Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

“I saw the Goblin Gods! Wagha has gone completely insane!”

“Wagha! With my blood, I call forth the Boss of all Bosses!”

…

A million goblins began shrieking like lunatics, as if some prehistoric monster had awakened. Their primal howls sent chills down the spines of everyone on the Imperial side.

Around Nightshade, a dozen towering goblin warlords materialized—burly, temperamental, and bursting with the power of Wagha.

These were Goblin Warlords, born only once every 100,000 goblins. Each one was a Domain Lord-Class beast capable of going toe-to-toe with a Vilitian war monster on the battlefield.

They raised their rusted weapons and roared,

“FIGHT—YEAH! FIGHT—SO FREAKIN’ AWESOME!”

“Wakakaka… the squirt’s been chosen by the God of Wagha!”

The weakest, most common goblin rank—Goblin Grunts—suddenly erupted in freakish glee, bodies glowing green. Then, without warning, they exploded.

Flesh, bone, even souls were sucked into the goblin embryo in the sky.

Nightshade’s entire body turned bright green. His “green meter” broke all limits—it was almost nauseating to look at.

As he directed the process, a tsunami of Goblin Frenzy! and glowing materials surged into the swirling mass above.

Crack—

Crack—

Sickening bone-grinding noises echoed as the embryo ballooned in size. Long green hair sprouted. Four massive fangs burst out of its mouth. Its glowing body stretched, veins and tendons bulging beneath paper-thin skin.

“WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

A howl shook the heavens—the newborn cry of a true god-beast.

Blinding green light exploded outward. The kingly pressure of Imperial commanders and the divine radiance of the Holy Light Church flickered and dimmed before it.

The embryo shattered.

Out stepped a nine-meter-tall, crimson-skinned, four-limbed goblin monstrosity. His limbs were lean and sinewy like stone, bursting with terrifying muscle. Mysterious goblin runes coiled around his frame, and his glowing green eyes brimmed with cunning and cruelty.

“So this is the full-powered version of Goblin Grand Marshal Pajero… born from fifty thousand goblins and a sea of high-end gear?” Orson’s brow twitched. “Damn, that’s next-level.”

The previously summoned [Goblin Warlord: Rado] had shared the name, but Orson could immediately feel the difference. That one had been a limited-duration summon—this guy was permanent.

This “Green Grandpa” wasn’t just stronger—he was smarter. His bloodthirst was tempered by something else… a frightening intellect, like a goblin engineer had been reborn in a war god’s body.

Orson’s eyes flashed as he pulled up the boss’s status panel:

[Goblin Grand Marshal · Five-Star General · Pajero]

Affiliation: Nightshade’s “Iron Bros”

Level: 100

Tier: King-Class Creature

HP: 700 million

ATK: 50,000–100,000 (scales with combat intensity)

Skills:

Magitek Doom Blade

Anti-Dragon Body Domination

I’m Kinda Craving Something…

King’s Authority: Techno Overlord

Effect: All goblin magitek creations receive a qualitative evolution.

“…This makes no damn sense.” Orson mumbled. “Absolutely none.”

Iron Cavalry gawked.

“Yo, Nightkid, take my knees. What the hell is this thing?! A personal battle Bro?”

“Uh… well, I didn’t really expect it to work,” Nightshade admitted, scratching his nose. “It had a 20% success rate. First try, boom—it worked.”

“Dude, you burned through fifty thousand goblins and a truckload of gear—for a 20% roll?! You’re insane!”

Nightshade gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, the gold cost… might’ve been a little high.”

He wasn’t great at managing gold, but even he could tell Orson had gone all-in on this summon.

But Nightshade’s Battle Bro system was special. His goblins were literally his “bros,” not constrained by range or battlefield limits.

They worshiped him like a god. If he said “Die,” they’d ask, “How many times?”

In other words: a twisted master-servant bond.

Orson’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… Divine Blessing?”

He noticed Nightshade had an active buff:

[I Really Like You] – A temporary state massively increasing summoning and creation success rates.

“…Success rate: 1000%?!”

Orson short-circuited.

He’d never seen anything like it. A 20% summon rate pushed beyond 100%? That meant the summon couldn’t fail.

He looked up at the vanishing twin spirits of Wagha and Gagha.

This… wasn’t ordinary divine intervention.

With enough gold and materials, Nightshade was essentially breaking the game’s laws.

Such a degenerate-tier blessing could only come from gods beyond the Galaxy Pantheon.

But those two names—Wagha and Gagha—had never appeared on the Black Monument, the official record of the Galaxy Gods.

Same as the Chaos Mother, origin of Orson’s SSS-class [Chaos Overlord] profession—never once mentioned.

Could there be gods older than the Pantheon?

Or gods the Pantheon refused to acknowledge?

The thoughts nagged at Orson’s mind.

Then—BOOM!

A thunderclap.

“WAAAAAHHH!!!”

A flaming red streak shot past him, screaming bloody murder so loud it literally knocked him into the air.

“You fool!”

Crimson Lizard King caught Orson in midair, furious. She let out a roar of dragonfire at Pajero.

The goblin warlord flipped his hair with style, flexed his four tusks, and yelled,

“Anti-Dragon Body Domination!”

His right arm was covered in a moss-green half-plate. It glowed ominously as he flexed, and he charged Crimson Lizard King.

Critical Hit – 200,000!

Dragon Breath %Damage: Nullified!

Dragon Breath %Damage: Nullified!

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Orson’s jaw dropped.

Even the dreaded 2% per second true damage from Dragon Breath had been nullified.

This green dude was anti-dragon built.

“ROOOOAAAR!!”

Crimson Lizard King’s eyes narrowed. She had never lost in a same-tier battle.

Furious, she lunged forward to bite Pajero in half.

“Stop! No friendly fire!”

Orson snapped, forcibly taking control of her flight path.

He pointed toward Veijander, who was still locked in brutal combat.

“Yo! Go smack those guys! Yeah, start with the pale chick over there—”

But before he could finish—

FWOOOM!

Pajero raised his hands and summoned a flaming green greatsword. With a roar, he slashed a massive beam straight at Aetrexa’s dragon.

“NO! Not that pale chick!”

Orson nearly lost it.

Aetrexa didn’t flinch. Her dragon spat out holy breath, neutralizing the blade. Then she lunged in with a gleaming silver lance, punching straight through Pajero’s shoulder.

“WAAAAAHHH!!!”

Pajero shrieked, bright green blood gushing everywhere.

He tried to counterattack but got juked, sidestepped, and slammed again. After a few spinning charges, his HP dropped by 30 million.

“…I thought he was smart and terrifying. What happened to all that ‘Goblin Genius Warlord’ energy?”

Orson stared, dumbfounded.

He turned to Nightshade and deadpanned:

“Bro… I think your Bro’s not that bright.”

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