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

Ethan had just seen Blackie get kicked and was about to step in when he cut the squabble short. He knew better than to waste energy on petty arguments, not when a real battle lay ahead of them. His voice was sharp, steady, and commanding as he brought the group back to focus.

"We're heading out. Is everyone ready? We've got a tough fight ahead of us."

Julian, who had been standing nearby with an amused smile, perked up at Ethan's words. For weeks now he had felt like little more than a bystander in Ethan's shadow. Once, back in Beastfall City, people had called him a prodigy. Now, compared to Micah's finesse, he was nothing but a brute. And compared to Blackie… he couldn't even compete.

But things had changed. He now carried the weapon Ethan had crafted for him alone. At last, this was his chance to prove himself. So what if people called him a brute? Uncle Jed had been a brute too, and no one denied he stood among the strongest.

Julian remembered Jed's words: power rooted in the body was the truest path to greatness. Priests, mages, whatever names people gave them—yes, they rose quickly in the early stages, but they could never surpass certain limits. Jed had been blunt about it: spellcasters might reach the level of Saints, but never the higher ranks, never touch the realm where monsters and legends lived. That peak belonged to those who forged their bodies into weapons. That was the path Julian had chosen, and this was his time to shine.

Ethan fired up the mech, and within minutes Shatterstar's massive frame was soaring above the Forgotten City.

"What the hell happened here?" someone whispered.

The city below was nothing but ruins. Entire districts were reduced to blackened rubble. Flames licked through the wreckage and smoke rolled skyward in choking plumes, as though the city had only just been consumed by fire.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "I don't know, but I'd bet it's connected to the Windspirit Faction. Do a final sweep. Any life signs?"

The mech's core gave its mechanical chime: [Beep... Scanning for life forms... Scan complete. No survivors detected in the city.]

Ethan's heart sank. Around him, Julian and the others stared in shock.

"The Forgotten City…" Julian's voice cracked. "It was the largest port on the Sea of Death. Ten million people lived there! A place where every vice and dream mixed together. How could ten million souls vanish overnight?"

Before anyone could answer, the mech reported again: [Beep... Signs of human activity detected one thousand miles north.]

"Move," Ethan ordered.

In an instant Shatterstar covered the distance, crossing the frozen landscape as if it were teleportation. Ahead of them stretched a desperate scene: tens of thousands of people fleeing headlong across the snow. Strong men and warriors surged at the front, while the weak—women, children, and the elderly—lagged at the rear, abandoned by those stronger than them.

Mothers begged others to take their children, but their cries were ignored. Worse, some of the fleeing elites shoved the weak aside, even cutting them down if they blocked the path. The chaos repeated itself again and again in the few moments Ethan watched.

"Savages!" Blackie snarled, stomping his foot. "Boss, let me out there—I'll gut them all!"

Ethan's face hardened. "Micah, you've got a way to boost their speed, right?" He had seen hum use the Skystride rune before—it was basic craft for someone like Micah.

"Yes," Micah nodded quickly.

"Good. You go down and give those people speed. Blackie, Julian—you cover him and cut down anyone preying on the weak. I'll push ahead and find out what's really going on. Get these people to the Forgotten City and wait for me there."

The mech's cabin opened, and the three of them dropped into the chaos below.

But instead of gratitude, their sudden appearance threw the crowd into panic.

"Don't kill me!"

"Please, not my child!"

"Run! The demons are back!"

Micah froze, clutching a stack of yellow Skystride talismans. "They think we're the enemy?" he muttered, bewildered. The crowd broke apart like startled animals, scattering in every direction.

"Just help as many as you can!" Julian shouted.

Micah gritted his teeth and flung the talismans. Yellow slips spun through the air, sticking to mothers and children, imbuing them with sudden bursts of speed. But few noticed, and fewer cared.

Blackie and Julian cut down a handful of predators who had been carving through the weak, but by the time they looked for more, the masses had already broken apart. People shrieked, wailed, and fled, certain that demons had descended again.

Within minutes, the crowd was gone.

The three of them hovered awkwardly in the freezing wind. "Now what?" Micah asked, his voice small.

"They're terrified of us," Julian admitted.

"Then screw it—let's just catch up with the boss," Blackie growled. He shifted into his Black Qilin form, towering and bestial, and the others climbed onto his back. In a blur of motion he surged northward, lightning fast across the frozen plain.

But he knew the truth: there was no catching Shatterstar.

---

Meanwhile, Ethan pushed ahead alone. He streaked north for five straight minutes, covering more than ten thousand miles, but found nothing. The ice fields stretched endlessly, barren and silent.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered. "Those ordinary people we saw… there's no way they came this far on foot. If they had, they'd have frozen to death before making it a fraction of this distance."

His eyes narrowed. Something was wrong.

"Shatterstar, turn back," he ordered.

The truth struck him all at once. He remembered the clothes the refugees had worn—thin, tattered, hardly suited for cold. Here, the temperature had already dropped to fifty below, and even back where they'd first spotted the crowd, it had been twenty below. Ordinary men, women, and especially children wouldn't have lasted an hour in that.

His heart jolted in alarm. "Damn it… Blackie and the others are in danger."