100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 375 - Battle

The word "Now" had barely finished echoing from Anvil-Horn’s lips when Starforge moved.

The kill corridors awakened. Formation anchors flared in sequence. Healers took two steps back to their assigned cover. Couriers disappeared into routes they had memorized until their dreams could walk them.

And then the Alloykins surged.

Above, Condoriano blocked the breach. His true Sky Condor form filled the air with a shadow that even Celestial Realm Alloykins looked up instinctively and swallowed their pride for half a breath.

Half a breath was all they gave themselves.

A dozen Celestial Alloykins rose in a loose ring around the Condor. Their expressions were still calm, the way experienced executioners grew bored of pleading.

One of them flexed his fingers and metallic filaments unfolded from his forearm like a cloak of blades.

"An Eternal beast," he said, amused. "We will need a minute."

Another laughed quietly. "A minute is generous. Resonance disperses everything. Even your kind."

They spoke as if Condoriano were a large nuisance and not a living calamity.

Condoriano’s eyes glinted. His beak parted slightly, and his voice rolled over them like a warm storm.

"Arrogant toys are the best," he said. "It is more fun when they talk before they break."

The Celestial Alloykins struck together.

Their Laws flared. Spears, hooks, and compressed plates of metal erupted into being.

They aimed for Condoriano’s wings first.

But—

Condoriano did not even dodge.

He tilted his head as if listening to a distant line.

Then his Law of Horizon unfolded.

The air between him and the attackers changed.

Distance became a rule.

The horizon did not move, but the space agreed it was farther than it looked.

The first wave of metal crossed half the gap and then slowed from the impossibility. It was like watching a spear try to reach a sunset.

One Celestial Alloykin narrowed his eyes. "What is this?"

Condoriano answered by flaring his wings once.

The horizon snapped like a blade.

Their formation lost its symmetry. The ring that should have surrounded him suddenly became uneven, stretched thin on one side and compressed on the other.

Two Alloykins drifted too close without meaning to.

Condoriano’s gaze settled on them.

Horizon was not only distance. It was separation.

It was the boundary that decided what could touch.

Condoriano erased that boundary for two heartbeats.

The two Celestial Alloykins found themselves shoulder-to-shoulder with Condoriano’s beak, close enough to smell his ancient feathers.

Their eyes widened.

And then—

Condoriano bit.

His beak closed on Astrafer flesh.

The resonance tried to disperse the force.

Condoriano laughed.

"Ha. Tough indeed," he said with a faint grin. "It seems little brother did not exaggerate."

A Cosmic-Attributed Talisman flickered into existence before him, and the Condor activated it without hesitation.

At that instant, the Astrafer resonance hesitated.

Condoriano tore.

One Celestial Alloykin was split in half.

The second Alloykin recoiled. His body tried to heal by scattering damage, only to discover there was no "elsewhere" to scatter into. Condoriano invoked his Law, bending the boundary of impact so that scattered damage could not travel beyond its chosen edge.

The others finally stopped smiling.

Their arrogance did not fade. It only hardened. They did not even spare a glance for their fallen kin.

One of them lifted his chin. "So you manipulate distance."

Condoriano’s eyes gleamed. "I own it."

The Alloykins regrouped instantly, no longer throwing metal blindly. They began targeting the logic itself, striking not Condoriano’s body but the space around him, forcing Horizon and Resonance to argue.

Condoriano spread his wings and anchored himself directly above the tear.

"You will not leave," he told them. "And you will not bring more."

Then the sky became a battlefield of stretched distances and collapsing boundaries, where every step was a negotiation with the edge of the world.

•••

Inside Starforge, the Alloykins hit the first kill corridor and learned what it meant to be welcomed.

Healers did not run to the front.

They threw talismans.

A cosmic-attributed seal flashed and latched onto an Alloykin’s chest like a cold brand.

The Astrafer resonance shuddered.

The Alloykin’s confident smirk faltered as his body failed to disperse the next strike.

A Starforge fighter, only Transcendent, stepped forward and swung a plain blade.

The Alloykin’s head left his shoulders.

For a heartbeat, the corridor went still.

Then the Starforge fighters realized the impossible truth.

Alloykins were killable.

One young handler, eyes wide, whispered, "That was easy."

An older veteran slapped the back of his head without looking away from the front line.

"It was not easy," the veteran said. "It was all thanks to the benefactor’s talisman."

Another talisman flew.

Another resonance collapsed.

Another Alloykin died.

Excitement spread through Starforge.

Anvil-Horn’s voice cut through it instantly.

"Do not cheer," he commanded. "Count."

The fighters breathed out and returned to discipline.

They did not chase.

They let Alloykins step into geometry and then removed them from existence.

The kill corridors became honest furnaces.

Every time an Alloykin tried to push past, a talisman stripped the lie of invincibility from their body, and a waiting blade wrote the truth in blood.

•••

But then—

A Celestial Alloykin noticed within minutes.

He watched three of his kin fall the same way and felt the pattern snap into focus.

His eyes narrowed.

"Regroup," he ordered calmly. "Their weapons are not normal. Do not feed them bodies."

Another Celestial Alloykin rose onto a broken ledge, staring at the cosmic flicker on the talismans.

"Cosmic attribute," he muttered. "That is voidwalker territory."

His companion’s jaw tightened. "Only the Exchange should have that attribute."

Lucien, standing behind Starforge lines like a quiet storm, heard them.

His eyes flared.

’So the Void-Walkers can use the Cosmic Attribute too.’ Lucien thought.

Then a far more dangerous possibility surfaced.

’What if the Astrafer Alloykins followed them because the Void-Walkers knew their weakness...?’

Lucien’s mouth tightened.

"There is something deeper," he murmured.

Soon, the Alloykins began shifting tactics.

They stopped trying to grind forward.

They began striking like raiders.

Small squads surged into corridors, baited talisman throws, then retreated before the cosmic seals could fully bind. Others hurled sacrificial bodies forward to trigger talismans early, forcing Starforge fighters to spend their precious counters on targets that did not matter.

One squad focused on formation anchors, rushing the pillars where keepers leaned like casual workers.

Anvil-Horn had anticipated it.

The anchors were guarded by veterans who did not look like guards, and their counterattack was immediate and brutal.

Still, the enemy adaptation was smart.

They were losing their advantage, so they tried to win with tempo.

Strike. Retreat. Spread confusion. Force Starforge to break formation.

It would have worked against a weaker leader.

Anvil-Horn’s voice rang, steady as a hammered nail.

"Do not follow them," he commanded. "Let them bleed into the walls."

He shifted the internal arrays.

Corridors that had been open became narrow. Narrow corridors became choke points. The city itself changed shape, as if Starforge were a beast tightening its throat around prey.

Lilith took command of the ground line without being asked.

She stood where everyone could see her and her voice carried like a forged edge.

"Third line, seal the left junction," she ordered. "Fourth line, rotate forward. Healers, stop throwing talismans at bait. Wait until their resonance commits."

She fought too.

Whenever an Alloykin tried to vault the wall, Lilith would intercept with her polearm, striking just hard enough to break their momentum and send them stumbling back into the kill zone.

•••

Anvil-Horn did not stay on the platform.

He rose into the air with a handful of Starforge Celestial-realm experts who could keep pace without becoming liabilities.

Above the city, Alloykin Celestials fought like shining insects of war.

Anvil-Horn’s horn glowed.

His Law of Forging did not simply create metal.

It created terms.

He forged a rule into the air.

"Within this space," he declared, "damage will not scatter freely."

The Alloykin Celestial scoffed. "You think an Edict can rewrite Astrafer?"

Anvil-Horn’s smile was a veteran’s smile.

"I do not rewrite it," he said. "I confine it."

A ring of forged light formed around the Alloykin, a boundary of contract. The resonance tried to spread damage outward, and the boundary refused to recognize "outward" as valid.

The Alloykin’s smirk faltered.

"Now," Anvil-Horn said, and slammed his palm forward.

A forged sigil struck the Alloykin’s chest.

It did not explode.

It set.

A talisman from below snapped into place, thrown with perfect timing by a healer who had been waiting for this exact moment.

Cosmic attribute surged.

Resonance hesitated.

Anvil-Horn’s hammering aura descended.

The Alloykin died with surprise on his face, like a man who had believed the world owed him immortality.

The Starforge Celestials learned quickly.

They stopped trying to overpower resonance.

They learned to time it.

They fought like smiths and butchers.

Bind. Seal. Cut.

Anvil-Horn watched them and nodded once.

"Good," he said. "Now do it again."

•••

Kaia stepped into a corridor where Alloykins were trying to break formation by flooding through a service route.

They saw her and laughed.

An Ascendant Alloykin raised an arm. "Little girl. Do you think you can burn metal?"

Kaia tilted her head.

"I do not burn metal," she said. "I burn the idea that it can resist me."

Her Testament Flame rose. It was pale clarity and judgement.

The Alloykin’s resonance tried to disperse it.

The flame did not strike like force.

It declared verdict.

The Astrafer body turned brittle for one breath, like metal remembering it was once ore.

Kaia’s flame passed through.

The Alloykin crumbled into glowing dust.

Kaia laughed softly. "See? Easy."

Then she moved like a storm given a girl’s shape, taking pressure off the lines, letting Starforge keep their discipline instead of breaking into chaos.

•••

Lucien moved separately.

He did not chase crowds.

He appeared where the enemy was smartest. Where a Celestial Alloykin was directing strike squads, sacrificing bodies to drain talismans and testing the city’s response like a surgeon testing nerve reactions.

Lucien arrived behind him.

The Celestial Alloykin turned with a calm smile that did not reach his eyes.

"You," the Alloykin said. "You are the one who dressed the wall in cosmic pressure."

Lucien’s gaze was quiet.

"I dressed it in consequence," Lucien replied.

The Alloykin chuckled. "Do you know what Astrafer means in our tongue? It means the metal that refuses to be owned."

Lucien’s eyes sharpened. "And yet you sold yourselves to void-walkers."

That line made the Alloykin’s smile thin.

Lucien did not give him time to speak.

Cosmic attribute flared.

The Alloykin’s resonance tried to spread the incoming danger.

Lucien’s cosmic pressure wrote a boundary around him.

There was nowhere to send the cost.

The Alloykin’s pupils tightened.

Lucien moved one step forward and placed two fingers against the Alloykin’s chest.

"You are not invincible," Lucien said calmly. "You are just used to fighting people who do not know how to bill you."

The Alloykin’s body went still.

Then it collapsed into silent fragments, falling apart like a failed tool.

Lucien exhaled once.

His instincts whispered.

This battle was winning too cleanly.

That meant repayment was coming.