Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

King Arthur’s sins were unforgivable?

Orson’s eyes went wide. That single statement was loaded with implications.

According to what Warchief Madhorse once said, some adventurers from US had indeed ascended to godhood—becoming part of the pantheon that ruled the galaxy.

It was entirely possible there were other adventurers who’d pulled off the same feat, joining the divine ranks through brutal trials.

But judging by the fallen Egyptian gods he’d encountered, even within the galaxy’s divine hierarchy, there were clear tiers of power.

The so-called “chief gods” had to be vastly stronger than the lesser deities.

Orson shook his head.

For immortals who lived eternally, a mere one or two thousand years might not be long at all. It seemed unlikely that even the most extreme Era of Immortals adventurers could rise to become chief gods in such a short span.

Then again, there was another point.

If there had been an Era of Immortals, it meant there were probably even older fused worlds before it.

Could it be her?

A sudden chill jolted through Orson as he thought of the Tiamat Chaos Cauldron hanging at his waist.

The corpse of that serpent god, and Anubis—both were lesser gods.

They’d clearly been after the Chaos Cauldron fragments, only to be ambushed and slain.

But why had Giant Jack claimed King Arthur was the one who’d doomed them?

Orson frowned hard. It didn’t make sense. These were all beings forged by the rules of the gods themselves—living weapons. What kind of hidden power could they have to truly defy the pantheon?

This was shaping up to be a staggering secret.

The outline of events started to take shape in Orson’s mind, but he’d need far more details to piece together the full truth.

“Die!”

Giant Jack roared, unleashing his own Soul Seal ultimate—Aspect of the World!

A towering avatar wielding colossal axes materialized, so vast it seemed to grip the sky itself.

“We were all pieces on the board. Even chief gods were prisoners of their own making. For the sake of all beings, to end this tragic cycle—we had no other choice.”

King Arthur’s eyes glinted with divine light, then grew cold and silent again.

Boom!

The ground shattered. Mountains split and crumbled.

Giant Jack’s axes smashed into King Arthur’s sacred brush, unleashing a storm of spatial rifts.

Under that devastating clash, it seemed the world itself could scarcely contain their might.

Orson felt a visceral shock ripple through him.

It made him all the more curious about what exactly the Heavenly Spirit’s Heart could do—if claiming it demanded such nightmarish trials.

“Like bullying the weak? Then I’ll let you two beasts tear each other apart.”

He sneered.

Turns out he’d worried for nothing. Even in their broken forms, the grudges burned into their souls drove Giant Jack and King Arthur to fight with murderous fury.

Orson guided Crimson Lizard King up to a ridge. With these two titans going at it, even the slightest misstep could mean oblivion.

He couldn’t help wondering what BlazeKing would think of all this if he were still alive—watching his successors engineer such a savage clash between his own generals.

This was a masterstroke: driving the wolf to devour the tiger, then reaping the spoils.

Cold, but ruthlessly effective.

Divine Blood Corrosion. Skill Nullification!

Divine Blood Corrosion -200,000!

Divine Blood Corrosion -400,000!

…

The two giants waded into the blood river, battering each other at close quarters.

Orson’s interface lit with alerts.

Just as he’d discovered before, no skills could properly manifest in this blood river. It was a raw slugfest—fists tearing the air, feet crushing the earth.

He could tell the river’s effects were minimal on these two monsters. Their extraordinary tenacity meant damage merely doubled each tick, unlike his poor clones that suffered tenfold spikes.

But that was key.

The river was born from a true god’s corpse. Giant Jack and King Arthur’s health bars showed no cap on the stacking bleed debuffs.

Which meant no matter how absurdly thick their HP pools were, they could very well bleed out in this river.

Dodge?

Not when they were both locked into Aspect of the World. Neither would retreat until one was dead. The river just hastened that end.

Orson kept a hawk’s watch on the churning surface. Killing off these old monsters was only part of it.

What he really wanted was for the Godly Relic fragment to get shaken loose.

Come on, ancestors—do me this one favor.

He grinned darkly. This was a once-in-a-lifetime ploy. You didn’t often find consumables this powerful.

If the relic didn’t pop out, all this scheming would’ve been for nothing.

He could scarcely believe the damage flying around. Each of their casual crits was tens of millions, and their crippling strikes topped a hundred million.

And they weren’t clumsy, either—constant blocks, swift dodges.

It boggled the mind how strong they must have been in life.

“I’m still not strong enough.”

Orson whispered to himself.

These days in the trial had battered his confidence. The gulf between him and these ancient adventurers was painfully clear.

But he didn’t feel defeated.

Era of Immortals Hardcore Mode had probably existed far longer than his last life’s few short years.

Survival time often equaled growth.

He would surpass himself, surpass all who came before.

If he was on the path to slaughter gods, he would walk it to the bitter end—until both gods and Heaven Demons quaked at his name.

A thunderous shock snapped him out of his thoughts.

King Arthur and Giant Jack toppled together. King Arthur’s chest was torn open, golden light spraying from the wound.

Giant Jack wasn’t much better off—one arm hung limp, an axe embedded in the cliff.

The blood river surged, vomiting up all kinds of gear fragments.

No bones—those had long since dissolved.

Then, amidst heaps of debris, Orson’s eyes lit up.

A chunk of greenish iron, as thick as a bowl, floated upward.

Go!

Orson’s voice was a feral growl. Crimson Lizard King beat her wings in a gale, hurling them between the two battered giants.

“A petty thief dares meddle!?”

“Die!”

The two titans reacted at once—one fist, one palm slammed toward Orson and Crimson Lizard King with godlike force.

“Death God Body!”

Orson roared, eyes wild. Crimson Lizard King’s draconic howl burst out.

Her health surged past even her normal maximum.

Crippling Strike -600 million!

Together, the two giants unleashed a terrifying number.

Crimson Lizard King spewed dragon blood, her gut ripped wide.

As she tumbled toward the river—away from the relic—she gave a mighty twist of her tail, flinging Orson clear.

“You beautiful idiot—I’ll roast you a mountain of chickens for this!”

Orson’s heart leapt. He lunged through the air, clutching the fragment and tucking it away.

But he wouldn’t let Crimson Lizard King simply drop into that river.

He had no idea if she could climb back out.

“Perish.”

King Arthur’s cold voice snapped out. He rose and swept his hand—like swatting a fly—straight for Orson.

Orson drew a deep breath. War Supremestaff floated at the ready, starlight spiraling around him.

His eyes flew open.

“Awakened Molten Shield!”

A deep snarl echoed.

A phantom of a flame god sprang up before him, gripping a diamond-shaped shield inscribed with glowing runes.

Boom!

King Arthur’s palm smashed down, the shockwave ripping the heavens.

The flame giant snorted contemptuously, stepping forward with shield raised, bracing for the blow.

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