100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 386 - Chase

Someone cornered becomes predictable.

The two remaining Void Sovereigns understood the same truth at the same time. If Saber joined the battle, one of them would be eaten next and the world would be forced to accept it.

So they burned essence.

Cosmic light bled from their skin in thick streams. Their geometric faces sharpened.

Anti-Meridian flared.

This time it did not merely deny routes. It rewrote the idea of route itself.

Space in front of them twisted and folded into branching corridors, then twisted again. Paths layered over paths, overlapping without touching. It looked like a labyrinth made of invisible hallways, where "forward" led to sideways, and sideways led to behind, and behind led to nowhere.

Then it began to move.

A path opened, another snapped shut. A corridor spat one Sovereign out and swallowed him again a breath later. One entered a lane of air that should have been empty, and emerged from a different angle like he had walked through the spine of the world.

To Starforge’s eyes, it looked like the sky had become theirs.

A makeshift domain.

It’s not a real domain like practitioners in the Big World had.

After all, void-born could not form true Domains.

They were built different.

They were born powerful. Even a newborn stood on par with Celestial Realm experts.

They did not ascend through layered comprehension or gradual refinement. Their Laws were racial, inherent, and instinctive.

•••

The tide of the fight shifted.

To reach the Sovereigns now, the allies had to "travel" the sky, stepping into corridors that changed underfoot, running through routes that refused to stay the same twice.

Condoriano clicked his tongue.

"They turn the air into a liar," he rumbled. "A clever lie, at least."

Lucien watched the maze for one breath.

Then his brows rose.

He had already seen the trick. He already knew the weakness.

The shifting was not random.

Anti-Meridian could deny routes, but it still had to choose replacements. Even void logic needed consistency to avoid collapsing into nonsense.

The maze was rotating through a set of allowable transitions, cycling corridors the way a lock cycled tumblers.

Lucien’s mind memorized it.

One glance.

Two.

Three.

He had it.

Lucien’s voice carried cleanly across the chaos.

"Left corridor exits above. Do not enter it."

"Third corridor from the right loops back behind uncle Anvil-Horn. Use it."

"Blue shimmer path does not lead forward, it leads to the Sovereign behind the other one. It is bait." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Kaia blinked at him mid-flight. "You are reading it?"

Lucien’s mouth curved slightly. "It is written."

The others exchanged looks. They could learn it too, but it would cost them time. Trial and error.

Lucien was saving them the error.

The two Sovereigns realized it at the same time.

Their faces darkened.

Their makeshift territory had been solved.

For a heartbeat, the maze hesitated, like a liar caught mid-sentence.

The Sovereigns looked at each other.

They nodded once.

An agreement without words.

Then one of them rose.

He burned essence harder.

His frame bulged, density increasing until the air around him groaned. Cosmic blood poured from him and did not drip. It spiraled, forming a miniature galaxy around his limbs.

The other Sovereign stayed behind, eyes closing.

His hands lifted.

He began to weave signs, as if he were writing a door into the sky with nothing but suffering.

The attacker surged toward Condoriano.

For a moment, his strength was overwhelming.

Condoriano snapped Horizon to steal distance.

The Sovereign tore through it.

He yanked the sky itself, and clipped Condoriano’s wing with a strike that was not blade or fist, but pure void-born authority.

Condoriano’s vast body dipped.

Feathers exploded.

His blood sprayed and he almost fell.

And he laughed anyway, hoarse and delighted.

"A star shines brightest when it nears death," Condoriano said. "You are burning yourself into a candle. Glorious."

The Sovereign’s geometric mouth twisted into something like a grin.

"If a star dies, it means I crushed it," he replied. "And you are next."

His galaxy-blood flared.

It spiraled toward Condoriano in a corkscrew of condensed cosmic light, not a beam but a rotating system, meant to grind, tear, and rewrite whatever it touched.

Condoriano did not panic.

Anvil-Horn moved.

He came down beside the Sky Condor like a fortress stepping into a storm.

Then he reached into his storage ring and drew out something unassuming.

A plain disc.

A flat circle of forged material that looked almost insulting in the face of a galaxy attack.

The spiral hit.

The disc lit.

And the galaxy vanished into it like breath sucked into a blacksmith’s bellows.

Silence punched the air.

For a heartbeat, everyone forgot to fight.

Anvil-Horn’s laugh rolled out.

"We call ourselves Starforge for a reason," he said, holding up the disc as its surface now swirled with captive starlight.

He turned his head toward the Sovereign, eyes steady.

"We forge stars," Anvil-Horn said. "That is something you cannot crush."

The Sovereign laughed, sharp and manic. "Funny. Your original fate is death."

Anvil-Horn’s smile softened into something older than bravado.

"Maybe," he said. Then his gaze flicked, just once, toward Lilith.

"If I fall, another will rise," he continued quietly. "And she will learn what it means to forge the end of you."

Lilith’s grip tightened until her knuckles whitened.

Kaia swallowed.

Even Lucien felt the weight of it.

A veteran naming his successor while still alive.

That was not resignation.

That was legacy.

•••

Saber moved.

Like a true predator, he did not announce himself.

He simply appeared behind the attacking Sovereign, silent and close enough that the air itself seemed startled.

Saber’s Law surged.

Predation reached for the Sovereign’s structure like jaws reaching for a throat.

The Sovereign reacted fast, countering with void craft and raw strength.

Then Condoriano and Anvil-Horn moved too.

The attacker was suddenly surrounded.

A triangle of monsters.

For a breath, the Sovereign’s arrogance flickered.

But then...

The one behind finished his work.

A wet cough sounded.

Cosmic blood spilled from his lips as if the act had cost him years.

His eyes stayed shut.

His hands completed the final sign.

And then—

The sky split.

A gigantic rift opened overhead. A wound in the world that showed nothing but endless black and scattered, distant star-dust.

The void.

The Sovereign behind swayed.

"I am... done."

Then he collapsed into unconsciousness.

And in that instant, the Extinction-grade moved.

He cut his own palm and flicked blood into the air.

A clone formed instantly, shaped from cosmic blood and Anti-Meridian’s refusal to need a path.

The clone shot toward the Devourer.

Before the tentacles could shred it, the clone detonated into a burst of cosmic light and needle-bright glare.

The light washed over the Devourer’s many eyes.

The abomination recoiled half a breath, instinctively disoriented. It was not blinded but forced to re-focus, as if every eye had been fed a different sky.

That half-breath was all the Extinction-grade needed.

He appeared beside the surrounded Sovereign.

One hand closed around his kin.

He appeared beside the unconscious one.

He took him too.

Then he rose, drifting toward the open rift like a man walking toward an exit he had decided belonged to him.

His face turned back once.

His geometric features shifted into something ugly and furious.

Rage at being forced to spend.

His gaze locked onto Lucien.

Starlit Codex rose.

A mark flared from his forehead and surged straight toward Lucien.

A script-seal hammered into Lucien’s soul like a brand.

Lucien’s chest tightened.

He felt the imprint as if his name had just been written into a ledger that belonged to the void.

Then the Extinction-grade turned and ascended into the rift, taking his remaining Sovereigns with him.

The sky wound began to close.

•••

The Devourer recovered.

Its eyes snapped, refocusing.

It saw movement.

It saw retreat.

It saw prey trying to flee.

And its instincts did not care about strategy.

Continuance asserted itself with savage certainty.

Tentacles lashed.

One swung down toward Starforge’s formation.

The veterans below saw it and braced, faces pale.

They could not outrun that.

Condoriano appeared in front of them.

He moved on broken wings and stubborn joy.

He slammed Horizon into place like a wall of distance.

For a heartbeat, he held.

The tentacle pushed.

Continuance pressed.

Condoriano’s feathers shredded.

His ribs screamed.

Still he laughed, voice cracking.

"Even if I sacrifice a wing," he roared, "let me see what extinction truly feels like!"

One second.

Two seconds.

That was all he could buy.

The tentacle hit him anyway, but the force was reduced, diffused by Horizon’s dying resistance.

Condoriano’s wing snapped with a sound like an iron beam breaking.

He fell.

He hit the ground hard enough to carve stone.

Just then—

The Devourer’s eyes lifted.

It saw the rift.

It saw the fleeing shapes.

And hunger decided.

The abomination surged upward.

It passed through the rift just as the wound began to close.

For a breath, the sky struggled, resisting the Devourer’s vastness.

Then the rift sealed shut like a scar being forced closed.

And the Devourer was gone.

Silence fell again, heavier than before.

Aftershock.

Kaia stared at the sealed sky, throat tight.

Lilith stared at the ruin, then at Lucien, then at the mark she could not see but somehow felt.

Lucien stood still for a moment.

He tasted bitterness.

The enemies had escaped.

And the thing he had unleashed had followed them.

His edits had a time limit. A leash made of clauses and deadlines.

He could only hope the Devourer could kill the Void-Walkers before it exhausted itself and fell into slumber.

Lucien exhaled once.

Then he moved toward the crater.

Condoriano lay there, bleeding, with one wing mangled.

Lucien’s hand tightened for a fraction.

His gaze lifted to the sealed sky.

The brand in his spirit still burned, but he did not panic.

Marks could be erased.

Survival had already been paid for.

The battle could not be called a victory.

But they had lived.

And that was enough for now.

Lucien’s voice went quiet, and the quiet carried a vow.

’The next time we meet, I will not let them leave.’

Above them, the scarred sky did not respond.

But somewhere beyond it, in the void where paths were not required, a calamity was chasing another.

And Lucien, standing in the wreckage of Starforge, remembered the Abyssal One’s warning again.

This was not the end.

This was only the first time Fate had shown its teeth.