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

Inside the medical room, two men lay unconscious on separate gurneys. Ethan didn't recognize either of them at first. But what drew his attention was a transparent isolation tank at the center of the room, made from an unfamiliar material.

It wasn't just visually striking—it blocked his senses entirely. He could detect the tank's outline, but nothing beyond that.

Inside it was a man. Tubes ran along his body, and he lay still, unconscious. Ethan narrowed his eyes. It was Lyla's father.

Despite his appearance, the readings on the nearby equipment suggested he was stable, no longer in critical danger. The two men on the gurneys looked to be around the same age as Lyla's father—and oddly, bore a faint resemblance to him.

Between them stood a machine humming quietly. Ethan examined it with growing curiosity. It was clearly a hybrid of advanced technology and magic—an unusual and rare combination.

But this wasn't the time to get distracted. Saving Lyla's father was the entire reason for coming to the Silverwood estate.

"Dad…" Lyla rushed to the tank, pressing her hands against the glass. She tapped it desperately, her voice trembling.

Ethan moved beside her, gently pulling her back. "Don't worry. We'll get him out. Just hang on."

Not wanting to take any risks with the machine, he quickly called out for Evelyn.

She entered moments later, eyes widening in disbelief at the scene. But at Ethan's urging, she moved swiftly, examining the device's interface. After a few adjustments and key presses—

Hiss… The tank's cover began to open with a slow release of pressurized air.

Right then, Ryan and the others arrived. Together, they helped lift Lyla's father from the tank and onto a mobile gurney.

After a thorough check, Evelyn stepped back, frowning slightly. "His body's fine… perfectly stable. But—he's in a deep coma. I can't say when he'll wake up."

Lyla's eyes brimmed with tears.

Ethan tried casting two healing spells, one after another. They shimmered brightly, but had no effect.

Clearly, magic could heal wounds—but not this.

A gruff voice cut through the moment. "Lachlan Silverwood… you son of a bitch!"

Donovan stood between the two gurneys, his expression twisting in fury as he turned over one of the unconscious men.

His hands trembled with rage. "Evelyn! Over here. Now!"

Everyone looked on in confusion—why was he so enraged at a man who looked long dead?

Evelyn rushed to his side, running diagnostics on the body.

"Granduncle? What's going on?" Lyla asked, just as she and the others finished moving her father's gurney.

Donovan waved them off. "It's nothing. Take the family head out first. Ethan, stay here. Evelyn too."

He waited until the others were gone, then turned to Ethan. "You two must know…"

"Your son?" Ethan blurted out, cutting him off.

Donovan froze. His face twitched between surprise, denial, then reluctant acceptance. "…Yes."

"I knew you had a secret kid," Ethan said with a smirk, giving Donovan a teasing pat on the shoulder. "You should've just told us earlier."

Donovan rolled his eyes. "This isn't the time."

"But are you sure he's your son?" Ethan asked more seriously.

Before Donovan could answer, Evelyn chimed in, "Granduncle Donovan, his vitals are collapsing. He needs a blood transfusion immediately!"

Donovan didn't hesitate. He rolled up his sleeve without a word.

Just as Evelyn prepared the equipment, Ethan's back suddenly lit up.

A towering, ethereal tree shimmered into view behind him.

"Tree Form," he muttered. "Rejuvenation. Healing Spell. Lifebloom…"

Within three seconds, the aura receded. Ethan stepped back, the healing done.

Donovan stared, stunned. He'd never witnessed Ethan's healing magic firsthand.

Then—

Whirr…

The machine between the two gurneys roared to life.

"No—wait!" Evelyn cried. "It's drawing his blood! It's injecting it into the other one!"

Before they could react—

Splatter!

Blood burst into the air, red and white streaking across the room. Donovan's eyes burned. He slammed his palm into the other man's head.

The crack echoed sharply.

Evelyn screamed.

The machine powered down, its lights dimming.

"What the hell just happened?!" Ethan barked, staring at the blood on his own face. "You old…! Did you just kill that guy?!"

Donovan looked at the body, expression grim. "That… that was Lachlan's child."

He turned to Ethan, voice bitter. "Now it makes sense. They used my soul to suppress the Ancestor Statue's will…"

Ethan blinked, still trying to wipe blood off his cheek.

"They planned to rewrite the statue's bloodline recognition," Donovan continued. "By using my son's blood… funneled into his child. They were trying to forge a rightful heir."

Ethan tried to follow. He counted on his fingers. "So… couldn't they have just drawn blood from the actual family head?"

Donovan shook his head and pointed to the tank. "They created the illusion that his bloodline had vanished. That forced the Ancestor's will into dormancy."

He explained further—long-winded and dense—but Ethan eventually pieced it together.

Still, his focus drifted. Something wasn't sitting right.

As they turned to leave, Ethan suddenly stopped just shy of the exit. His body flickered—and with a loud crack, he drove his fist straight through the wall.

"Ahh!"

A scream echoed from inside the steel.

"I got her!" Ethan shouted. "Old man—help me!"

Donovan arrived instantly. Forming a hand-blade, he slashed through the wall with three quick strikes.

With a grunt, Ethan yanked his arm back—pulling out a thick steel panel, nearly three centimeters thick.

A woman was pinned against it.

"Luna…" Donovan's face twisted with fury.

He seized her by the hair and dragged her away from Ethan.

"Uncle—please! I was forced! Uncle Eight made me!" Luna's face turned pale, her pleas rapid and desperate.

Ethan ignored her, turning his gaze toward the hidden passage revealed behind the panel.

"Where does that lead?"

The walls of the medical room were built entirely from this strange alloy—one that heavily suppressed Senses.

Ethan now understood why his detection range had been limited. It was only because Luna had pressed herself against the steel to peek through a pinhole-sized crack that he'd noticed anything at all.

Each time she finished spying, she left—likely to report elsewhere.

Ethan stepped inside.

The corridor twisted like a maze. Without his sharpened Senses, he would've gotten lost in minutes.

Eventually, he reached another door—same steel, same sense-blocking properties. He placed a hand on it, trying to find a mechanism. Nothing.

He sighed. "Of course."

"Bear Form. Heavy Strike."

As he raised his palm, ready to smash through—

Click.

The panel slid open, noiselessly, to the left. A figure stood behind it.

Ethan froze mid-swing.

"…Oh."

'This thing slides? Not push or pull?'

The person on the other side stiffened upon seeing him.

"You…"