"So you're that scared of dying? You only sent a golem avatar to negotiate?"
Up above, the young shadow dragon let out a roar, unleashing a torrent of dark dragon breath to make a show of strength on behalf of its master.
A wave of black fire surged through the sky.
Orson didn't flinch. He looked up, his eyes turning icy.
"If your father were here, I might show some respect. But you? A hatchling? You dare show off in front of me?"
With a casual swat, like brushing away a fly, Orson stripped the dragon of its flight.
The dark wyrm shrieked, eyes wide with panic, beating its wings frantically as it plummeted.
There was a reason he hadn't initiated a mounted battle against Orson.
His bond with the dark dragon hatchling—named Calamity—was a balanced pact, not one of domination. He couldn't fully control the creature's behavior. Calamity was violent, prideful, and notoriously disloyal. Before Usher, it had devoured more than a few Dark Dragon Empire Dragon Knights.
Even now, it struggled beneath him. But Usher's steady hands tugged the reins tight. With a hard twist, he managed to bring the beast down to a dust-kicking landing.
"You can stop bluffing," Usher said calmly. "There's no way for you to know whether this is a Hell Golem projection or the real me."
"Oh?" Orson chuckled. "Getting smarter, aren't we? Not bad. I didn't think you'd see through that one."
"Still," Orson continued, eyes narrowing, "I was surprised. You had someone message me in private to propose an alliance between the Dark and Light Dragon factions. That's not really your style, is it?"
About fifteen minutes earlier, Orson had received an anonymous message suggesting a joint strike against the Archangel assaulting Forever City. He hadn't paid it much mind—until he noticed Dark Dragon players swarming around Golden City.
And through his Celestial Sight, he had even spotted Usher and Skyslasher in the city.
Normally, opposing faction players couldn't undertake side quests or raids in each other's territory, unless it was for a hidden quest. For so many to be here, clearly something else was afoot.
"She's someone you know very well," Usher replied cryptically.
Orson's expression shifted. He tested the waters. "Snow Dream?"
"Correct. She's already misled Jenonis."
Usher's voice held quiet pride. "Right now, a massive imperial force is splitting in two. One group is headed to Riftrock City to distract you. The other is your real problem—they'll march straight for Forever City. You don't have much time, Orson."
Orson's eyes lit with divine fire—but Usher waved him off.
"Don't bother," he said with a knowing grin. "They're cloaked by a divine item. You won't find them. No one will—except me."
Orson paused. That explained it. No wonder all his efforts to locate the enemy army had failed.
"A divine item shield…" he muttered, canceling his scouting skills with a frown.
Usher spoke loudly for all to hear: "So I, Usher, will lead my guild and our allied NPC legions to fight against the Light Dragon Empire's forces!"
"What?! We're helping the Godslayer Guild now? You'd have to kill me a thousand times before I agree!"
A panicked voice came from one of the players—part of the Tianya Guild.
"Master Usher, have you forgotten how we ended up in the Dark Dragon Empire in the first place?" ElderEscalator had recovered from her earlier shock and now stared at him with disbelief.
"Boss, if you go through with this, what does that make the rest of us?"
They weren't alone. Most of the Dark Dragon players were appalled.
They'd endured scorn, insults, ridicule—yet swallowed it all for Usher's vision. They believed, without a doubt, that someday they'd topple the Godslayer Guild and prove themselves right.
They had always fought with raw strength and bloody fists. In Infinite Dimensions, power was everything. The weak deserved to be crushed.
Usher's expression didn't change. Arrogant as ever.
Orson watched, amused. These players had no idea how deep Usher's ambitions ran.
He was born to be a king.
Brutal to his enemies, even more so to himself.
Usher spoke softly. Calamity reared its head, unleashing a torrent of shadow fire. A dozen outraged Dark Dragon players were instantly reduced to charred husks.
"I want fifty percent of the loot from Light Dragon NPCs," Usher said coolly. "In return, my guild will help you unify the Dark Dragon Empire. And from those gains, you get fifty percent."
Two bitter rival guilds. Now proposing to split the entire U.S. region's resources?
"You're aiming for the throne," Orson said flatly.
"And you're not?" Usher shot back.
Orson's smile was faint, unreadable.
"Sorry," he said. "I don't have time to play emperor. I'm just a washed-up pro player, remember?"
Then, after a pause, he shrugged.
"And why would I agree to a fifty-fifty split? You think we're equals?"
His voice was soft—but it hit like a thunderclap.
The battlefield fell silent.
If Usher was considered a god-tier player in the making—then Orson had already become a myth.
In a world of billions, only one man could speak with that kind of weight.
Usher's jaw clenched. For a moment, it looked like he might lunge. But he knew the truth: a fight here would end in humiliation.
"Your offer doesn't hold much value," Orson said. "Even if your army is hidden, I can find them."
He turned away, activating Celestial Sight again.
The divine item might cloak an army—but not the world itself.
South of Golden City lay an area called Forsaken Mounds. Once packed with monsters, it now sat half-empty. A clear trail had been carved through the region.
"I'm running a mission. Anyone want to come along?"
Orson smiled casually. Everyone took a step back.
In full view of Usher, he shifted into Orsix, the eccentric coachman, and began escorting the still-dazed duchess and her maids to the extraction point.
"Seventy-thirty. That's my bottom line," Usher called after him, grinding his teeth. "And I'll bring two King-tier players to support."
"Eighty-twenty," Orson said without turning around. "I don't care what throne you want. All I care about is how much muscle you bring."
Usher inhaled deeply.
"You're not worried I'll backstab you after the Light Dragon Civil War ends?" he asked, his voice low.
Orson chuckled and deactivated his title effects.
"If you do, you'll lose credibility. And at your level, that's a price you can't afford."
Usher didn't reply. He knew it was true.
Reputation was a sword with two edges. Orson could be raised up by the crowd—or torn down by it. And if Orson broke his word, it would be like cutting his own legs out from under him.
Still, this alliance wasn't a bad deal.
Not because Orson feared the Archangel's strength, but because the Dark Dragon Empire was vast—its resources rich and wild.
Someone needed to tame it. To unify it. To harvest its power before the Heaven Demons returned.
That someone had to be a lunatic like Usher.
Otherwise, just like in the previous timeline, the NPC legions would be wasted.
But why was Snow Dream putting so much effort into helping Usher?
She was a caged songbird once.
Now she stood beside another man, seemingly free—but Orson knew better.
She hadn't escaped the cage.
She'd only swapped it.
He whispered the name he hated to say. A flicker of killing intent passed through his dark eyes.
If things went too far—if she became a true threat—
Then Orson wouldn't hesitate.
Even in the real world…