Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat - Chapter 626

626: Seven Stars 626: Seven Stars The goateed man froze, eyes widening as he turned toward the sea.

A deep rumble rolled across the water.

In the next instant, countless columns of water burst upward, towering hundreds of meters into the air.

The number kept growing.

The two massive Flying Dragon ships overhead rocked violently, their hulls groaning.

Along the shore, smaller boats were already flipped over and sinking into the depths.

“It’s over…” the goateed captain whispered, horror filling his eyes.

Were those six beasts trying to drown Sacred Sea Island itself?

“Idiots… what kind of fight needs this kind of destruction?” He spun around, shouting, “Run!” at the woman nearby.

The countless columns of water had already begun twisting together, merging into a single monstrous vortex.

It loomed like a colossal Wyrm of the deep, coiling toward Alaric high above the island.

The captain’s position lay directly in its path.

The swirling mass unleashed a massive suction, dragging everything toward it.

He braced himself, but the pull was too strong.

His boots scraped against the ground as his body slid helplessly toward the roaring maelstrom.

“Go!

Quickly!” A shout came from behind him-loud, desperate.

He turned in shock.

A huge black sphere came hurtling toward him, slamming into his body with bone-jarring force.

Boom.

The impact was soft yet immense, like being struck by a padded boulder.

The blow sent him flying back toward the place where the woman had been screaming moments earlier.

“Shaw!” he gasped.

He recognized the voice instantly.

And that shape-he’d seen Emery Shaw curl himself into a ball during the earlier battle.

He’d assumed the man had died then.

But no… he was still alive.

Relief flickered in the captain’s chest, but it vanished in the next heartbeat.

When the black sphere struck him, the recoil flung Emery Shaw straight into the heart of the vortex.

The captain landed hard, rolling across the wet ground.

He looked up, despair flooding through him.

Shaw was gone-swallowed by the churning water.

Was there any chance of survival?

“Don’t stand there shouting!

Run!

If you want to save me, collect my body fragments when this is over!” The voice was faint but unmistakable.

The goateed captain stared at his arm, stunned.

A thin puddle of black liquid clung to his wrist, gelatinous and shifting.

“Brother…” he breathed, his heart lifting.

He could sense Emery Shaw’s presence in that strange fluid.

Those words meant only one thing-Shaw had a way to survive this.

Clenching his jaw, the captain turned and sprinted toward the heart of the island.

As he tore through the residential quarter, he grabbed two civilians who were frozen in panic, dragging them along.

Around him, his men were rushing in and out of buildings, hauling people to safety.

By now, most of the inhabitants had been moved inland.

Far above them, Alaric hovered in the sky, staring down at the enormous vortex with an uncharacteristic flicker of shock.

The attack was a combined spell-unleashed by those six defiant creatures.

“Hmph.

To push me this far… you’ve done well, Seven Stars.” A flash of light shimmered in his hand.

The rapier that had vanished earlier reappeared, gleaming coldly in the stormlight.

Throughout the battle, Alaric had fought with Amber Zane tucked under his arm, wielding only one hand.

Even so, he had held his ground against six Wyrms.

Now, as the monstrous vortex surged closer, he whispered the words “Seven Stars” and moved.

He swung the rapier through the air, his feet gliding in an intricate rhythm that looked almost like a dance.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

Seven sharp notes rang out, pure and metallic.

Seven streaks of light shot into the sky, forming the shape of the Big Dipper.

The constellation flared brilliantly, then shot downward, striking the massive waterspout head-on.

Below, the six Wyrms, having spent their strength to summon the vortex, shifted back into their human forms.

Their white robes were marred with dark crimson.

Blood trickled from their lips, staining their pale garments.

They had fought fiercely-but they were wounded, every one of them.

Pain coursed through their bodies with every breath.

The six Wyrms, now in human form, stared up at Alaric suspended in the sky, their faces pale with disbelief.

Who was this man?

His aura was similar to theirs, and yet from the very first exchange, they’d realized he stood far above them.

Even when they had surrounded him in their true forms, every strike they unleashed-each one meant to kill-had been deflected with ease.

He had fought them all using only one hand.

Not once had he attacked directly.

His defense alone had felt like an assault, every parry sharp and precise, forcing them back and leaving them bloodied.

If not for the natural resilience of their draconic bodies, they would have been dead long ago.

He hadn’t even fought seriously-and still, he overwhelmed them completely.

They weren’t weak among their kind.

Each had honed their strength through years of cultivation, their draconic energy elevating them beyond ordinary Wyrms.

And yet this single man, calm and composed, had subdued six of them at once.

Who was he?

That question barely formed before the Big Dipper that Alaric had summoned collided with the massive waterspout the six had created together.

The contrast was absurd-a tiny constellation of light against a vortex a thousand meters tall, hundreds of meters thick.

There should have been no contest.

But the instant they touched, a faint sound cut through the roar of the sea.

Hiss.

The Big Dipper pierced straight through the towering waterspout.

None of the six cheered.

Instead, their hearts sank.

The vortex stopped moving.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

A sharp, crystalline sound echoed as ice spread through the entire column.

The waterspout solidified in seconds, transforming from raging water into transparent crystal.

Then came the explosion.

Boom!

The frozen tower shattered and collapsed, breaking apart into a thousand fragments.

The impact sent waves surging outward, crashing into the eastern coast of Sacred Sea Island.

The ground trembled violently, as though the island itself were trying to shake free of the sea.

Buildings crumbled.

Towers and docks disappeared beneath the raging water.

Within moments, the entire eastern shoreline-once lined with shining resorts and grand halls-was gone.

It looked as if the end of the world had passed through.

From the central district of the island, the Dissenters could only watch in stunned silence.

The earth still trembled beneath their feet.

“…We’ve been called monsters before,” someone whispered, his voice hoarse.

“But…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

The goateed captain, his expression grim, finished the sentence for him.

“Compared to them, we’re nothing.” No one disagreed.

Heads bowed in silent acknowledgment.

High above, the six white-robed figures-the Wyrms-had withdrawn a thousand meters, warily keeping their distance from the man in the sky.

“Who exactly are you?” one of them finally demanded, his voice strained.

Alaric looked down at them, his expression unreadable.

“Me?” He gave a short, disdainful laugh.

“You insects aren’t worthy of knowing my name.

But…” He paused, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

His eyes glowed faintly, sharp as blades.

In that moment, he seemed less like a man and more like a sovereign-an ancient god surveying the mortal world beneath him.

“…I have business elsewhere.

I won’t waste any more time here.

Listen carefully…”