Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat - Chapter 677

Chapter 677: The Third Princess’s Whisper

A wave of agony exploded in his mind, so sharp it felt like his skull was splitting.

The force of the impact sent his body flying backward, tumbling through the air before he crashed to the ground a good distance away.

The pain, however, had a clarifying effect, cutting through the fog of battle and sharpening his focus.

He looked down.

Embedded deep in his right shoulder, an arrow shaft still vibrated from the tremendous force behind the shot. Blood pulsed from the wound, staining his tunic a dark, wet crimson.

“Hah! Ethan, isn’t it? Thought you were so tough? Come on, then! What’s wrong?” Alaric’s mocking voice cut through the air. “Does this hurt you? Heh… just imagine how you’ll feel watching me defile her.”

As he spoke, Alaric shifted his longbow to his right hand. With a casual left-handed gesture, he used a burst of energy to yank the unconscious Amber Zane through the air from where she lay, dumping her unceremoniously onto a stone table nearby.

“Let’s make this clear,” Alaric sneered, his eyes locked on Ethan. “You’re going to watch every second of this, completely powerless to stop it. You… are nothing but a failure.”

Riiip.

He tore a strip of fabric from Amber’s tunic, exposing her shoulder to the cold air.

“You—!” Ethan’s vision threatened to go red again. The searing pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to the rage boiling inside him.

But just as the fury was about to consume him, his ear twitched, catching a nearly imperceptible sound. He forced the words back down his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a large, unassuming bird that had just alighted on the railing at the side of the high platform.

He turned his glare back to Alaric, his posture shifting from one of blind rage to one of grim resignation. He straightened up, his voice low and laced with a feigned defeat.

“Fine. You win. State your terms. What do you want to let her go?”

Alaric paused, his hand stopping mid-motion. A flicker of curiosity crossed his face. “Oh? And how did you know I had terms?”

What Alaric couldn’t see was the figure clinging to Ethan’s back like a second shadow—a being about a foot tall, resembling a tiny mermaid, her form shimmering and translucent like a patch of spilled water. This was the Third Princess, Star. She had been following him like this for hours. Ethan had been surprised to learn she possessed such a skill.

It was her whispered message in his mind that had pulled him back from the brink. Just moments ago, she had subtly cast her mind-reading ability on Alaric, laying his intentions bare. Knowing the truth was the only thing that had cooled Ethan’s murderous impulse.

“If you just wanted to assault her, you wouldn’t have waited until I got here,” Ethan replied, his tone flat and his eyes steady. “So, out with it. What’s the price?”

“Hahaha…! Clever man. Alright then, I’ll be direct.” Alaric’s expression melted away, replaced by a calm, almost pleasant smile. “I want you… to willingly, with your own two hands, carve out your heart. Remember… it must be willing. Your heart cannot harbor a single trace of resentment!”

“Why?” Ethan frowned.

“Alchemy,” Alaric answered, offering no further explanation.

But as he said the word, the Third Princess’s voice echoed in Ethan’s mind once more. “He likely seeks to refine the ‘Source Elixir.’ The primary ingredient is the heart of one with a Sacred Body, supported by countless other rare materials. Consuming it grants a chance to inherit the traits of that Sacred Body. The probability is tied to the grade of the finished pill… and the pill’s grade itself is dependent on the donor’s sincerity. A heart taken by force is filled with resentment and is useless for this recipe. The Source Elixir is classified as a Celestial-grade pill, but it doesn’t require immense skill to brew. Its most demanding requirement is the source… and the method of acquisition…”

As a Royal Princess of the Merfolk, Star had access to vast archives of knowledge. She was a studious child with a photographic memory, a living encyclopedia of esoteric lore.

Hearing this, Ethan’s face remained an impassive mask. He looked at Alaric and said coolly, “I see. And what is your proficiency in Alchemy? The Source Elixir is a Celestial-grade formula. Have you even reached the ‘Celestial’ rank? It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good heart if your skills are… lacking.”

Alaric’s casually confident demeanor shattered. His eyes widened slightly. “Celestial-grade? How do you know that name?”

He was stunned. He had discovered the formula for this elixir in an ancient, singular text. As someone who had lived for over three centuries, he was shocked that this twenty-year-old whelp could not only name the elixir but also knew its grade—a detail missing from his own copy of the text.

“Where I learned it is none of your concern,” Ethan said dismissively. “However… I have an alternative proposal. One that benefits us both.”

Alaric’s brow furrowed at the first part of the sentence, but as Ethan’s tone shifted, a spark of interest ignited in his eyes. He took a subtle half-step forward.

“What proposal?” Alaric pressed.

“It’s simple…” Ethan began, a faint smile playing on his lips as he drew out the words. “…You die.”

Alaric had been leaning in, eager to hear the offer. The sudden, thunderous shout caught him completely off guard.

SHING!

At that exact moment, a streak of golden light shot from the side of the platform. By the time Alaric whirled around, it was too late.

He saw a little girl, no bigger than a doll, with a vacant, naturally dazed look in her eyes, already scooping up the semi-conscious Amber from the table.

“You dare!” Alaric roared, lashing out with a palm strike meant to obliterate the child.

WHOOSH!

The golden light erupted again, stretching into a long, brilliant line before vanishing. Alaric’s powerful strike hit nothing but air, the momentum causing him to stagger forward.

“Looking for this?” Ethan’s voice called out.

Swish-CRACK!

A sharp object, trailing a gust of wind, shot toward the back of Alaric’s head. Spinning around, he snatched the projectile out of the air. It was slick and sticky. The object slid several inches through his grip before he could stop it.

It was the very arrow he had shot into Ethan’s shoulder, now coated in Ethan’s own blood.

The arrowhead came to a stop a hair’s breadth from his forehead. He could feel its deadly sharpness.

The humiliation and fury made Alaric’s vision swim. His face contorted into a mask of pure venom as he glared in Ethan’s direction.

Ethan was already in motion, leaping backward. A soft, green luminescence enveloped his hand, which he pressed firmly against his wounded shoulder. In the blink of an eye, the grievous puncture wound sealed itself, leaving only a faint scar.

“STOP HIM!” Alaric bellowed.

In response, a new wave of puppets and mutated creatures surged from all directions. The sheer number of these creatures on Ascension Isle was staggering. Had he recruited them all, or was there some secret to this place that made it easier for creatures to awaken?

Ethan risked a glance toward the edge of the complex and saw Astrid’s figure slip through the hole they had torn in the magic barrier. A weight lifted from his chest.

Now… with no one else to protect, he could finally cut loose.