Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!-Chapter 911: The Return to Ironvale

High above the outer rim of the Antarctic Circle, Shatterstar drifted through the upper atmosphere with its stealth systems fully engaged, its dark alloy frame almost indistinguishable from the void around it. Inside the cockpit, the space felt tighter than it ever had before. Nearly everyone Ethan cared about was crammed into the cabin, shoulders brushing, and boots planted against bulkheads.

Uncle Jed clasped Ethan’s forearm for a long moment before finally letting go, his weathered face unable to hide the relief in his eyes. The others were no different. In just over a year, the world had shifted in ways that most ordinary people could not even begin to grasp. To civilians, life had simply grown a little stranger, a little more dangerous. But to Energy Users, the transformation had been nothing short of seismic.

As they spoke over one another, filling in the gaps of the time he had missed, Ethan slowly pieced together the new reality. The Divine Sea Temple had risen to terrifying prominence. It was no longer just another faction vying for influence in the shadows. It had become a force that even Uncle Jed and Regis could not confidently oppose. And among its ranks was that old bastard who had chased them relentlessly into Antarctica, a figure Ethan had not forgotten.

The first six months after Ethan vanished had been calm, almost deceptively so. Then Ethereal began to change. Guilds that had once competed fiercely for resources suddenly united and activated the Four Cities United Formation in the major urban centers. Energy systems awakened across countless war-torn districts, unlocking reservoirs of power that had long lain dormant. Ethereal energy flooded into reality, and with it came an explosion of new Energy Users. Even those who could not practice in the traditional sense found their bodies strengthened, their senses sharpened.

With power came instability. As individuals grew stronger, public order deteriorated. Crime rates soared worldwide. The US remained relatively stable only because the Ninth Division intervened decisively, supported by the Eight Noble Families. Other nations were not so fortunate. Entire regions teetered on the brink.

That was when the Divine Sea Temple stepped onto the stage.

They crushed riots with ruthless efficiency and restored order with an iron grip. Wherever Ethereal energy systems unlocked and leaked into the physical world, the Temple established a presence. Once the local energy density reached a certain threshold, they constructed what came to be known as energy spheres. Using the surrounding energy as a catalyst, they activated these spheres and released massive waves of refined energy back into the environment.

No one knew where the surplus energy originated. The Temple offered no explanation, and none dared to demand one.

What mattered was that everyone benefited. The closer one lived to an energy sphere, the denser and purer the ambient energy became. Prime Energy resources clustered around those spheres. Access to them depended entirely on the Temple’s favor. In time, nearly every Mutant, Energy User, and awakened being across the globe bent the knee. Whether out of pragmatism or fear, they aligned themselves with the Temple.

The faction had become unstoppable.

"How do you know all this?" Ethan finally asked. "You were trapped in the Wolf clan’s territory for a year. You couldn’t even leave."

"The Merfolk," Victor replied. "The Third Princess came personally. She told us everything, then left."

Ethan blinked. "Princess Star?"

Victor nodded. "The Merfolk possess an innate ability. They can cross most barriers without restriction. She can move freely between sealed territories."

Ethan absorbed that in silence before asking the question he had been holding back. "Lyla and the others. Did they go to the sea?"

"They did," Regis answered. "But not anymore. The Third Princess received word that the Nether Jade Wraith Coffin was acting up. She sent Lyla, Rainie, and Amber to investigate."

"Why them?" Ethan frowned. "They aren’t the strongest."

"Last time the Princess came, about six months ago, she said they had already returned to the Silverwood family," Regis added.

"And the coffin?" Ethan pressed, his voice quieter now.

The confirmation that they were home steadied him slightly, but the thought of his father lying inside that coffin gnawed at him. If something had gone wrong...

"The Princess didn’t say," Regis replied. "If it were serious, they would not have left."

Ethan gave a small nod. It would have to be enough.

"Then we’re going to the Silverwood estate," he said at last. "Shatterstar, set course for the Ironvale Mountains."

A soft electronic chime responded.

[Destination locked.]

The propulsion systems ignited with a low, rising hum before erupting into a force that defied conventional physics. Shatterstar surged forward, accelerating far beyond supersonic speeds. Radar would never catch it. Satellites would not even register its passage. Space itself seemed to ripple around them before smoothing out again, as if reluctantly allowing their transit.

Outside the canopy, endless white gradually yielded to streaks of green as Antarctica disappeared behind them. Ethan guided Shatterstar by memory toward the concealed entrance of the Silverwood territory.

Then he noticed something wrong.

The Ironvale Mountains were alive with activity. Not with wildlife, but with people. Energy Users, Mutants, and other awakened individuals had gathered in large numbers around a single location: the entrance to the Silverwood hidden territory. Near the iron chains that marked the peak, they had established a makeshift camp.

"What is this?" Leo muttered, staring down. "Tourists?"

In the middle of nowhere? It made no sense.

"Maybe Silverwood sentries?" Markham suggested.

Leo shot him a look. "Do you leave your brain at home? Sentries watch outward, not inward."

Markham flushed, then leaned closer to the viewport. Leo was right. The patrols were pacing back and forth facing the iron chains, with their eyes fixed on the concealed entrance itself.

"Temple lapdogs," Victor said flatly.

No one disagreed.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Even if they were not directly affiliated with the Temple, they were clearly hostile to the Silverwoods. That made them enemies.

"Kill them all," he said calmly.

His wrist device liquefied and flowed over his body in a cascade of shifting metal, forming a sleek humanoid mech in seconds. He could fly under his own power now, ever since Antarctica, but he had no intention of announcing his return to the world. The Temple might suspect something, but they did not know he had come back from the South Pole.

The hatch opened. Ethan dropped.

He struck the center of the camp like a falling star. The impact sent up a shockwave of dust and shattered rock, tents collapsing under the force.

"Intruder!" someone shouted.

Hundreds of awakened fighters snapped into battle stances, rushing toward him.

Then the sky answered.

A dozen steel figures descended in rapid succession, crashing down around the camp like a meteor shower. Markham’s blood-red armor spun into motion, twin blades whirling in a lethal vortex as he roared his technique into the comms. The Chase brothers followed with coordinated strikes, their mechs custom-built by Ethan to match their Ethereal classes, each skill synchronized flawlessly with the system.

The result was not a battle. It was slaughter.

The enemy’s attacks glanced harmlessly off reinforced alloy. Blades carved through defenses as though slicing paper. Those who attempted to flee were cut down before they could take ten steps.

Five minutes later, the hilltop was silent. Uncle Jed, Regis, and Blackie had not even needed to lift a hand.

"Uncle Jed, Lord Regis, Clear the surrounding hundred miles," Ethan ordered. "No stragglers. Leave none alive."

He barely felt warmed up as he turned toward the concealed entrance of the Silverwood territory.

The others scattered to carry out the task. The Dragon Child, who had grown distant ever since Ethan severed their contract, stepped forward at last.

"Be careful," she said quietly.

He glanced at her. For a split second, she faltered midair, then shot north in a streak of light without another word.

Hank snorted and headed west with a swig from his flask. Uncle Jed clasped Ethan’s shoulder before departing, and Regis gave him a look that held more meaning than words, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Ethan awkwardly rubbed his nose through solid steel plating, drawing laughter over the comms.

Before he could order the group forward, the hidden entrance flared and a formation of armed fighters burst out, assembling in tight ranks. More than a hundred strong. At their head stood an elderly man whose presence radiated authority.

If Ethan had attended the last Silverwood assembly, he would have recognized him immediately. Sir Gideon, leader of the Zenith Cult, a subordinate secret organization once affiliated with one of the Eight Great Families. After that meeting, his group had been assigned to guard duty at the territory entrance.

He had watched the earlier massacre from within, unimpressed. In his eyes, the hundred who died outside were worthless rabble. He believed he could have wiped them out just as easily.

The Silverwoods had instructed them not to engage unless outsiders attempted to enter the territory. But they had not forbidden negotiation.

Newcomers had not appeared in a long time, and the sight of advanced mech armor stirred greed in his heart.

"Who are you?" Sir Gideon demanded as he stepped forward. "State your purpose."

Ethan signaled Markham to approach. As heir to the Whitmore family, he was the most suitable to handle this.

Markham disengaged his armor and stepped out, meeting the old man’s gaze without deference. "Mystic Zenith. What are you doing at the Silverwood entrance?"

His tone carried the unmistakable arrogance of someone born into one of the Eight Great Families.

The old man’s eyes narrowed. "I asked who you are. The Zenith Cult’s business is none of yours. If you seek shelter, the Silverwood rules are simple. Surrender all resources before entering. However, you do not appear to be a traditional Energy practitioner. Fighting in machines. Who sent you? Speak truthfully, or this old man will wipe you out."

His gaze drifted repeatedly toward Blackie’s waist, where seven or eight spatial storage pouches were strapped in plain view.

Ethan noticed everything. Through his enhanced Soul Sense, he caught every flicker of greed in the man’s expression and nearly laughed. So that was the plan. The Silverwood territory had become a refuge for Energy users and this man intended to extort anyone who arrived.

How had Lyla allowed this to happen? Had the Silverwoods hidden a powerful expert to maintain order?

Ethan was about to order Markham to stop wasting time and push through without killing anyone when Markham suddenly trembled.

A surge of golden light erupted behind him, coalescing into the massive head of a dragon that towered overhead, eyes blazing with regal fury.

"You decrepit fraud," Markham shouted, his voice amplified by the spectral dragon. "You dare extort your Grandfather Markham?"

The pressure of the dragon was not overwhelming, yet everyone present, including Sir Gideon, instinctively took a step back.

"Whitmore family?" the old man asked sharply.

"You know the name," Markham replied coldly. "Now move."

For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in Sir Gideon’s eyes. The Whitmore name still carried weight.

Then someone leaned close and whispered into his ear. His gaze sharpened, the hesitation fading as something else took its place.