100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 397 - Success

Inside Morveth’s shell-space, Lucien did not waste a breath.

He, Kaia, and Lilith moved like a practiced crew in a burning city.

Lucien handed them Echo Crystals and Timefold Capsules. Each one was capable of holding a spell or a Law Art, sealed for later release.

Soon, they worked.

Kaia took a stack and began charging them with controlled Black Flame sequences. Lilith charged containment and cut-off patterns with her Law of Forging.

Lucien did the rest.

His Laws flowed through with quiet menace.

When they finished, neat piles waited like dormant thunder.

Then they paused.

Waiting for the moment outside to reach the exact point of fracture.

•••

Outside, the disguised five walked deeper into the compound.

The captive wing did not look like a prison.

It looked like a holding yard.

There were no iron bars.

They did not need them.

Mortals did not require walls.

They were bound with Laws.

Bands of Laws clung to wrists and ankles, invisible until you stared directly, then suddenly obvious in how they refused to be "just energy."

Humans packed together in lines that were never allowed to become a crowd. Faces were hollowed by fear and sleeplessness. The stunned gaze of people who had learned that begging made things worse.

And there were others too.

Beastmen with broken horns and dulled eyes. Dwarves whose hands still carried the calluses of craft, now clenched into useless fists. Elves with stripped pride, their posture bent by humiliation more than pain.

All together, all equal in one thing.

Powerless.

Morveth’s Riftglass mask did not crack.

But his gaze sharpened.

Two Eternals guarded the wing.

One stood with a bored slouch.

The other leaned against a pole carved with law-runes.

Morveth walked directly toward them.

He spoke with Riftglass arrogance, making it sound like the world should apologize for forcing him to talk.

"You two heard us earlier, right?" Morveth said.

Both guards stiffened.

They had listened.

Of course they had.

Morveth’s voice did not soften.

"Gather the captives," he ordered. "Pack them close. If even one slips out during contact, I will pin the failure to your cores."

The guards flinched at the threat, then moved quickly.

They did not guide the captives.

They forced them.

One guard pulled the law-cuffs with a flick of intent, dragging mortals forward as if tugging tethered animals. The other shoved bodies into position with the same careless efficiency a farmer uses when stacking harvested grain.

A man’s knees struck stone. He tried to cry out.

No sound came.

A woman’s lips moved in a plea.

No sound came.

A child opened their mouth in a silent sob, shaking as if the air itself had betrayed them. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

It was a pitiful, soundless scene.

The allies’ eyes hardened.

They did not show it on their faces.

They could not afford even a tremor of compassion to leak into their act.

Anvil-Horn, wearing Chainmane’s plated brutality, watched one guard fling a dwarf aside and muttered, barely audible.

"Being weak is a sin, they said," he said, as if quoting an old cruelty the world had taught too many times.

No one answered.

No one could decide whether to agree, because the statement was the kind of truth that belonged to monsters.

•••

Morveth took two objects from his Storage Ring.

Lucien had given them earlier.

Stillvoice Conduit (Enables the creation of domains where sound-based phenomena can be precisely controlled)

Witherloom Halo (A drifting ring of pale motes that slowly drains stamina and aura output from nearby enemies)

Morveth activated the Stillvoice Conduit first.

A transparent domain unfolded.

It was only felt by the way the world stopped carrying sound beyond its edge.

The captive wing became a sealed pocket where noise could not escape, where cries could not travel, where alarms could not be heard.

The two guards turned their heads sharply.

"What was that," one snapped.

Morveth looked at them like the question offended him.

"We cannot have these things making noise," he said with cold contempt. "This will stop them."

The guards hesitated, then nodded.

They accepted it because it was believable.

Interdict users liked control.

They did not even remember that the captives had been unable to make a sound all along.

While they returned to dragging captives into tighter formation, Morveth activated the Witherloom Halo.

He designated the two guards as the targets.

A ring of pale motes drifted outward like harmless pollen.

It spread through the wing softly, almost beautiful.

Then it ignored everything.

Except the two guards.

The motes clung to them as if they were marked prey.

Stamina began to bleed out of their bodies. Aura output dulled.

The first guard frowned and shifted its shoulders.

The second guard’s eyes narrowed.

They felt it.

Weakness.

The kind that makes an Eternal insulted.

One guard snapped its gaze toward Morveth.

"What did you do."

Morveth’s voice remained flat.

"Work."

The guard took a half-step.

And the motes thickened around its chest, draining more.

Its aura wavered again.

Now suspicion arrived.

Morveth turned slightly, just enough to face the others.

"They noticed," Morveth said. "Now."

•••

Condoriano and Saber moved at the same instant.

They did not use their Laws.

They just struck with bodies sharpened by eternity.

Saber appeared in front of the nearer guard like a shadow that had learned to bite. Condoriano arrived beside the second, his movement so clean it felt like the world had skipped a frame.

Anvil-Horn followed.

The guards jerked back, startled more by betrayal than threat.

"Why are you attacking us?!" one guard snarled, reaching for his Law.

The Witherloom Halo had already dulled the reach.

Saber’s hand drove into its throat.

To cut off the breath that fed his technique.

Condoriano hooked the second guard’s wrist and twisted, and the joint protested like stone cracking.

The second guard tried to scream.

Kira also dropped her act.

Her form flashed, then compressed into a smaller, faster shape.

She struck with a point.

A needle-thin iron lance punched into the guard’s mana-node and scrambled its circulation.

Aerolith moved too to help.

The guards fought back, confused, angry, suddenly desperate.

But five attackers against two weakened Eternals was not a fight.

It was a correction.

The first guard tried to form a binding clause.

Anvil-Horn’s palm hit its sternum like a smith testing brittle metal.

The guard folded.

The second guard attempted to leap away.

Condoriano’s hand snapped out and marked its position in space.

Saber’s eyes remained calm.

He struck again.

The guard’s knee buckled.

Blood spilled.

The captives watched with wide, silent eyes, unable to cry, unable to shout, unable to believe.

It was a pitiful, voiceless victory.

And that was exactly why it was perfect.

Morveth turned away from the beating the moment the guards were contained. He moved toward the gathered captives.

His voice rumbled low.

"Now."

He reached into the shell-space connection and pulled.

Lucien arrived in a blink, emerging at Morveth’s side.

Lucien’s eyes swept the captives once.

He did not let his expression change.

He spoke through the stillness domain, his words landing where sound could not escape.

"It is time," Lucien said.

•••

Beyond the Stillvoice boundary, the camp began to stir.

Not because they heard fighting.

They could not.

But because a few Eternals felt something unusual.

Law signatures of the guards.

A brief flare of circulation.

Some assumed the guards were entertaining themselves.

Some assumed discipline.

A few, cautious by nature, moved to check anyway.

Lucien had planned for that.

He sent a message to Condoriano through their bond.

[Brother. I need you.]

Condoriano appeared beside him instantly.

Lucien summoned the prepared stock.

Echo Crystals.

Timefold Capsules.

Stacks of them, each holding a sealed burst.

Lucien’s tone was steady.

"When I trigger them, take them to every corner of this camp," Lucien said. "Anywhere that will draw eyes."

He paused only once.

"I trust your timing."

Condoriano’s lips curved.

Timing was his pride.

"Then you will be satisfied," Condoriano said.

Lucien activated the first.

A crystal cracked open and released a stored spell pulse.

Condoriano wrapped it in Horizon and displaced it instantly.

It vanished from Lucien’s hand and reappeared across the camp.

Then another.

And another.

Each activation paired with a clean displacement.

The Eternals approaching the captive wing finally sensed unfamiliar signatures.

They started to turn.

They started to react.

But then—

The camp screamed with chaos.

Explosions blossomed from every corner.

Not catastrophic enough to annihilate the compound.

Just enough to make every patrol believe the ambush had begun.

Stored Law Arts detonated in controlled patterns, ripping through tents, collapsing platforms, and igniting fire in a corner that had no right to burn so fiercely.

Some weaker practitioners died instantly.

Most froze in confusion.

The camp’s attention snapped away from the captive wing in a single, desperate rotation, like a predator turning toward a larger threat.

In their minds, Riftglass and the others were still there to hold the ground.

Lucien watched it happen and smiled faintly.

While the camp ran toward noise, Morveth’s shell opened.

Captives vanished into refuge in clusters, one by one.

A rescue that looked like disappearance.

Exactly what would now ruin the camp’s certainty.

Seconds later, the camp realized it had been a false alarm, and suspicion immediately turned toward the captive wing.

But they were too late.

The last cluster had already vanished into the shell-city.

Lucien’s eyes hardened.

He drew out the Covenant of Pathless Sovereignty.

The disc rotated once in his hand as if already remembering how to disobey distance.

"Gather," Lucien said.

The allies moved.

Saber lingered half a breath, gaze fixed on one guard still trying to rise. His expression was dissatisfied, the look of a predator interrupted mid-feast.

Then Saber exhaled once and stepped back.

Discipline over appetite.

The two guards lay broken on the stone, wide-eyed, unable to even shout their hate into the world.

Lucien lifted the void disc.

The line on its surface began to blur into impossible continuity.

The absent center deepened.

And the world, already panicking at a false ambush, lost its grip on "here."

The allies vanished.

One breath they were inside the captive wing, surrounded by helpless mortals.

The next breath, only silence remained.