Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

“Today’s the day we make history!”

“Are we seriously afraid of a bunch of scrubs? Fight! Let’s go!”

“I’ve been delivering food for ten years—finally, it’s my turn to rise! Wait for me!!!”

“Usher alone sent IND’s Poison King running for his life. I don’t even wanna imagine what happens when it’s Usher plus Orgod. That combo’s gonna break the damn game!”

…

Unlike the heavy tension gripping other warzones, the US chat channels were bursting with bloodthirsty roars. Everyone was fired up, hyped beyond reason. It was as if every combat gene in the warzone had been activated at once.

More than an hour had passed since the launch of the global war campaign.

Once the meeting ended and the crowd dispersed…

“My friend,” Drunken Dream greeted with a booming laugh, shaking Orson’s hand warmly.

Orson smirked inwardly. My personal mount.

Beside Drunken Dream stood a tall, handsome young man—none other than Denoka, the son of the Silver Dragon King.

At the sight of Aeloria, Denoka instinctively stepped back, his eyes full of fear and unease. Aeloria’s lips were dry, and she forced a creepy, brittle smile.

“I went to the birthplace of the dragons,” Drunken Dream said casually. “Someone’s been waiting for her.”

“Waiting for her?” Orson blinked, glancing at Berenice peeking out from his collar.

Drunken Dream nodded.

Curious, Orson used Ancient Sage’s Eye to scan his stats, only to be met with an unviewable special buff: Solarius’ Blessing. It couldn’t be analyzed and granted 50% damage reduction.

“Damn, that’s insane.”

Orson gave Drunken Dream a once-over.

The Silver Dragon Knight radiated divine energy, like a celestial being descended to the mortal world. His aura had become more composed and weighty, clearly strengthened by the encounter at the dragons’ birthplace.

Coupled with his Forbidden Magic-tier set—Holy Light Dragon Armor, currently ranked ninth on the global gear leaderboard—this guy had reached god-tier defense.

And worse yet, he had Lilith, a high-level NPC companion who specialized in barriers and shields, plus Denoka backing him up.

He was practically an indestructible walking fortress.

Drunken Dream extended his hand. “Let me take her for a while. I promise you a surprise.”

Berenice shouted, “No!! Get him away from me!”

Orson hesitated, then asked, “Can’t I come with you?”

“You can’t. More accurately—she can’t.”

Drunken Dream gave Aeloria a meaningful look, confusing Orson. Enjoying the story? Find more at MV-LEMPYR.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Bone Dragons are forbidden from devouring true dragons,” Drunken Dream explained, rubbing his nose awkwardly. “In a way, the dragons are her children.”

“You’re telling me… Solarius created the dragon race?” Orson looked stunned.

“Yes. The first primeval dragons were born from her,” Drunken Dream confirmed. “Even if she was forced to do it under the gods’ control, her residual soul still harbors instinctive hostility toward any Death God Dragon who devours her children.”

“I see.”

Orson nodded, then grabbed Berenice by the head and shoved her toward Drunken Dream. “Go on.”

“You traitor! You sold me out!” Berenice shrieked, trying to cast a space spell to flee.

But Denoka raised a broken piece of silver dragon horn.

A beam of holy light erupted and formed a glowing cage, trapping her inside.

Orson’s eyes lit up. The item was called Holy Light Dragon King’s Horn—a divine-tier artifact capable of completely blocking teleportation and space magic.

“Wait, isn’t that Tulikiki’s?”

Before Drunken Dream could respond, Denoka spoke, eyes misty. “My father is dying. I misunderstood him before. He’ll always be the strongest of the Light Dragon Clan. He’s going to lead our kind out of bondage.”

Saryantos had once said that the dragon race was a creation of the gods, crafted and manipulated for millennia. But the dragons had been secretly plotting rebellion for just as long.

The Grey Watchers wouldn’t let them go easily, and that’s why they sent their strongest native, Dragon Knight Aetrexa, to exterminate the dragons.

But Orson’s appearance had changed that fate.

“Be good. There’s endless treasure waiting when you get back.” Orson squinted as he smiled at Berenice.

The fate of the entire dragon race now rested on her.

Moments later, Orson and Sienna stepped into a teleportation array and arrived at the Celestial Fortress.

Outside the power core, a series of buildings had been transformed into a massive prison, reinforced with over ten layers of magical barriers crafted by warding masters.

Life-type players patrolled the area with magic-powered sniper rifles in hand.

After the naval war at the US coast, the 4,000 adventurers who had survived by pure luck were all imprisoned here.

Each received a warm welcome—complete with Forbidden Magic shackles.

Orson took a lift to the top level of the fortress prison. Only two cells were there, guarded by a single figure.

That figure was none other than the old War Saint himself.

“My lord, she’s inside,” Darkbo said, standing solemnly with his black sword.

“Huh? Wow… you look just like someone I used to know.”

Orson chuckled, eyes glinting playfully.

The cell, forged entirely from obsidian, had walls etched with writhing black runes. Just approaching it caused Orson’s mana to plummet rapidly.

This was a Sun-Eater Barrier, a dark-type array that constantly drained magical power and applied the Withering Curse, preventing health regeneration.

Inside, five chains as thick as a man’s arm—made from anti-magic alloy—suspended a filthy, malnourished woman with matted yellow hair in the air.

She lifted her head slowly, weak and trembling. Her eyes flashed with silver light as she croaked, “I’ve lost… If you have any honor as a knight… kill me…”

“Wait a second. That voice sounds familiar…” Orson smacked his thigh in mock surprise.

“Isn’t this the legendary Dragon Knight of Infinite Dimensions, pride of the Light Dragon Empire, and worshipped war goddess… Aetrexa?”

He shook his head with a smirk and stepped closer, voice turning cold. “Sorry, I’m just a mage. I don’t do knightly honor.”

Five days ago, Orson had tricked her into a trap beneath the Celestial Fortress. Somehow, Aetrexa survived the siege of countless King-ranked spirits and fought her way back up, blood-soaked and on the verge of collapse.

Even with her warbeast near death and her own body running on fumes, she had nearly escaped from Darkbo’s grasp.

It took the combined might of Godslayer, Quarla, and Velorith—two Dragon Kings included—to finally capture her.

Officially, she was King-ranked, but her sheer presence was enough to make even Demi-Gods pale.

“You betrayed the will of the gods!”

“Orgod… you’re the root of chaos! Die… die!!”

The chains rattled violently as Aetrexa screamed hoarsely, a broken shadow of her former divine self.

“No, Lady Aetrexa… You’ve got it wrong.”

Orson’s playful tone vanished, replaced by a solemn calm.

“I’ve never betrayed anyone. I simply followed my own will. But you… you forgot yours.”

“My… will? I betrayed… them?”

Aetrexa’s eyes flickered with confusion.

“You were the pride of the natives of Infinite Dimensions. You were a knight sworn to protect. The people adored you. They were loyal to you.”

Orson’s voice dropped, laced with bitter disappointment.

“But you betrayed them.”

“Now the invaders stand at our doorstep—and still, you cling to the gods.”

He stared at her, voice soft but heavy with meaning.

“Join me. Or I’ll kill your warbeast… and then I’ll slaughter every last native from your homeland.”

His tone trembled slightly as he finished.

“Make your choice… noble Dragon Knight of Infinite Dimensions.”