INFINITE RANGE: THE SNIPER MAGE

Drenched in blood, he emerged from the battlefield like an unstoppable war god, dragging three Dwarven Grandmasters’ heads in his hands.

“Who else wants to challenge me?!”

Veijander’s roar shook the air as he flung the severed heads onto the ground, then stomped down with his massive boot, crushing them into bloody pulp.

The remaining Grey Dwarves shuddered.

The cunning, cowardly blacksmith they once mocked was gone.

In his place stood a beast of pure, unrelenting violence.

This was survival of the fittest—nothing more, nothing less.

“Once the king returns, you’ll suffer a fate worse than death, Veijander! I curse—!”

One particularly stubborn dwarf continued to spit venomous hatred—

Only to be snatched mid-sentence by the Crimson Lizard King, swallowed whole in a single crunch.

The gruesome sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing filled the air.

The remaining Grey Dwarves turned pale, the last shreds of defiance draining from their eyes.

One by one, they dropped their weapons, submitting to Veijander’s rule.

Veijander knelt on one knee, his eyes locked onto Orson.

“I need power,” he declared, his voice steady. “I need the strength to crush Odin’s so-called immortality.”

He had already burned his bridges—the heads of three Dwarven Grandmasters were his pledge of loyalty.

Orson smirked, reaching into his inventory.

“Then take this,” he said, tossing Veijander a Demon Ascension Pill.

Veijander’s breath hitched.

Even from a mere glance, he could feel the overwhelming, corrupting power radiating from the small, pitch-black pill.

But there was no turning back now.

Even if this meant making a deal with the devil himself, he would offer up his own heart without hesitation.

With unwavering resolve, Veijander took the pill and disappeared into the depths of a hidden mining tunnel.

There, his transformation would begin.

He would become the second Rebellion—the next fallen experiment.

Orson glanced at the Rune Sigil Stone of Ashes in his palm.

This wasn’t for bargaining with Odin.

It was an insurance policy.

He had one nagging concern—if Veijander’s power scaled too quickly, even with two binding contracts, it might not be enough to keep him in check.

Fifteen Rune Sigil Stones would be more than sufficient—there was no need to push him past the limit.

After all, Forging Godstones were said to be fragments of the Primordial Titan’s divine essence.

If Veijander fully inherited a Titan’s godhood, who could guarantee that he wouldn’t break free from the Master-Servant Contract?

Even Orson himself had received massive power-ups from a single drop of Phoenix Divine Blood—what would happen if someone absorbed an entire divine core?

Shoving the thought aside, Orson stepped into a tunnel—and soon arrived before the legendary forge.

The Dragons Bound in Chains

“Supreme Grey Dwarven King,” a deep, guttural voice rumbled, “this adventurer will die by Odin’s hammer.”

A second voice, equally dark, followed.

“Pity… I had hoped to taste human blood before that happened. Come closer. Just a little closer…”

Two massive twin-headed fire dragons muttered in ancient dragon tongue, their words laced with malice.

Their four heads were chained tightly to the forge walls, held in place by rare enchanted metals.

They had only one purpose—to maintain the forge’s heat, breathing fire endlessly.

“Closer?”

Orson chuckled, responding in the same ancient tongue.

“Are you two lizards hoping to burn me alive?”

The dragons froze.

A moment of stunned silence filled the chamber.

“You… speak our tongue?”

One of the dragon kings finally sneered.

“When we ruled the skies, you were nothing but ignorant savages.”

The other dragon queen let out a low, hungry growl.

“I have feasted on your kind before,” she purred. “Sacrifice yourself—let your flesh be our meal. It would be a great honor.”

Their serpentine necks strained forward, eyes gleaming with pure greed, eager to devour him whole.

CLANG!

The chains yanked them back, forcing them into submission once more.

Orson smiled brilliantly.

“So, you can’t move?”

The dragons stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded.

Then, they burst into mocking laughter.

“You fool,” the dragon king snarled, “do you think you can slay a dragon? Our kind is far beyond—”

Orson raised a hand, cutting him off.

“I’ll give you both a choice,” he said casually.

“My Celestial Fortress is missing two carriage dragons.”

“Serve me, and I’ll set you free.”

For a moment, the forge chamber was dead silent.

Two Saint Lord-Class fire dragons, level 100, were a force to be reckoned with.

If he could tame them, they would be far more valuable than simply feeding them to the Crimson Lizard King for a stat boost.

The dragon queen let out a soft sigh.

“Burn him,” she muttered. “Even if he is a rare meal, it’s better than listening to this nonsense.”

The dragon king scoffed, shaking his head.

“A mere mayfly dares to dream of controlling dragons?”

Dragon Curse – Molten Hellfire!

A wave of searing flames erupted, surging toward Orson in an all-consuming inferno.

For a thousand years, these dragons had been imprisoned, their frustration, rage, and power suppressed.

Now, they unleashed it all upon him.

The forging chamber turned red-hot, the entire underground cavity filled with roaring white flames.

Molten fire shot through the cracks in the cavern, erupting from the ceiling like a volcano explosion.

A normal person wouldn’t have lasted a second.

But Orson…

Burning Immunity!

Burning Immunity!

Burning Immunity!

He stood in the heart of the inferno, untouched.

His skin shimmered, his eyes flickered with divine power—thousands of fire spirits danced around him, as if bowing in reverence.

“Are you done?”

The calm voice cut through the flames.

The twin-headed dragons froze in sheer disbelief.

“Impossible!”

The dragon king recoiled.

“Even the Ashen King couldn’t withstand divine fire for long!”

Orson chuckled.

“Divine fire?”

His voice echoed through the cavern’s walls.

“Have you ever seen true divine fire?”

He stepped forward, and in a blink, he was gone—

Only to reappear at the edge of the cavern ceiling, high above them.

The dragons struggled, their chains rattling, trying to glimpse his form.

But all they could see was a silhouette—

A radiant god of fire, looking down upon them.

Orson sighed.

“Pity.”

“Two rare twin-headed lizards like you… would have looked amazing pulling my carriage.”

But dragons were stubborn creatures—negotiating was pointless.

Which left only one option.

He raised his staff.

The ground glowed, a dark red hexagram spreading beneath his feet.

His eyes sharpened.

The Heavenly Fire Staff blazed, a swirling Bright Galaxy of destruction in his hands.

[Heavenly Fire Awakening!]

[Dragon Curse – Howl of Fury!]

[Awakening: Judgment Flame!]

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