"Are you calling me fragile?"
Orson shook his head with a faint smile as he watched Blank's smug figure walk away. Sometimes, that woman was oddly amusing.
He never thought of himself as especially strong. The reason he had come this far was simple—an inner gravity he couldn't resist.
That pull came from the people he cared about in both his past and present lives: brothers, friends, and family.
He had seen what tragedy looked like. That was why he chose to stand in front of them all.
A man who has already died once… has nothing left to fear.
There were less than five hours until the War Supreme Summit.
Before that, he had to settle this—once and for all.
Alive, I'll find him. Dead, I'll bury him myself.
Orson still carried a trace of guilt toward Drunken Dream.
He was the one who encouraged him to rise again, who had promised to clean out the Upton Family trash for him.
But he'd been too confident.
He thought Max and his ilk would, like in the previous timeline, use shady tactics to oust Drunken Dream during Hardcore Mode, leaving him to die in a Heaven Demon ambush.
But no one expected Max to land a "blessing" from the Purple-Gold Dragon King.
His ambition exploded. He didn't just oust Drunken Dream—he tried to kill him in real life.
All of it was part of a bigger domino effect triggered by the wildfire success of Infinite Dimensions in the US.
In a game where the whole nation played, the leader of a top guild wielded absurd influence.
With just a bit of scheming, it was easy to amass wealth—and in the face of that kind of power, people would risk anything.
Blank didn't keep him waiting.
An hour later, Orson's phone rang.
"I've sent the info you wanted. We've got a lock on the Upton brothers."
"But… you need to be prepared. Yuri—Drunken Dream—is in bad shape."
Orson's heart dropped. He asked urgently.
"Seattle. Saint Mary's Hospital, ICU. Want me to send a pickup—"
Before she could finish, Orson had already hung up.
Seattle was over a thousand kilometers from BG City.
Orson didn't know how Yuri ended up that far out. But the fact that he was still alive gave him some comfort.
"Fly through the clouds."
He summoned the Crimson Lizard King.
Her form had grown to near Saint Lord-Class—like a floating black island, truly awe-inspiring.
The beast exhaled a long breath—reeking of blood and smoke.
Just as she prepared to roar, he cut her off, helplessly:
"No honking in city limits, lady."
Orson settled atop her head, pulling out his phone and launching Starlink—a surreal sight.
A thousand kilometers was nothing to him now—just a half-hour ride.
"Sir! VIP O has taken to the sky!"
"All units on high alert!"
"Clear the airspace! All nearby flights must land immediately!"
As Orson soared toward Seattle, NORAD went into crisis mode.
Planes were grounded. Fighter jets were recalled.
"Yes, yes! I'll take responsibility if anything goes wrong!"
"This is a classified op—we can't give details!"
In an underground command center, K.D was sweating buckets as the video conferences flooded in.
"Are you kidding me, K.D?! You want to end up in a court martial?!"
The air force generals, whose drills had been suspended, were livid.
"I have presidential authorization. Yell all you want—it's not gonna change anything."
K.D finally lost his patience and flashed the highest-level clearance.
The general on the other end nearly had a stroke—he swore someone would drag K.D into a cage match for this.
"What the hell is that kid up to now…"
K.D rubbed his temples, sipping cold water.
A local family actually messed with that guy? They've got a death wish.
Within the hour, U.S. intelligence had torn apart the Upton Family's dirty laundry.
Their shady wealth, personal habits, criminal records, how many kids they had, their professions—everything.
"At least they're fast. I'll give 'em that."
Orson flipped through Blank's file on his phone, riding atop the Crimson Lizard King.
He had no idea how insane the backend had become.
The entire U.S. intelligence machine had mobilized—for him.
To find Max and Yuri, Radiant Shuttle had deployed two military satellites, the Skynet system, and even tapped CIA counterterror resources.
Tens of thousands of professionals had been mobilized to support a single man.
It was practically the scale of a localized war.
K.D was frustrated—but firm.
He believed in securing powerful "mage allies" for the looming crisis.
A little manpower now? Worth it.
Seattle, Saint Mary's Hospital.
Orson arrived at the ICU entrance.
Armed soldiers guarded the hallway, eyeing him warily.
He hesitated, then coughed awkwardly:
"Uh, I'm Orson. Thanks for the hard work."
The soldiers looked him up and down.
Orson frowned. They don't recognize me?
"Blue Team, he's here. We're pulling out."
One soldier spoke into a radio, saluted, and left through the fire exit.
A moment later, a familiar voice echoed down the hall.
"What, the great Archmage can get embarrassed too?"
Orson turned and sighed in relief—it was James, Blank's brother.
James had his usual smirk, like all past grudges had vanished.
A chirpy voice suddenly rang out.
James flinched hard, slamming against the wall. Even a trained soldier couldn't keep his cool.
From Orson's shirt collar… a weird egg popped out?
Why wasn't this mentioned in the 60,000-word Radiant Shuttle report?
And why the hell was it moving!?
"This is your world? Meh. Not impressed."
Berenice spoke lazily from inside her shell.
Orson was stunned. She had actually crossed over to the real world—
and just like in the game, she was rebellious and totally unfiltered.
"Hey, the guy inside that room… why does he have a Holy Light Dragon's aura?"
Orson's heart jumped.
She flapped out of his collar and floated to the ICU window, muttering:
"Hmm… Weird… Weird weird… He's like… kinda… sorta… maybe… dead."