Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!
Chapter 403: The Hunter, the Hunted, and the Blade That Split the Storm

Chapter 403: The Hunter, the Hunted, and the Blade That Split the Storm

The distant rumble of battle still echoed faintly as the two colossal beasts shrank into the horizon, their roars gradually swallowed by the triumphant cheers rising from Beastfall City’s battered but resilient residents.

"Shall we go, Jed? Come sit with me for a while?" Regis smiled gently, turning to the grim-faced Uncle Jed.

Truth be told, Jed was itching to follow the action, to witness the aftermath of the titanic clash. But the truth was written in the stiffness of his stance and the shallow rise of his breath. The shockwave from the monster’s roar had injured him more than he let on. Still, after seeing the sheer power Ethan unleashed, he trusted the young man could finish what he started—especially against a beast already crippled.

"Let’s go, Regis..."

A full century separated them. Uncle Jed, just past forty; Regis, well over one hundred and twenty. And yet, their friendship was deep, forged through fire and time. On Umbral Star, ordinary people could easily live to see two centuries. For warriors like them, a hundred years marked only the early Chapters of life.

---

Far to the north, one pursued and one fled. Ethan barreled after the giant beast like a hurricane on two legs, his monstrous transformation straining at its time limit. The Pincer-tailed Sand Badger King—massive and wounded—darted across the desert with staggering speed, each stride erasing miles in seconds. It tried, time and again, to burrow into the earth, but Ethan would always catch up and yank it out by its tail.

"Damn it, Uncle Jed, where are you?!" Ethan shouted into the wind, breath ragged with fury and desperation.

The countdown was almost up. His time in this monstrous form was measured in seconds now. And the Badger King wasn’t slowing. Despite its injuries, it still had enough strength and instinct to run like death was licking its heels. Ethan closed in with a burst of speed, landed a brutal strike—only for the creature to stagger forward again, slipping from his grasp like smoke.

"Hey, don’t run..." he growled between clenched teeth, the words half-mocking, half-pleading.

The beast gave no answer. It didn’t need to. The malice in its flight said enough. It wanted him dead. It wanted his beast core, and it had no intention of going quietly. Even wounded, it knew how to use its charging ability to gain ground, and each time Ethan got close, it surged away again like a wounded phantom.

Was it time to give up?

---

To the south, under gray, rain-heavy skies, a military encampment stirred.

Inside a large, reinforced tent, a soldier stood stiffly before a map-strewn table.

"Reporting to the Commander. North of our position, two giant magical beasts, at least a thousand meters tall, are engaged in combat."

"The lead beast is a Pincer-tailed Sand Badger King. We estimate a thousand meters in height."

"The one behind it... is smaller. We don’t know what it is, sir. It’s not in our bestiary."

Commander Julian stood silently. He was the third son of City Lord Regis, and despite his youth—only twenty-eight—he was already a Transcendent-rank Energy User, commander of the elite Central Dominion Guards. His forces numbered two thousand, but every one of them was Awakened-rank or higher. Squad leaders? Late Awakened. Company captains? Ascendant. Battalion leaders? Late Ascendant or you didn’t even get considered.

Julian himself was a phenomenon. The greatest talent in a thousand years—second only to Uncle Jed.

On Umbral Star, Energy mastery was a clearly defined art. Energy Users were classified into three main stages:

Stage One: Awakened, Exalted, Ascendant, Sovereign.

Stage Two: Transcendent, Limbo, Nether, Elysium.

Stage Three: War God, Saint, Voidbreaker—the so-called Legendary stage.

Each rank had early, mid, and late divisions. It was rigid, formal, almost clinical in its clarity. Ethan, after arriving on this world, found the structure jarring compared to the chaotic paths on Earth where power levels were inconsistent and murky, and Energy Users were little more than glorified strongmen.

Uncle Jed was early War God-rank—barely into the Legendary stage. No one had reached Saint or Voidbreaker-rank in tens of thousands of years. He was the first War God in a millennium.

Julian was catching up fast. Already at the Transcendent rank, barely three steps behind Jed.

The rain continued to fall, soaking tents and uniforms alike. Julian frowned, recalling the events of the past hour. The Pincer-tailed Sand Badgers had begun their chaotic migration, charging northward en masse. From their vantage point, the soldiers had only seen the backs of the beasts. They didn’t yet realize Beastfall City had been under siege.

Then came the flames—visible even from a thousand miles away. Tornadoes followed, spinning up from the earth like elemental serpents. And then he saw it—his father’s signature spell: Seal the Heavens and Earth. Julian’s gut clenched. He’d already ordered preparations for war.

But even then, doubt nagged at him. Before leaving, Regis had told him not to return to Beastfall until the rain stopped. That wasn’t a casual order. It was part of something bigger—a strategy, a plan with unseen pieces. Perhaps they, the Central Dominion Guards, were one of those pieces. A pawn placed just right on the board.

Returning now could break everything.

Then the scouts arrived again, two giant beasts. Headed their way.

---

"Form ranks!" Julian’s voice rang out clear and sharp.

He gripped the hilt of his sword as he strode from the tent, rain streaming down his armor. In the distance, two enormous figures tore across the sand. The smaller one—a towering behemoth wielding a spear—was chasing the wounded Badger King relentlessly.

A magical beast... that used weapons?

Julian’s brow furrowed.

"Prepare for battle!"

His eyes narrowed. The Pincer-tailed Sand Badger was charging straight at them. No time to reposition. The thing’s sheer size meant it would obliterate their entire camp if it reached them.

Clang!

More than ten thousand soldiers raised their blades as one.

Julian stepped forward. "Void Cleave!" he roared.

His hands tightened on the hilt. Behind him, the soldiers moved as if tethered to his breath. The entire army became a single entity—one will, one pulse. Their collective auras converged on Julian, flowing into him like rivers into an ocean.

His blade shimmered, then pulsed, then disappeared—vibrating so fast it slipped between realms.

"Strike!"

Julian swung. The soldiers followed.

BOOM!

A blade of light a thousand meters long erupted across the sky, tearing toward the Badger King with the force of a divine judgment.

Ethan saw it coming and blinked in awe.

The beast saw it too—and panicked.

"No!" it bellowed. Its tail snapped forward, glowing with eerie light, launching itself at the incoming blade.

Ethan’s eyes lit up. "Die... Dragon’s Might!"

From Grey Throat’s crown, ancient eyes flared with blue light.

ROAR! The sound shook the skies—a dragon’s call from some forgotten age. The Badger King flinched, its body paralyzed mid-motion.

CLANG! The glowing tail collided with the light blade. But in that instant, the beast’s muscles locked. The purple light on its tail flickered out.

RIP!

The blade came down like judgment, cleaving through the air, slicing clean through the tail. Blackish-purple blood sprayed in every direction.

"Roar... you damn pests!" the Badger King shrieked in agony.

But its roar was cut short.

THUMP!

A massive spearhead burst through its chest.

Ethan loomed behind it, gripping the spear’s shaft with both hands.

With a snarl, he hoisted it high—and twisted.

RIP!

The beast split apart at the waist, a final, strangled roar escaping as it collapsed in two.

Ethan moved fast. He reached down, grabbed the severed tail. With a snap, he tore off the remaining piece of the glowing tip. Without the beast’s life force, its flesh was no longer indestructible.

He cracked open the tail with a flex of his hand.

Crack.

A glowing purple orb, the size of two basketballs, rolled into his palm. The beast core, his prize.