Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

Orson stood above, gazing coldly at the zealots below like they’d just charged out of some primitive cult. His face betrayed no emotion.

He’d more or less figured out what Snow Dream was trying to do.

Among the Holy Light Church troops, he had spotted four figures—the very same Red-Robed Archbishops that the Godslayer Assassins had never been able to track down.

But clearly, Snow Dream’s ambition went far beyond becoming just another church figurehead.

She had thrown the church’s deadliest forces into this suicidal charge—just to prove her “loyalty” to Jenonis. For her personally, there was no gain in that.

Unless… she expected to gain something even greater through Orson.

“She wants to be the next Pope,” Orson murmured to himself.

In the Infinite Dimensions world, when a faction’s King-class character dies, a new King arises. By the same logic, as long as the Holy Light Church exists in the US region, any fallen Archbishops or elite members will eventually be replaced by NPCs with even stronger intelligence and combat power.

This mechanic would persist until just before the world merge event.

So Snow Dream’s self-sacrifice wasn’t stupidity—it was a calculated play rooted in a deep understanding of the world system.

Orson’s unease deepened. Her insight into the game’s nature went beyond mechanics and reflexes—something many top-tier players lacked.

And on that level, she was undeniably more dangerous than most.

He cast a glance at the theatrically posturing Snow Dream and sent out a private message:

“K.D., I want to find someone in real life.”

“Declare war on the usurper! Wage holy war against the darkness! Go now, warriors blessed by divine will!”

Snow Dream, astride her silver dragon, gave a rousing speech.

“Kill! The Kingdom of Heaven calls us!”

Below her, thousands of NPCs stood nearly naked, radiating zealotry. They would offer their flesh and blood to prove their spotless faith to the God of Light.

“She’s insane! That’s suicide!”

Jenonis stared at her, then—against all logic—said, “Still, her courage… earns my respect.”

“What the hell is this?! These NPCs trying to disgust Orgod to death?”

“Insane! Ignoring their warships to hurl insults and sticks on the ground? Are they provoking a melee with Orgod?!”

“Snow Dream must be a troll alt sent by the comedy devs!”

Viewers were losing their minds watching the screen devolve into a spectacle of cultish lunacy. A few stray skills hit Crimson Lizard King, but the damage was negligible.

“I respect their choice,” Orson said flatly. “So I’ll oblige them.”

Roar!

A thunderous cry split the skies. Mist boiled from the dragon’s maw—Death God’s Breath.

Flames erupted.

Fire from the netherworld lashed across the battlefield.

Cripple Damage: -4,000,000

Fatal Damage: -20,000,000

…

With zero defenses in place, the Holy Light Church and Snow Siren forces were utterly decimated. Crimson Lizard King’s breath melted their bodies and scorched their souls.

“My soul… will ascend in glory!”

“The holy light embraces me!”

Even while being engulfed in black fire, the NPCs continued praying with clasped hands, refusing to scream in agony.

“Idiots!” Hugh Jackman bellowed. “You’re just throwing yourselves into the meat grinder!”

The Imperial nobles watching went pale. They had come to fight under pressure from the Archangel—not to burn alive for blind faith.

That was the difference: the Holy Light Church was full of fanatics, while the Empire’s elite were men of power and coin.

Snow Dream stood in a glowing cocoon of divine light. Even the black dragonfire didn’t consume her immediately.

She looked up at that figure in the sky, eyes soft and conflicted.

“I don’t owe you anything anymore, Orson.”

Orson narrowed his eyes, his voice icy:

“I don’t even know you.”

Her teeth clenched. But her face soon softened again, filled with longing and bitterness.

“Give me time. One day… you’ll remember me.”

She deactivated all her defensive skills and let the flames swallow her whole.

In the swirling black fire, she whispered:

“I’ll be waiting for you in the darkness.”

Then, her body vanished—leaving only a faint glimmer of soul-light.

The Crimson Lizard King continued to roar, fire scouring the land. This wasn’t a battle anymore.

It was a ritual. A sacrificial purge.

“Did that just wipe out tens of thousands of NPCs?!”

The livestream audience was floored. The scene was beyond logic—something straight out of myth.

“Retreat! All forces retreat!”

The Snow Queen screamed, panic in her voice. With Snow Dream dead, control of the Snow Siren clan reverted to her.

Over 5,000 surviving Snow Siren NPCs snapped back to their senses and scrambled to flee the encroaching flames.

“You despicable bastard!”

“Forever City will not fall! Orgod will not live! I, Enderoth, swear it!”

Over 2,000 Hill Dwarves and Elven elites activated Body Domination and smashed through the ice to escape the pit. Enderoth, battered and furious, forced his way out and launched a breakout attempt.

“Who said you could stand?!”

The words thundered down from the sky as Veijander, now transformed into a Dwarf Demon God, descended like a meteor.

Dark runes pulsed across his body. His eyes glowed with bloodlust, muscles bulging like steel cables. Demon God aura poured off him in waves.

He raised his Thunderfire Artifact and brought it crashing down on Enderoth’s head.

“Kneel to your Dwarven King!” Veijander shouted, grinning wildly.

Enderoth’s eyes went wide with fear. His knees buckled and sank deep into the dirt.

How? How could a Grey Dwarf blacksmith rise to such terrifying heights?

Even Ashen King Odin had fallen to this monster.

“Get back!” Enderoth roared in rage, trying to stand.

But another crushing blow followed. His sacred shield, Hillcrest Aegis, cracked under the force.

“Divine Arrow!”

A flash of deadly light streaked toward Veijander—it was the Wood Elf King.

Veijander snarled, swung Thunderfire, and shattered the arrow mid-flight.

Still, the blast blew ten gaping holes in the obsidian wall behind him. The power behind that shot was terrifying.

“Don’t let them escape! Finish it here!” Enderoth barked.

The Snow Queen hesitated, then nodded. “Archangel, kings—lend me your strength!”

“The path is cleared! Wipe them all out!” Jenonis declared proudly, marching across the icy floor frozen over with the corpses of three clans.

“Damn it… still no reinforcements! We’ve got twelve kings incoming—can we hold?!” Iron Cavalry cursed, having retreated into the city.

Without question, the kings hidden among the NPCs were the biggest threat. If they breached the gates, most players wouldn’t survive.

And that was with Crimson Lizard King’s King’s Authority: Death’s Disdain active. Without that, just one king could wreak havoc.

“Kneel to your king! Kneel to my master!” Veijander roared, his Artifact whirling like a storm.

King’s Authority!

Veijander’s Deal Principle activated!

Enderoth and the others went pale. Their stats were forcibly suppressed.

Lightning arcs lashed the battlefield like angry vipers. Every strike split the earth.

With his Artifact and Law bonus active, Veijander held the line alone against the three kings of Wood Elves, Water Elves, and Hill Dwarves.

But the Snow Queen’s arrival changed everything. Frost surged through the air, slowing Veijander’s hammer swing.

Enderoth saw his chance—his sacred axe flashed.

Blood exploded. A vicious gash tore across Veijander’s shoulder.

Jenonis pressed forward. Aetrexa dove straight for Orson on her silver dragon.

The battle took a sharp, dangerous turn.

“You want to die? I’ll personally send you there!”

Orson’s eyes burned with fury as he shouted to his allies:

“They’re coming! And they’ll be buried here!”

“Godslayer! All players—attack!!”

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