucien attempted the same against the Goblin Monster Emperor—

Space resisted.

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

He tried again, compressing the space around the Covenant-Breaker.

The goblin laughed and twisted his staff.

Law surged.

Collapse. Chaos intertwined.

Lucien felt the displacement unravel before it could form.

He clicked his tongue softly.

‘Law of Collapse. Layered with chaos.’

That emperor alone was a problem.

Lucien withdrew his focus from the attempt and returned to the captives.

The others had woken fully now.

They tried to circulate mana.

But… nothing happened.

The Serpentile woman frowned sharply.

“Our mana vessels…” she muttered. “They’re blocked.”

The human woman stiffened. Realization flashed across her face.

“Poison,” she said. “The goblins tainted us earlier. Corrosive suppressor. That’s why we were captured.”

She turned to Lucien.

“But I’m fine.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that because of you?”

Lucien observed them briefly.

He saw it immediately.

Something was eating at their internal pathways. Not a simple toxin, but a layered mana corrosion designed to cripple higher realms without killing the host.

As for her—

The corrosion was gone.

The Will of the World had purged it.

Lucien reached into his inventory without breaking focus on the battlefield.

Space folded subtly as items appeared in his hand.

A bundle of pale green leaves.

Stillroot Fern. From the Ruin of Stillness. One shaved leaf can halt poison circulation instantly.

He handed it to her.

“Feed them. Now.”

She took it without question.

She moved quickly, shaving thin strips and placing them into their mouths.

The reaction was immediate.

The Serpentile man shuddered as cold spread through his core, then warmth followed.

“…It’s working,” he breathed.

The second Serpentile sat down heavily with eyes closed, refining the effect.

The human man exhaled sharply.

“I can feel my mana again.”

They did not waste time celebrating.

They refined.

Lucien stood still.

His eyes remained blood-red.

His awareness was split three ways.

Battlefield. Allies. His divine energy core stability.

When they finished, they rose and bowed instinctively.

“Thank you,” the Serpentile woman said. “We owe—”

“No time,” Lucien cut in. “Consolidate your strength. Monster Kings will be here soon.”

They exchanged looks and nodded.

The human woman stepped closer to Lucien.

“Tell me what you need,” she said. “If we are fighting together, we cannot interfere with each other’s Laws.”

Lucien finally turned fully toward her.

“State your strengths,” he said. “Your Law, combat range, and preferred engagement.”

She inhaled once.

“Law of Fire,” she said. “Pure manifestation. Short to mid-range. I favor decisive strikes. If I commit, I do not retreat.”

Lucien listened while folding space elsewhere, displacing another Monster King mid-charge.

He nodded once.

“That will do.”

The others stepped forward.

Each named their Laws and styles briefly.

Lucien absorbed it all.

When they finished, he raised a hand.

“Prepare,” he said. “Collision is imminent.”

Weapons appeared. Laws ignited. Scales hardened. Stances formed.

Then—

Lucien folded space.

Reality bent.

Five Monster Kings tore into existence before them, dragged forcibly from their approach vectors.

They landed in a spread formation, momentarily stunned.

The ground cracked under their weight.

The air screamed.

Lucien stepped forward.

“Engage,” he said calmly.

The battle began.

•••

Meanwhile—

The battlefield Astraea stood upon ceased to resemble land.

Even with the Monster Kings torn away from the field, the Covenant-Breaker did not even slow.

He merely adjusted.

The Goblin Monster Emperor planted his staff into the ground. The fractured earth groaned.

“Small tricks,” he rasped. His yellow eyes gleamed with contempt. “Space theft and displacement. You hide behind a human’s domain.”

Lightning crawled along Astraea’s arms.

Her gaze sharpened.

Then she unraveled.

Her human form dissolved into brilliance. Limbs stretched. Light expanded. Mass surged upward as if the sky itself were being recalled to its rightful owner.

Feathers of storm-light burst into existence.

A thunderous cry split the heavens.

The Storm Roc returned.

Her wings eclipsed the clouds. Each beat displaced kilometers of air. Pressure alone flattened mountains that had not existed moments before.

The world bent around her presence.

“Goblin,” Astraea’s voice boomed, layered with thunder and sky. “Prepare yourself.”

The Covenant-Breaker tilted his head.

“You are weaker than before,” he croaked. “Your song lacks finality.”

Black runes ignited along his staff.

Chaos spilled.

Reality around him collapsed inward, folding space like wet parchment. The sky fractured into uneven segments as his Law asserted itself.

Collapse.

The enforced failure of structure.

Astraea’s wings flared.

“And you are uglier than before,” she thundered. “I am not even in full ascent yet, measly breaker of oaths.”

She struck with wind itself.

The air condensed into invisible blades wider than cities. Pressure surpassed sound. Space screamed as the storm surged forward.

The Covenant-Breaker slammed his staff down.

The space in front of him caved.

The storm struck the collapse and unraveled. Wind lost direction. Force lost coherence. The hurricane shredded itself into nothingness.

The goblin laughed.

“Weak.”

Astraea’s eyes flared white.

“Ha,” she said. “So you have perfected Collapse.”

Lightning arced across her wings.

“But hear this, oath-rotted thing.”

A pause.

“You cannot collapse a storm.”

The sky darkened.

Her Law manifested.

Law of Tempest.

Not wind. Not lightning. Not weather. But dominion over all motion born of atmosphere.

Storm was not something she summoned.

Storm was something that answered.

The heavens convulsed.

Clouds reversed direction. Pressure inverted. Gravity bent sideways as air obeyed a higher command.

Astraea descended.

Each wingbeat rewrote vectors of force. Winds curved around collapse zones instead of breaking. Lightning did not strike downward, but sideways, upward, and inward.

The Covenant-Breaker’s staff shrieked as Chaos surged to compensate.

Collapse expanded.

Entire regions of space folded into singularities, swallowing lightning whole.

The ground ruptured.

Mountains that had existed seconds ago were crushed into nonexistence.

“Still loud,” the goblin snarled. “Still empty.”

He thrust his staff forward.

Chaos bloomed.

The Law of Collapse infected the storm, forcing contradiction into motion itself. Wind attempted to move and failed. Lightning fractured mid-arc.

Astraea reeled.

But she did not retreat.

Her wings folded once.

Then snapped open.

The storm screamed.

“Empty?” she roared. “You mistake restraint for weakness, goblin.”

Her Law deepened.

Storm ceased to behave like weather.

It became judgment.

Wind no longer pushed. It commanded.

Pressure spiked to impossible levels. Chaos zones trembled as air refused to obey Collapse.

The Covenant-Breaker staggered.

For the first time, his laughter stopped.

He drove his staff into the ground again. His veins bulged with blackened energy.

“You forget,” he hissed. “Chaos does not need rules.”

Reality tore.

Fragments of collapsed space detonated outward, shredding the storm into disordered motion.

The sky cracked like glass.

Astraea screamed in fury as lightning detonated across her feathers.

“You ugly thing,” she thundered. “You broke faith with the world itself.”

She dove.

The impact was not collision.

It was overlap.

Storm and Collapse intersected.

The land ceased to exist.

A crater formed. Folded layers of space collapsed into one another. Wind screamed inward while lightning clawed outward.

The Covenant-Breaker was thrown back. His staff skidded across fractured reality.

He laughed again, but it was strained.

“Yes,” he rasped. “Yes. This is worthy.”

Astraea hovered above him. Her wings spread wide and a storm crown blazed above her.

“You speak of worth,” she said coldly. “You who sold species for advantage.”

Her Law surged again.

Storm bent time slightly, compressing moments into strikes.

The goblin countered.

Collapse deepened. Chaos erupted.

Neither yielded.

Neither dominated.

The battlefield no longer resembled a place.

It was a phenomenon.

There was no clear victor.

Only two ancient beings tearing at the fabric of existence, each exchange rewriting the rules just enough to survive the next.

Far away, even Lucien felt it.

This was not a fight.

It was a cataclysm in conversation.

And it was far from over.