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

A sudden disturbance rippled through Ethereal, and WCC Radio's live broadcast caught it all.

Viewers had been watching as Druid God—Ethan, walked into San Lorenzo's City Hall. The battle outside was winding down, the spectacle nearly finished, and many had already prepared to leave the stream. Then, without warning, the feed jolted violently, shaking the audience out of their lethargy.

"Whoa, what's Druid God doing now? That aura looks insane!" one viewer typed.

"When isn't his entrance cool?" another shot back.

"Can you guys stop fanboying for two seconds?" someone else retorted. "I've got a bad feeling. Whatever's going down in there—it's aimed squarely at him."

The live chat erupted with noise again, a storm of hype, concern, and speculation.

---

Inside the building, Ethan hadn't the faintest clue about the chaos outside. All he felt was a deep rumble beneath his feet, a tremor rolling through the City Hall floor.

His Advanced Analysis skill triggered automatically. A familiar notification chimed in his head:

[Ding… Analysis successful!]

[Elderly San Lorenzo]

Rank: Elite

Level: 60

Health: 3,000,000/3,000,000

Attack: 685 (30,000)

Defense: 1,255 (30,000)

Base Attributes: Ignores 30% Defense, 30% Damage Reduction

Skills: None

Description: The aging mayor of San Lorenzo. Once powerful, his body now retains less than a tenth of its former strength. His time is nearly at an end.

Ethan frowned. An Elite boss, but laughably weak in terms of attack. Just a bloated health pool and little else. The system's own description practically screamed it: this old man was already half-dead. Ethan wouldn't have needed to come here at all—the mayor was on borrowed time.

For the briefest heartbeat, Ethan hesitated. But hesitation wasn't in his nature. Opportunities weren't gifts—they were prey. And prey was meant to be hunted.

Mine… all mine… it's all mine…

His mantra thrummed in his chest as he launched into his assault. Rake. Shred. The claws of his Panther Form tore through the old mayor's health bar, stripping away chunks of flesh and numbers alike. In seconds, a fifth of the target's health had been erased.

The tremor underfoot gnawed at his nerves. Instinct whispered danger. Ethan only pressed harder.

"Spirit Embodiment!"

Energy surged around him as he triggered his weapon's ten-minute cooldown skill. Still in Panther Form, he unleashed a blinding flurry of strikes. Sixteen abilities in three seconds—six of them chaining into Savage Bite finishers thanks to sheer luck. The mayor's health plummeted. From millions to hundreds of thousands. Shred. Shred. Shred.

-69,503!

-95,604!

The old mayor finally collapsed under the assault. His body crumpled as Ethan's last Savage Bite hit home, a critical weakness strike tearing through what little life force remained.

-564,890 (Weakness Damage!)

[Ding… Quest Completed: Slay San Lorenzo. Reward: 50,000 Honor Points. Honor Rank +1.]

A golden light engulfed Ethan as the rewards settled in.

---

But before he could even breathe, the corpse glowed. A pillar of purple light speared upward through the roof, bathing the dead mayor's body. Ethan froze. Every hair on his body stood on end.

"What the hell…?" His voice cracked as dread coiled around his chest.

The old man's corpse rose into the air, limbs jerking as though possessed. His eyes flew open, no longer glassy with death but burning with a twisted agony.

'Run.'

The voice rang in Ethan's mind like a thunderclap. Morzan spoke for the first time in ages. And in his tone lay something Ethan had never heard before: fear.

---

[Ding… San Lorenzo Town Defense Failed! All players in San Lorenzo lose 500 Honor Points!]

The notification echoed across the Carnage Faction. Despair rippled through the ranks. Players screamed in outrage as their Honor Points dropped. Some were lucky—the ones who hadn't arrived yet only lost what little they had. But those who had been present stared at the stark "-500" next to their stats with ashen faces.

The outrage went public in seconds. A Carnage player posted the notification to the WCC live stream, immediately blaming Druid God for the loss.

"What are you even talking about? Your dad also your uncle or something?" one viewer mocked.

"Losses are deserved! Two factions are enemies, you moron. Go play Solitaire if you can't handle it."

"Another idiot spotted."

"Unbelievable. If you can't take a dump, are you gonna blame Earth's gravity next?"

The complaints drowned instantly beneath a tidal wave of ridicule. But before the argument could peak, the live broadcast abruptly cut out. The feed went black.

"Hey! What's going on? Why cut it now?"

"Bring the stream back! Don't you dare end it here!"

"This is insane! WCC's gonna go bankrupt if they keep this up!"

"Wait, stop shouting. Look at the system notification!"

A single player's message silenced the mob:

[Ethereal: Emergency Shutdown. Login will be disabled shortly. Please log off promptly to avoid unnecessary losses. Countdown: 15 seconds.]

Players across the world blinked in disbelief. Another shutdown? With only fifteen seconds? Too late for anyone to react. The game winked out. Ethereal's world went dark, and millions opened their eyes in reality, ripped out of immersion.

"They told us to log off—so why kick us out?"

Frustrated players grabbed phones, jumped on PCs, hammered Ethereal's official website with questions. No answers came. Their messages vanished into silence.

---

Inside the purple glow, Ethan was still running. Morzan's voice drove him forward. He burst from City Hall expecting Carnage players waiting outside. But the streets were empty. Not a single soul.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered.

"I pulled them out," Morzan's voice rang inside his skull. "If they'd stayed… they would have died. And not just in the game."

Ethan's eyes widened. Real deaths? From a game event? He looked around, and only then did he notice the world itself had changed. The once-night sky burned with violet light. A vast vortex churned above, swallowing stars and spilling an aura of pure malice.

"You did this," Morzan said grimly.

"Me?!" Ethan almost laughed at the absurdity. "How the hell could I—"

"It's here."

That final statement cut through everything.

The purple beam from the vortex thinned, focused, and detonated into a blinding flash. Ethan raised an arm to shield his face. When the brilliance faded, the City Hall behind him cracked and exploded outward.

From the debris rose a shrieking voice:

"Caw… caw… caw… Little human, I've found you again! This time, my true form descends. Let's see where you run!"

Ethan's blood ran cold. Hovering above the ruined City Hall was the very same old mayor he had just slain. Only the nameplate told the real story:

[Crowling God Anzu (Pseudo-Divine) Lv.200]

Ethan's mouth went dry. He knew that name. He knew exactly what this was. And Morzan had been right: this was his fault.

It all traced back to the Druid camp, during his Owl Form specialization quest. The final step should have been simple—lower the the Crowling chief to 30% health, survive the ambush, and escape. But Ethan hadn't played by the rules. He'd gambled. He'd calculated his DPS and killed the boss outright.

The reward? A Dark Gold staff of terrifying power: Wraithbinder's Staff.

It was still locked away in the Renegade Alliance's vault, waiting for a Warlock insane enough to hit the 800 Intelligence requirement. No one in the game could wield it yet, though Meatball had coveted it since day one. Whether he ever could… well, time would tell.

Back then, Ethan hadn't realized what he'd unleashed. Killing the chief outright had warped the quest's natural course. Later, in Duskridge, when the Crowling God's avatar had nearly killed him, he barely survived thanks to Roland Carter and the Godslayer Crossbow.

But now, there was no avatar. No fragment. No convenient savior. The Crowling God had descended in its true form.

A Level 200 Pseudo-Divine boss.

And it was staring directly at him.