I Am a Hero With A Hundred Abilities-Chapter 54: Ch 53. Family tree

Ethan instinctively braced himself, expecting the shelf to swing open or rise like a hidden vault.

Instead — a circular teleportation glyph ignited beneath his feet.

"Wait, wha—" was all he could say.

The disk flared — and in a blink, Ethan vanished.

****

In a dark, silent chamber, light flared with a crackle—then blinked out, leaving behind two figures.

Ethan materialized beside the bartender, immediately raising his guard.

His golden eyes narrowed, his body instinctively ready to strike.

The bartender caught his posture and let out a light chuckle. "Sorry," he said in an amused tone, "you were expecting a hidden door? We don't do those. Only teleportation."

Ethan scowled, annoyed. "Give a damn heads-up next time."

The man only smirked and turned without answering. "Follow me."

They exited the chamber into a dim hallway that echoed with silence.

As they walked, Ethan's instincts stirred—eyes were on him. He felt them watching, studying. But there was no malice. Only… interest.

They stopped at a plain door. Wooden. A simple knob. Yet the pressure behind it felt suffocating.

"My boss is inside," the bartender said simply. "You can go in."

Ethan exhaled and turned the knob, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

The room radiated elegance.

A large semi-circular velvet couch sat at its heart like a throne. On it lounged an old man with a pristine white beard and hair, his posture relaxed, grandfatherly.

Behind him stood a woman—still, quiet, and clearly a guard.

She watched Ethan with sharp eyes.

"So, you're the Ethan," the man said, smiling warmly. "You look taller in person." His voice was gentle, friendly and disarming.

He tapped the space beside him. "Why don't you come and sit? I heard you were looking for information."

Ethan stayed cautious but moved forward. The moment he stepped closer, a strange pulse brushed against his senses. His brow creased.

'What was that?'

Before he could think further, the old man continued, "So, what questions do you have?"

Still on guard, Ethan replied, "I need information on anyone with a divine healing ability."

The man didn't flinch. He simply nodded. "So the rumors are true."

Ethan feigned ignorance. "What rumor?"

The man continued regardless, "That the Lancaster patriarch is dying."

That strange sensation struck again, clearer this time—like a memory clawing its way up from deep inside.

Ethan's thoughts spun.

'Where have I felt this before?'

"You don't look surprised that I know," the man said.

Snapping back, Ethan answered coolly, "Why would I be? I never said you were right."

But in his mind, he was spinning scenarios. 'They're good. But I can't trust them fully.'

This wasn't about spilling secrets—it was about probing possibilities. A chance to help Sophia. The Lancaster network was one of the best. But even the best might fail. He was just casting a wider net.

"Well," the man said with a sigh, "if you won't admit it, that's fine. But remember—a precious life might be lost."

And then it hit him. Like a punch to the gut.

That feeling—he knew it.

It was the sensation that had crawled over his skin in the sanctum.

The same one he felt when he swallowed the Gormite's core.

The same one that twisted his instincts like a coiled spring.

The feeling of death.

His eyes widened. His skin went pale.

The man speaking to him… was dead.

A corpse animated with perfect subtlety, only now unraveling before his eyes.

As realization dawned, the figure collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut—vanishing into shadows.

Ethan's gaze snapped to the woman behind the couch.

She hadn't moved during the entire conversation.

But now she chuckled softly, her purple hair catching the room's glow, her voice smooth and amused.

"Ethan Cross," she said, "you really are an anomaly."

She walked calmly to the bar at the side, retrieving a dark bottle and one glass. As she poured Ethan a drink.

But He didn't budge. His eyes locked on her.

She sat on the couch, took a long sip straight from the bottle, then teased, "You're looking at me like you've never seen a woman before."

She paused and slapped her forehead lightly. "Ah—that's right. I never introduced myself."

She extended her hand.

"My name is Natasha. I'm the leader of the Black Widow Clan."

Ethan didn't speak. He just kept staring.

Every cell in his body was still on edge.

Because whatever Natasha was—she wasn't ordinary.

****

The Black Widow Clan was unlike any other family or organization Ethan had ever encountered.

They didn't thrive through brute strength, nor did they seek the limelight. Their power lay in silence—in the shadows between whispers, in the truths people desperately tried to keep buried.

While other clans groomed warriors and unleashed destructive might across battlefields, the Black Widow Clan forged weapons out of information.

If there was a secret, they could find it. If someone had a weakness—emotional, physical, mental—they would know it.

The most dangerous part? They didn't need to kill you themselves. They would simply pass everything they knew to your enemies, and let fate finish the job.

But that hardly ever happened—because no one even knew they existed.

Their name wasn't feared—it was unknown.

Not even the mighty Overlord Families or the rare Ascendant Clans whispered about them.

They might have met a member but they would never trace it back to the Black Widow Clan.

It was as though the Black Widow Clan was a myth, a ghost story… or a well-designed illusion.

But they were real.

And the proof sat before Ethan:

Natasha, the clan's leader. A Level 9 Ascendant—a being on the verge of transcendence.

She ruled over the Dead, her power stretching across everything in her vicinity.

Everything near her was dead—yet alive. Including the bartender. Including the corpse that had spoken with Ethan just moments ago.

As Natasha calmly explained all of this, sipping her drink, Ethan sat stunned.

The weight of her revelations struck hard. It was difficult to grasp—her abilities, the clan's purpose, the terrifying reach they had.

Then he finally found his voice. "Why would you tell me all this?"

Natasha grinned slyly, lowering her bottle. "Oh, you can talk. I was starting to think you were just pretty and dumb."

Ethan stared at her coldly, lips tight.

She leaned back on the couch, eyes twinkling with something unreadable. "The answer is simple: because you're my grandchild."

His heart nearly stopped. "What?!"

He looked her over—searching. Searching for even the slightest resemblance. Her features. Her aura. Even her mannerisms.

But he saw nothing that connected her to himself… or to Lisa, or to his dead parents.

"I can see you're confused," Natasha said, waving her hand. "You're not biologically my grandchild. You're adopted."

Ethan blinked, mind racing. "I… I don't understand."

Natasha's gaze turned solemn. "The Black Widow Clan has a tradition. All our members are raised within the Clan. We find children—orphans, those abandoned by tragedy, Dread Beasts, or villains. We give them purpose. We give them a home."

Ethan listened carefully. The direction of her words was becoming painfully clear.

"But we don't take in just anyone. Only those with… potential. Talent. Promise."

Ethan's voice dropped. "So one of my parents… was a member."

Natasha paused. Then nodded. "Yes… and no. Not one. Both."

Ethan's breath caught.

"Michael and Amanda," she continued, "were two of our best agents. Elite. Precise. Loyal. But during one mission… something happened. They came back changed and wanted to leave the Clan."

"What happened?" Ethan asked, his voice low.

"They were expecting a child," she said softly.

Ethan was stunned as he asked "…Me?"

She didn't reply. But her silence confirmed everything.

"They kept it hidden. Isolated themselves. It was against our rules—having a family creates… liabilities. They knew this. They didn't want to end your life… so they came to me. I raised them. They were like children to me. So I helped them."

She looked at him now with a strange softness.

"I faked their deaths. Let them disappear. Set them up far away, in City X, where they could live peacefully. And for a while, they did. But you can never truly escape the past."

Ethan's voice trembled, though he tried to keep it steady. "What happened?"

She sighed. "A mission your father once took—years ago. It involved an ancient ritual. He reported it was a dead end. But the client thought otherwise. They found him. Found Amanda. Found you all."

Ethan clenched his fists, but his face remained calm. Inside, he felt something boiling. Something that wasn't just his—but also belonged to this body. This blood.

"They weren't ready," Natasha continued. "Too long in peace and far from the shadows. They were… caught. The next thing we heard—was that they were dead."

There was silence.

Then Ethan finally asked, "Who was the client?"

Natasha's lips curled into a dark smile.

"It was Lyon Tusk… but you might know him better as the father of your former classmate—Alex Tusk."

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A/N I will release 3 extra chapters if I get 200 power stones or 100 Golden tickets.

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