100\% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?-Chapter 477 - Invasion

Marie controlled the Obsidian Tower with frightening ease.

It moved through the gray expanse like an old predator returning to a hunting ground it knew better than the shadows did.

And with Marie at the controls, the journey became even more absurd.

She followed Lucien’s coordinates with a speed that should not have been possible. The route-lattice shifted under her fingers, and the Tower obeyed with the sullen loyalty of a machine that had already accepted her as the least annoying available pilot.

A trip that should have taken far longer—

took half a month.

Half a month of silence, adjustment, observation, and the quiet pain of traveling toward a world Lucien had not seen again with his own living eyes.

Then, at last—

they saw it.

The semi-permeable outer layer of the small world floated ahead like a membrane of dim light. It was beautiful in the way fragile things often were.

And along its edges...

...were monsters.

Black Mass monsters.

Their figures crawled over the membrane’s boundary in clusters and formations. Miasma seeped around them in dark streams. War engines floated behind them like infected tumors of metal and bone. Goblins moved among the larger creatures, directing, measuring, chanting, and setting devices into place.

The air inside the observatory changed immediately.

Luke’s face hardened.

Cienna’s eyes turned cold.

The women straightened all at once.

Because the truth was obvious.

The small world was being invaded again.

And this time, they had arrived early enough to see the knife before it fully entered.

Luke’s jaw tightened.

"Again," he said.

Cienna’s expression turned sharp with a kind of old fury.

"The first time, we could not do anything," she said. "This time, we can answer."

Marie’s hands tightened on the controls.

"Let’s answer hard."

The Obsidian Tower’s observatory panels widened and clarified, drawing in distant motion through layered lenses and translating it into sharp images spread across the black crystal displays.

From there, they could see the goblins more clearly.

They were preparing.

One goblin mage stood beside a ring of floating devices, each one leaking dark, greasy miasma into the small world’s outer boundary. The machines vibrated in rhythm with its chant, as if forcing the world to remember a wound it had not yet suffered.

At first, the language made no sense.

Then Luke narrowed his eyes, extended one hand toward the panel, and used one of his translation-type skills. The symbols and guttural speech rearranged themselves into meaning.

He began translating aloud.

"They’re waiting for an Obsidian Tower," he said slowly. "Or... no. They’re waiting for the Obsidian Tower to take root in the world."

Cienna’s gaze sharpened.

Luke continued,

"With that, entry becomes easier. If enough miasma settles, a tunnel will form that connects directly to the Tower inside. They’re trying to bypass the world’s dungeon response and prevent it from locking them in."

Their expression chilled.

One of the five Goblin Monster Lords, broad-shouldered and plated in jagged black armor, barked an order in the distance.

"This world is more troublesome than the records claimed," Luke translated. "Harder to invade. The first failure made it cautious."

Then another voice echoed out, and Luke translated it at once.

"The goblins are saying that they were still able to invade thanks to their Primordial lord’s magnanimity."

Just then—

One of the Goblin Monster Lords raised his head, locking onto the approaching Obsidian Tower.

He had a sword at his waist, still sheathed, and an expression of bored superiority that made his face immediately annoying.

He stepped forward to receive the arriving structure.

He did not signal alarm.

That was the mistake.

Because he thought that every other Obsidian Tower belonged to the goblins and no one else should have possessed this technology.

He was only mildly confused. He did not know why another Obsidian Tower had arrived there, but he simply assumed it was an arrangement from above.

But then, the black structure did not slow for him.

It continued forward on a straight line.

The goblin lord frowned.

Then—

the entrance opened.

A glint flashed.

He saw it too late.

Before thought could become warning—

His head separated from his body without resistance.

It spun once... then fell, drifting into the endless gray expanse.

Luke lowered his blade.

Decapitation.

The skill had activated cleanly.

And with the sword Lucien had once given him in hand, the result was as absolute as the name promised.

For one stunned breath, everyone who saw it forgot how to move.

Then all hell began.

The monsters reacted too slowly.

That was the second mistake.

They had seen one of their lords die instantly, and still the first thought in many of their minds was not fear.

It was arrogance.

Because when the group stepped out, the monsters judged by aura first.

Luke and Cienna were only at the Transcendent Realm.

The elemental women, housed in empty vessels, radiated no proper aura at all.

Eirene’s flower-fairy hovered above them like a decorative insect.

To the monsters, it looked pathetic.

To the monsters, it looked easy.

Several goblins laughed.

One of the remaining Monster Lords, a mage draped in miasmic chains, bared its teeth.

"So that’s it?" it sneered.

Another lifted its weapon and grinned.

"The fool died because he was careless."

That was the last confident thing it ever said.

Because the group moved first.

And they moved like people who had come not merely to fight—

but to erase an unfinished insult from the world.

Luke disappeared in a burst of skill-light.

He entered the most efficient version of the battlefield for himself and started from there.

The first Goblin Monster Lord raised a barrier.

Luke used Sunder Stance and cut through it. The second tried to harden its skin with a defensive law. Luke used Kingfisher Breach and ignored the reinforcement. The third stepped backward to create distance. Luke used Point-Skip and arrived in front of it before the motion finished.

That was the terror of his Law of Skills.

Restrictions meant very little to him.

If a skill required a law, he bypassed the requirement. If a skill needed specific conditions, he took the result anyway. If a technique was meant to belong only to a certain path, he treated ownership as a suggestion.

He fought like a library weaponized into a man.

Beside him, Cienna’s magic unfolded.

No chant. No circles drawn slowly into the air. No buildup visible to the enemy.

Her hand lifted and the gray sky over the monster formation turned into a spell array before most of them realized she had begun.

A goblin mage tried to raise a miasma canopy.

Cienna saw the flow of its miasma and simply redirected the weakest line in the structure.

The spell collapsed inward and exploded inside its own caster.

Another attempted a domain fragment.

Cienna fed the fragment’s borrowed miasma into her own counterspell and birthed a field of sapphire-white runes directly inside its core pattern.

Its domain shattered before the first layer finished stabilizing.

That was the cruelty of her Law of Magic.

No spell before her remained private for long.

Every mage became transparent. Every casting sequence became readable. Every weakness became visible.

And if she lacked mana?

Then she borrowed the enemy’s.

One Goblin Monster Lord screamed as the magic in its own body was pulled through its miasma vessels in reverse and converted into the fuel for Cienna’s next spell.

She gave the miasma back—

as annihilation.

A spiral of compressed magic tore through the center ranks of the Black Mass host and erased a swath so wide that even the women in the vessels paused to appreciate it.

"Wow, Aunt is terrifying," Marina said from inside her vessel with open admiration.

"She always was," Luke replied, already killing something else.

Then the elemental women entered the front lines.

And the massacre truly began.

Thanks to the empty vessels Lucien had prepared, they did not merely retain consciousness and attributes.

They retained combat identity.

They hit the battlefield like the reappearance of a forgotten disaster.

Marie led the charge with laughter that sounded almost offended on behalf of the world itself.

Her vessel-body did not radiate aura, but it moved with Celestial-grade force. Her hands blurred as she released attack sequences in rapid rhythm, turning spells and close-range impact strikes into one flowing chain of abuse.

She slipped under a beast’s axe, planted a palm against its stomach, and shouted, "This is for coveting things that are not yours, you ugly freak."

The resulting explosion hollowed the creature from the inside out.

Kaia was cleaner.

She advanced like a spear wrapped in elemental wrath. Her attacks did not waste motion. They stabbed, pierced, burned, and ended. A rank of Black Mass monsters surged toward her in a tide.

She cut through them with a blade of condensed flame and muttered, "Too slow."

Sylra fought differently.

She moved with elegance sharpened into brutality, controlling spacing so perfectly that every monster stepping into range entered death half a second before it knew.

Her elemental manipulations did not roar. They narrowed. Air currents wrapped around limbs, balance vanished, movement slowed, and then a final precise strike ended everything that had become vulnerable.

Marina surprised them all.

Her grief had not weakened her.

It had simplified her.

The shy softness she often carried was gone. In its place was a cold, trembling devotion that made her almost frightening to watch. She whispered "For my prince," again and again under her breath as she fought, and every repetition seemed to harden her further.

She turned waves of water into needle-rains, then into blades, then into crushing pressure-walls that shattered monster bones beneath their skin.

The monsters tried to rally.

They truly did.

But they had made the mistake of thinking aura alone told the whole truth.

Even Eirene’s tiny flower-fairy joined the slaughter in its own elegant way.

It hovered above the battlefield like something harmless.

Then pale green circles bloomed across the air.

Vines burst upward. Roots speared through monster legs. Blooming spores drifted into the air and drained strength from whatever inhaled them. Floral barriers rose exactly where allied movement needed support. Healing mist wrapped briefly around a damaged vessel-body before darting away again.

The fairy looked delicate.

Its support magic was not.

Within minutes, the front lines of the Black Mass force had ceased to exist in any organized sense.

The goblins tried to recover command.

That failed.

The lords tried to reassert pressure.

That failed harder.

One Goblin Monster Lord charged Luke with a halberd veined in miasmic lightning.

Luke used Counter-Window and made the first exchange belong to him. The halberd missed. The goblin’s wrist opened. Its chest split a heartbeat later.

Another went for Cienna from behind.

Without turning, she cast Glass Aurora Spiral through the reflected light on its own weapon and turned the blade into a conduit that froze its nervous system in rainbow static before detonating its spine.

Several tried to swarm the elemental women all at once, hoping numbers would solve what quality had failed to stop.

Then Marie and Kaia crossed paths.

The result looked like a joke the world immediately regretted.

Marie scattered compressed earth bombs into the swarm while Kaia ignited the unstable lattice between them. The entire cluster detonated into a rolling wall of multicolored death that left nothing standing except scorched miasma and a few confused limbs that no longer belonged to anything.

"Again!" Marie shouted.

Kaia actually smirked.

Even the monster horde began to understand.

This was not a battle.

It was punishment.

The five Monster Lords became four. Then three. Then fewer.

The arrogance bled out of the monsters very quickly after that.

Because strength they could measure. Power they could scheme against.

But this?

This was a small, precise force hitting with the confidence of people who had already accepted loss and had therefore become very difficult to frighten.

The Black Mass monsters were not just being killed.

They were being broken so completely that resistance itself began to look like stupidity.

One by one, the lines collapsed.

The slaughter did not last long.

It only felt long to the dying.

When it ended, the edge of the small world had gone quiet again.

Monster blood floated through the interplanar gray. Broken war devices drifted like dead insects. The miasmic equipment that had been prepared to create a tunnel now hung abandoned in the aftermath, still leaking dark filth into the membrane of the world.

Cienna did not allow the corpses to remain.

She raised both hands.

Fire descended in curtains over the battlefield and consumed every monster body, every miasmic stain, every lingering contamination she could reach. The flames burned cleanly, as though offended that filth had been permitted to touch this close to Lucien’s beginning.

Only after the last body had become ash did they notice it.

A portal.

It opened along the edge of the membrane where the goblin devices had been focused. It was dark and unstable at first, then gradually settling into a more coherent tunnel-route.

Luke studied it.

"This must be the passage they were talking about," he said. "A direct route into the world once the inner Obsidian Tower had taken root."

Marie’s eyes brightened.

"So they basically finished the hard part for us."

Cienna looked at the portal, then at the small world beyond the membrane.

"For once, their stupidity is useful."

This was the cleaner entrance.

The route the goblins had tried to create for invasion could now be hijacked for restoration.

Before using it, they stored the Obsidian Tower back inside the black cube.

When that was done, Luke turned toward the others.

"This is it," he said.

One by one, they stepped toward the portal.

Luke first. Cienna beside him. The vessel-bodies of the elemental women behind. The little flower-fairy gliding above them like a small star.

Then together—

they crossed the threshold.

And entered the small world Lucien had once called home.