Forever City basked under a cloudless sky, as if peace still reigned.
But the air was heavy with an eerie tension. It felt as though the city had been severed from the rest of Infinite Dimensions.
No birds chirped. No insects buzzed. Even the monsters that usually roamed the maps had vanished without a trace.
Dozens of players on flying beasts circled the outskirts, broadcasting live as on-the-scene war correspondents, risking everything.
"What's going on? The full-scale assault timer's done. Where's the action?"
"Strange. That guy who got insta-killed said he saw Archangel Jenonis and Snow Dream... so where'd they go?"
The reporters passed information between one another, but the silence remained deafening.
Everyone knew—unnatural quiet was the sign of something very wrong.
Viewers in front of their holoscreens broke into cold sweats. The complete stillness within Forever City made it feel more like a tomb than a city.
Was the battle still happening or not?
"Don't tell me Orgod ran off? Based on The Art of War, that'd count as a masterstroke—retreat is top-tier strategy. Hilarious."
"If I were him, I'd stall the civil war timer. As long as he doesn't die, the player alliance can't lose. Just wear the Empire down over a few years."
"Huh? What's this? Why's the official stream suddenly playing BGM?"
As chat argued and speculated, a completely out-of-place sound echoed from the obsidian city walls.
Everyone froze—was someone really playing battle music right now?
"Wait a sec! I know this song! It's from that popular group years ago!"
"WTF! No way—the devs are pulling stunts again! Isn't this Bon Jovi's It's My Life?"
A few players shouted in shock. The powerful electronic beat, the instantly recognizable vocals...
This was the go-to anthem of countless esports pros back in the day. The kind of track that made your blood boil when charging alone into enemy lines.
"One-two-three-four, two-two-three-four!"
"That's it! Keep the formation tight!"
On the city walls, a blue-haired girl led the dance, smiling as she barked out commands.
Behind her stood the elite daughters of the Light Dragon Empire's most prominent clans.
Each one tall, slender, with shining eyes and graceful curves. Their bodies moved stiffly to the rhythm, clearly unwilling, but they danced nonetheless.
Dead silence from the viewers. Some were practically drooling. Others gasped at the recognition.
Behind them, seated like a tyrant, was a demon lord. With a flick of his hand, he summoned a stack of master-servant contracts, floating midair.
Life or death, at his whim.
Orson sipped wine from Barrel Town with effortless elegance.
The only downside? His current handmaid was a hill dwarf princess. And her presence was... eye-watering.
"What the hell? Wasn't this supposed to be a massive battle? Why are we getting a damn dance performance?"
"...Insane. Only a Triple Crown winner could pull this off. Entertainment before war? This is god-tier trolling."
"Yo, no way! That's the Spirit Tribe War Supreme's daughter up there! And the merfolk princess too... holy crap!"
One player who'd attended a capital "bride selection" ceremony in-game stood frozen in disbelief.
Orgod had kidnapped the daughters, granddaughters, and heirs of Light Dragon Empire royalty.
Chaos erupted in chat.
"No one stop me! I'm gonna murder that bastard! I'll rip him apart limb by limb!"
An enraged voice roared from outside the city. Bionna, the dwarven princess pouring wine, froze up in terror.
"You can't even pour a drink properly?"
Orson raised an eyebrow, sighing as Bionna shattered another Lucid Dream wine flask with her super-strength grip.
"So... sorry, Master!" Bionna stammered, eyes fixed in horror on the contract hovering by Orson's hand.
"My Lord, I've never liked hill dwarves. Bunch of amateur forgers with no finesse."
A burly white-bearded man stepped forward. His eyes were black as night, body covered in demonic runes crackling with arcs of lightning.
"Veijander..." Bionna whimpered, backing away as her legs gave out.
The dwarf Demon God grabbed her head like a chicken and lifted her with one hand. "As ugly as your ancestors."
"Ease up on your niece, would you?" Orson muttered, unimpressed.
After consuming the Demon Ascension Pill, Veijander had grown more and more volatile. When he wasn't smithing, he was either drinking or punching his apprentices.
Hill dwarves and grey dwarves shared bloodlines, though they differed in culture and appearance.
A thousand years ago, hill dwarves sided with the Light Dragon Empire, while grey dwarves pledged themselves to the God-Emperor.
Grey dwarves had better smithing skills. Hill dwarves, however, fielded the elite Iron Boar Cavalry—second only to the infamous Ghostfang Frostwolf troops.
"Hill Dwarves—CHARGE!!!"
From beyond the horizon, a tide of red surged.
The Hill Dwarf King roared atop his armored boar mount, its tusks gleaming menacingly. The very ground split beneath its hooves.
"Veijander! If you harm my daughter, I'll crush you myself!"
"Enderoth, it's not too late to surrender," Veijander bellowed with a devilish grin, his voice booming like a war drum. "See that barbarian high priest's head? That was my handiwork."
The stream instantly cut to Forever City's gate.
There, displayed high and center, was Bairinador's severed head.
Below it—slightly lower—hung the barbarian high priest's head. The ground beneath them was stained crimson.
"Insane! Orgod just publicly executed the entire Light Dragon Empire royal family!"
"Madman! Ruthless! I freaking love it!"
A raw, bloody image broadcasted to billions. Players watching from around the world shivered.
"Father... I don't want to die..." whispered Nadora, daughter of the Spirit King. Tears streaked her cheeks as she danced, voice choked with sobs.
"No one can save you but yourself."
Orson smiled faintly, eyes fixed on her flawless face.
Nadora froze. She'd already learned of her brother Preston's death... and now feared she'd follow him.
Then, a small head peeked out from the formation.
"Nadora-sis, Nafi said to keep up! Don't slack or we'll have to rehearse again!"
"You little gremlin... are you the devil?"
Orson laughed helplessly. He had no resistance against Hazel.
She'd forced her way into the "Forever City Dance Troupe" without asking, claiming that after witnessing so much bloodshed, she wanted to bring peace to Infinite Dimensions through music and dance.
A sweet, naive dream... Orson gave her a silent thumbs-up and let her do her thing.
"Second act, begin," he clapped with a smirk.
The noble ladies trembled. Their lips quivered. None could hold back tears.
"Just kill them. Clean sweep," Veijander sneered, fanning the flames. Crimson Lizard King stood nearby, bone sword in hand, eyes gleaming with killing intent.
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
Orson's voice was gentle, but blood contracts coiled around his fingertips like hellfire. He looked every bit the demon lord deciding the fate of souls.
"I am Princess of the Fire Elves! I order you to save me! I am the last of my royal bloodline!"
Catherine's mental defenses shattered. She screamed in desperation, her voice echoing in panic.
Her cry triggered a domino effect.
"Father, save me! I'm scared!"
"Grandfather, I swear I'll be good! Please, in the name of my parents who died for you—spare me!"
They knew they were betraying their own people. But under the crushing weight of the contracts, they had no choice.
"You really are the devil," Blank said, appearing at Orson's side, her expression complicated.
She understood his logic. When facing an unstoppable enemy force backed by The divine item, strategy was necessary.
"Then I must be the most handsome devil of all," Orson chuckled, stroking his chin.
A sudden roar shook the horizon.
Enderoth bellowed as the hill dwarf legions surged forward. His war boar's tusks gleamed with bloodlust, hooves pounding the ground until it cracked and split open.