Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

Orson had always felt something was off with the color of the surrounding rock walls. They were a dull, ashen white, almost resembling the skeletal remains of a titan beast. However, he hadn't dared confirm it before. After all, the interior of this mountain was too vast—there's no way the remains of a titan could be so large after its death.

"Is this... the Dragon God's head?" Orson swallowed and asked cautiously.

Borlog didn't answer directly but instead responded with fervor, "His body turned into mountains, his blood became Rootless Water, but his lingering soul flame chose me—a naive half-orc!"

"So, you're saying your ability to foresee the future comes from the Dragon God?" Orson quickly grasped the core issue.

"It's a tragedy," Borlog said bitterly. "A despair where you know the bottomless abyss lies ahead, yet you're pushed forward by some unseen force. You wouldn't understand."

Borlog suddenly laughed at himself, then looked at Orson with a glint of cruel amusement. "No, no. You don't belong to this world. You should understand this feeling more than anyone."

Hearing this, Orson's face darkened. The ability to see the future was often more of a curse than a blessing. Knowing the exact moment of your death, or how it would happen, was nothing but a heavy burden.

"A fool is blissfully ignorant, but the wise are doomed by their knowledge," Orson muttered inwardly, his frustration growing as Borlog's words edged into madness.

However, amidst Borlog's ramblings, Orson did gather some useful information. The Crimson Lizard King's ancestors indeed carried the blood of the Ancient Dragon God. But that bloodline had become diluted over the ages, and the fire lizards had long been reduced to ordinary monsters. Only a few exceptional individuals, like those who consumed the Elemental Dragons, could rekindle the ancient glory of their ancestors, earning them the title of "Death God Dragon Clan."

The Ancient Dragon God, then, was a transcendent life form, the pinnacle of the Death God Dragon Clan's evolution. Interestingly enough, it was also referred to in US mythology as the Yinglong—the only dragon to have wings. A godly existence, a creator, destroyer, and everything in between.

But for the Crimson Lizard King to become Yinglong, it would require transcending godly life itself and surpassing all dragons. The odds were slim to none.

Orson shook off the thoughts as he finished processing everything, then teleported out of the half-orc's secret realm.

"You've gained the blessing of the gods," the system notification popped up, returning everything to normal. But Orson knew this peace wouldn't last long.

Compared to what was coming, the player squabbles in the Infinite Dimensions world seemed trivial. The coming disaster was something no one would escape. And as much as he wanted to speed up the world fusion countdown, he knew that avoiding the inevitable wasn't possible. The only thing he could do was grow stronger—endlessly stronger. Even if it meant toppling the world itself.

He logged out and returned to the game room in his villa. Outside, the sun was just rising, and Bradley and the others had gone offline to rest half an hour ago. They'd just finished the Celestial Fortress battle, and everyone was mentally drained.

Orson glanced at the time—only eight hours until the Monster Siege event. From the clues he'd gathered in the Celestial Fortress treasure zone, he knew the US region would have two monster spawn points. One was in the Celestial treasure zone, and the other was in the capital of the Light Dragon Empire.

"What's so great about the Dark Dragon camp? I've said I won't bully you guys, yet you still insist on betraying me," Orson muttered as he made instant noodles, tearing open the seasoning pack.
Find your next read on My Virtual Library Empire

As he waited for his noodles to cook, Orson thought things over. The monster groups would be between level 35-45, and killing them didn't really hold any value for him. However, they could serve as good practice for the Godslayer players, helping them level up and get gear.

If he waited for the monsters to attack the city, they'd spread out, and the loot would be shared by a massive number of players. But if he brought the Celestial Fortress to hover above Dark Dragon Empire and blocked the spatial rifts outside, wouldn't that ensure every monster in the spawn area got killed?

"That's it! Betray them and deny them monsters to farm." Orson grinned wickedly at the idea.

After finishing his noodles, he went to sleep until noon.

Bradley: "After I finish these five pieces of fried chicken, I'll be good to go again, Money Traveler!"

Madman: "Quit munching on chicken, damn it. This damn game is making me poor. Where's that maintenance fund the so-called adult promised us?"

After lunch, Madman looked up at Orson, playfully rubbing his fingers together.

To repair the Celestial Fortress, everyone had been grinding dungeons all night, stuffing their guild warehouse with gear they didn't need, and Madman had been auctioning off the rest. Despite all that, they only earned around 200,000 gold, a far cry from the 10 million needed for repairs.

"I'm going to find someone to withdraw the money. By the way, there's a surprise waiting for you when you log in," Orson said with a smile, slipping on his shoes and heading out.

"My love, you can make borrowing money sound so fresh and unique. How about we get real and find some big spender to sponsor you? Like me~~" Ruby teased, grinning as she tried to sneak up behind him.

But Bradley was quick to grab her by the collar, stopping her.

"Are you really going to borrow money? You don't have to," Bradley said, looking at Orson in confusion.

Dancing Giant Boobs: "We can all pitch in and grind for a few months. We'll make up the money!"

Orson shook his head, his expression calm. "Time waits for no one. Plus, it wouldn't be fair to keep relying on everyone for free equipment donations. People need to earn their living too."

Madman frowned, "I'm not trying to bring you down, but only a top-tier consortium could have that kind of financial power. You don't want to be sponsored by some rich guy, right?"

"Actually, it's not just the top consortia that have that kind of cash." Orson smiled.

"Not a consortium? Then you plan to borrow from the US's richest person?" Madman was speechless. He needed time to cool down. With the Godslayer Guild's current power, they could dominate other guilds even without the Celestial Fortress.

"Don't worry. The person I'm going to talk to is way more powerful than any billionaire. And the money will be no problem." Orson gave a mysterious, meaningful smile.

The others were left confused, but before they could ask more, Orson turned and walked out of the villa. Outside, a low-profile BMW 5 Series was parked.

"Thanks for the trouble," Orson said as he got in, pulling out his phone and dialing K.D.

"K.D, are the people there? You're not going to make me run empty-handed, are you?" Orson said with a hint of amusement.

K.D sighed on the other end, "You little brat... I should've known you'd make things complicated. The conditions you proposed have me in a bind. Just get here, and we'll talk face-to-face."