100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 360 - Law Books

Lucien returned to his divine energy core.

Lucien did not hesitate.

If he was going to create Law Books, then the first could only be one thing.

Creation.

The Law of Creation was not borrowed. Not gifted. Not stolen from drops or scrolls.

It was earned.

Every structure he had built. Every construct he had refined. Every world he had shaped inside his core had carved understanding directly into him. This Law was not something he repeated.

It was something he embodied.

Lucien steadied his breath.

Starlit Cohesion activated quietly, spreading the coming strain across his spiritual lattice before it could gather into fractures.

Then he reached out.

A blank parchment floated before him.

And Lucien began to write.

Not with ink.

With understanding.

Imprint Manifestation unfolded.

The first phrase appeared slowly, as if the parchment resisted being burdened with something so fundamental.

The words did not glow.

They did not burn.

They settled.

Each line carried weight. Not pressure, but inevitability. Like stones placed where they belonged.

To read the first sentence was to feel the idea of structure. To understand that creation was not about force, but about agreement. About convincing existence that something deserved to be.

Lucien did not describe Creation.

He expressed it.

Principle by principle.

Foundation by foundation.

He wrote about intent as a blueprint. About matter as obedient memory. About energy as willingness given motion. About form as the compromise between idea and reality.

The parchment grew heavier with each phrase.

Not physically.

Conceptually.

Even Lucien felt it. A subtle pull at his spirit each time a Law-bound sentence finalized itself.

His spirit trembled once.

Then Starlit Cohesion redistributed the strain.

The tremor faded.

Lucien continued.

Page after page formed.

The text was not dense, but it was layered. Each sentence appeared simple until read twice. Each paragraph revealed a deeper structure the longer it was contemplated.

This was not a manual meant to be memorized.

It was a lens meant to be worn.

After a time, Lucien stopped.

Not because he could not continue.

Because he should not.

This was not the complete Law of Creation.

This was an introduction.

A doorway.

Enough to let a practitioner touch Creation and be changed by it.

Enough to step into Transcendence.

Lucien studied the pages.

The parchment no longer looked ordinary. Fine lines ran beneath the text like faint veins of light, shifting when viewed from different angles. The words seemed fixed, yet alive, as if they would rearrange themselves slightly for each reader.

Satisfied, Lucien nodded.

This would do.

He turned his attention next to Rurik.

Before teaching him the Law, Lucien prepared something essential.

A skill card formed in his hand.

Photographic Memory.

Creation demanded fluency in runes. Not just recognition, but retention. Runes were the alphabet of the world, and without mastering them, Rurik would always be copying shapes instead of speaking meaning.

Lucien summoned Rurik.

The craftsman arrived moments later, still carrying the faint scent of forge heat and metal dust.

"Savior," Rurik said, bowing deeply.

Lucien waved a hand. "Stand. I have something for you."

He handed Rurik the compiled pages of the Law of Creation.

Then, without ceremony, pressed the skill card to his forehead.

The card dissolved into light.

Rurik stiffened.

His breath caught.

Then his eyes widened.

"I... I can remember everything," Rurik whispered. "Not just words. Shapes. Patterns. Order."

Lucien nodded. "That is the point."

He handed him another bundle of parchment.

"Runes," Lucien said. "Study these alongside the Law. If something resists you, come to me."

Rurik clutched the pages like sacred relics.

"Thank you," he said, voice thick. "I will not waste this."

Then he turned the page.

And the world shifted.

Rurik’s pupils dilated.

He could barely understand the language yet, but the meaning slipped through anyway. Each phrase promised something beyond hammer and anvil. Beyond replication.

Creation without limit.

Not as a tool.

As a calling.

A path where he would no longer be fodder. No longer a supporting hand. But a creator in his own right.

His hands trembled.

Rurik dropped to one knee.

"I swear," he said, head bowed, "I will not fail your expectations."

Lucien smiled faintly.

"I look forward to your progress."

The system responded. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

[Ting!]

[CONDITIONS MET.]

[You have fulfilled Rurik’s lifelong wish.]

[Rurik’s Loyalty has reached 100.]

[You may now copy one of Rurik’s available skills.]

Lucien did not hesitate.

Transmute.

The skill flowed into him smoothly, aligning with his understanding like it had always belonged there.

Rurik remained kneeling for a moment longer, then rose and returned to his studies with burning focus.

Lucien watched him go.

He understood now.

Rurik had not wanted power.

He had wanted permission to create without limits.

Lucien turned back toward his work.

Rurik was only the beginning.

Soon, others would follow.

Law by Law.

Path by Path.

The era outside was sharpening its teeth.

So Lucien would sharpen minds.

And he returned to his parchments, already choosing which Law would come next.

•••

Hours passed.

Inside the range of the Hourglass of Slowed Passage, time folded.

He created more Law Books.

Each time he imprinted, his spirit reacted.

Flinching.

And each flinch reminded him that even with Starlit Cohesion, his spirit was only beginning to mend.

Eventually, the flinch stopped being a flinch and became a warning.

His focus slipped for half a breath, and a line of text tried to finalize with a wrong weight.

The parchment shuddered.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed instantly. He canceled the imprint before it could lock and erased the half-formed concept from the page.

He stopped for the day.

He closed his eyes.

Then, he returned to the Starlit Codex and meditated.

When he opened his eyes again, the ache was no longer "damage." It was "fatigue," clean and earned.

Lucien let himself breathe.

Then he thought of Rurik.

He wanted to see it first.

If Rurik could truly step into Transcendence through the introduction alone, then the method was proven. If he failed, Lucien would adjust the pages before handing them out like candy and creating a room full of broken minds.

So Lucien waited.

He redirected his thoughts to the next problem.

Lithrens were one thing.

Monsters were another.

To teach monsters a Law, Lucien needed teachers who spoke in the language of existence itself.

And his thoughts settled on the Ancient Beings.

He needed to form pacts with them.

They would relish this era and it was up to Lucien to grant them the freedom they wanted.

Lucien exhaled.

The persuasion would not be simple.

He turned away, already considering which ancient beings to approach first.

...

Then Lucien’s thoughts shifted again.

To another problem.

The void-born beings.

His hand moved.

He pulled some items from the Goblin Emperor’s organ storage.

The translucent black cubes.

Lucien held them and peeked inside, one by one.

Void monsters did not pulse with the Big World’s realms. They were born strong because the void did not reward growth. It rewarded survival.

Their minds were different. They were instinct woven into shape. Reaction before thought. Hunger before language.

Taming them would not be like taming beasts.

It would be like persuading a storm to wear a leash.

Lucien glanced among the void monsters.

One presence was familiar.

A Skywhale.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

The Obsidian Collegium Scholars had one.

That meant it was possible to tame them.

And if he could tame a Skywhale, he would have something the new era’s oceans might respect.

It might even be his bridge back to the West.

Lucien’s lips curved faintly.

The new era had destroyed the teleportation arrays, and turned continents into isolated cages.

But Lucien was already thinking of building his own route.

Lucien stored the cubes down carefully.

He stood.

He looked once more at the stack of Law Books he had forged today.

Then he looked toward where Rurik trained.

Then toward the ancient beings resting inside his world.

Then toward the cubes.

Three projects.

Three fronts.

All urgent.

Lucien exhaled slowly.

He did not rush.

He organized.

In this quiet room, Lucien began drafting the next era’s counterweights.

The new age sharpened its teeth.

Lucien sharpened his plans.

And soon, something very large would learn what it meant to be tamed by agreement rather than chains.

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