Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!

The old crone froze for a heartbeat, stunned that Ethan had so effortlessly deflected her attack. But rage drowned out her hesitation. Snarling, she reached behind her head and yanked.

With a wet, sickening crunch, she tore a spinal column from her own back. It dripped with slick, viscous fluid, utterly revolting.

Ethan stared, wide-eyed. "Ormund… what in the blazes is she? And what kind of trick is that?"

A spine. She had just pulled out her own spine—yet she was still moving as if nothing nothing had happened.

"Looks like… a Desert Wormfolk?" Ormund said, though he sounded far from sure.

Ethan blinked. "Wormfolk? Don't they, you know… not have spines?"

"Then it's a deformity," Ormund offered, fumbling for an explanation. "So… pulling it out doesn't really matter?"

"Seriously?" Ethan muttered. This was the first time he'd seen a beast-folk wield a weapon, and this one chose that—a whip made from her own spine.

"Die, you pest!" the old woman shrieked, her voice raspy and venomous.

The long, pale spinal column in her grip writhed like a living thing, coiling into the air before lashing toward Ethan's face like a striking serpent.

The bone-white spine whistled as it cut through the wind, carrying with it a crushing pressure that made his chest tighten. A rancid stench followed, so foul it nearly made him gag.

So this is her real power… a War God-rank opponent.

With her weapon drawn, she was far more dangerous than before. Mid-tier War God—at least. The casual swing of that grotesque whip sealed off every escape route for both Ethan and Ormund. One clean hit, and he'd be nothing but shattered bones and torn sinews.

Ethan roared, letting his aura explode outward. He could feel her intent—this strike wasn't just to scare him. She meant to kill.

He had to admit, she was terrifyingly strong. His earlier victories had been pure luck—well, luck and the Divine Slap technique. That sneak attack carried no killing intent, which had allowed him to send her flying… and incidentally, correct the asymmetry in her face.

But now? He couldn't afford to play games.

He drew in a sharp breath and focused his power, his hands coming together.

"Weapon transformation, Bear form exclusive…"

[Ding… System Notification: Weapon form transformation successful. [Ursar's Claws] equipped.]

The silvery weapon in his hands dissolved into smoke.

Click. Click. Click.

In its place, a pair of massive gauntlets materialized, heavy and primal. Each finger bore a gleaming, razor-edged claw. No jewels, no adornment—just pure, brutal efficiency.

Snap!

The crone's whip struck. The reeking spinal column was suddenly in front of him, close enough to feel the cold wind it carried.

Ethan thrust his hands forward.

Crack!

The gauntlets clamped down, seizing the spine mid-swing. Power surged through his arms, rattling his blood and bones.

'So strong…' He grit his teeth, feeling his confidence waver. 'So this is the might of a War God. One casual strike, and I'm barely holding on.'

He'd almost believed he could stand against someone of this level. But the difference in power was a chasm. Facing a mid-tier War God left him at a clear disadvantage.

Below him, Ormund struggled to regain control, wings flapping furiously to steady himself.

"Die, boy!"

Just as Ethan clamped down on the old hag's writhing spinal column, a shadow moved at the edge of his vision.

A shriveled old man emerged, his body all sinew and bone, with withered arms that looked like they could snap in a breeze. His skeletal hands swept forward, and two streaks of blue light whistled through the air—razor-edged wind blades aimed straight for Ethan's chest and abdomen.

Ethan's eyes widened. The Beast-Wolf.

Even in human form, that feral glint in his sunken eyes and his stunted forelimbs were unmistakable. He'd been lurking on the outskirts all along, biding his time, waiting for Ethan to be distracted. Now, while Ethan's hands were locked around the old hag's weapon, he struck with lethal precision.

"Tiger Roar!"

Ormund's furious bellow split the air. A shimmering wave of energy burst from his jaws, colliding with the incoming wind blades. The impact rattled the air like a thunderclap.

Ethan felt his body lift as if struck by a violent gust, then he was hurled backward.

"Go, Ethan!" Ormund roared.

Rip!

Even weakened by Tiger Roar, the wind blades still carried savage power. One of them sliced across Ormund's upright torso. His pure white fur bloomed red in an instant, the crimson spreading like wildfire.

"Ormund!" Ethan's chest tightened, his heart lurching as he watched his companion stagger under the blow.

"You… will all die!" Ethan's body, flung through the air, abruptly halted as his aura flared, shaking with fury.

---

Ethereal: Hidden Territory – Unknown Map

"Nair, are you sure the quest is here?"

An archer stood at the mouth of a silent canyon, her bow slung across her back. A rare companion pet padded at her heels, tail swishing.

"This is it!" the small dragon declared, its voice high and eager. "Once we finish this quest, I can evolve into a flying mount! Then Nair will fly you anywhere you want!"

The dragon's scales shimmered faintly as it trotted along beside her. Despite its childish voice, it spoke with the confidence of a guide.

If Ethan had been there, he would have recognized her instantly—the girl who haunted his thoughts day and night. Lyla.

The dragon she called Nair was her super pet, the pride of the server.

Pet Name: Myrga Nair

Species: Dragon

Element: Water and Poison

When both Lyla and Nair had reached level forty, the dragon had undergone its first evolution, becoming a dual-purpose pet—capable of both combat and riding. It had even gained the ability to speak, though its voice still carried a childlike lilt.

Now, freshly leveled to forty-five, Nair had excitedly remembered a special quest location that would unlock its flight skill. Lyla, curious but skeptical, had followed it here.

Originally, she'd wanted to call Ethan to join her, but his character was offline, and his phone unreachable—likely because he was inside the Whitmore family's Hidden Territory. So she went alone, letting Nair lead the way.

But the journey had been… less than efficient.

Yesterday, they had wandered the map in endless loops until the Ethereal closed for the day. Several times, Lyla had been certain they were doubling back, but Nair had puffed out its chest and insisted they weren't lost.

When the world reopened the next day, they logged in again. Barely ten minutes later—

"Found it!" Nair exclaimed, hopping in excitement.

Lyla stopped, blinking. The "quest location" was a small clearing with a single NPC standing in the middle. She opened her map… and sighed.

They were less than twenty meters from the entrance—just to the left.

Yet Nair had led her right on entry, zigzagging across every corner of the Hidden Territory in a meandering, serpent-like trail. They had practically scouted the entire map for nothing.

At least the map was small and blessedly free of monsters. Its sole purpose, it seemed, was to house the lone NPC now waiting before them.