100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 350 - Meeting

Earth Two Point Zero received them without fanfare.

The corridor of controlled impossibility loosened.

Then the planet’s atmosphere took them.

Wind returned. Weight returned. Sound returned.

They slipped through layers of defensive geometry that looked like weather until Lucien’s senses touched the seams and realized the "clouds" were also equations.

They landed on a stretch of green that felt almost offensively peaceful.

Lucien stepped forward.

His boots pressed into soil that smelled like rain and iron. The air tasted clean, but not empty. There was mana here, and it was not wild the way the Big World’s mana was.

It was calibrated. Like someone had taken a living atmosphere and taught it manners.

He glanced toward the horizon.

The sky was earth-blue. The clouds looked right. The sun’s warmth fell in the correct angle.

And still, something felt arranged.

Perfect Calculation stirred.

Distances measured themselves. Angles resolved into patterns. The curve of a hill was too clean and too intentionally asymmetrical.

Lucien’s Law of Creation responded.

The world became legible in places as if certain landscapes had been written instead of grown.

It was subtle. Brilliantly so.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

He had done something similar inside his divine energy core.

Not the same scale but the same logic.

Earth Two Point Zero was not a fake.

It was a graft.

A planet that had been persuaded to resemble a specific image.

They moved slowly.

Moltsage walked at the front.

Astraea drifted above the group. Vaelcar moved with the Monolith at his side.

Lucien walked beside Kaia and kept looking.

There were fewer people. The land was open and quiet.

Yet he could feel life.

Hidden settlements spaced out like cells in a body. Far from each other but connected by invisible routes. The planet felt inhabited in a deliberate way.

Lucien lowered his voice, speaking only to Kaia.

"It seems your leader put effort into making this world resemble Earth."

Kaia glanced around. Her expression softened for a brief moment before returning to its usual mischief.

"The key members of the Liberators are reincarnated after all," she whispered back. "Homesickness does not stop being sharp just because you reach a higher realm."

Kaia sighed.

"But if you ask me," she continued, "this is not like Earth at all."

Lucien tilted his head. "Why?"

Kaia huffed as if she had been waiting for someone foolish enough to invite her opinion.

"Because the government back on Earth lied to us."

Lucien’s steps slowed by a fraction. "About what?"

Kaia turned her face toward him with absolute confidence.

"The Earth is not round."

Lucien stared at her.

He stared long enough that even the grass seemed embarrassed for her.

"So you are a flat-earther."

Kaia’s smile became smug.

"Think about it. There is not one real image of a round Earth. Everything is CGI. And probably AI too. The Bible never said Earth is round. Science is a scam. We were brainwashed."

Lucien took a slow breath.

He spoke carefully as if speaking too fast might cause her ideas to multiply.

"So you failed science, then you tried religion."

Kaia’s hand snapped out and smacked his shoulder hard enough to make his armor click. "Shut up."

Lucien rubbed his temple.

"The universe was proof enough," Lucien said. "We drifted in space. We saw planets. We saw curvature. We literally arrived at this world from the void."

Kaia waved him off. "Different universe. Different physics. Also, you should question things. The fact you do not question things means you are brainwashed."

Lucien opened his mouth, then closed it.

He hated that the argument was stupid in a way that made it difficult to end quickly.

He tried again. "I do not think I am brainwashed."

Kaia’s eyes glittered. "Idiot. Of course you do not think you are brainwashed. That is what brainwashing does."

Lucien froze.

It sounded like nonsense. It was nonsense.

And yet it had the annoying structure of a trap.

He exhaled slowly and decided to retreat.

Arguing with Kaia was like fighting a swamp. You would win eventually, but you would stink afterward and nobody would praise you for it.

He looked away and kept walking.

Kaia continued anyway, preaching with the devotion of a heretic who had discovered a new holy book.

Lucien sighed to himself.

’She would get along well with Clara,’ he thought.

They walked through the green into a constructed path. They crested a hill.

Then... a city revealed itself.

Lucien’s chest tightened.

It was familiar in silhouette.

But the city did not hum with machines. It hummed with formations.

Lucien saw a white building ahead. Its walls were layered with invisible inscriptions that made it feel less like architecture and more like an oath made solid.

Moltsage led them toward it.

They entered without ceremony.

Inside, the air was cooler. The corridors were wide.

They moved to the west wing.

A meeting room waited.

There’s a long table and chairs spaced with enough caution that even those who hated being trapped would not feel trapped.

There’s also a wall of translucent crystal that showed the city outside like a calm painting.

They entered.

Lucien sat between Astraea and Vaelcar.

The Liberators took seats across the table.

Moltsage sat at the head.

He did not call the meeting to order.

He simply looked at them, and the room understood that time had become serious.

"Kids, speak now," Moltsage said. "From the moment you vanished, to the moment we found you."

Kaia began.

She did not dramatize it. She did not downplay it.

She spoke the facts.

Goblins.

Capture.

A world veiled and harvested.

Fighting the monsters.

Lucien listened, tracking what she chose to omit.

When Kaia reached the part where they found the bark, her words slid neatly around it.

She did not mention the Tree of Creation.

Her eyes flicked to Lucien for the smallest instant.

A wink.

Lucien’s expression did not change.

He let her continue.

Kaia spoke of the gargoyles.

Of the battles.

Of Kharzun’s execution circle.

Of the moment they nearly died.

Of the way they survived.

The Liberators across the table reacted despite themselves.

One of the human Celestials swallowed hard.

A Serpentile’s pupils tightened.

Moltsage remained quiet, but Lucien saw the shift in him.

Approval.

The kind a veteran gave to young fighters who had stared into death and returned with their minds intact.

When Kaia finished, silence held.

Moltsage looked at Lucien and gave a small nod, a gesture that carried quiet thanks.

Lucien reached into his inventory and drew out the goblin scrolls.

"Senior Moltsage," he said, "there is something I need to show you."

Moltsage waved a hand immediately. "Do not call me senior. I do not dare accept that title from the brother of two Eternals." His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Call me brother as well. If that troubles you, then I will permit you to call me uncle."

Velun snapped his head toward him.

His expression seemed to say, ’You refuse to let me call you uncle, and I am your actual nephew. What, then, is family for?’

The others turned away just in time, barely managing to suppress their laughter.

Lucien nodded and he soon laid the scrolls down.

Moltsage did not touch them at first.

He stared.

And then...

The Eternal’s face turned from curiosity to calculation.

Then to gravity.

Moltsage finally picked up the first scroll.

His eyes moved across it once.

Then again, slower.

He looked up.

The room’s air changed.

The playful warmth that had followed them through the corridor vanished as if a door had closed.

"This," Moltsage hesitated.

Lucien’s voice was calm. "It is harvesting."

Moltsage’s jaw tightened.

He turned a scroll toward the others. "Coordinates. Lists. Resource notes. Population marks."

The implication was large enough to fill the room.

Moltsage set the scroll down as if it were a blade.

"I have to show this to the leader," he said.

Lucien nodded once.

That was why he had shown it.

He did not want to carry this war alone.

He was still too weak to fight emperors in direct battle. He had survived one because he had allies, luck, and a window measured in seconds.

The Liberators were built for this.

They were an organization that had existed for centuries for exactly this kind of threat.

Strong beings to fight strong beings.

Hidden blades to cut hidden hands.

Lucien leaned back slightly, letting the weight shift off his shoulders and onto theirs where it belonged.

Moltsage rose.

"Stay here first," he said. "I must tell the leader about this. It won’t take long."

Kaia opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it.

Darian muttered, "Yes, uncle."

Moltsage glanced at him.

Darian corrected quickly, "Yes, Senior Moltsage."

Moltsage left the room.

The door closed behind him.

Silence returned.

Lucien stared at the crystal wall and watched the city beyond it breathe.

All he wanted now was to go back to the Big World.

To find Eirene.

To regroup.

To collect the land she had promised him.

He could almost feel it, the shape of his future territory like a blank space waiting for his handwriting.

He also needed to find the small world.

Piercing reality was still imperfect. He needed a method that did not rely on luck, violence, or the universe’s patience.

He thought of Molting.

Velun’s law.

Moltsage’s deeper doctrine.

If he learned it, perhaps he could open passages without ripping worlds apart.

Lucien’s thoughts sharpened into plans.

A plan to bring his people to the Big World.

A plan to build something stable enough that not even the Black Mass could casually harvest it.

He inhaled slowly and let his expression remain calm.

For now, he simply sat in the meeting room, surrounded by allies, protected by ancient beings, while the universe outside continued to count down toward the next war.