The four dragon girls clung to him like octopuses. Orson curled his lip—but to his surprise, the feel of their skin was far smoother than expected.
He'd assumed that bodies covered in dragon scales would feel like sandpaper—rough, cold, completely unappealing.
But instead, they were unbelievably smooth, like touching polished jade, sending a strange thrill through him.
He frowned, and for some reason, an image of the Crimson Lizard King's beautiful face flashed through his mind...
SS-tier Spell: Purge Unholy Thoughts!
He shivered, quickly picturing Crimson Lizard King stuffing her face like a savage beast—instantly neutralizing his inappropriate urges.
"Big brother, be gentle with me... I'm Chaylia. My father is the great Dragon King's second son, a Violet-Gold Battle General."
"You look so cute and charming, adventurer... Won't you please let me satisfy you?"
Two of the dragon girls whispered into his ears—one sultry and mature, the other soft and girlish. The double assault was almost overwhelming.
"Sorry, ladies. I'll have to decline."
Orson smiled awkwardly and snapped his fingers.
Before the astonished dragon girls could react, his body disintegrated into particles and vanished with the wind.
Orson opened his eyes, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
Just like the Purple-Gold Dragon King, the Purple-Gold family specialized in seal-based magic. If he hadn't been extra cautious during that first meeting with Cassandra, he might've actually fallen into her trap.
Against someone as ambitious and devious as her, Orson had more than a few tricks up his sleeve.
The version of him that submitted the quest was just a Supreme Soul Disc clone. His real body had remained in the plaza with Lili.
The clone, created from dividing his true form into six, couldn't use gear effects—but it had one broken feature: shared inventory.
According to Orson's tests, the clone couldn't use divine items, holy relics, or enter battle spaces.
But it could handle quest items just like the main body.
In practice, the clone functioned as an extension of his own vision and interface—essentially six mini-characters with halved stats.
The duration was short, and if they moved beyond his 20-kilometer range, the clones vanished.
Twenty kilometers was enough to crush even Demi-God Supremes and dominate casual players—but in a world as massive as Infinite Dimensions, it still wasn't enough to multitask freely across the map.
Still, once he hit Level 80 and maxed out Heavenly Spirit's Right Eye, the range might double.
Then, using clones to farm simple mob quests would be entirely feasible.
And once the War Supreme Set hit max level, he could summon twelve of these clones, each carrying a weaker version of King's Authority.
That kind of power? Enough to terrify the gods.
"One Triple Crown winner goes missing... I'll give you twelve more," Orson chuckled to himself.
Meanwhile, Cassandra was making her way through the main street of the capital. Her presence drew a crowd of onlookers.
"Cassandra thanks you all for your service to the Empire. Should I be crowned Empress, I shall reduce the Emperor's taxes!"
The cruelty in her face was gone, replaced by a noble, benevolent demeanor.
"The Purple-Gold family's shining jewel! Long live Lady Cassandra!"
"Hail the future Empress!"
Cassandra basked in their flattery, unaware that a tail had quietly latched onto her entourage.
Lili, Ursula's sister, though not powerful in stats, excelled at stealth and infiltration.
She had slipped into the crowd undetected, tracking Cassandra's movements.
Orson had made her his Battle Bro, allowing instant communication between them.
Meanwhile, Orson headed to the Empire's most bustling commercial district.
The capital had the best shops in the entire Light Dragon Empire: magical gear, potions, custom equipment—even warships and siege engines.
Of course, at this stage in the game, these were stupidly expensive—even whales could go broke here.
So most rich players weren't here for the main shops—they were looking for the capital black market.
Forbidden-tier equipment, blueprints, clues—they all appeared here, often at prices far below what master NPC crafters charged.
The reason was simple: no empire tax.
But since it was a black market, the Empire raided it frequently.
As a result, the location changed constantly—there were over a dozen spawn points, and it never stayed in one place.
"Damn it! The butcher shop entrance is gone!"
"My legs are killing me! Am I playing a game or farming Apple Watch steps!?"
"Anyone with a flying mount, help me out! There's a 5000-gold bounty for finding the entrance!"
Orson chuckled. Dozens of player groups were flying around like headless chickens, obviously looking for the black market.
"Who the hell would throw 2000 gold just to find an entrance?"
That kind of cash wasn't pocket change. Whoever offered it must be desperate—or stupid. Either way, easy money for Orson.
He called over a player—a magic swordsman in clearly subpar gear and only Level 30.
An A-rank class, sure, but obviously a newbie who lucked out early.
"Gold mask… Wait! You're the guy who stole Orgod's capital!"
The player—Blackjack War God—looked stunned.
Orson gave a helpless nod. "Give me 500 gold. I'll take you there."
His teammates froze and stared in disbelief.
"This is the famous Forever City lord? And he's scamming a newbie for 500 gold!?"
"Don't listen to him! This guy's linked to Southeast Asia's cybercrime rings! Orgod got robbed blind by him! What a scumbag!"
Orson was speechless. There were at least a dozen versions of his "origin story" on the forums—each one more ridiculous than the last.
Sure, he was in deep debt—but he wasn't about to scam newbies for pocket change!
"I'm not that low," he sighed. The hype around his name was skyrocketing, turning him into some kind of national icon.
The Ten Overlords of the US were clearly pushing his fame to recruit new blood into Infinite Dimensions.
Blackjack War God and his crew sized him up. His gear looked absurdly OP.
"You cheat one of us, you're dead," a female archer sneered.
Orson fought the urge to laugh. Honestly? This chick looked like real trouble.
"Fine. Here's your gold. Don't screw us."
Reluctantly, War God handed over the money. The others formed a loose circle around Orson—ready to jump him if he pulled any funny business.
Orson sighed. They barely gave him space to move.
Then, to their shock, Orson stepped up to a market guard, handed over the 500 gold, and said,
The guard's face lit up. "Of course, generous adventurer! Right this way!"
Everyone nearly spit blood.
They'd been searching for the black market entrance for hours—and all it took was a damn bribe!?
"Bro, that was insane! You just bribed your way in!?"
Orson grinned. The corruption in the Light Dragon Empire was obvious—money talked.
The government only cracked down on the black market when they needed a payday. Many officials profited off these periodic "raids."
He led the group down a hidden alley. At the end, the guard moved a wooden crate, revealing a winding stone staircase.
You've discovered the Royal Capital's Black Market – Savitt.
The message popped up. The players were thrilled.
"Thanks, man! I'm calling my sponsor right now!"
"You're a legend, bro! Way cooler than that tryhard Lightning Dragon War Saint!"
"Lightning Dragon Knight? An NPC?" Orson blinked.
"Nah, a player. You haven't heard?"
War God furrowed his brow. "Actually, he's not a Dragon Knight anymore. He's the Supreme Guild's Lightning Dragon War Saint."
Apparently, this had blown up on the forums days ago—but somehow, Orson had missed the memo.
"Supreme Guild's got someone that strong?" Orson murmured.
Could it be Drunken Dream? Had he given up being a Dragon Knight to awaken as a warrior class instead?