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

Boom.

The sky cracked open with a roar, shaking the foundations of the earth. The air quaked as thunder rolled like an angry god beating a war drum. The atmosphere grew heavy—so heavy, it felt like the pressure could crush bones and shatter organs. Bolts of lightning streaked across the clouds like divine spears, falling in relentless waves.

Two figures—Gilded Blaze and Vogemoth—staggered backward, their beastkin instincts flaring. Even at War God-rank strength, the sight above terrified them. As beast-folk, they feared heavenly lightning. It was a deep-seated terror, woven into their bloodline.

"Is… someone going through an Elysium Ascension?" they both thought, nearly in unison.

They had only recently advanced to War God-rank themselves, and the memory of their own tribulation was still raw. But now, seeing this overwhelming storm erupt without warning, they forgot the earlier battle, forgot the explosion, forgot everything—except their instinct to survive.

Overhead, the thunderclouds writhed like boiling tar. Giant orbs of lightning, each the size of a boulder, began raining down from the sky. They weren't just random discharges—they were aimed, directed, and moving with purpose.

Ethan stood near the center of the chaos, looking up.

Ormund, still hovering above, froze mid-descent, every hair on his massive beast body standing on end. Within the swirling clouds above him, a massive obsidian beast emerged—a Qilin, easily a hundred feet tall, its body crackling with energy. Its four hooves danced on the thunderclouds like they were solid ground.

Its eyes gleamed. "You brat! You dared slap my ass? Let's see how you like this!"

It reared back, then galloped across the sky. Each step sent a fresh barrage of lightning spheres plummeting toward the earth like divine judgment.

"Ormund! MOVE!" Ethan shouted. In a flash, he waved his hand to dismiss their tent, then slung Uncle Jed over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Dana, wide-eyed with terror, dropped low and grabbed onto Ormund's thick fur.

Ormund's fur bristled as he let out a grunt. With a violent shake and a powerful flap of his wings, he shot forward in a blur, racing toward the edge of the storm. As he flew, a sonic boom cracked the air behind him.

Even the Qilin paused. "What the—? That thing's fast!"

But in the next breath, it locked its gaze on the two beastkin still on the ground. To the Qilin, anyone left behind must be an enemy.

Lightning wrapped its body as it floated higher, absorbing energy and fueling the storm. The clouds darkened, and the bombardment intensified.

Thunder roared. Screams filled the air. The small desert town beneath them became a hellish wasteland of chaos, smoke, and crackling fire.

"Old Turtle, we gotta get the hell out of here!" Gilded Blaze shouted.

He turned—only to realize Vogemoth had already vanished.

"That sneaky bastard! Usually moves like a snail, but now he's sprinting like a damn rabbit!"

Sure enough, the moment Ethan had fled, Vogemoth had bolted after him. Meanwhile, Gilded Blaze was left behind, dancing through bolts of lightning like a madman.

Ten minutes later, the clouds began to disperse. Where a town had once stood, there was now only a massive crater, its depths swallowing what remained of the earth. The entire city was gone.

At the crater's edge stood Ethan, Ormund, Dana, Uncle Jed—and the two late arrivals, Gilded Blaze and Vogemoth. All stared into the pit, speechless.

The two beastkin exchanged a glance. The destruction left behind by this storm? It was only slightly weaker than the tribulations they'd faced during their ascension. Only the tribulation's annihilation aura was missing. But otherwise, this was nearly indistinguishable.

As the last of the thunderclouds dispersed, a flash of dark light streaked through the sky. The Black Qilin descended, hovering lazily over the crater like a smug god.

"Hah! Told ya I wasn't bluffing!" it announced proudly.

Ethan swallowed hard. 'This thing's spells are no joke. Good thing I didn't let it go wild earlier. I'd have been toast.'

"You talking about yourself in third person again?" Ethan muttered, eyes narrowing as a stick materialized in his hand.

The Qilin shrank back instantly.

"Uh... Boss! Was my Infinite Thunders Unleashed cool or what?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Meh. Passable."

He turned away. The Qilin wilted, slinking behind him without another word.

Gilded Blaze and Vogemoth exchanged looks again. Only now did it dawn on them—this ridiculous walking battery had caused all that destruction.

It looked vaguely familiar, but they couldn't place its species. The Qilin Clan had vanished long ago. It wasn't surprising they couldn't recognize one now.

Turning to the two beastkin, Ethan gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry about the mess. I, uh... don't suppose that fresh water I promised you survived?"

"No worries, City Lord," Gilded Blaze replied, still catching his breath. "You probably don't know this, but that city was just a surface settlement. The real Blackscale Serpents? The purebloods? They're underground. That surface were filled with mixed-blood trash."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "So the real threat's still hiding down there?"

"They avoid sunlight, cold, heat... anything. That desert's temperature swings are too much for them, so they stay buried deep year-round. Their true stronghold's beneath the sand. You may have killed two of their ancestors, but there are still around a hundred thousand of them left."

Ethan's expression shifted, calculating. That explained why his Soul Sense hadn't picked up much earlier. He hadn't sensed real power on the surface because the actual army was below.

He frowned, staring down into the massive pit.

Now where's the entrance…?

Before he could finish the thought—BOOM!

The sand exploded upward.

A figure rocketed from the depths. Then another. And another. Like ants from a disturbed nest, figures began pouring out of the earth. In seconds, the crater's bottom was crawling with life—Blackscale Serpents, purebloods. Over a hundred thousand of them.

Ethan's jaw tightened.

Well. That solved the entrance problem.

From the center of the crowd, a young man dressed in black leapt into the air. He slapped the pouch at his hip, and a massive eagle-shaped beast emerged beneath his feet, carrying him up to hover across from Ethan.

"Beastfall City… Ethan, the so-called City lord?" the man sneered. "I remember you. Three years ago, outside the west gate. Hah... Never thought you would become City Lord. Bet Julian's fuming, huh?"

Ethan sighed.

Why does everyone think Julian cares that much? What, just because he's the son of the last Lord?

"He's the third-place finisher from the selection trials," Dana whispered beside him.

"I figured," Ethan said.

But he didn't respond to the man in black. He kept his eyes locked on the sea of serpents below—thousands upon thousands of forked tongues, scaled bodies, and hissing maws.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He hated snakes. Hated them. Childhood trauma. Fell into a snake pit once and he never got over it.

He took a deep breath.

"Central Dominion Guard," he called out. His voice was calm but commanding. "Prepare the fire strike. Leave no one."

Everyone froze. Even the man in black was speechless.

What fire strike?

There was no army. No movement. No sound except the wind.

Brute, the black-robed man, began to laugh—only for his voice to die in his throat.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of waterskins suddenly materialized in the air above the pit. They rained down like a monsoon. The moment they landed, the stench hit.

"FIRE OIL!" someone screamed.

Too late.

Weapons lashed out, trying to slash the skins open and scatter the contents, but it only made things worse. The oil splashed everywhere, soaking everything.

"RUN!" Brute shouted.

And then—

"Fire."

The voice came from above.

Everyone looked up.

The Black Qilin floated silently in the sky, and on its back stood a familiar figure. Julian.

He drew a curved bow. Ten flaming arrows ignited as one.

And then he let them fly.