My attributes are increasing infinitely

Chapter 493: Arriving at the battlefield

Max’s explanation faded into background noise as Ethan’s clone stood motionless, his gaze locked onto Erina. The corridor seemed to narrow around them, the other four members of Team Ragnarok becoming distant silhouettes.

Erina tilted her head slightly, her silver hair catching the corridor’s ambient light. "Do I know you?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. "You’re staring."

Ethan’s clone exhaled slowly, forcing his expression to relax. "No," he said, his voice steady despite the storm within. "You just remind me of someone I hold very dear to me."

Erina’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, something flickering behind her calm facade--recognition without memory, the ghost of familiarity that she could not place. Then she looked away.

"Let’s go," Max interjected, gesturing toward the spacecraft visible through the corridor windows. "We have a schedule to keep."

The team turned and walked back the way they came. Ethan fell into step behind them, his mind racing.

Every world will contain all of them.

The ancient voice’s words echoed in his skull. His mother. His father. Rose. Erina. All trapped across the world, waiting for him to find them before he could complete each world’s task.

"If I fail to find even one, they remain trapped forever."

The weight of that condition pressed against his consciousness like a physical force. He understood now why the primordial gods had structured his trial this way. It was not enough to grow powerful. It was not enough to complete objectives. He had to search. He had to care. He had to carry the constant fear of leaving someone behind.

It was fun for them or maybe something else entirely.

Clever, he thought bitterly. "You have turned my family into both motivation and chains."

---

The Falcon 302’s interior exceeded anything Ethan had seen in this world’s educational facilities. The main cabin featured six acceleration couches arranged in a semicircle, each equipped with individual life support displays and weapon charging stations. The walls displayed real-time telemetry from the ship’s external sensors, showing the school grounds shrinking beneath them as they ascended.

Ethan settled into the designated errand boy’s seat--the smallest, positioned near the cargo storage. The other five members took their places without comment, though one of them, a broad-shouldered young man with crimson hair, kept glancing at Ethan with poorly concealed disdain.

"You’re awfully calm for someone heading to the battlefield," the crimson-haired man said. "Most errand boys piss themselves before takeoff."

"Kael," Max warned.

"What? I’m just observing." Kael leaned back, his battle suit’s energy conduits pulsing faintly. "It’s weird. He’s either brave or too stupid to understand what’s coming."

Ethan met his gaze evenly. "Does it matter which?"

Kael’s eye twitched. Before he could respond, another team member--a woman with dark skin and intricate tattoos along her arms--interjected. "Leave him alone, Kael. The kid’s got enough problems without you adding to them."

"Thank you, Mira," Ethan said quietly.

Mira’s eyebrows rose. "I didn’t tell you my name."

"You didn’t need to. Your combat stance when you exited the ship suggested close-quarters specialization. The tattoos on your arms match the markings of the Ashford martial tradition, which emphasizes joint locks and redirection. Only someone named Mira has placed in the top three of the regional youth tournament using that style for the past four years."

Silence filled the cabin.

Max turned in his seat, his expression shifting from indifference to genuine interest. "You researched us?"

"No," Ethan replied. "I observed you for thirty seconds."

"That’s impossible," Kael said flatly. "You can’t learn all that from--"

"Your weight distribution favors your left leg, suggesting an old injury that never fully healed, probably to your right knee. You compensate well, but against an opponent who notices, it’s a vulnerability. Your hands have calluses consistent with gripping a bladed weapon, not a standard-issue energy blade but something heavier with a curved handle--a khopesh, maybe, or a falcata. Your breathing pattern shifted when Max spoke, which means you respect him but don’t fully agree with his leadership style. You tested me to see if I’d break under pressure, not because you actually care about my competence."

Kael’s mouth opened, then closed.

The fifth team member, a lanky young man with glasses who had been silently reading from a holographic display, finally looked up. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Processing speed, pattern recognition, and psychological profiling all within a few seconds of exposure. That’s not something genetic code unlocking provides. That’s natural talent."

"My name is Dorian," the lanky man continued, extending a hand. "I’m the team’s strategist. And I think you’re far more interesting than any errand boy has a right to be."

Ethan shook his hand briefly. "Ethan."

"We established that," Dorian said with a slight smile. "But I suspect ’Ethan’ isn’t nearly the whole story."

Erina, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke. "Enough. We’re approaching the jump point. Everyone strap in."

Her voice carried authority that made even Max nod. Ethan watched as she methodically checked her restraints, her movements economical and precise.

He loved his sister and liked to spoil her very much.

"I will find you in every world ans spoil you every time," he thought with a smile. "I will bring you home after everything ends."

---

The jump through subspace lasted exactly seven seconds, though it felt like hours. Ethan’s clone experienced the transition as a compression of his entire being--every cell squeezed toward a single point before expanding outward again. When his vision cleared, the view outside the Falcon 302’s viewport had changed entirely.

Stars stretched into unfamiliar constellations. Below them, a massive structure floated in the void--a space station so enormous that it defied comprehension. Spires extended in every direction, connected by translucent bridges that pulsed with flowing energy. Ships of every size and configuration moved through designated lanes, their running lights creating rivers of color against the darkness.

"The Intergalactic Battlefield," Max announced, his voice taking on a solemn tone. "More accurately, this is Gateway Station--the last safe harbor before the contested zones. Beyond this point, the laws of civilization break down. Only strength matters."

Ethan studied the station’s scale, mentally cataloging its defensive emplacements and structural weak points. Old habits from his original body’s memory.

"How many active combatants?" he asked.

Max glanced at him. "Approximately fifty thousand, spread across three factions. The numbers fluctuate daily."

"Faction breakdown?"

"Forty percent human alliance, thirty-five percent xeno coalition, twenty-five percent unaffiliated."

Ethan’s expression did not change at the mention of the god clan, but his pulse quickened fractionally. "And errand boys? Where do we fit?"

"You don’t fight," Mira said, her voice gentler than before. "You resupply, relay messages, maintain equipment, and stay out of the way. Your job is to be where the fighting isn’t."

"And if I want to fight?"

Kael laughed harshly. "With your locked genetic code? You’d last thirty seconds against the weakest creature in the contested zones. Less if it noticed you first. And there are always Alien races lurking to assassinate us."

"Kael’s being crude but accurate," Max interjected. "The battlefield isn’t a place for heroics, Ethan. It’s a meat grinder. Your job is to survive and support. Nothing more."

Ethan nodded slowly, but his thoughts had already moved beyond their warnings.

"Thirty seconds all I need to prove you wrong.", he thought with a smile.