My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 446 - 1st reincarnation

All those beings fixed their gazes on the unexpected slang.

They found such lowly language unfamiliar, their elegant hearing unready for the rough edge of common speech.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd like flames, astonishment carving lines on their perfect faces.

"What did you say? How dare you utter such vile words before the exalted tower, and which clan claims you?" the young man demanded once more, his voice quivering with outrage.

"I said punk, get lost," Ethan restated, his voice steady and firm.

He had no interest in dragging this out with him.

All at once, the blade in the young man's grip began to shine.

Fury boiled within him to the brink of eruption, his cheeks burning with sacred wrath, luminous veins throbbing across his flesh.

"I am Lucious Silvera. I challenge you to a duel, here and now," he proclaimed, swinging the weapon with dramatic flair.

Ethan stayed silent.

He met the young man's gaze and unleashed a faint aura of infinity toward him.

The atmosphere grew heavy, an unseen pressure expanding like an infinite chasm.

The young man dropped to the earth right away.

In an instant, he sensed himself plunging into a boundless pit, his thoughts twisting into endless night, cries resounding in his mind as the world fell apart around him.

He gripped the turf desperately, heaving for breath, his blade dropping harmlessly nearby.

Ethan departed the spot and settled into a cross-legged position in a secluded corner, paying no heed to the scene.

He shut his eyes, steadying his focus amid the rising strain.

"Who is that guy? The Silvera clan's heir couldn't touch him?" the rest of the candidates began to whisper, their tones blending wonder and dread.

Yet none of them approached Ethan to inquire.

The air crackled with suspense.

Whenever the game's rules shifted, it left them on edge, wondering what twist awaited.

Quiet guesses circulated among them, every participant mulling over the Tower of Trials' capricious ways, where previous rounds had upended destinies in surprising fashions.

Three days slipped by in a fog of eager waiting.

The candidates either cultivated in meditation, practiced gentle bouts, or forged tentative bonds, all the while watching the tower warily.

Ethan kept to himself, soaking in the vibe, his thoughts reviewing the shared insights.

He understood that the baptism and check were drawing near, a vital phase to verify their worthiness.

The day had come; the tower would now judge their validity.

"Assemble here," a timeless voice echoed from the tower, thundering loudly yet feeling close like a murmur.

All rose at once and clustered, creating a wide ring at the tower's foot.

Ethan joined as well, merging with the group in calm determination.

A brilliant glow erupted from the tower without warning, sweeping over the gathering.

It flowed across them like a tide, examining their cores, piercing into their spirits.

Streams of clear power brushed each contender, bathing their shapes in shades of gold and silver.

As the glow reached him, Ethan caught a message in his mind.

[Anomaly detected. Grade of the anomaly cannot be determined. Trial would be Hell grade difficulty. Reward for every hurdle 5 times than normal.

Status: Eligible]

Ethan's eyes grew wide.

"What? The difficulty varies for each person?" he whispered to himself, astonishment flashing over his expression.

But no reply came.

The glow continued onward, allowing him to absorb the discovery.

"Yumiko, do you know anything?" he queried in his thoughts.

[No, master. I have no idea.]

Ethan drew in a long breath and lowered himself to the ground once more, the turf refreshing under him.

Now he must bide his time until the reincarnation began.

The weight of it pressed on him; Hell grade promised extreme trials, yet the boosted prizes might give him an advantage.

He looked about, observing the diverse responses from the others.

Post-scan, certain faces beamed with joy, their stances eased in clear delight.

Some appeared horrified, their complexions ashen, gazes flicking around like hunted prey.

Ethan realized they had received word of their challenge tiers; that explained the emotional divide.

Murmurs picked up again, exchanging bits of the voice's words, although no one ventured close to him.

The next twenty-seven days crawled by in strained suspension.

Participants readied themselves variously: a few refined sacred arts, others pondered ancient tales in meditation, and pacts changed fluidly.

Ethan passed the hours in serene reflection, breaking down possible plans for the upcoming ordeals.

He shunned conversations, his aura a quiet mystery that warded off questions.

The meadow hummed with power, the tower's symbols shining more intensely as the launch approached.

At last, the instant dawned.

[The reincarnation will occur now. Everyone will get their roles in the world according to their difficulty levels. The divine material is a Divine Fruit. If someone finds it, the trial would be finished, and everyone would reincarnate in the next trial.]

With the voice's announcement, Ethan sensed a tug on his spirit, an unstoppable draw on his core being.

The surroundings smeared, hues twisting into a whirlpool.

He found himself reincarnating.

[Name: Ethan Hunt

Difficulty: Hell

Background: You will be born in a royal family as the 7th prince. In a world full of powerhouses, you won’t be able to cultivate. Everyone will become your enemy wherever you go, whatever you do. Mortality chance: 99%

Task: Survive, find loyal subordinates. For every loyal subordinate you will gain 10 strands of divine energy. For every catastrophe you survive, you will gain 100 strands of divine energy]

"Whaaa....." Ethan started, disbelief flooding him at the harsh arrangement.

Ethan couldn't complete his sentence, as his awareness plunged into obscurity, a blackness engulfing him entirely.

Feelings dissolved, time blurred away, while his essence journeyed through dimensions, reforming into a fresh vessel.

Upon awakening, he detected voices nearby, fuzzy initially, then crystallizing into sharpness.

The atmosphere felt cozy, laced with fragrant smoke and a subtle iron scent of blood.

He sensed his tininess, fragility, his form that of an infant, wrapped in gentle cloths.

"The 7th prince is born. Your majesty, please name our son," a woman's voice rang out, fatigued but optimistic, resounding in the majestic hall.

Steps drew closer to him.

Then a man loomed at his side, his aura immense.

A thread of power slipped into his frame, inspecting him.

It flowed through his small body, hunting for aptitude, yet discovered zilch.

"He is a waste with no talent for becoming a Spirit master. He can’t bear my last name. His name should be Ethan. From today onward, as the mother of this waste, you are being demoted to a concubine," the man stated, his tone icy and absolute, lacking any fatherly affection.

The woman's sharp intake of breath echoed through the space, a cry of sorrow.

Ethan, his baby eyes fighting to sharpen, glimpsed her visage momentarily: lovely, marked by weariness, now shattering in grief.

Gossip erupted among the servants right then, blending sympathy with disdain.

Ethan's thoughts whirled, despite his delicate condition.

Hell difficulty for sure; spawned in nobility but labeled useless, barred from cultivation in a realm where strength ruled all.

Foes at every turn, a 99% risk of demise.

He had to endure, recruit true followers, convert disasters into boons.

The Divine Fruit held the secret to clearing this level, but given his limitations, it looked like a futile pursuit.