Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

“WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: An anonymous player from the US region has accomplished the impossible—slaying God-tier Wise Angel Misius.”

“WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: Rewards… unknown error… unknown…”

Just as Orson was about to examine the mysterious coordinate item, the world announcements began to glitch.

“Slaying a God Angel… what the hell are US players made of? Are they demons?”

“Why act surprised? If it’s got an HP bar, a US Godslayer will wear it down somehow.”

Top players from around the world couldn’t keep calm. Killing a God-tier NPC was beyond comprehension—most hadn’t even laid eyes on a Demi-God Supreme, much less hunted down a literal deity of Infinite Dimensions.

Their minds immediately jumped to theories: endless zerg rushes to grind it down… or exploiting game-breaking bugs.

“Protest! Pokpung’s death is rumored to be directly linked to Orgod—we must formally demand answers from the US embassy!”

“Exactly. How else could they pull off killing a God? There’s no way they did it fair.”

“If IND players would just unite, we have a billion strong! The Ganges itself grants us endless power!”

Players from NUK and IND were in an uproar, itching to launch a cross-border war straight into the US servers.

“Wait, what’s this ‘reward error’ supposed to mean?”

“Bugged out?”

In Forever City, everyone looked at each other, puzzled. It was the first time since launch that a world system announcement had ever glitched.

Then, a cold voice drifted down from some unseen void: “You shall receive no blessings. The price for your actions will come in due time.”

The sky dimmed abruptly. Silvery moonlight vanished under roiling black clouds.

Hearts clenched as a massive face formed in the storm overhead, shrieking in fury as it dove toward Orson.

“What the hell is that? Brothers, sisters—get over here now!”

Iron Cavalry roared, slamming his magitek command truck into high gear.

“Back off!” Blank’s eyes flashed icy. She stepped in front of Orson’s battered form.

“I still have one flawless resurrection. Chill.”

Orson smiled faintly at her back, whispering to himself. It felt unexpectedly nice to be protected by someone he liked.

“Save it. You say you’re going to become a god—what kind of true god just drops dead?”

Blank shot him a glare. Orson opened his mouth, unsure how to explain—she’d clearly misunderstood what he meant.

“Who cares what kind of ghost it is. If it’s come for us, it’s staying here!”

Madman snorted. Quarla, Velorith, and Aeloria all transformed into dragons, unleashing deafening roars at the spectral face boiling toward them.

Orson scratched his head, genuinely touched to see himself so heavily protected—layer upon layer of companions standing firm.

For the first time, he truly felt he wasn’t alone. He had people he could trust with his life.

Jenonis: “You’ve angered a true god. You’ll be damned forever.”

“And what’s it to you? Sit tight.”

Orson turned to the still-frozen Archangel, sneering. “Three Wise Angels left, plus a Seraph, right? Don’t worry—if they don’t come for me, I’ll go find them.”

He raised the crystalline key in his hand, showing it off.

“You… how do you have that?”

Jenonis’ voice trembled for an instant before he scoffed. “You’re marching to your own doom.”

Orson’s smile was calm. “The Celestial Kingdom must be a spectacular place. Surely very… rich.”

He paused, then his grin turned predatory. “Maybe we don’t have the forces to invade now, but who can say what the future holds?”

His eyes gleamed as he checked the unassuming item’s details. It listed a specific location inside the cathedral at Saint Maiden City—use it there, and the Gate of Heaven would open.

A direct portal to the Celestial Kingdom.

“Shit! That thing’s passing right through!”

Bradley’s face paled as the ghostly face phased clean through Velorith’s dragon form. Even her lightning breath had no effect.

There was no HP bar. No data to inspect. It was like a wraith.

“War Saint shield up—”

Bradley started to burn his health for an all-team invulnerability, only for Orson to stop him with a hand wave. “No need. It’s just a high-level illusion.”

An illusion?

They all gaped as the ghost drifted past them, halting in front of Orson.

“Speak. You have five seconds.”

Orson’s voice was ice.

The face shifted shape, shedding a soft holy glow.

For an instant, they all thought they saw a breathtaking woman wreathed in flames, eight pristine white wings stretching from her back.

“Orgod… the end is coming. You have no hope of defeating me. You’ll only leave your world open for other opportunists.”

Xinala’s voice rang inside his mind.

“Other opportunists? Like who?”

Orson’s eyes narrowed as he glanced toward Usher atop the demon temple.

“The Celestial Kingdom and Hell’s Dominion maintain Infinite Dimensions’ balance. If that balance collapses, none of us will be spared. Remember, this world was crafted by the gods.”

Xinala’s tone was frigid.

“You sure it’s balance… and not just slavery?”

Orson’s gaze turned glacial. One Wise Angel had already fallen. Their eternal nemeses, Hell’s devils, would soon be on the move.

He’d suspected as much. Xinala had just confirmed it.

“We are weapons. Competing weapons.”

Xinala’s voice was faint. Then she continued, “Misius was arrogant, even after countless ages. His fall isn’t entirely a tragedy.”

“The Wise Angels’ four seats now have a vacancy. Consider my offer—join the Grey Watchers. Watch over your people.”

“You’ll gain immortality. Become a true god. The world will kneel at your feet.”

Her voice was hypnotic, comforting, like sinking into a warm bed of cotton, urging him to simply sleep forever.

Americans had always craved immortality. It was burned into their DNA.

Ageless. Undying. A soul that would never fade.

Who could say no?

Maybe most players would laugh this off as just another over-the-top story event.

But Orson knew better. Xinala could absolutely deliver on that promise—more accurately, the power behind her could.

“Who’s the puppet now? Looks pretty clear to me.”

He sneered. Xinala’s brows drew together. “This is your only chance.”

“Is that so?”

His eyes sparked as he scanned his Godslayer brothers and sisters.

They stood there unbowed, ready to spit in the eye of any god.

Afraid of nothing—no heaven, no hell, no gods, no demons.

Their defiance burned so hot it seeped into every fiber of his being.

Orson could hear it: a chorus of souls howling for freedom, for legend.

“Dragging around a hollow, cowardly body for eternity? What the hell would I want that for?”

His arms tensed. The Supreme Arcane Blade trembled in his grip, then rose, pointing straight at the seraphic vision.

“I’m already a dead man walking.”

“I know better than anyone—sometimes it’s worse to live than to just fucking die.”

“So—get out of my sight!”

The blade flared dark red. Chaos Magic Balls detonated with thunderous force.

“You are cursed. You’ll regret this.”

Xinala’s cold words echoed as her angelic image tore apart and vanished.

“Eh? I just saw a winged chick waving me over, telling me ‘big boy, come play’…”

Madman muttered.

“Play your damn head, perv!”

Ruby smacked him square on the skull with her massive sword.

Madman clutched his head, groaning. “I’ll go buy some costume wings. Tomorrow you cosplay an angel. We’ll do… very spiritual exploration.”

Ruby shrieked at Bradley, “Bro, I was wrong! I don’t want this trash boyfriend anymore!”

She chased after Madman, sword swinging, as the two lovebirds’ antics sent the whole crew into fits of laughter.

“Alright, knock it off. Orson has something to say.”

Bradley waved them down. Everyone quieted.

“First order of business—wipe out the sealed imperial legions.”

Orson looked at them, feeling power surge through him. “Second… paint the empire crimson. Unleash Godslayer’s fury on every noble in the land—kill!”

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