"Do you know what 'a trap from heaven and earth' truly means?"
Orson's eyes were locked on Jenonis like blades of light. The Archangel gritted his teeth, swinging his sword in frustration to push back Darkbo, ready to hurl another divine curse in rage.
Darkbo, the Demon God War Saint, might lack the raw stat superiority that came from wielding an Artifact like Jenonis, but his battle instincts had been honed through countless wars. Even the God-Emperor Gaedashiram had once spoken of him with awe.
Like a bloodthirsty shadow, Darkbo clung to Jenonis with relentless pressure, keeping him from regaining composure or spewing more sanctimonious threats.
Orson raised a hand, wagged his finger mockingly at the Archangel, and chuckled.
"When I speak, it doesn't require your commentary. Be a good little bird and just listen."
"To me, Celestial Kingdom is nothing more than a large raid instance—sure, it takes time to clear, but don't mistake that for me being intimidated by a trash mob like you."
Orson's tone sharpened, voice cold as frost.
"You think you can destroy the empire I've built? Who do you think you are? What qualifications do you have?"
"Orgod..." Jenonis hissed through clenched teeth, about to speak—
—but before he could finish, Darkbo slapped him across the face with a bone-cracking backhand that sent the Archangel reeling, blood trailing from his mouth.
"You really think I'm just here to kill you and win this civil war?"
Orson's expression twisted into madness, and he laughed wildly.
"Don't you get it? According to the rules of war, this civil conflict doesn't end until you or I die."
A visible shiver ran down Jenonis's spine. That haughty expression vanished, replaced by deep, gnawing fear.
He was beginning to understand what Orson planned… but he still couldn't believe an adventurer would dare to go this far.
"All 24 main cities of the Light Dragon Empire… will burn. Again and again. I'll paint them in blood!"
Orson's voice dropped to a devil's whisper, like something from the depths of the abyss.
"High-level NPCs always respawn… so why not convert them into fuel for our strength?"
"Back off!" Jenonis roared, exploding with divine energy.
A barrage of radiant sword strikes pushed Darkbo back, finally buying Jenonis a moment to breathe.
Then Jenonis started laughing, eyes full of disdain. "You really think this is funny?"
"Do I?" Orson's smile faded to ice.
Jenonis sneered. "If you go through with this, the true gods will descend. They'll reshape this world."
"Then let them come," Orson said calmly.
With that, he gave Darkbo a nod.
"I'll see you in the arena, Jenonis. Let's find out if a demi-god from Celestial Kingdom can bleed."
Darkbo's eyes flashed. His blood-soaked blade pulsed with anticipation.
A thunderous sword cry shook the sky as Darkbo vanished, dragging Jenonis with him into a dimension of battle.
King's Authority: Imperial Champion's Arena
Effect 1: Blood Duel – All players and NPCs in the law's range are randomly paired into duels.
Effect 2: King of the Arena – Choose one target for a five-round solo showdown. Stats are equalized. The victor gains temporary stat boosts; the loser suffers a 99% HP reduction.
Darkbo's law was brutal: no matter how strong or weak the opponent, the moment they stepped into his arena, it was skill vs. skill.
But because Jenonis was quasi-God-tier, his Law of the War Supreme would still function even within a "fair" battle.
Orson knew Darkbo was likely to lose.
Crimson Lizard King's Death's Disdain couldn't suppress Jenonis across dimensional space. This duel was a distraction—a sacrifice.
But Orson had a backup plan.
As Jenonis and Darkbo became crimson shadows and vanished, Orson moved quickly.
He lifted his hand, revealing an ancient, shimmering scroll.
Magic Scroll – Forbidden Curse of the Purple-Gold Dragons
Effect 1: Permanently seals a specific trait of a divine item.
Effect 2: Applies a Forbidden Curse to all living targets within range. The effect duration is shortened, but all sub-God entities lose skill access and cannot break free through attacks.
Warning: The user becomes immobilized for 90 seconds during casting.
"Defend the city? That'll never be me."
He'd prepared countless trump cards, and from the beginning, the Empire never had a chance. This massive-scale battlefield had always just been camouflage—for the scroll's deployment.
With this, the civil war wouldn't end anytime soon. And because the conflict would remain "active," players wouldn't receive any Infamy Penalty. They could roam free—and butcher freely.
It would be the blood baptism of the entire Light Dragon Empire.
"This item is extremely rare. Are you sure you want to cast the Forbidden Curse: Divine Dragon Seal?"
This scroll was a priceless one-time divine item, originally crafted by the Purple-Gold Dragon King Daloré to seal the Crown of Sin.
And it fit Orson's ultra-long-range casting style perfectly.
Most Dragon Kings could only target within 5 kilometers. Orson? Much, much farther.
He guided the Crimson Lizard King back to the Lord's Manor.
90 seconds. If he was interrupted during casting, all would be lost.
The Lizard King morphed into humanoid form, his ruby-like eyes fixated on a man waiting inside.
"You've got everything I asked for?"
The man wore a scholar's robe, his bearing refined.
"Captain, all preparations are complete," he said respectfully.
"You've done well, Alexander."
Orson placed a bottle of Phoenixblood Wine on the table.
Alexander bowed. "It's my duty."
Orson took a seat across from him like an old friend. He raised his glass. "Wedge and the other former SSRs—I'll spare them. You have my word."
A flicker of relief passed across Alexander's tired face.
They clinked glasses.
"I don't doubt your capabilities, Sword God… but I have to ask you one thing."
Alexander hesitated, wine glass halfway to his lips.
His lineage—the Lambert family—was famous for swordsmanship and pride.
But against a man like Orson, Alexander didn't dare show the slightest hint of defiance.
"You're not planning to assassinate me mid-cast, are you?"
Orson smiled, as if joking with an old drinking buddy.
Alexander twitched. He had a thousand curses in his throat but dared not speak them.
Orson's people had already detained Wedge, DonutWizard, and even Alexander's family—under the guise of "protecting vital Radiant Shuttle personnel."
Now, this was a game he had no choice but to play.
One misstep, and he'd lose everything.
"I don't like being stabbed in the back," Orson said cheerfully, cutting the tension.
"Tell me. Do you deserve my trust?"
"I… can be trusted." Alexander forced out the words.
Orson nodded and took a deep breath.
"Activate divine item scroll: Divine Dragon Seal."