100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 393 - Memory

Lucien did not lower his guard.

His gaze settled on the Mirrorhorn Duants.

"You have been truthful," Lucien said. "So answer one more thing. Why did you surrender and tell everything? If it is only fear of dying, you must realize the Void-Walkers will not spare you either once they learn you spoke."

The twins looked at each other.

Their Synchrony tightened. Then they nodded once, together.

Their voices rang out in unison.

""Because you are not dead yet.""

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly.

For a heartbeat, he looked genuinely confused.

""We can identify who marked you.""

The first twin swallowed and forced the words out.

"No one survives after encountering the Extinction."

The second continued.

"And yet you are alive. Marked and still standing."

They hesitated again, then the truth came in clipped, frightened certainty.

"That means he failed to kill you."

"And someone who survives an Extinction is not ordinary."

"The mark proves it. It is not a trophy. It is a receipt."

The twins’ eyes shifted past Lucien, briefly, to the ancient beasts.

Anvil-Horn, Morveth, Condoriano, Saber, Kira, Aerolith.

They were not guarding Lucien like an Ascendant protected by stronger men.

They were standing with him as equals.

The twins’ certainty sharpened into something almost desperate.

"We want to be free," the first twin said.

"And you might be able to do what we cannot," the second finished.

Silence fell.

A heavy one.

Even Condoriano stopped laughing.

Even Saber’s predatory calm seemed to sharpen.

It was the kind of silence that formed when soldiers realized a prisoner had just confessed the truth the whole war would now orbit.

Lucien remained still.

His expression did not soften.

But his eyes changed.

He understood why they had chosen him.

Not because he was kind.

Because he was improbable.

And in a world ruled by predators, improbability was the closest thing to hope.

Lucien’s mind moved fast.

He wanted them as a doorway into the Void-Walkers’ planning. As a living map of the infiltration.

But the cost was time.

The twins were chained to a flaw built into them through dependency. A miracle drug that was not miracle at all. A leash disguised as salvation.

And Lucien did not know if his Laws could repair something that had been engineered to kill the patient if the leash was removed.

He could solve many problems.

But he could not promise what he had not yet understood.

He let the breath out slowly.

"I will not lie," Lucien said. "I have no guarantee I can cure you."

The twins’ shoulders tensed.

Lucien continued before fear could swallow them.

"But I can find a solution. If it exists, I will pull it out of the world with my own hands."

The twins’ eyes brightened.

Lucien’s tone did not change.

"But you will not walk beside us as free allies yet. Not until I am sure you will not be taken back by a whispered command."

He lifted one hand.

He copied Rurik’s Transmute through Cram Session.

Then he reached deeper to the fragments of Stillness-chain.

Lucien did not recreate the chains this time.

He transmuted them into bracelets.

Phantom Ink followed. He wrote runes into the surface in cold, elegant strokes.

Restriction. Suppression.

Lucien stepped forward and placed the bracelets on the twins’ wrists.

The effect was immediate.

Their aura dipped hard. Their Laws constricted like lungs tightened by deep water.

Synchrony remained, but it was muffled, reduced to something manageable.

The twins did not resist.

They flinched, but they did not fight.

Lucien met their eyes.

"I will ask more later," he said.

Then he turned, and stored them inside his inner realm.

As assets under protection.

Or as liabilities under containment.

He had not decided which they would become.

Not yet.

The allied pack gathered in a loose ring.

Wind moved through broken terrain.

Kira flexed her scythes, irritation still sharp.

Morveth’s gaze remained distant, as if he was listening for pursuit even when none was present.

Anvil-Horn’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the horizon.

Condoriano spoke first.

"This is not a raid," he said. "It is a root."

Saber’s reply came calm, and colder.

"Parasites do not arrive loudly. They arrive early."

Kira’s eyes flashed.

"And they leave the world thinking it chose the rot."

Anvil-Horn exhaled once through his nose.

"A war once forged can be reforged," he said. "But the cost is always paid in bodies."

They had all reached the same conclusion.

Another world-wide war could come.

And this time, the enemy would not only strike from outside.

It would strike from within.

Lucien did not speak. He did not need to.

His silence was agreement.

Soon, they began meditating again.

Strength was currency and they had discovered the world was heading for debt.

Lucien sat cross-legged and reached into his inventory.

His fingers closed around the Memory Orb dropped by the Eternal Alloykin.

Lucien did not hesitate.

He crushed it.

And the world changed.

•••

Vision swallowed Lucien.

Sound warped.

For a heartbeat, Lucien stood in a memory that was not his.

He saw the Eternal Alloykin in youth.

Just a metallic man with bright eyes and hands that still believed building was more important than breaking.

He stood in a hall of Alloykins, their bodies gleaming with different metals, laughing as they compared integration choices.

Copper for conductivity.

Bronze for durability.

Steel for balance.

Silver for precision.

Gold for resonance.

They argued like craftsmen arguing over tools.

There was no hatred and no trace of superiority.

Only the quiet pride of creators admiring their own craft.

But then...

A stranger arrived.

A Void-Walker, limping, injured, cosmic light leaking from a wound that looked convincing enough to make mercy feel natural.

The Alloykins rushed forward.

They helped.

They carried it into shelter.

They fed it resources.

They treated it like a traveler who had fallen.

Lucien felt the memory’s warmth.

Then he felt the lie beneath it.

The Void-Walker’s eyes were too calm for a man dying.

It was acting.

It had chosen them.

Then...

The scene shifted.

The Void-Walker spoke gently like a friend sharing a secret.

"There is a metal," it said softly, "so rare that even the Big World itself cannot produce it."

Astrafer.

A name spoken like a promise.

It described Astrafer as flawless. A metal without weakness. A metal that would let the Alloykins reach their peak.

The Alloykins listened.

Not because they were greedy.

Because every race wanted to protect itself from extinction.

The memory shifted again.

The Void-Walker led them to the world of Lithrens.

Trade began.

At first, it was beautiful.

Lithrens mined Astrafer.

Alloykins brought goods, craft, tools, stability.

Both races prospered.

Coexistence.

Then, slowly, almost invisibly, the Void-Walker began to feed poison into the seams.

A suggestion here.

A whisper there.

"You are giving too much."

"They need you more than you need them."

"You deserve better terms."

It started with cheating.

Small and excusable.

The Alloykins felt the thrill of advantage and told themselves it was normal negotiation.

Then the cheating became habit.

Then the habit became entitlement.

Then entitlement became conquest.

The memory turned darker.

The Lithrens resisted.

The Alloykins crushed them.

Chains replaced contracts.

The mines became prisons.

The once-smiling Alloykins began to speak of "efficiency" and "output," as if lives were numbers.

Lucien felt the memory’s shame bleeding through.

The Alloykin in the memory tried to look away.

But it was his people. His hands. His silence.

Time skipped.

The Alloykin reached Eternal Realm.

He stood as a being of living Astrafer, proud and terrifying.

He believed he had reached the peak.

Then the Void-Walker returned.

Smiling.

And for the first time, it stopped pretending to be a friend.

It spoke one sentence.

"You never asked what Astrafer’s weakness was."

The memory jolted.

The Void-Walker moved once, a precise gesture.

A principle hit the Alloykin’s body.

A resonance fault.

A clause Astrafer could not disperse.

And the so-called flawless metal folded like paper.

The Eternal Alloykin fell.

Not because he was weak but because the Void-Walker had always known the key.

The Void-Walker’s voice became cold.

"Obey," it said, "or be destroyed."

The Alloykin’s eyes in the memory were wide with horror.

Because he realized the truth by then.

They had been guided.

They had been fed a ladder.

And once they climbed it, the ladder had been kicked away.

The scene blurred again.

The memory showed the aftermath.

Some Alloykins learned the truth and stayed silent out of fear.

Most continued integrating Astrafer, believing it was perfection.

They were not just villains.

They were victims who had become villains.

And the Void-Walker had written that tragedy like a craftsman carving a blade.

•••

Lucien’s vision snapped back.

He opened his eyes.

His breath was steady.

But his gaze burned.

"So that is the truth," Lucien whispered.

The twins had not lied.

The Void-Walkers had been shaping the world for a long time.

Feeding races power while hiding the leash.

As long as Void-Walkers remained in the Big World, peace would always be temporary.

Lucien’s jaw tightened.