Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!-Chapter 847: The Hundred-Gold Gauntlet

The three women tumbled onto the large bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter, the mattress dipping under their combined weight as hair fanned out and breathless giggles filled the room. Ethan watched the scene unfold, his blood already heating, instinct and opportunity aligning in a way that made him step forward without thinking. He moved to join them, intentions written plainly on his face.

That was when the unified front formed.

It happened so smoothly it was almost beautiful. A coordinated rebellion, practiced and merciless. Six feet belonging to Lyla, Amber, and Rainie slammed into his chest at the same time, pushing with perfect synchronization. Ethan had just enough time to register betrayal before he went airborne, executing a flawless, involuntary Butt-First Meteor maneuver that sent him flying backward off the bed and onto the plush carpet with a soft, humiliating thump.

He lay there for half a second, stunned, then groaned. "What was that for?" he whined from the floor, craning his neck to look up at the three figures now looming over him, their height advantage absolute and cruel.

"What do you think?" they chorused, then exchanged a glance. A slow, synchronized, utterly wicked smile spread across all three faces, the kind that made it very clear they were enjoying this far too much.

Without another word, they began straightening their clothes and smoothing their hair, composure returning with infuriating ease. Then they linked arms and, in a dignified, silent procession, marched past the sprawled Ethan, out of his bedroom, and closed the door behind them without so much as a backward glance.

Ethan sat on the floor for a long moment, the very picture of thwarted desire and existential defeat. Eventually, he looked down at his own lap and let out a long, resigned sigh. "Sorry, buddy," he muttered. "Tough break."

He hauled himself to his feet and stalked into the ensuite bathroom, twisting the shower knob all the way to its coldest setting. He stood under the icy spray for a full thirty minutes, letting the shock numb his skin and drown every lingering ember of frustrated passion until only clarity, and mild misery, remained.

When he finally emerged, clean and mostly calm, he focused his thoughts. From his Mindscape, he manifested his personal VR Capsule. The sleek, advanced pod settled onto the floor with a soft hum as it materialized, its systems lighting up as he connected it to the room’s power.

He checked the time. 5:35 PM. The whole incident had burned nearly an hour, an hour of tantalizing almosts and expertly executed retreats by the enemy. He shook his head at his own misfortune, then exhaled slowly.

With nothing else to do, he opened the Capsule and lay down inside. Maybe browsing the Ethereal forums would distract him.

As the login sequence initiated and his consciousness drifted into the familiar pre-game limbo, his eyes scanned the interface. He skipped past the forums without really thinking, and that was when a different icon caught his attention, glowing faintly but insistently.

Arena Mode.

Right. He’d almost forgotten about that.

Arena Mode was a separate, twenty-four-seven accessible subsystem of Ethereal, a pure testing ground where skill mattered more than gear. Everyone entered with standardized, equalized equipment, stripping away advantages and excuses. It offered solo duels, team battles, random matchmaking, custom challenges, and open arena fights. Spectators could watch from the stands and even place bets, though the mode’s real purpose was sharpening combat instincts.

Ethan had dabbled in it before. He’d climbed to a respectable rank, then hit a wall and become cannon fodder for true PvP specialists. Back then, his old VR headset had imposed a strict two-hour daily Arena limit, which made sustained improvement difficult. The Capsule had no such restriction.

The open arena option lingered on his screen. A player could host an arena, stake a sum of in-game currency, and let challengers come one by one. The winner took the pot, while the losers lost nothing but pride. It was rarely used, mostly by arrogant show-offs looking to bully newcomers or serious fighters seeking very specific opponents.

With time to kill before the main servers went live, Ethan selected Arena Mode and chose to create an open arena room.

He glanced through the existing listings. Most prize pools were laughable, a few coppers here, some silvers there. The highest he spotted was a single gold. Arena had a smaller dedicated population, but Ethereal was global, and thousands of players were still idling here at any given moment.

Ethan smirked and created his own room.

In the prize pool field, he typed: 100 Gold.

The number flashed on the screen, bold and garish, almost obscene in its excess.

In the Arena lobby, rooms were automatically sorted by pot size. Ethan’s listing rocketed straight to the very top.

The effect was immediate.

[World][ArenaLobby] SkullCrusher88: HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THE POT!

[World][ArenaLobby] HealSlut: 100g?! Is this a bug?

[World][ArenaLobby] PwnShop:

Someone’s feeling generous... or stupid.

[World][ArenaLobby] LoreMasterJ: You idiots, look at the host name!

Inside his preparation chamber, Ethan facepalmed. He’d forgotten to hide his player ID.

[World][ArenaLobby] CritHappen: NotADruid?! IT’S DRUID GOD!

[World][ArenaLobby] PwnShop: Druid God here to farm noobs!!!

[World][ArenaLobby] HealSlut: Omg is that even fair? With that pot as bait tho... I’m tempted... 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

[Ding! A player has entered the spectator stands.]

In arena mode, challengers entered as spectators first before applying to fight. Ethan straightened slightly, ready.

The system chime began ringing again and again, so fast it blurred into a constant chorus.

[Ding! Ding! Ding!]

The spectator count exploded. One hundred. One thousand. Ten thousand, all within seconds.

Inside the vast, magically expanding colosseum, Ethan stood alone at the center of the arena floor. Above him, tier upon tier of virtual seats filled with a roaring, pointing, laughing crowd. The noise washed over him, and for a brief moment he felt less like a fighter and more like an exhibit in a particularly judgmental zoo.

"Someone get down here!" he shouted, his voice amplified across the arena.

"We’re not stupid!" dozens of voices yelled back, overlapping with laughter. "You think we want to be your practice dummy?"

Mixed in with the jeers were cheers from his fanbase, a surprisingly large and highly motivated bloc that had mobilized almost instantly.

"YOU’RE THE DUMB ONES!" a chant erupted from one section. "IT’S EQUALIZED GEAR, MORONS! YOU ALWAYS SAY HE ONLY WINS BECAUSE OF GEAR! PROVE IT NOW, YOU COWARDS!"

The chant spread, picked up rhythm, and swelled into something thunderous. "COWARDS! COWARDS! COWARDS!"

It was equal parts hilarious and pathetic. Nearly half the spectators were clearly on his side, and they were far louder and better organized than the scattered hecklers trying to drown them out.

The unified chant hit its peak, shaking the virtual stadium.

At last, a figure in the stands sprang to his feet. A Berserker, massive even by avatar standards, with two enormous axes crossed on his back. His face was pixelated with fury as he jabbed a finger toward the arena floor.

"FINE! SCREW THIS!" he roared. "Let’s see what the famous Druid God is really made of!"

He slammed the challenge button. His avatar dissolved into light, then rematerialized opposite Ethan with a heavy thump that sent dust skittering across the stone.

Ethan glanced at the server clock. Ten minutes until the main world went live.

He looked back at the snarling Berserker, calm settling in at last, and raised one hand, extending three fingers.