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

Though Aldric the First had made mistakes, he was, by most accounts, a ruler who had been good to his people. To shield the common folk from the excesses of the nobility, he declared a law that shocked the aristocracy: "Princes and nobles, their descendants shall be commoners." Even the son of an emperor held no privilege unless he proved himself on the battlefield. Titles were not hereditary, and only those who earned merit through service could claim honor. In Aldric's dominion, birth alone granted no advantage.

He went further still. The Iron Dominion enforced a system of collective responsibility. Officials were not only expected to carry out their duties faithfully but also to watch each other. If one committed an offense and others failed to report it, every department involved was purged together.

Few dared to risk their lives to cover for a colleague. Under Aldric's reign, the laws were enforced with ruthless precision. Regulations were written for the benefit of the people, and unlike in so many other realms, these laws were actually carried out. Aldric gave his people not only bread but also the chance to rise higher, to change their lot in life. In all the centuries that followed, only Marcus Hale, born a peasant and risen to power, could rival him in his devotion to the common folk.

Yet history is a cruel storyteller. Because of the blunders of his foolish heir, Aldric the Second, and the slanders whispered by later generations, Aldric the First became branded a tyrant. When people muttered, "the world has suffered too long," they spoke not of Aldric the First, but of his son: the self-indulgent, pleasure-drunk monarch who squandered the kingdom's loyalty until his people felt they belonged nowhere at all.

That sense of alienation was not without cause. The Iron Dominion itself had been forged too swiftly, too violently. Aldric's armies had conquered countless nations, and many of those newly bound subjects still longed for the lands of their birth. Aldric's reasoning, however, had been grim but simple: to end endless wars, he would wage a final war of unification. To end war with war.

The Serpent Islanders could not have been more different. They made war for war's sake, plundering the mainland only to haul spoils back to their tiny island state.

Critics claimed Aldric's greatest act of tyranny was mobilizing a million laborers to build the Iron Dome, that vast barrier of steel and stone that encircled the Dominion. But every dynasty that came after used that Dome to shield its borders from invasion. Aldric's intention had never been oppression; it was protection, a way to ensure that his people might finally live free from the endless bloodshed of raiding neighbors. Without the Dome, the thrones of later rulers would have toppled ten, twenty, even a hundred times faster.

Now, standing before Aldric the First's spirit, Ethan showed him a recording of the empire's army's long struggle, the battles that had birthed the New Dominion on the New Continent. He hoped to win Aldric to his side without revealing too much of his own strength. It was for this reason that he had resisted ordering Yaya to trigger the hidden safeguards planted upon Aldric.

For all his scheming, Ethan could not bring himself to see this old monarch as an enemy. In his heart, he felt Aldric the First was still—if not entirely trustworthy—at least a man who had meant well for his people.

"Silas Marrow… Serpent Islanders… feathered beast…" The old man's muttering broke into a growl as he raised his head to glare at the Crowling God peering in through the shattered ceiling. His voice rumbled with both hatred and pride. "Good. First I'll tear apart this crow, then I'll settle accounts with you." His eyes cut toward Ethan, sharp enough to make Ethan's heart lurch.

'Wait—what accounts with me?' Ethan thought, startled.

The question had no time for an answer. With a deafening boom, Aldric stamped the ground. Golden battle-energy erupted around him like a blazing storm. Without hesitation, he launched himself upward, rocketing toward the Crowling God's enormous eye in the ceiling. "Feathered beast! Today I'll finish what was left undone!" he roared, both fists crashing forward. For the briefest instant, Ethan saw something like shock flash across the god's single eye before it flinched away from the hole above.

The entire tomb shuddered with the impact. Dust rained down, and purple light flared through the opening. The Crowling God had pulled back into the sky, and Aldric chased him upward without pause. Ethan's lips curled despite himself. The old monarch was fierce beyond belief. Still, Ethan couldn't shake the unease of that last threat Aldric had thrown at him.

His gaze flicked toward the Throne of the Underworld looming nearby. The thought stirred in him: it belonged to his mother, and it should rightfully be reclaimed.

"Boy, don't you dare covet it. Or I'll return to kill you first." The warning drifted down from above as if Aldric had plucked the thought straight out of Ethan's mind.

Ethan stiffened. 'Damn, this old man really can read me like a book. Forget it. After the feathered beast falls, I'll deal with Aldric. The throne will be mine, and I'll return it to Mother as a gift.'

Resolved, Ethan's body blurred and shot upward. From above, thunderous rumbles echoed. The battle had already begun.

When he emerged from the General's Tomb, the sight before him was apocalyptic. The serene fields of blossoms and birdsong were gone. Purple fire-clouds churned overhead, radiating blistering heat. The ground below lay charred, every flower and blade of grass withered. High above, two colossal figures—one avian, one human but blazing with power—clashed again and again in the span of heartbeats. Each collision shook the air with roars that seemed to tear the heavens apart.

Yet, strangely, the sky itself did not break. On the Umbral Star, beings of such strength would have ripped holes in the very fabric of space, opening black voids with every strike. Here, the world's shell seemed harder, more unyielding, refusing to fracture even under their fury.

"Caw, caw, caw!" the Crowling God's voice rolled like thunder. "The one I chose long ago indeed wields great strength. But you cannot defeat me. I have followers beyond number. The power of their faith sustains me. What can you, a relic of a minor world, hope to achieve against that?"

Ethan's eyes widened. He had seen Aldric punch straight through one of the god's massive wings, leaving feathers scattered like falling blades. Yet in an instant, the wound had knit together, restored by an unseen force. Faith—it had to be this power of belief the creature boasted of. Could such power truly make it unkillable?

Aldric bellowed in defiance. "Then let's see how long that faith lasts you!" He hurled himself forward again, a golden storm made flesh. Ethan could only gape at the sheer intensity of his battle aura. He had expected Aldric to be outmatched, but the old emperor's strength was overwhelming, his blows fueled by raw power and an indomitable will that refused to bend.

"What kind of power do these two even have?" Ethan muttered under his breath, struggling to comprehend the scale of the clash.

"They're both at the peak of Voidbreaker level," Yaya's voice chimed suddenly in his mind, matter-of-fact.

"Voidbreaker peak?" Ethan echoed, frowning. "And what's beyond Voidbreaker?"

"Um… Yaya's inherited memories aren't fully restored yet, so I don't know," she admitted with a sheepish tone.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Then tell me this. Do you know how strong my mother really is?"

"Ah… that's… incomparable," Yaya replied after a pause, her voice growing hesitant. "Brother, don't ask. Yaya isn't sure either…"