Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

Nadora collapsed in despair, glaring at Orson and Nora with hate-filled eyes.

Nora caught that look and let out a cold smile. "Why not root out every weed? Let her be buried alongside Ku'Jalai."

Orson turned a detached gaze on Nora, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Are you trying to manipulate me?"

Nora flinched. This was a man who slaughtered gods—manipulating him was tantamount to courting death. She quickly shook her head. "God-Emperor, take it as nothing but a jest."

"Relax. Her servant contract is in my hands. She poses no threat to your rule over the Spirit Tribe."

Orson offered an almost lazy smile, which to Nora was a precious reassurance.

With two quasi-God-tier powerhouses fallen, Orson wasn't about to let the opportunity slip by.

He raised the Supreme Arcane Blade, consuming the souls of the Light and Dark Spirit Kings. The Dragon Crystal embedded in the blade pulsed with faint radiance, now infused with two more laws of power.

His mission to collect six War Supreme souls was halfway complete, one step closer to unlocking his Artifact set.

Unfortunately, God Misius had descended as a soul projection; his laws were obliterated by the God-Slaying Sword, or Orson might have gained a super clone wielding spatial authority.

Still, four more kings stood before him.

He let his gaze sweep over them. With his current strength, he could harvest a few of these kings' souls effortlessly.

But from what he'd seen of their powers, most wielded group-amplification laws.

For someone like Orson, already in possession of the "King of Blood" group law, seizing theirs would simply waste the War Supreme Supreme Soul Disc.

Besides, these kings would serve a far more valuable purpose alive.

"Anyone else eager to die? Speak up. I'll gladly oblige."

Orson's tone was quiet yet heavy with authority. The kings exchanged uneasy glances.

The fall of Wise Angel Misius had struck them hard. A being hailed as an invincible god, brought low—what else was impossible now?

Tonight, even the mighty Light Dragon Empire teetered on the edge of collapse.

It made them realize something terrifying: these adventurers from beyond might truly rewrite Infinite Dimensions' entire history.

Was abandoning their ancestral faith to worship the Light God ever the right decision?

"Pledge yourselves to me, and you'll see your families again."

Orson clasped his hands behind his back, pacing before them.

To players, these kings were gods. Yet here, they cowered like stray dogs, their will to resist rapidly crumbling.

"A Wise Angel pushed you to your limit. Don't let victory swell your head too far, Kingslayer!"

The Snow Demon King lifted his chin defiantly, accepting whatever fate would come.

"I surrender… please spare my precious Bionna."

The Hill Dwarf King's face pleaded. He was utterly broken; for one who couldn't possibly win, pride meant nothing.

"I'm already a cripple. If my death will make your might echo through Infinite Dimensions, do it."

The Wood Spirit King sighed heavily, casting one last wistful look at his granddaughter.

Among all the kings present, only a handful agreed to yield to Orson.

That didn't surprise him. Many were deeply indoctrinated by the Holy Light Church; to them, death merely opened the door to heaven.

It wasn't an end but a blissful passage.

"I admire your courage, daring to defy me."

Orson's mouth curled into a faint smile as he looked at the few who still harbored defiance.

He knew exactly what these old foxes were thinking. Beyond the Holy Light brainwashing, they each nursed their own schemes.

Most had already lost limbs to Pajero's monstrous appetite. Their ruined bodies were no longer fit for a king.

In their cultures, a fallen king only cleared the stage for a new ruler—a tradition stretching back countless years.

"Let me be perfectly clear: defy my will, and you declare war on me!"

Orson lifted his head, eyes bright as blazing stars. His voice rang out like steel.

"Your entire races will be wiped from the face of Infinite Dimensions. Anyone eager to test it—step forward and be cut down."

A deafening roar.

"Kneel to our master, and be spared!"

Aeloria's savage voice echoed, death's breath curling around the kings.

Terror flashed across their faces.

To sacrifice their people's future, even their race's very existence, just to send their souls to some hazy promised paradise—was it truly worth it?

Darkbo thundered, "Swear to our master and live forever!"

Veijander bellowed, "Swear to our master and conquer the heavens!"

Ninelra cried out, "Bow to the God-Emperor! Kneel to the legend!"

The Father of Witches proclaimed, "The King of Infinite Dimensions stands here—who dares defy him?"

Voices of command and reverence boomed through the world, all of that divine, crushing aura converging on Orson alone.

Until Pajero, the five-star general, split the tense air with a howl:

"Wagha, waaah—eat to your heart's content! So fucking good!"

Orson's face froze. A hand went up to cover it in misery as his flawless aura shattered instantly.

"Who the hell taught him that?!"

A vein twitched on Orson's forehead as he spun around.

The life-skill players on the wall quickly ducked their heads back out of sight, mouths practically torn open from trying not to laugh.

Pajero had devoured so many kings' limbs, only to pick up a handful of phrases all about feasting, whoring, and gambling.

"Let's… just go home. Be good and go home."

Nightshade appeared, awkward grin plastered on her face. She darted in, grabbed Pajero by the leg hair, and hustled him off the stage.

Orson exhaled, done playing this courtly farce.

With a casual wave, eleven blood-red contracts materialized before the remaining kings.

"Summon your old gods. I won't meddle in your faiths. I'll even find the divine herbs to restore your bodies."

His eyes glimmered. Then his voice dropped, hard as iron.

"But your lives, your staves, your blades—all of it belongs to me."

Freedom of belief.

For these beings who worshipped alien gods, it was an irresistible offer.

The kings' eyes lit up, grabbing at the chance like drowning men clutching driftwood.

Perhaps, with this man, they would finally escape the Celestial Kingdom's yoke. After all, they had witnessed a god fall with their own eyes.

You have successfully forged a pact with the Snow Demon King.

You have successfully forged a pact with the Wood Spirit King.

You have successfully forged a pact with the Hill Dwarf King.

…

"Hail the coming of our divine master!"

"I swear to fight across the world for you!"

All eleven clan kings dropped to one knee. The blood contracts flared with crimson light.

Orson gave a satisfied nod.

He hadn't just secured eleven king-level forces. He'd saved the immense time it would take to kill them, wait for new kings to rise, then recruit them.

With eleven king-tier subordinates came at least eleven S-grade hidden class lines to be unlocked—an enormous shortcut in raising his guild's and allies' power.

From Misius' arrival to Xinala's tempting offer, Orson smelled looming peril.

He needed to pick up the pace for the storms yet to come.

Major Announcement: The Snow Demon King has revealed high-tier hidden class clues. Players may travel to the Light Dragon Empire's northern Frozen City to attempt the Frost Saint Mage class trial.

Major Announcement: The Water Spirit King has revealed high-tier hidden class clues. Players may travel to the Endless Sea border to attempt the Water Elementalist class trial.

Major Announcement…