100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 332 - Oath-Buried

Astraea’s voice reached Lucien.

"You can pick the one they called the Oath-Buried."

Lucien’s gaze shifted, not to the loudest cage but to the presence that had been silent longest.

"Why that one?" he asked.

Astraea answered.

"Because stone is not slain by thunder alone. The Basalt Regent will not fall to wind and lightning. He is fortress and verdict. To break him, you require a counter that eats foundations."

Lucien felt her attention narrow like a spearpoint.

"And because the Oath-Buried is not merely strong. It is aligned. It does not just howl for blood. It also hungers for balance."

One of the cages shuddered as if it had heard its own name.

Astraea continued,

"It bears the Law of Seals. Not the petty bindings of lesser sorcerers. The Law of Seals that arrests motion, shackles concepts, and forces even a Law to remember restraint. Against gargoyle-kind, that is a knife against a mountain’s tendon."

Lucien’s mind moved at once.

A sealing Law would not compete with stone. It would deny stone its arrogance. It would interrupt reinforcement, slow regeneration, and pin the Basalt Regent’s shifting "continuity" in place.

Astraea’s tone sharpened with delight.

"And it has fought them before."

The other cages erupted into immediate reaction.

"Lies," one ancient beast snarled. "You would give him the jailor’s hound?"

Another voice boomed.

"Choose me, human. I will burn the Regent’s wings and drink his gravel."

Astraea did not even look their way.

"Your mouths remain faster than your fates," she said and the words struck like cold rain. "You would have been free already if noise were strength."

A third voice hissed.

"The Oath-Buried is a coward. It survives by locking doors and calling it victory."

For the first time, the chosen cage stirred.

A presence uncoiled behind its bars, immense and deliberate.

And when it spoke, the voice was not loud.

It was certain.

"I have outlived every loud thing that swore it would end me," it said. "That is not cowardice. That is proof."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Within the cage loomed a Cataclysm Wyrm.

Its body was long and segmented. Its eyes were deep, mineral gold. Along its brow ran a ridge of jagged horns like a broken crown that had never bent to kneel.

Astraea’s voice entered Lucien’s mind.

[This one is a Cataclysm Wyrm. In the old wars, they called it the Oath-Buried...]

Lucien held the thought.

’Perfect.’

The wyrm’s head lowered slightly.

"And you," it said, looking through Lucien as if judging the marrow of his will. "You carry the book that makes equals."

Lucien did not flinch.

"I do," he answered.

The other cages roared in outrage.

"Do not accept him!"

"His seals will be your leash!"

Astraea smiled with open malice.

"Listen to them," she said softly. "They fear leashes because they know nothing of oaths."

Then she turned fully toward the wyrm.

"Oath-Buried. The Basalt Regent has climbed."

The chosen beast’s pupils tightened.

The cages went still.

Then the beast’s voice came.

"The stone has finally learned arrogance," it murmured. "Good. Arrogance makes fractures easier to find."

Lucien felt the decision lock into place.

He extended divine sense toward the chosen presence.

Its color was not pure but not drowned. A stern shade. A disciplined shade.

Lucien nodded once.

Astraea had chosen well.

Before the others could erupt again, Lucien lifted his hand.

The chosen cage rose from the ground as if pulled by invisible strings.

Lucien blinked.

Astraea blinked with him.

They reappeared far from the buried cages, in a quiet stretch of shattered land where the air was still and the horizon watched.

The cage settled.

The Oath-Buried did not move, only observed.

Astraea folded her arms and took position beside Lucien.

Lucien summoned the Monsterdex.

The book opened as if it had been waiting.

Runes rose from its pages and arranged themselves in the air.

Lucien breathed once. Then placed his palm forward.

The interlocked arrays formed with slow precision.

They touched at their edges and refused to overlap.

The beast’s eyes narrowed as it recognized the structure.

"So," it said. "There really were no chains."

"No chains," Lucien agreed. "Only accord."

Minutes passed.

Then longer.

The Concord Pact waited for alignment.

Lucien held the arrays steady. His fractured spirit stung faintly under the pressure of the ritual, but he did not allow his face to reveal it.

At last, resonance began.

The runes brightened.

The air thickened.

A subtle bell-tone rang through the arrays.

Then, Lucien spoke calmly.

"Concord does not accept anonymity. It requires truth."

The Cataclysm Wyrm’s gaze remained fixed.

Oath-Buried was silent.

Then his true name passed.

"Vaelcar."

Only Lucien heard it.

The true name entered his mind like a carved seal pressing into wax.

A name etched with vows and endings deferred.

Lucien answered at once, giving his own name as the array demanded.

The second circle ignited.

Then the third.

Law alignment followed.

Lucien felt the Law of Seals touch the edges of his comprehension like a cold hand testing a lock.

The arrays trembled.

Lucien’s spirit fractures flared. The strange threads within them tightened as if bracing against a pressure they recognized.

He kept his breathing steady.

He did not rush.

At last, the runes settled.

The Monsterdex turned a page on its own.

A single line wrote itself in luminous script.

[Concord Pact Established]

The world exhaled.

Lucien opened his eyes.

Then he stood.

He placed his palm against the cage and released divine energy with surgical intent.

The cage shattered.

The binding chains snapped like brittle glass.

Vaelcar stepped free.

His vast form folded inward. Sigils now slid across his stone-scale like living script.

It drew a breath.

Then its shape shifted.

The stone-sigils crawled across its body like living writing.

The immense frame compressed, folded, then reassembled.

In a few heartbeats, a tall figure stood where the beast had been.

He is broad-shouldered, quiet-eyed, and his hair is dark as wet basalt. His skin is marked with faint rune-lines along the throat and wrists like someone who had once worn shackles and kept the memory as a warning.

The figure looked down at its own hands, flexed its fingers once, then nodded as if approving the sensation.

"This form is... tolerable," it said.

Then it looked up with sharp eyes.

The first thing it asked was not about freedom.

Not about crowns. Not about vengeance.

But...

"Is the Covenant-Breaker truly dead?"

Lucien’s smile thinned.

Astraea’s gaze turned distant.

A beat passed.

Then Astraea answered with blunt honesty.

"Do you believe me if I tell you the one we slew was merely one vessel among hundreds?"

The new ally’s expression tightened. Not in shock, but in recognition.

"I knew something was off," it said quietly. "That thing does not perish cleanly. It has too many rites. Too many exits."

It paused, then its mouth curved into something like satisfaction.

"But this is still good."

Astraea’s brows rose slightly.

The ancient being continued,

"It means it can be ended properly later. By my verdict."

Its gaze shifted to Lucien.

"And human... since Thundersong has chosen to call you brother, I will do the same. The pact does not make any of us lesser."

Astraea snorted softly, amused.

"Oath-Buried," she said. "Then listen well. The Basalt Regent approaches."

Vaelcar’s gaze turned toward the horizon.

"The one who wears stone like a throne."

Lucien’s mind sharpened.

"You know his Law?" Lucien asked.

Vaelcar’s voice lowered.

"The Basalt Regent governs the Law of Petrification," he said. "Not mere stone. Not mere hardening. Petrification as a verdict. It turns motion into monument. It turns blood into mineral. It turns a living will into a relic that cannot argue."

Even Astraea’s smile dulled.

Lucien felt a cold clarity.

It was not a flashy Law.

It was inevitability.

Laws that made you slow. Then stiff. Then permanent.

Vaelcar looked at Lucien.

"That is why Song-bird chose me," he said. "Because Seals can halt a verdict mid-sentence. Because I can arrest petrification before it becomes fate."

Astraea’s voice returned through the link, satisfied.

[Do you see now, little brother? Thunder breaks towers. Seals decide which towers may stand.]

Lucien exhaled slowly.

He did not look away from the horizon.

"Good," he said.

Then quieter, more honest.

"We will need every good."

Vaelcar’s hand lifted and a faint sigil formed above his palm, a ring of pale script that did not glow like fire or lightning.

It simply existed, undeniable.

A seal waiting to be placed.

Vaelcar’s eyes narrowed with ancient patience.

"Let the Basalt Regent come," he said. "If stone wishes to become eternal, then I will remind it what prisons were made for."

And behind them in the distance, the buried cages still rang with furious voices.

Threats. Promises. Jealousy.

Lucien listened to them as if listening to weather.

He did not turn back.

Because the air had changed.

The world was tightening again.

And somewhere beyond the horizon, a stone emperor was already moving.