100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 406 - Seraphine

The last of the newly awakened seekers settled into stillness.

One after another, the library’s readers became statues with breathing chests and brightening auras.

Lucien did not interrupt them.

He simply continued.

He walked the aisles with quiet precision, eyes drinking whole pages at a glance.

His Photographic Memory took everything without effort.

Another hour passed.

Then the last shelf became the last line.

Lucien closed the final book and allowed himself a small smile.

Coming here had been worth it.

The Liberators’ archive was not just wide. It was structured. Their notes did not stop at descriptions. They mapped weaknesses, interactions, counters, and failure points.

If someone lived long enough, these books could guide them all the way to the peak of Ascendant Realm.

It was the same from his drop’s "sixty percent knowledge."

Lucien glanced back.

The meditating Liberators were nearing their thresholds. Some auras already wavered at the edge where a Law began to answer.

Before anyone crossed fully into Transcendence, Lucien stepped out.

•••

Cassian’s marked house was not hard to find.

Lucien saw it instantly the moment he entered the residential blocks.

Cassian’s interval-signature appeared. It looked like a gentle "gap" carved into the ambient flow.

On the front door, a single name had been written in clean mana-strokes.

Luc.

Lucien paused for half a breath, then pushed the door open.

Inside, the house was simple, but complete. Clean rooms. A meditation chamber. A small writing desk.

He entered the inner room, sat cross-legged, and let his breathing slow until even the dust seemed to settle around him.

Then he began.

This time he did not need to wrestle comprehension out of the world.

The Liberators’ books were clear enough. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Lucien chose discipline over greed.

He targeted twenty percent for each Law first.

Hours folded. Understanding layered. Concepts settled into practical shape.

•••

Three days passed without disturbance.

In truth, it was more than three days for Lucien.

The Hourglass of Slow Passage rested in his palm like a private season.

When he finally opened his eyes, satisfaction sat behind them like a quiet flame.

He had comprehended what he came for.

Not everything.

But enough.

He sensed movement outside.

Cassian had been waiting.

He did not intrude. He simply waited, patient as a man who respected other people’s rhythms.

Lucien stood and stepped out.

Cassian was there, hands behind his back, expression calm.

When he saw Lucien, his smile deepened. For the first time, the East Warden looked openly delighted.

"Hah," Cassian said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Brother, I did not expect you to turn our library into a breakthrough hall."

Lucien’s mouth curved faintly.

"They were already ready," Lucien said. "I only helped them aim at the correct door. They did the walking."

Cassian’s eyes softened, grateful in a way that did not need decoration.

He paused, then his tone shifted into business without becoming cold.

"Are you busy right now?" Cassian asked. "Would you like to see the cure work?"

Lucien nodded easily.

"I just finished meditating. This is the best time."

Cassian nodded, and they began walking.

•••

As they moved deeper into the branch, Cassian spoke in a low voice, as if the walls themselves were part of the Liberators’ discipline.

"The one leading the cure development is one of our ’true’ Liberators," Cassian said. "A human with a cheat."

Lucien’s gaze sharpened.

Cassian continued. "In her previous life, she was a doctor. Her cheat follows her. It is... compatible with suffering."

That was a strange way to phrase it, and it made Lucien pay closer attention.

"What is her name?" Lucien asked.

"Seraphine," Cassian replied.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"She practices the Law of Remedy."

A Law that sounded gentle.

Lucien had learned long ago that gentle Laws often did the most frightening things.

Soon, they reached an unassuming building.

The kind of place you would overlook even if you stood in front of it.

Cassian opened the door and led Lucien inside.

Lucien stopped.

His breath caught for a fraction.

This was not a clinic. It felt like a laboratory.

The kind built by people who had stared at death long enough that they stopped flinching and started taking notes.

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic herbs and hot metal.

Runed glass. Stabilizing arrays. Thin tubes carrying glowing solutions between sealed chambers. Metal frames holding instruments that were half spellwork, half engineering.

And then, beyond a divider of translucent ward-film, Lucien saw them.

Patients.

Bodies from different races suspended in rune-assisted caskets, alive but barely. Their breathing was measured by machines. Their pulses were regulated by repeating stabilizing runes. Their existence was being held in place like a candle protected from wind.

Lucien’s throat tightened.

He recognized the symptoms even without touching them.

The flawed drugs had dug into their strings of existence. The damage was no longer chemical. It was structural.

A few healers and researchers moved between stations, writing observations, comparing fluctuations, whispering numbers and clauses.

Cassian watched Lucien’s reaction carefully.

"They are lone practitioners," Cassian said quietly, as if answering the worst assumption before it formed. "Some were already dying. We offered them a chance at life, and they chose to be part of the work."

Lucien nodded once. His jaw remained tight.

"I understand," Lucien said.

They continued deeper.

•••

In the next room, Lucien saw her.

Seraphine stood over a table layered with notes, diagrams, and formulae written in a tight hand that had stopped caring about beauty.

Her hair was haggard, tied back as if it had offended her. Her eyes were sharp and exhausted, the eyes of someone who had been fighting a puzzle for days and refusing to lose.

She did not even notice them enter.

Cassian approached her and spoke softly.

"Sister."

Seraphine’s pen did not stop.

Cassian continued, still gentle. "I brought someone. You have reached a bottleneck. You need a perspective that is not trapped inside your own pattern."

That made her pause.

Slowly, she looked up.

Her gaze hit Cassian first, then slid to Lucien.

She gave a small nod, the kind given to strangers who were allowed in because someone trusted them.

Then she exhaled, the sound rough with fatigue.

"It is hopeless," she said quietly. "There is a piece I cannot see. I have circled it until the circle became a cage."

Lucien stepped forward without arrogance.

"Sister," Lucien said, "may I see your progress?"

Seraphine stared at him for a moment, then pushed a thick notebook across the table.

She did not insult him. She did not lash out.

She simply looked tired.

"If you want to waste your eyes," she said, "waste them."

Cassian’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

Lucien picked up the notebook.

And began reading.

•••

At the first page, his expression shifted.

At the second, his brows rose.

By the fifth, his eyes had gone fully alert.

Seraphine’s work was not messy. It was brutal in its precision. The notes were scattered, but the logic beneath them was sharp enough to cut.

She had already narrowed down the root cause.

The flawed drugs were not merely poisoning people.

They were rewriting tiny "agreements" inside the victim’s existence.

Over time, those clauses stacked into a new structure.

A structure that kept the victim dependent.

Lucien flipped another page.

He saw where she had tested dozens of countermeasures. He saw where she had stabilized symptoms temporarily. He saw where she had forced partial reversals.

Halfway.

Cassian had not exaggerated.

Seraphine was truly midway to a cure.

Then Lucien reached the wall.

The next step required something she did not have.

First, she lacked the correct specimens.

Her patients varied too widely. Short-term users responded differently than long-term users. Different races developed different "fault patterns" depending on how their existence processed the flawed clause-writing.

She needed higher-quality cases. Deep-rooted cases.

People who had consumed the drugs long enough that the flaw had become a second skeleton.

Only with those extremes could she map the final structure clearly and write a cure that did not collapse under variation.

Lucien lifted his gaze.

Seraphine watched him with that same hopeless steadiness, as if waiting for him to either praise her or pity her.

He did neither.

Instead, his mouth curved slightly.

"You are close," Lucien said.

Seraphine gave a tired laugh without humor.

"Everyone says that when they want me to keep drowning."

Lucien looked back down at the notes.

"No," Lucien said calmly. "I mean it literally."

He tapped the notebook once.

Lucien was genuinely impressed.

She had uncovered the shape of the rot on her own. Even without Structural Insight, she had traced the corruption down to its underlying structure through sheer intellect and relentless experimentation.

Seraphine’s eyes narrowed.

Lucien continued. "Your missing piece is not theory. It is sample quality. You need long-term victims. You need extremes."

Cassian’s posture changed slightly, attention sharpening.

Lucien closed the notebook gently and handed it back.

"I think I can help," Lucien said.

Cassian’s expression lit up immediately as relief flashed through his careful composure.

Seraphine only exhaled again, dismissive from exhaustion rather than arrogance.

"Everyone thinks they can help," she muttered.

Lucien did not blame her.

He simply acted.

First, he stepped closer and raised two fingers.

Seraphine’s eyes sharpened instantly.

"What are you doing?"

"Borrowing your attention for a moment," Lucien said.

Then he placed his fingertips lightly against her forehead.

Seraphine stiffened, offended on instinct.

But before she could push him away—

Lucien invoked his job skill: Cram Session.

A clean pulse moved from his fingers into her mind, like a key sliding into a lock.

A faint chime echoed in the air that only Lucien could hear clearly.

[Ting!]

[Skill: Structural Insight has been lent to the target.]

[Duration: 24 hours.]

Seraphine froze.

Her pupils widened slightly as the world shifted in front of her eyes, the hidden framework peeling open.

For the first time, she could see the clauses she had been trying to infer by blood and breath alone.

Cassian watched her face change.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"...Now you can see it."

Seraphine swallowed.

Her gaze snapped to Lucien, suddenly awake in a way that burned through exhaustion.

"What," she said slowly, "did you just give me?"

Lucien met her stare without flinching.

"A day," Lucien replied. "A clear view. And a chance to stop guessing."

Seraphine’s breathing slowed.

Her hands trembled once.

Then she turned back to her notes like a starving scholar facing a feast.

Cassian exhaled quietly, a sound that held both relief and anticipation.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Because he could already feel it.

The moment Seraphine began seeing the flaw-structure directly, the cure work was about to accelerate.