Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!-Chapter 880: All Things Shall Be Unmade

Ethan’s mind raced as the wind tore past him, the abyss yawning below and the colossal hands hemming them in from both sides.

Then, suddenly, something in his eyes sharpened.

Deep within his body, the Quintessence Bone pulsed like a second heart. It throbbed once, violently, and five colorless radiances burst forth in unison, flooding his meridians with a pressure so intense it almost stole his breath.

"Green Wood Radiance..."

A soft green glow unfurled along his arm and into the Twilight War Spear.

"White Metal Radiance..."

Gold light flared to life, threading itself alongside the green like a second current, neither merging nor colliding, but coexisting in taut opposition.

"Water Flow Radiance..."

A darker sheen coiled around the shaft, fluid and cold, wrapping the first two in a shifting layer of depth. With each additional manifestation, the fire in Ethan’s eyes burned brighter. The last time he had attempted something like this, against the Dragon of Consumption, he had barely managed to sustain Green Wood alone. Forcing a second element into alignment had nearly ruptured his channels and left him coughing blood into the dirt.

Now three forces twisted together, straining against the limits of his flesh.

His body screamed.

Pain lanced through him from marrow to skin, relentless and unfiltered. It felt as though his veins were being scraped raw from the inside.

Was it enough?

He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw trembled.

"Fire Blaze Radiance... hkk—"

The fourth color ignited, crimson and violent. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth as the backlash slammed through him.

"One more... Earth Mountain Radiance... URK—"

The fifth light answered his call.

White joined the spiral.

The Twilight War Spear erupted in five distinct hues: green, gold, crimson, black, and white, each blazing with a clarity that seemed almost sacred. They were the colors of the Quintessence Bone embedded deep within him, the perfect counterpoint to the world’s elemental order.

But he was not finished.

Ethan wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing red across his skin. His teeth were stained, his breathing ragged, yet a grin spread across his face, sharp and almost feral.

"Five-Colored Divine Light... manifest."

The air around him trembled.

"All things within the Five Elements shall serve me. All things within the Five Elements shall be unmade."

He swept the spear in a flawless arc. Its tip carved a luminous circle into the air before them, the five radiances anchoring themselves at equidistant points along the circumference. The sigil spun, the elements cycling not in harmony but in opposition, each suppressing and devouring the next in the destructive sequence. This was not the generative cycle he had used before, not Wood feeding Fire or Fire creating Earth.

This was the overcoming cycle.

This was annihilation.

"Go! Blackie, now!"

He hurled the spinning mandala forward. It tore through the air without resistance, a disc of clashing, consuming light.

Blackie hesitated for only a heartbeat. His faith in Ethan was absolute. The instant the command left Ethan’s lips, he committed. Lightning detonated around his body as he surged forward, chasing the spinning sigil like a thunderbolt riding its own shockwave.

He did not question whether it would work.

He simply moved.

The Five-Colored Divine Light met the descending palm.

There was no explosion, no earth-shaking collision. Only a soft, almost delicate sound.

Swoosh.

The colossal hand froze mid-swipe.

At its center, a perfectly round hole opened, spanning more than thirty meters across. The edges were smooth, almost polished, as if the material had not been torn apart but gently erased from existence.

Blackie’s pupils shrank.

He shot through the opening like an arrow loosed from a drawn bow, lightning screaming behind him as he cleared the final stretch of the chasm. His claws struck solid rock with a harsh scrape, stone grinding beneath his weight as he skidded forward and finally stabilized.

They had crossed.

From the abyss below came a roar.

"GRAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

It was not merely loud. It was furious, ancient, and saturated with pain so profound it seemed to bend the sky. The wounded hand trembled, cracks spidering outward from the circular void before the entire limb began to crumble, chunks breaking away into the darkness below. The second hand, which had been poised to strike again, recoiled abruptly and withdrew into the depths as if fearing further contact.

"Holy shit, Boss! You did it!" Blackie barked, half laughing, half incredulous.

"Did what?" Ethan wiped his mouth again, more blood streaking across his knuckles. "That cost me like four hundred CCs of blood."

Despite the coppery taste thick in his throat and the tremor running through his limbs, his eyes burned with unfiltered triumph.

Five-Colored Divine Light.

It was devastating.

When he had faced the Dragon of Consumption, he had invoked the generative cycle, allowing the elements to feed one another in sequence. That alignment had enabled absorption, the steady drawing in of hostile energy. This time, however, he had reversed the flow. He had invoked the destructive sequence, each element suppressing the next in a relentless chain of overcoming. The name had surfaced in his mind the moment the sigil formed.

All Things Shall Be Unmade.

Watching the second hand retreat of its own accord, Ethan finally allowed himself a breath of relief.

Blackie shuddered and edged a little farther from the chasm’s lip. "What was that thing? The energy coming off it... if it had touched me properly, I swear I would’ve melted back into primal sludge."

Ethan’s gaze lingered on the abyss, thoughtful. "That might explain why Nightclaw was knocked back to his base form."

He spoke calmly, but uncertainty lingered beneath the words. He did not know. And he had no desire to confirm the theory firsthand.

The forest had possessed its temporal distortion, a silent ten-year gap that defied reason. Now this chasm carried a different abnormality, a nullifying force that seemed to strip existence down to something more fundamental.

Whatever this place was, it did not obey the rules of the outside world.

---

As Ethan and Blackie moved deeper into the desert beyond the chasm, word of their passage spread like fire in dry brush.

Many teams had already crossed into the desert expanse. More were still climbing the outer mountain ring. And several had stumbled upon the remains of the cyborg squad.

They were not nobodies.

The fallen unit ranked twenty-second on the Dark List, a name that carried weight in the underground world. Their equipment was state-of-the-art, their propulsion systems and cold-adapted armor the envy of smaller mercenary outfits. They had leveraged their immunity to the frigid climate and their rocket boosters to surge ahead of even the elite vanguard.

Now their bodies lay half-buried in sand and frost, wounds clean and unmistakably man-made.

No beast had done this.

The message was unmistakable. The bounty had been located. There had been a clash.

And the bounty had won.

"Move. Faster." The order passed from team to team as tension replaced caution. "He can’t be far."

Most of the faces pushing deeper into the wasteland were Western. They had flown halfway across the world to reach this frozen continent, endured the treacherous ascent, the biting cold, the constant threat of avalanches and crevasses. Pride and greed burned equally in their eyes.

None of them intended to leave empty-handed.

---

The polar region had not seen such activity in thousands of years.

Aircraft cut white contrails across the aurora-lit sky. Helicopters, both commercial and military, hovered or swept low across the ice fields. Snow was churned by boots and rotor wash alike. More than a thousand individuals now traversed terrain that had once known only wind and silence.

On a distant peak overlooking the Forbidden Vale, a dozen figures stood in quiet observation.

Among them were Xakier, the Cloudfang elder, and Nightclaw. The entire drinking party from the mountain summit had gathered, their earlier camaraderie replaced by watchful stillness.

"So many invaders in the Forbidden Vale." The Cloudfang elder’s deep voice rumbled like distant thunder as his muscles tensed beneath his fur-lined cloak. "Should we intervene?"

Nightclaw’s feline ears twitched sharply. "Since when did our Sacred Southern Vale become a sightseeing destination?"

His tail lashed once, irritation barely contained.

Xakier raised a hand, steady and deliberate, forestalling their anger. "Remember what I told you. The High Shaman’s divination. What she saw when she cast her vision for my daughter."

Nightclaw’s ears flattened slightly. "I remember. You said the boy could break our seals. That he would bring forth our future King." His jaw tightened. "But does that give these ants the right to trample our land? And the Divine Sea Temple... they’re the ones who leaked the Vale’s location in the first place. How did that old bastard even know Ethan would come here?"

The grievances spilled out of him in a single breath, frustration and suspicion tangled together.

The Cloudfang elder merely shrugged, the movement heavy with centuries of history. "We are ancient clans," he said. "There have never been true secrets between us."

He paused, eyes reflecting the distant movement of aircraft across the sky.

"Only old debts."