100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full?

The Next Morning.

The sun had barely risen yet the plaza was already alive with the murmurs of an eager crowd.

Traces of last night's feast still clung to them.

Some rubbed sleep from their eyes.

Others bounced with leftover energy.

Many bore the evidence of sleepless excitement in the form of heavy eye bags.

But one thing shone clearly in every gaze.

Anticipation.

Their Lord had spoken of change.

And now, everyone was here to witness it.

Excited murmurs filled the plaza.

Some were trading wild guesses about what miracle their Lord would perform next. A few even began betting with carrots and radishes on what was to come.

"I had a dream!" Cecil, the young man with wild imagination, declared. "The Lord stood on a hill... and even the wind bowed to him! That has to mean something, right?!"

A wave of laughter followed his words. Not mocking but warm and infectious.

"I just know our Lord will perform another miracle," a mother chimed in, clutching her child.

"Of course he will!" someone echoed and laughter rippled again.

"HA! I heard Old Mira's leg started healing just from being near the Lord," Cecil added with wide eyes. "Imagine what he could do with a single word!"

More laughter. Not because they doubted.

But because they believed. 

Because they hoped. 

Because for the first time in a long time, they could look forward.

Finally, Lucien appeared.

He stepped into view with Sebas and Clara walking closely behind. The crowd quieted at once. Every head turned toward him.

The dark circles under his eyes said it all. He hadn't slept.

Lucien let out a long yawn and rubbed his neck.

"Sigh… I can't believe I'm not good at all-nighters anymore," he muttered, half to himself. "Back in my day, I could go two whole days grinding through a game without blinking."

He exhaled like a man mourning a lost superpower.

He then straightened his back and stepped onto the platform.

The plaza fell into complete silence.

Lucien's gaze swept across the gathered crowd.

Bright eyes.

Nervous fidgets.

Clenched hands. 

He gave a slow nod.

Yes. They were ready.

He raised his voice.

"My people!"

And at once, every heart, every ear, every soul turned fully to him.

"Let it be known! Our time of hardship has come to an end."

Lucien's voice rang with calm authority.

"And now… the dawn of rebuilding begins."

He paused, letting the words ripple through the stillness.

Eyes widened. 

Hearts stirred.

"Our land shall rise anew, built upon the foundation of Six Divisions."

His voice grew stronger and steadier.

"These will be our Pillars. The cornerstone of our strength! Our unity!… Our survival!"

He let the silence speak for a moment, watching as his words sank deep into the hearts of his people.

A fire had lit in their eyes. 

Hope.

Purpose.

Resolve.

Lucien saw it. And he knew he had them.

He took a breath then lifted his voice to unveil what came next.

Lucien raised his voice, clear and commanding.

"The Sustenance Division!"

"All who till the soil. Raise livestock. Gather herbs. Come together as one! Let no child go hungry while the earth still bears fruit!"

This division would be home to farmers, herders, foragers, etc. Those who knew how to draw life from the land.

"The Construction Division!"

"Your hands will shape walls and hearths. From your hands, homes and hope shall be rebuilt."

Here belonged the carpenters, masons laborers, etc. They are the builders of shelter and safety.

"The Crafting Division!"

"You shall restore the tools of life. Let the ring of anvils and the hum of creation be our song of progress."

It includes blacksmiths, tailors, alchemists,etc. They are the creators and craftsmen who shaped what others needed to live and thrive.

"The Defense Division!"

"You are the shield of our land. We will train and we will stand ready. No longer shall our land tremble in the face of the shadow."

This was for the fighters, archers, scouts, mages, etc. Those who would stand as the first and final line of defense.

"The Administration Division!"

"You will bring order and clarity. Let no chaos cloud our records or disrupt our rebuilding."

Scribes, messengers, planners, etc. Those who would guide the flow of work and keep the heart of the territory beating in rhythm.

"And finally… the Spiritual Division."

"You will guide hearts, heal wounds and uplift spirits. Let the soul of our land remain unbroken."

This division would welcome priests, herbalists, caretakers, etc. 

Lucien had also chosen to place the very young and the elderly here. Not as a dismissal but out of care. 

They would not bear heavy burdens. Instead, they would offer comfort, wisdom, and presence.

To Lucien, they were not tools. They were treasures meant to live their lives in peace and dignity.

Lucien had finished announcing the Six Divisions.

Before him, the crowd was alight with energy. Their eyes blazed and their hearts pounded with purpose.

He let the moment hang for just a breath longer.

Then he raised his voice once more.

"These Divisions shall take form. Roles will be given. A new Order begins... today!"

A wave of cheers erupted across the plaza.

But Lucien wasn't done.

His expression shifted. The fire in his eyes darkened into something more serious.

He lifted his hand.

The cheering stopped.

Silence rolled over the crowd like a slow tide. They could feel the change in him.

Then he spoke. His voice was low but heavy with meaning.

"Remember. This is not a burden."

"It is belonging."

"This is not servitude."

"It is salvation."

He paused, letting the words strike deep.

Then with intensity burning behind his gaze, he continued.

"And let it be clear… I'm not forcing anyone."

His eyes swept the crowd.

"You are free. If this path is not for you. If you wish no part in the new Order. You may step away now. Return to your homes. No shame. No blame."

His words hung in the air like a blade yet to fall.

Then... he let them feel the weight of choice.

"But…"

His voice dropped.

"…can you bear to be ordinary?"

"Will you hide in the corner… while enemies rise to destroy what we've built?"

He took one final breath.

"The decision is yours."

And then... He waited.

The silence was total.

Not a single foot moved.

Not a single head turned away.

They stood. Tall and still. 

The fire in their eyes answered in place of words.

Everyone was tensed.

Lucien knew...

They had chosen.

But suddenly...

From the crowd, a voice rang out.

"We are with you, my Lord!" shouted Cecil. His eyes burned with passion.

"Yeah!"

"We'll fight as one!"

"We rise together!"

His cry sparked a wave. One voice became many.

The plaza roared with unity, echoing like thunder.

Lucien exhaled quietly through his nose, a faint shake of his head.

'That boy... he really is something.'

He then let the people revel in the moment.

Cheering.

Laughing. 

Playfully arguing over which division they thought they'd belong to.

The tension of choice had passed. In its place bloomed excitement and camaraderie.

But now, it was time to move forward.

Lucien lifted a hand once more and the noise gradually faded.

Eyes turned back to him. 

Eager. 

Ready.

"Good!" Lucien declared. "Your resolve... I have seen it."

He stepped forward.

"As long as I stand as your Lord... No harm shall befall this land unchallenged. No threat shall pass unchecked. And..."

He paused then offered a rare smile.

"...no worthy soul shall go unseen."

His voice deepened with conviction.

"By blood. By soil. By oath...We rise."

The people erupted.

"We rise! We rise! We rise!"

The chant rolled like thunder through the plaza.

Lucien let them roar, feeling the energy surge.

Then with a simple gesture, he called them back to stillness.

"Now... the next step."

His tone shifted to something steadier.

"We must build structure. I will now name the Representatives for each Division. If your name is called, step forward."

A collective hush fell. Every eye was locked on him.

Lucien began.

"Sustenance Division!"

"Representative—Green."

A seasoned man in his fifties, skin tanned from decades in the fields. A farmer whose hands had shaped the soil long before anyone else dared to.

"Construction Division!"

"Representative—Stone."

A broad-shouldered carpenter in his mid-forties, calloused hands folded with discipline. He was the backbone of every shelter they'd raised.

"Defense Division!"

"Representative—Lukas."

A thirty-five-year-old fighter with a scar across his brow and steel in his stance. The kind of man who would die before letting harm come to the people.

"Crafting Division!"

"Representative—Elk."

A young woman of twenty-seven, quiet but confident. A tailor whose skill with needle and loom had restored not just clothing but dignity.

"Administration Division!"

"Representative—Cecil."

The imaginative youth himself, only eighteen yet sharp and observant. What he lacked in age, he made up for in heart, loyalty and potential.

"Spiritual Division!"

"Representative—Clara."

Only fifteen but wise beyond her years. Priestess. Healer. A voice of calm in the storm.

Lucien had chosen these representatives with care alongside Sebas. Each one was charismatic, respected in their field and more importantly... loyal. 

When Lucien checked their Loyalty stats, they all ranked between 80 to 90.

On the other hand, Clara had nominated herself.

Lucien had agreed without hesitation. She was more than capable and perhaps more importantly... the people trusted her. 

Now, as the six stood before him, some looked uncertain though none refused.

He saw the hesitation in their eyes. It wasn't doubt in him... but in themselves.

Lucien addressed it head-on.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "Why you? Why now?"

He stepped closer.

"The answer is simple. You have talent."

"Believe in me, who believes in you."

"I will not abandon you. I'll walk with you. Through all of this."

There was silence. A deep and thoughtful silence.

Then something shifted in their expressions. 

The hesitation melted. 

Their spines straightened. 

Their eyes cleared.

It was as if something that had long been dormant finally awoke.

Their calling had come.

"As you will, my Lord," Clara said first. Always confident and calm. Her voice cut through the silence.

The others followed in turn. Each bowed deeply, silently pledging themselves to the path ahead.

Lucien nodded in satisfaction.

The heart of the new Order had begun to beat.

Lucien stepped forward once more.

"Everyone! As you've already heard, I can see your talents. And now, I will begin assigning your roles."

His tone softened as he added,

"But if you're not satisfied… if you feel your heart belongs elsewhere.. Just speak up. Go to Sebastian and request a change. You deserve to be in a division where you feel comfortable, where you can grow."

The crowd listened closely, many nodding in agreement.

After all, Lucien wasn't forcing anyone into a mold.

He was building something with them... not above them.

In truth, Lucien had an edge others didn't know about. 

SKILLPEDIA. 

Even the most ordinary person could become extraordinary under his guidance.

He just needed to teach them the right skills. After that, it would be their determination that would shape their future.

And so, the assignment began.

Name after name, Lucien called them out, placing each individual where they fit best. Cheers, claps and even nervous laughter filled the plaza with every announcement.

Eventually, the process was complete. No more names remained.

The divisions stood formed.

• Sustenance Division – 55 members

• Construction Division – 33 members

• Defense Division – 75 members

• Crafting Division – 22 members

• Administration Division – 7 members

• Spiritual Division – 25 members

A foundation had been laid. 

Not just with structure but with people. 

With spirit. 

With hope.

And yet, as always… something unexpected was about to stir.

Suddenly, a hand rose from the crowd.

There was a stir. Quiet but noticeable.

Lucien turned. An elderly man stepped forward from among the newly assigned members of the Spiritual Division.

His voice was rough but steady.

"My Lord... I know you care for us elders."

He started.

"You placed us where we wouldn't strain ourselves and we're grateful. Truly." 

He paused with his eyes glinting beneath his heavy brows.

"But we too want to fight for this land. For our home."

Four other elders stepped up beside him, nodding with conviction.

"Please," the old man continued, "grant us the honor of joining the Defense Division. These bones may be old but they're not brittle yet. Let us live the rest of our lives protecting what we love, even if it costs us everything."

A hush fell over the plaza.

Lucien stood still.

These men were past sixty. Yet their eyes burned. Not with nostalgia but with purpose. That same flame he saw in the youth, he now saw in them.

And truthfully… their talents did fit the Defense Division. 

Their movements, their posture, the scars on their hands... it spoke of past battles and survival.

They had lived through harder days.

Lucien sighed, though there was no frustration in it. Only respect.

"Sebastian," he said softly. "Make the adjustments. We'll honor their wishes."

He turned back to the elders.

"You've made up your minds, haven't you?"

They nodded, almost in unison.

Lucien gave them an approving look.

He had seen many faces today but few burned this fiercely.

And deep down, he knew. He could make them stronger. 

With his system.

With his skills.

With the right drops.

Age would no longer be a limitation.

The elders' eyes lit up, glistening with a fire they thought had long since dimmed.

That youthful sense of belonging and meaning.

It had returned.

And while others had briefly considered requesting the same, they chose not to. Not because they lacked the will but because they understood.

Every role mattered.

Lucien watched them all and gave a nod of quiet satisfaction.

The next step was empowerment.

And he would see to it that every one of them, young or old, would be ready.