Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

“What the hell is this…?”

Madman muttered, eyes wide.

A massive, glowing violet hexagram had appeared beneath their feet, forming a ritual circle that enclosed the entire party.

“Oh no.”

Bradley’s face turned pale. “No way—he’s out of mana! How the hell is he casting this?!”

“SH*T! I swear, this is the Forbidden Curse of the Dragon King!”

Madman screamed hoarsely, staring at Daloré’s health bar, a deep chill running through him.

That damn lizard had held back all this time, even as Blank sliced him to pieces—

Just to let his mana regenerate naturally.

All so he could charge up this moment.

The mind games were so next-level, it could break the average player’s brain.

“Interrupt him! Stop the cast at all costs!”

Madman roared. The group immediately charged Daloré in a desperate bid to halt the spell.

“Magic Reversal ineffective!”

“Purple-Gold Dragon King Daloré is protected while casting Forbidden Curse: [Calamity’s Dirge]!”

A cold system notification cut through the chaos.

Everyone froze.

Above Daloré’s head, a white barrier appeared—

A massive 200 million HP shield.

Then came the warning:

Forbidden Curse activation countdown:

1 minute.

If the shield is not broken in time, all players inside will suffer 20% HP damage per second,

alongside -10 Level Debuff and XP gain halved for 2 months.

“I can hear the song of death.”

“I can hear your noisy howling, soon to be silenced beneath the wrath of dragonkind!”

Daloré laughed bitterly.

He, the noble Dragon King, had been driven into casting a spell that required invoking the names of his enemies.

Humiliating.

“That’s just cheating…”

Madman laughed. Bitter, helpless laughter.

Blank and Bradley’s big-damage skills were all on cooldown.

There was no way they could crack a 200-million shield in one minute. No chance.

“You cut my health in half with a single blow.”

“You’ve earned your pride. The world will remember your names.”

“You’ve earned…”

Then a voice cut in. Calm, confident.

Everyone turned. And froze.

Stewart: “Oh my god… it’s Orson!”

Blank: “I thought he was dead. Turns out he’s just resting.”

Bradley: “Wait… am I seeing double? No—triple…? No freaking way, that’s seven Orsons!”

He laughed, half-hysterical.

Madman: “Oh, this is gonna be good…”

If one Orgod could shake the world of Infinite Dimensions,

then what about seven?

There they stood—seven identical Orsons, glowing with magical power.

Each standing tall atop the Crimson Lizard King’s head, smiling down.

Daloré: “He… he’s the one. The one the prophecies spoke of. The destroyer…”

A wave of pure dread pulsed through Daloré’s colossal body.

Orson’s eyes gleamed with cold brilliance.

He spoke softly, almost to himself:

“I’m not a fan of silence. I like the noise, the chaos…

The people who won’t shut up, even when it drives me nuts.”

He paused, then smiled.

“Because it reminds me I’m still alive.”

Then—

“Awakening: Hurricane Spear!”

“Awakening: Judgment Flame!”

“Awakening: Infinite Tidal Wave!”

“Awakening: Grip of the Underworld!”

“Dark Surge: Wrath!”

“The Flame Dragon!”

Seven mages, seven ultimate awakenings.

A magical storm of unspeakable power erupted over the Garden of Ten Thousand Flowers.

Seven chaotic hexagrams lit up the sky like miniature suns.

“Long live our master!”

The Crimson Lizard King roared, calling down a Blazing Meteor Shower that turned the skies into fire.

The scale of destruction was so absurd, Bradley and the others nearly forgot how to breathe.

Honestly? Daloré’s Forbidden Curse didn’t even look this terrifying.

Stewart: “BOSS—WORLD’S STRONGEST!”

Eyes glowing with reverence, Stewart screamed like a fangirl.

Drunken Dream broke into a radiant smile.

Madman stared at him. “Why are you grinning, huh? Faking death all this time just to come back and flex on us?”

“I laugh,” Drunken Dream said quietly,

“because I searched for divinity in the dark… and it was right beside me the whole time.”

He laughed deeply—eyes gleaming with something between faith and madness.

Because Orson, to him, was more than just a player.

He was the light at the end of the abyss.

As Orson’s storm raged, Drunken Dream mounted Denoka and evacuated everyone at full speed.

Everyone knew what this meant—

When Orson really went all in, the world cracked in half.

BOOM!

Waves of raw magical destruction slammed into Daloré, smashing him into the earth.

Buildings collapsed, the ground crumbled, entire blocks pulverized in seconds.

Crit – 78 million!

A single strike.

31x critical multiplier, bolstered by Crimson Lizard King’s S-class Dragon Curse.

Even if it couldn’t kill through the shield, the damage numbers were… incomprehensible.

Bradley and the others just stood there, sweating in awe.

Blank shook her head with a smirk.

“They probably removed him from the leaderboard just so top-tier players wouldn’t quit in despair.”

Of course they knew Orgod wasn’t dead.

The guild leaders just didn’t say it out loud,

because new players kept claiming they’d “surpass Orgod” or “be the next Orgod.”

These pipe dreams?

Guild veterans could only smile wryly.

Infinite Dimensions Rule #1:

Never, ever compare yourself to a freak of nature.

Orson: “Why is the blast radius this small?”

Blank blinked. “Wait… is he… is he complaining?”

Everyone stared, speechless.

Why? Because the man who just cratered a kilometer-wide pit—

was disappointed it didn’t go bigger.

“Should’ve vaporized the whole Garden,” Orson muttered, frowning.

Then he paused. Something was off.

There was a faint glow surrounding the garden’s edge.

A Light Barrier.

Four golden curtains fell like waterfalls, encasing the entire Garden of Ten Thousand Flowers.

The magical shockwave slammed into them—

and only caused a ripple.

Orson narrowed his eyes. “Is someone… helping me lock the gates?”

Even as he kept his clones bombarding Daloré, his mind raced.

It didn’t make sense.

The entire palace had been shaken by this fight, but not a single royal guard had shown up.

Not even after killing their men, destroying buildings, and nearly leveling the area.

It could only mean one thing:

Someone wanted Daloré dead.

“Trying to use me as a knife, huh?”

Orson smirked.

“Well, whoever you are—

I don’t think you can handle this cannon.”

He raised his hand, eyes glowing.

And the storm intensified.

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