100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 379 - Plans

Condoriano’s Sky Condor form surged upward.

He laughed once.

"Millennia caged, and the first true feast is an extinction-grade," he murmured. "Little brother has taste."

He snapped his Law of Horizon.

Distance folded.

The horizon leapt forward to meet the Void-walker.

Condoriano should have been there.

Instead, he slammed into a wall that did not exist.

It felt like colliding with the idea of "not allowed."

The Extinction-grade Void-Walker did not even look at him. His gaze remained in Lucien.

His hand lifted lazily.

A single finger traced a line.

And Condoriano’s horizon snapped backward.

Condoriano’s eyes narrowed.

A Law answered his Law.

The Void-walkers’ Law of Anti-Meridian. The right to exist without needing pathways.

It is a Law that allows them to appear, remain, and act without ever needing a "route" to justify their existence.

Condoriano felt it in his bones.

Every time his Horizon tried to collapse distance like a bridge, Anti-Meridian simply removed the bridge from the rules.

It made the concept of "approach" irrelevant.

"Ah," Condoriano rumbled, amused despite the sting. "This would be hard."

The Extinction-grade finally glanced at him.

It was the briefest look, the way a man glanced at a fly near his drink.

"Pest," the Void-Walker said. His voice was calm, almost bored. "Do not smear yourself on my sight."

Condoriano’s feathers bristled.

In the past, he would not have attempted something like this alone. He was a collector, not a martyr. He preferred battles where the odds were delicious, not suicidal.

But he had been locked away too long.

His blood was boiling.

And the opportunity was too rare.

Condoriano surged again. He did not try to brute-force distance.

He tried to steal permission.

His Law of Horizon unfolded differently this time, as a boundary swap. He dragged the edge of "near" toward himself, trying to make proximity a fact the sky could not deny.

Anti-Meridian answered.

The space around the Extinction-grade...

It unlinked.

The air around him ceased to recognize its neighbors.

No path connected "Condoriano" to "him."

Condoriano felt himself expelled.

His wings caught him.

He spun, laughing breathlessly, delighted.

"Good," he said. "Good. This is the kind of opponent that makes you invent new sins."

He glanced down through the barrier.

Lucien met his eyes for a heartbeat.

No words.

Only the faint pressure of a connection, and an emotion Condoriano had not expected from a young man.

Confidence.

Not blind hope but confidence with a plan behind it.

Condoriano’s grin sharpened.

"Then I will buy you the opening," he murmured. "Even if it costs me a wing."

He aimed himself between the Extinction-grade and Starforge like a shield that wanted to laugh.

He let the horizon stretch.

He let it thin.

He let the world see him as a tempting nuisance.

And he waited for the Void-Walker to finally decide he was worth removing.

•••

Below, the battle did not pause to admire the new threats.

Lucien watched the sky and watched the battlefield inside his core at the same time.

The Eternal Alloykin was descending with the healer Void Sovereign beside him. His glare kept returning to Saber.

Lucien waited until the Eternal passed a specific line in the air.

A place already marked.

Then Lucien spoke, voice carrying without needing to shout.

"Now. Anchor the place with the Talisman."

Dozens of Starforge Celestial experts moved at once.

They stepped into positions that had been reserved, points that had been left empty for this moment.

Reserved talismans flashed.

The cosmic attribute flared outward in a ring.

The air became a diagram.

A temporary cage of rules.

The healer Sovereign’s eyes sharpened.

Too late.

Lucien wrapped divine energy around the Eternal Alloykin like a hooked chain and pulled.

The Alloykin, caught within the cosmic anchor’s binding, failed to react in time.

He was dragged inward, vanishing into Lucien’s inner realm.

Then, the air snapped back violently as the ring collapsed under the Void Sovereign’s attack.

For one heartbeat, the sky above Starforge looked confused.

Lucien exhaled once and blinked beside Kaia.

"Hold the Alloykin for me," he said calmly.

Kaia’s eyes were already bright with fire.

She grinned.

"You are finally letting me bite," she said.

Lucien’s gaze was steady. "Just buy me time. Do not try to win. Do not get proud."

Kaia laughed. "I was born proud."

Lucien pulled her too.

She vanished into the void within his divine energy core.

•••

The void inside Lucien’s divine energy core did not feel like emptiness anymore.

It felt like the inside of a forming universe.

Normal practitioners carried attributes in mana vessels. Their element was a paint, their spellwork a brush.

Lucien’s attributes did not live in a vessel.

They manifested within his divine energy core.

His cosmic attribute was not a color.

It was the void itself.

The Eternal Alloykin appeared first, stumbling as if the floor beneath reality had been removed. He felt his Astrafer resonance failing.

Because the void was Lucien’s Cosmic Attribute.

Every direction carried the same authority.

Kaia appeared a heartbeat later and her flame rose before her feet even touched anything.

Her Testament Flame unfolded. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

The Eternal Alloykin hissed when he sensed it.

"How long do you intend to mock me?" he spat. "You drag a mere Celestial before me? Even if you know my weakness, you cannot cage me here."

His voice did not echo through the void.

And yet, Kaia understood every word.

She tilted her head.

"No," she said sweetly, though no sound carried through the void. "I think you’ll be too busy screaming to notice time passing."

The Eternal Alloykin lunged.

Kaia smiled wider.

"That is good," she said. "I only need you angry."

Outside his core, Lucien’s attention snapped back to the battlefield.

He had a pocket of time.

Now he needed to spend it.

•••

The healer Sovereign’s expression turned sharp, offended.

His head snapped toward Lucien.

Lucien met his eyes.

The Sovereign started forward.

Dozens of Starforge Celestial experts intercepted at once.

They did not charge as heroes.

They moved as a unit.

They layered their scripts, timed their counters, and used the environment like a weapon.

A clash erupted.

Starlit Codex spears flared from the Sovereign’s hand.

Starforge’s counter-script rose in response. The incoming light fractured into harmless dust as if it had struck a wall made of correct interpretation.

The Sovereign snarled.

"You insects learned to read," he spat.

Anvil-Horn descended like a hammer falling from the sky and intercepted one of the Sovereigns head-on. His large frame blocked the advance with unyielding force.

Saber moved at the same time. The more arrogant Sovereign, the one who had attempted to shatter Lucien’s Domain, found his path cut off by the ancient predator.

•••

Lucien entered his divine energy core again to continue the plan.

He had expected a greater calamity. He had planned for it, because Fate’s corrections were never gentle.

He reached into his storage space and withdrew a black cube, the sealed prison that held a void being within.

He summoned it.

The cube unfolded.

What emerged could not be explained cleanly.

A vast thing with tentacles and too many closed eyes, no stable form, no fixed silhouette. It looked like an abomination reality had tried to describe and failed.

Even sleeping, dread leaked from it.

Lucien swallowed unconsciously.

He could not form a pact with it. Through his divine sense, he perceived that this void being possessed far more instinct than intelligence, more hunger than thought, and more impulse than reason.

He shook his head.

Then he activated Structural Insight.

The world cracked into agreements. Everything became clauses.

The void being’s existence became a stringed architecture of oaths and hates.

Lucien did not need to enter its conceptual space like he had with Morveth and Aerolith.

With this skill, he could perceive and edit its structure directly.

Divine energy surged and became script.

He repaired what the goblins’ collapse had broken, but he did not restore it fully.

He did not want a saint. He wanted a weapon with a leash.

He wrote three edits.

First, the recognition clause. The void being had been hurt by goblins, not in flesh but in definition.

Lucien tied its hatred to a literal marker.

Goblin blood.

A scent-signature written into its recognition strings.

Anything stained with that blood would be registered as goblin, and therefore valid prey.

Second, the obedience clause.

Lucien did not try to command it like a pet. That would fail.

He offered it something a predator understood.

A hunt with permission.

He wrote a temporary hierarchy into its strings.

For a set span of time, the first "goblin" prey it detected would be recognized as priority.

Not because Lucien ordered it. Because Lucien adjusted what it considered meaningful.

Third, the sleep clause.

Lucien bound its awakened state to a deadline, by giving it an ending the being could accept.

Hunt until the goblin is erased. Hunt until goblin-stink is gone. Hunt until the anger is annulled.

Then sleep again.

And finally, he added the cost.

A burn clause.

Every act of violence would consume a portion of the awake-state itself.

The more it hunted, the more it naturally slid back into sleep.

A weapon that exhausted itself back into its own cage.

Lucien stepped back, breath controlled.

He had not turned it into a friend. He had turned it into a temporary ally by aligning its hatred with his need.

That was all alliances ever were.

Agreements with deadlines.

Lucien smiled faintly.

"Alright," he murmured. "Now we make extinction fight extinction."

•••

Condoriano surged forward again.

He snapped Horizon into a spike and tried to force distance to collapse.

Anti-Meridian answered.

Condoriano’s spike did not hit a barrier.

It hit absence.

The path between them simply did not exist.

Condoriano’s body lurched as his own momentum found nothing to complete against. For an instant he felt weightless.

He corrected in midair, wings screaming.

He laughed anyway, because the laugh kept fear from turning into caution.

"You keep refusing roads," Condoriano boomed. "How civilized. Tell me, void thing, do you also refuse graves?"

The Extinction-grade flicked his gaze to him, irritated now.

Condoriano felt the shift immediately.

He needed only that.

He surged again, not trying to reach the Void-Walker.

He aimed at the space around him.

He made a horizon.

A false edge.

A boundary that the world could recognize even if Anti-Meridian refused pathways.

The Extinction-grade moved his hand and the air became a grip.

A heavy blow came, not as an impact, but as a disconnection.

Condoriano’s throat tightened.

Something seized him by the neck as if reality had chosen that point of his body and named it leash.

His vast form jerked.

His talon spasmed around the vial.

The vial slipped from his talons, and his eyes widened in sudden alarm.

The Extinction-grade leaned in slightly, expression cold.

"Stop," he said. "You are loud."

Condoriano coughed and blood flecked his beak.

The Void-Walker tilted his head, avoiding it without thinking.

Condoriano smiled through the pain.

Calculations raced through his mind. Even through the searing pain, his gaze never left the falling vial.

He waited for the right timing.

He felt the grip tighten to the precise point where his neck would snap.

That was the instant the Void-Walker’s action became committed.

That was the instant even Anti-Meridian could not rewrite the sequence without admitting it had reacted.

Condoriano moved his Law like a needle.

He swapped places with the vial of blood that’s falling.

A collector’s trick.

A horizon swap.

Condoriano’s Law of Horizon could exchange edges. It could trade where something was allowed to be, for the price of making the world accept the trade.

The vial appeared where Condoriano’s throat had been.

And Condoriano appeared where the vial had been.

The Extinction-grade completed the motion.

His fingers crushed.

A glass breaking sound rang out, absurdly small against the war.

The vial shattered in his grip.

Covenant-Breaker’s blood splashed across his hand.

It did not scatter.

It clung.

It stuck to his skin as if the world itself wanted to witness the stain.

The stench hit the air.

Condoriano continued falling.

His wings refused to obey cleanly.

Pain lanced through his ribs.

Still, his eyes gleamed.

He sent one thought through the connection, faint but proud.

[Little brother. I succeeded.]

And as he fell toward Starforge like a dying star, he laughed once more, hoarse and satisfied.

"Worth it," he whispered to the sky. "Finally... worth it."

Everything has proceeded according to plan.

Even the parts that hurt.

Then Lucien stepped out of his divine energy core, bringing with him an ally no one on the battlefield would have chosen.

A sharp, incomprehensible roar tore through the sky.