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

Beastfall City, Southern Outskirts

The team Ethan had run into earlier was now camped just beyond the storm's edge.

"Commander, there's a heavy downpour in the direction of Beastfall City," a soldier reported. "That means a large-scale emergence of Pincer-tailed Sand Badgers. A lot of people must be trapped outside the city by now. Shouldn't we head back... and rescue them?"

Half a day earlier, their Commander had ordered them to set up camp and rest. Not long after, dark clouds had rolled in from nowhere, spreading across the horizon like a tidal wave. Judging by the scale, Beastfall City sat right at the heart of the downpour. A rainstorm spanning thousands of miles—none of them had ever seen anything like it.

"Junior," the Commander replied, "if our ten thousand troops tried to push through that storm, how many would actually make it to Beastfall?"

He met the younger man's eyes. "Would we be rescuing others... or needing rescue ourselves?"

This man—referred to simply as Commander—was Julian, the third son of Beastfall City's former Lord.

"But—" the deputy general, Junior, still tried to protest.

"No buts," Julian snapped. "You're going to say we're the city's only mobile unit. That since we're out here, we have a duty to go back and help the civilians still outside. Right?"

Junior hesitated. His silence was answer enough.

Julian stepped closer. "Well, let me ask you—who exactly do you think those people are?"

Without warning, he leaned in and wrapped an arm around Junior's waist, pulling him in tight. Junior yelped, startled, and tumbled into Julian's embrace.

"A-Ah… no…"

The voice that escaped him was far too delicate for a man.

Outside the tent, the guards on duty exchanged glances. Clearly, they'd heard. With unspoken coordination and long-practiced resignation, they all stepped thirty paces away from the tent—at the same time.

Inside, under the quiet hush of rain and canvas, something a bit springtime began to unfold.

---

Far west of Beastfall City, a shirtless man pressed forward through the storm.

Beside him strode a tall woman wielding a curved blade. Clinging to her back was a tiny monkey, no taller than twenty centimeters.

The man was Ethan, of course. He held a steel spear, its tip flashing as he executed basic, brutal thrusts. Despite the storm and the unending assault of Pincer-tailed Sand Badgers—tens of thousands, maybe more—he pressed ahead, his pace growing faster and faster.

If Clara weren't behind him, he'd have gone all out already—cutting a bloody path straight through.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Just as Ethan's patience wore thin with these suicidal beasts, dozens of flares shot into the sky, glowing with flame and scattering light across the darkened clouds.

"Distress signals!" Clara shouted from behind.

Ethan glanced upward, unfazed, and kept moving. He had no intention of getting involved.

Better if all these mixed-blood races died off anyway, he thought bitterly.

Wave after wave of signal flares lit up the sky until it looked like daytime.

"Are these people insane?" he muttered. "In weather like this, they can barely survive on their own—why the hell are they calling for help? It's like they want to die."

He spat and slashed through another Badger. "Every time a flare goes up, these damn things go berserk. They charge the light like moths to a flame."

"They must be desperate," Clara said. "Calling for help from Beastfall City."

"But Beastfall hasn't sent anyone," she added with a frown. "Not a single rescue team."

Ethan didn't respond. He just kept swinging, kept moving. Gradually, the flares grew fewer. The sky dimmed again. The only sounds left were the steady beat of rain, the low rumble of thunder, and the occasional crack of lightning slicing the clouds apart.

The Sand Badgers didn't scream or cry. They simply charged and bit in eerie silence, as if they were born without vocal cords.

Then, ahead of them—another flare.

A brilliant blue flame tore into the sky and exploded midair, blooming into a teardrop shape that lingered longer than any before.

Ethan knocked aside a charging Badger and looked up. The pattern... it looked familiar.

"Clara! What tribe's signal is that?"

Her eyes went wide. "That's Clearspring City's emblem! I didn't think even they were trapped… This time, Beastfall has got to send help!"

She lit up with excitement. "That convoy carries a year's worth of supplies for Beastfall. There's no way the city can ignore it. If we hurry, we might catch up—and then we'll be safe!"

The name Clearspring City triggered something in Ethan's memory.

He thought of the map Nora Vance had shown him. The corners had been marked with blue teardrops.

The same shape.

Had Nora and Uncle Jed run into the Clearspring convoy? Had they left willingly to join them? Or had they always planned to go and just happened to cross paths?

Nora came from the Vance family—renowned for reading weather, tracking shadow, and listening to the wind. They could navigate the Sea of Death like prophets.

Had she foreseen the storm and left early?

Ethan's spear swept another wave of Badgers aside in a wide arc.

"Get on," he barked.

He crouched low and motioned for Clara to climb onto his back.

She stared at his rain-soaked, bare upper body, then looked down at her own thin, drenched clothes. She hesitated.

"What are you waiting for? Hurry up!"

There was no time to argue. If the Clearspring convoy was asking for help, then something had gone very wrong. That group should've been fully equipped—more than capable of surviving a normal storm. Unless... this wasn't normal.

Uncle Jed. Nora. Dot...

They were in danger.

Seeing Clara still frozen, Ethan took a step back and yanked her onto his back.

Two cold, soft points pressed against his shoulder blades.

'Shit…' He flinched. Now he understood why she'd hesitated.

Clara clung to him, arms locked around his neck, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. Her face burned. Ethan's skin radiated heat from hours of exertion, and when her soaked clothes met his bare back, the warmth hit her like a rush—dizzying, almost narcotic. Her muscles went slack.

"Mmm…" The sound slipped out before she could stop it.

Her eyes flew open. Oh my God.

Ethan jolted, startled by the soft hum—just in time to dodge a Badger snapping at his arm.

Smack!

"Ah!" Clara yelped as his hand came down on her backside.

"Don't make noise," he snapped. "Focus."

He pulled his hand away, slow. Clara froze, lip between her teeth. On his back, she simmered.

'He did that on purpose. He totally did.'

Her eyes narrowed to furious slits.

But the truth? Ethan hadn't meant to. Not really. That noise had thrown him, made him react without thinking. And when he pulled his hand back—damp with sweat and rain—he realized the small of her back was still dry.

So he wiped his hand there.

That's it. Nothing more.

"Hold on," Ethan ordered. Clara said nothing.

A faint grin curled his lips.

"Panther Form… activate!"

Whoosh!

Ethan's speed surged. Though the soaked sand beneath them turned slick and treacherous, his Panther Form gave him explosive agility far beyond what any normal human could manage.

Clara squeaked and clung tighter, arms wrapped around his neck. The tighter she held, the more she pressed into him.

Ethan's head buzzed for a moment… and then, inexplicably, he felt hungry.

With a thought, he summoned two steaming cornbread buns from his spatial storage—still warm and soft despite the rain.

"Want one?" he asked, holding it up to his shoulder.

Clara stared at the bread, dumbfounded, then shook her head.

Ethan shrugged. He mashed the two buns together into one giant lump and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

Clara stared at his back, her hands clenched, her whole body buzzing with a cocktail of fury and disbelief.

'God, if murder by biting were a thing… she thought. I'd sink my teeth into your stupid neck right now.'

If Ethan had any clue what was running through her head, he probably would've turned around with that clueless smile and said:

"What? I only had two pieces of cornbread. What'd I do this time?"