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

Ethan stared at the mountain of high-explosive black powder stacked before him. After a brief mental calculation, weighing risk against reward, he decided the deal was more than fair.

"Alright, deal," Ethan said without hesitation.

"Don't get too excited," Master Roger replied, clearly noticing the gears spinning behind Ethan's eyes. "I said you can take what you want this time. No helpers."

Ethan rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw the back of his own skull. No helpers? How much could a single backpack even carry? The old codger was slippery, he would give him that.

"Fine," Ethan said with a huff. "No helpers. I'll take whatever I can carry myself. Once my bag's full, I'm gone."

What Master Roger failed to consider, despite all his careful calculations, was that Ethan had a little advantage of his own.

After Ethan made his declaration, the old man gave him a long, suspicious look, as if trying to poke holes in the statement, but in the end he said nothing more. Even with his system-enhanced intellect, he had no way of knowing that Ethan possessed something far beyond an ordinary pack. Ethan's avatar inventory was directly linked to his own, functioning as a mobile warehouse with no visible limits.

The moment the agreement was settled, Ethan put his plan into motion.

His avatar, which had been tirelessly forging parts at the smelter, abruptly stopped and moved away. There were too many open flames there, and storing volatile explosives nearby felt like tempting fate. Under Ethan's guidance, the avatar headed instead to an empty lot near the center of Renegade Citadel.

Back in the basement, Ethan got to work.

Crate after crate of black powder vanished into his pack without a sound.

Master Roger watched him for a short while, brows furrowed, then shrugged as if deciding it was none of his business and headed out of the basement. Ethan continued tossing crates, his movements quick and practiced, a quiet sense of relief settling over him once he was alone. This was better. Much better.

At the same time, over in Renegade Citadel, several players nearly tripped over themselves in surprise. Their resident master blacksmith was unloading crate after crate from his own pack, stacking them neatly in the town square with almost obsessive care. No one dared interrupt him.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as Ethan worked. A wide, almost stupid grin stretched across his face as he shoveled an endless stream of crates into his seemingly bottomless bag, each one disappearing as if swallowed by the void.

Then, without warning, a sharp chime rang out.

[Ding… System Alert: Hidden Quest [Master Roger's Request] has been completed! All contractual rewards are now in effect!]

The sudden notification snapped Ethan out of his looting trance.

"Shit, I lost track of time," he muttered instinctively. A quick glance at the alert eased his nerves when he realized it was not a failure notice. It was a completion message.

"Phew," he said under his breath. "So the old man must've gone out and accepted that weirdo as his apprentice."

That had to be it. The quest would not have completed otherwise.

"Whatever," Ethan shrugged. "Back to work."

He picked up the pace, hands moving even faster than before. If Master Roger came back and saw that half his cave had mysteriously vanished, he would definitely put a stop to Ethan's very enthusiastic interpretation of "take what you can carry." Best to grab as much as possible before that happened. Ideally, all of it.

Just as Ethan settled into his rhythm again, a barrage of system notifications detonated in front of his eyes, forcing him to freeze mid-motion.

[Ding… Global Alert: The first Mid-Tier Fortress in the Northern Frontier Region, Dragonspire, has been captured by the [Blade Syndicate guild!]

[Ding… Global Alert: The first Mid-Tier Fortress in the Northern Frontier Region, Dragonspire, has been captured by the [Drunken Wanderers guild!]

[Ding… Global Alert: The first Mid-Tier Fortress in the Eastern Frontier Region, Russia, has been captured by the [Ura! guild!]

[Ding… Global Alert: The first Mid-Tier Fortress in the Sablon Republic has been captured by the [High Chieftain guild!]

[Ding… Global Alert: The first Mid-Tier Fortress in the Serpent Isle has been captured by the [Shrine guild!]

The screen flooded with alerts as the first Mid-Tier Fortresses across every region were claimed in rapid succession. One notification followed another, until it was impossible to keep track of them all.

A new era in Ethereal had officially begun.

When Ethan saw the name Blade Syndicate among the announcements, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He opened his friends list and sent a private message to Markham without hesitation.

"You in position?"

The reply came only moments later.

"Yeah. I'm here. Northwest corner of their fortress, just like you said."

Ethan did not bother with pleasantries.

"Then what are you waiting for? Start smashing."

---

Outside the northwest wall of the Blade Syndicate's newly claimed fortress, Markham was wedged into a space that could generously be described as uncomfortable. His portly frame was crammed beneath a massive boulder, squeezed into a narrow crevice where even breathing took effort.

He stared at Ethan's message, sweat beading on his brow despite the game's dulled physical sensations, and hesitated.

"Boss… you sure?" He typed back. "I'm literally just outside the walls. I just aim at the coordinates you gave me and let it rip?"

Ethan read the message and sighed so hard it came out loud.

"Yes, you idiot. Do it now.

Stop wasting time, or I'll skin you alive and use your hide for a drum."

The threat was exaggerated, but the urgency was very real.

Ethan knew how guilds like Blade Syndicate operated. Fresh off a major victory, they were likely deciding whether to relocate their guild headquarters immediately or push their momentum and seize another fortress first. Either option was dangerous for Ethan's plan.

Relocating a guild hall required the entire fortress zone to be cleared beforehand, which consumed massive manpower and time. Doing so during an active Fortress Wars session was risky, but not unheard of.

There were still seven hours left in the current session.

If Blade Syndicate moved quickly, they could take another fortress before the window closed.

But if they managed to plant their guild hall first, Markham's attack would become meaningless.

The location Ethan had chosen was the former command post of the fortress's NPC commander. Under normal circumstances, structures like that had no health bar and could not be destroyed.

Until a guild hall was placed.

Once that happened, the structure gained a massive health pool and, more importantly, enabled a special mechanic, the so-called "decapitation strike." Destroying the guild hall directly would cripple the entire fortress defense.

That was the opening Ethan needed.

"Uh… right. Right. Markham replied quickly. On it. Don't be mad!"

He was genuinely afraid Ethan might follow through on his threat.

Markham had once believed he could take Ethan in a fight if it ever came to that. That illusion had been shattered after witnessing the Annihilation Tribulation. The sheer scale of destruction, the way the battlefield had been erased, left a deep impression he could not shake.

In the real world, they were literally next-door neighbors.

The mental image of Ethan storming out of his VR capsule, kicking down his door, and dragging him outside for a very personal beatdown felt disturbingly vivid. Years of being the family punching bag had trained Markham's instincts well. When someone sounded serious, he listened.

With a strained grunt, Markham forced himself out from beneath the boulder. His massive crimson greatsword rested across his back, and if it had been a true physical object, he would never have fit through that crevice in the first place.

The blade looked different now.

It was fully formed, more solid, more real than when it had first manifested in the catacombs. The weapon pulsed faintly, its surface gleaming with a deep, predatory crimson. It had clearly been well fed.

Back in the tunnels, it had only absorbed the life force of roughly two thousand.

This time, Ethan had provided a feast of four thousand.

Before coming here alone, Markham had carried out a task that still made his stomach churn when he thought about it. He had cut down his own guildmates, and brothers-in-arms, as they stood motionless and unresisting, like livestock waiting for slaughter.

Even as he swung the blade, his hand had wanted to falter.

He never imagined Ethan would use a blood sacrifice on such a scale, not just for power, but simply to reset his skill's cooldown.