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

Ethan flicked his hand, and Donovan went hurtling backward like a rag doll.

He didn't bother with the others. Instead, his gaze locked on Lyla. She was on her knees, clutching Zachary's lifeless body, tears streaming down her face, grief etched into every line of her expression. The sight made Ethan's chest tighten painfully.

He needed to leave—fast. If he lingered, this illusion would push him into a murderous frenzy. He couldn't let himself lash out at these familiar faces, knowing they were nothing but conjured phantoms. Killing them would serve no purpose; in fact, it was probably exactly what the illusion wanted—to make him slaughter his friends and the woman he loved with his own hands. Even knowing they weren't real, the act would still leave a scar on his mind… maybe even plant the seeds of an inner demon he couldn't shake.

With that thought, he stepped forward. Glass shattered beneath his feet, and he leapt from the eighty-eighth floor.

Far below, the wail of sirens cut through the night. He'd barely dispatched Zachary on the rooftop, and within ten seconds the building was swarming—police cruisers, SWAT vans, flashing lights in every direction. Ethan let out a short, dry laugh.

"An illusion is an illusion… Ten seconds and a hundred cops are here. Even Hollywood wouldn't stretch it that far."

Ignoring the chaos below, he activated his Swift Flight Form and shot across the night sky. But then—

A ripple of spatial distortion. A cold spike of dread shot through him. Before he could react, agony tore through his back.

Boom!

The blow sent him spiraling downward. He hit the pavement hard enough to make the world go white.

Thud.

Every bone in his body screamed in protest. He coughed violently, blood splattering the cracked asphalt, the pressure in his chest easing only slightly. "Damn this illusion… you son of a—"

He didn't need to see it to know. The strike had come from that Saint-rank beast he'd run into earlier. If not for the advancement he'd achieved on the Stairway to Heaven, the hit would have killed him outright. Even so, the damage was severe—his shoulder blade shattered, organs jarred out of place, five ribs snapped clean through. At least the broken bone hadn't punctured a lung.

Gritting his teeth, he summoned Tree Form, channeling every scrap of healing energy he could muster to keep himself on his feet.

As the pain dulled to a bearable throb, he looked around… and froze.

A place from deep in his past had taken shape around him. A street corner he hadn't set foot on in years—back in high school, he used to come here almost every day.

Back then, there'd been an Asian girl. Rainie Chen. Pretty, quiet, and out of his league. He'd once written her a love letter, only for Jade Taylor to intercept it. She'd paraded it around the school, loudly claiming Ethan was confessing to her instead, turning him into a laughingstock. As an orphan from a modest background, he was accused of chasing money, trying to marry into a wealthier family. The gossip dogged him for all three years of high school.

That single incident had crushed whatever fragile hope he'd had for Rainie.

And yet… every afternoon, he'd still sneak out of school, cross the street, and linger just long enough to watch her disappear into this old apartment building. After graduation, he'd never come back.

Until now.

Just as the thought settled, a figure appeared around the far corner. Ponytail. White blouse. Knee-length skirt. Tall and slender, skin pale under the streetlamp. Rainie Chen, exactly as he remembered her.

Instinct had him turning to duck out of sight—only for the pain in his ribs to make his knees buckle. He caught himself on the wall of the old building, breathing hard.

She noticed.

"Sir… are you alright? Do you want me to call 911?"

Ethan exhaled slowly. This illusion really was too fake. In reality, what woman walking alone at night would see a blood-soaked man slumped against a wall and offer to help instead of running?

"I'm fine… you should go," he muttered without looking at her. Rainie was the last person he wanted to face right now.

But she didn't leave.

"You should really go," he said again, glancing up this time—only to see her still standing there.

"You're blocking my way," she said after a pause.

He looked down and realized he was leaning right across the apartment entrance. "Oh. Right." He stepped aside, wincing as his ribs protested.

She slipped past him into the building. But after just two steps up, she turned back.

"Are you… Ethan?"

The words made him answer before he could stop himself. "It's me… uh… hello, old classmate. Long time no see."

Her eyes lit up. "It is you!" She came back down the steps. "What happened? Did you get into a fight?"

Ethan gave her a faint, bitter smile. This illusion had him again. In reality, Rainie had never spoken to him outside of class. The one memory she would have of him was the humiliation on the sports field, when Jade Taylor read his letter aloud. She'd been there—hadn't mocked him, but hadn't defended him either. Just left with a neutral expression. There was no way she'd greet him like this years later.

Still… he let her help him.

"Come on, I'll patch you up," she said, sliding his arm over her shoulders and guiding him inside.

Slowly, he followed her up the creaking stairs. He was curious now—curious to see where this trick would lead.

The building's familiar musty scent pulled at old memories. Four years in this strange world, and yet only a single day had passed back on Earth. Rainie Chen was nothing more than a ghost from his youth, a lingering regret. Seeing her now stirred no romantic longing—just the odd warmth of meeting an old classmate after years apart.

This illusion was clever. It didn't just attack from the outside—it dug into your heart, making you face the things you'd buried deep: unresolved grudges, unfinished stories, the shadows you'd never shone a light on.

Ethan smirked to himself. 'Since I'm here… might as well see it through. He'd never stepped foot inside her apartment before. Why not now?'

But then—mid-thought—his mind caught on something. Memories. Missing pieces. The Gates of the Underworld. The black pendant. That voice in the dark.

A spark lit behind his eyes, and a slow smile curved his lips.

Rainie Chen, the apartment, the illusion—it could all wait.

For the first time since the illusion began, Ethan felt like he might be the one holding the upper hand.