Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

Capítulo 779: 779 Chaos Frost Prison, Full Power!

The voice fell like a frost from the heavens, blanketing every soul on the battlefield.

“The world… has finally witnessed a true miracle of chaos!”

SirLagsALot shouted with fervor, his voice trembling with awe. The sky bled into a dark crimson, the earth heaved like waves before splitting apart with a deafening roar.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

From the cracks surged colossal hands of elemental force, like the manifested souls of fallen warriors, reaching out to crush the hearts of every enemy.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!”

Heartbroken Loli’s solemn, thunderous battlecry echoed through the war god mecha’s sound system, shaking the battlefield.

One massive hand tore a God-Elephant Clan warrior straight from the enemy formation.

“Chaos god, you vile and shameless wretch! When my world’s deity descends, you will fall without question!” the warrior howled, unleashing a barrage of S-rank techniques, hacking apart one of the giant hands.

But before he could land, another hand descended, and then another, until his body was completely crushed within a clenched fist.

“Shameless? Because I overwhelm you with strength alone?”

Orson sneered coldly, a sinister curl at his lips. “So what? What can you possibly do about it?”

The sound of his voice resounded like a god’s decree, rattling bones and chilling souls. From Orson’s view, they were nothing more than ants scalded by boiling water, scattering in blind panic.

Engines howled. Dozens of alien warships surged skyward, desperate to flee the field.

“Leaving? Did you ask how I feel about it? Did you ask the families of those who died under your blades?”

Orson’s eyes flared. He had not returned to Earth for the sake of a war. This was punishment—raw, merciless retribution upon the offworld invaders.

“Death’s Wail!”

Saint Roland raised his living-metal sword, voice as icy as ever, directing it at the fleeing fleets. The source of this content s novelꜰire.net

A bone-piercing screech burst from the Undying Lord, an energy that defied the rules of Infinite Dimensions itself. Hundreds of violet beams tore the sky apart, shattering the crimson clouds.

Several national-class warships exploded into fireballs, their reinforced barriers shredded. Larger ships disintegrated into flaming wreckage, tens of thousands of trialists reduced to ash.

“Break through!”

Kings among the trialists called out, rallying their forces to form domains and attempt a desperate escape.

But their efforts were in vain.

“Chaos Frost Prison—full power!”

Blue light erupted around Orson as the heart of winter itself descended.

“It’s snowing!”

Far away in the Graymist Zone, a tiger-faced child pressed against a window, eyes wide as flakes fell from the heavens. But those snowflakes never touched the ground.

“Grandpa, hurry up!”

A group of brats were shouting at Flame Fosset, who had been tying his shoelaces for half an hour.

“Snow? My ass it’s snowing! That’s my damn disciple stirring up trouble!” Fosset spat, untying the lace again and deliberately dragging out the task.

Beside him, Flame.D finally snapped, crouching to tie them himself. Fosset glared and barked, “Out of the way, brat!”

“If we don’t move now and something happens to him—”

“What could possibly happen? Plagues last a thousand years. It’s been barely ten. He’s not dying anytime soon.” Fosset grumbled, yet when he looked skyward at the storm of snow, he smiled faintly. “Perhaps… the Infinite Dimensions era really is ending.”

Crack.

Crack.

Half the city froze over, turned into a crystalline palace. Countless trialists stood locked in ice, frozen like statues in a mural of death.

“Clerics! Clerics!”

“Potions, resist the freeze—”

But even as millions swallowed potions against ice damage, Orson’s chaos fire ignited, devouring them from within. His vast mana pool turned every spark into an inferno. Screams died into silence as tens of thousands became burning effigies, their flesh and souls incinerated.

“Enough! Stop!”

A holy barrier blossomed over the battlefield, shattering the Frost Prison’s hold.

It was Garcia, the Fallen King, forced to abandon his assault on Kieran to cast his ultimate—Aurora’s Grace—to save the trialists.

The gods’ avatars rained down healing miracles, holding back the spreading ice. Though they cared little for lives, powerful believers were a source of faith, and Orson was culling them like weeds.

“Chaos god, I admit your power is astonishing. But opposing us only leads to one end—death.” Garcia’s voice was cold.

Taran’s gaze locked on Orson. “This hasn’t gone too far yet. We need to talk.”

Orson said nothing. His war staff gleamed scarlet in his grip. In his lock, size, strength, and battle experience meant nothing.

“Chaos god, you bastard—fight us head-on if you dare!”

Trialists roared as Orson caught them one by one, squeezing them down to slivers of health before sealing them into black spheres of shadow.

“Settle your debts,” Orson said softly, glancing at the soldiers of the coalition.

“Long live the chaos god!”

“Blood for blood! You’ll die screaming!”

Vengeance roared like a storm as the coalition soldiers charged toward the black prisons, eyes red with fury.

“You weaklings. Even at death’s door, I could slaughter you a hundred times over!” the God-Elephant Clan warrior spat defiantly.

“You’re right,” Orson said with a mocking grin. “Your world has had a head start. Ours is still young. Bullying the weak hardly seems fair.”

He raised his staff. A woman’s phantom, radiant with divine aura, descended.

Chaos Banquet of Life.

The awakened version of the forbidden Wood spell, Rain of Life.

Effect: Blessed by the goddess of life, consumes 100,000 mana to summon a storm of vitality, raising allies’ max HP by 150% and restoring 10% every second for one minute.

“A healing forbidden spell!”

“No… I can’t even read his HP bar!”

The coalition warriors, blessed by chaos and the life rain, doubled their health, their power surging.

“Hold fast! It only lasts a minute! Survive, and we’ll cut him down!” one enemy shouted, clinging to hope.

Orson chuckled, voice dripping with malice. “Ah, I forgot to mention. I can cast it thousands of times. Back-to-back. With no cooldown.”

The battlefield froze. Gods and mortals alike stared, stunned. Was this creature even of the same dimension?

“To him… this isn’t a war at all,” Hobilarze whispered hoarsely, pale as bone. “It’s nothing but vented rage.”

And he was terrified. Even locked down by the gods, Earth’s chaos god moved unchecked. Were the heavens hesitating out of fear?

“Taran dragged the gods into this. And now you want a ceasefire? You think you can just stop it?” Bradley scoffed, rising above the battlefield, locking eyes with Madman.

Orson’s lips curled. “Do it.”

The trio moved as one. Light flared from the Mirror of the Evil Eye, teleporting Bradley and Madman straight beside Taran.

Hobilarze and Aurex leapt to intercept.

“Out of my sight.”

Orson’s staff swept, a hurricane spear forcing them back.

“Arrogant!”

Taran’s body blazed with thunder, both hands clashing to parry the twin strikes, barely holding.

“Impudent!” Aurex roared, unleashing a sword beam that sheared away part of the colossal temple.

“The impudent one is you.”

Another voice cut through. Swords rang. Bradley and Madman stepped aside, clearing a line.

“Root of evil. You deserve death.”

“Awakening—Sunlit Gale!”

Breeze, the Archangel, wings blazing white, cleaved through the stars. His blade darted like a streak of lightning, a simple thrust hiding boundless precision.

The sword’s tip split into a dozen stars, blinding Taran’s sight and locking on to the thinnest point of his defense—his eyes.