"Tell me this isn't real! I just paid to get help awakening an A-rank hidden class, and now S-rank trials are openly announced? This busted game, I swear—!"
"Why the sudden generosity from these stingy bastards? That's a dozen advanced class leads dropping all at once, practically covering every core build."
"Holy hell… and no cap on slots? That means S-rank classes are gonna flood the streets soon."
The announcement hit like a meteor, sending shockwaves through Infinite Dimensions.
S-rank classes were usually the mark of whales, top-tier gods, or mechanical monsters.
One step above A-rank, yet the difference in power was astronomical.
Getting an S-rank or higher didn't just demand cash and manpower—it needed outrageous luck.
But now, with more than a dozen hidden lines revealed all at once, the entire US region would be transformed in ways no one could yet fathom.
"Buying full level 50 mage legendary six-piece, will pay extra for accessories that boost MP cap! Also need 55+ accessories with blue cap, money's not an issue—PM me."
"Buying ancient troll teeth, 30 needed, paying \\$1,000 each, the more the better. Waiting at the capital's forge shop, come trade!"
Almost every ambitious player who'd struggled early on turned toward these hidden trials.
The forums were full of warnings: any quest involving an S-rank class was guaranteed to be Abyss-Tier or Hell-Tier.
Blindly rushing in meant becoming cannon fodder, feeding info to smarter players who came later.
So the scramble for top gear, schematics, and rare materials went into overdrive.
Demand soared, and with demand came opportunity.
The fastest way to cash in? Rob Npcs blind.
Players formed mobs, dying and reviving, then charging again to kill high-level Npcs—blacksmiths, merchants, soldiers—nobody was safe.
All across the major cities, a dark symphony of souls rose up, the anthem of a region gone mad.
This was the US zone's carnival of slaughter.
Amid iron and blood, they grew stronger, broke past their limits.
Some answered Orson's call; others simply chased greed, turning their blades on imperial Npcs again and again.
"Get him! That bastard just dropped a level 30 Forbidden Magic gauntlet, it's gotta be on him!"
"Brothers, tear them apart! We killed the magic shopkeeper earlier, they had loads of sweet loot."
"Give it back… that was mine! Don't let me catch you IRL or you're done!"
In mere minutes, the US zone descended into chaos.
Amid ruthless betrayal and slaughter, new titans rose—while the broken nursed their wounds in silence.
It wasn't just Infinite Dimensions going up in flames.
In the real world, police sirens screamed through the night.
Players tracked enemies' addresses through shady channels, and the murder rate spiked so sharply that US authorities, despite contingency plans, were overwhelmed.
More blood spilled every hour.
After all, a single piece of high-tier gear from Infinite Dimensions could fetch tens of thousands of dollars—enough to give someone from the bottom rungs a relatively comfortable life.
And with so many elite drops flooding in from massacred Npcs, it was a feeding frenzy no guild or gold-farming syndicate could fully control.
Blank's brows drew tight. She grabbed Orson's wrist. Her phone had been blowing up nonstop—ten, twenty calls demanding to know what was happening.
Meanwhile, Orson had long since powered his off, refusing to be reached.
Human nature was greed itself.
When war raged through the virtual world, desire bloomed into monstrous shapes.
Since ancient times, every sacked city looked the same.
Either embrace your appetite—or fight to keep it caged.
There was no third path.
"What is it?" Orson turned to her with a gentle smile.
Blank felt like the man before her was someone entirely new.
She thought she'd begun to understand him, but his eyes still held a depth that could swallow stars.
"You… you knew this would happen all along, didn't you?"
As a rich heiress, she couldn't grasp why normal people would spill real blood over just a few thousand dollars.
Why they'd chase vengeance, or commit murder for loot.
Orson simply nodded, still smiling.
"History might change, but the human heart? Never."
He glanced down at her delicate hand, teasing, "Officer Blank, are you planning to arrest me?"
Blank stared at that calm smile, her grip slackening, and shook her head in confusion.
She didn't know why—part of her recoiled, sensing danger, yet something else pulled her closer.
"Pain before rebirth. Some losses we just have to accept."
Orson's voice was cool as he stepped over the scorched ground to where the imperial grand marshal lay, nearly bled dry.
A ghostly voice hissed around them:
"You're the plague of Infinite Dimensions… the demon that devours all hope!"
"No. I'm no demon," Orson said quietly, gripping the Supreme Arcane Blade.
"I simply play the role my people need. When they cry for a god, I become one. When they need monsters, I teach them to dance with evil."
"Why waste breath on this imperial maggot? We've suffered under them long enough!"
"He will remake the empire—this so-called grand marshal is the true butcher of his own people!"
Hugh Jackman's pupils shrank.
Looking past Orson at the murderous clan kings, he cracked.
"I… I swear loyalty! Let me be the empire's guardian!"
Orson's eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched Hugh stiffly stand at attention.
"Defense and offense reversed, hmm? Too bad—I don't need any more gatekeepers.
The Godslayer's sword will pierce all dimensions. Victory is inevitable."
"Our lord is eternal!"
Aeloria roared, swinging her bone sword.
Purple crystal split, and the grand marshal's head tumbled free.
Orson casually picked up the shattered Elf Queen's Statue.
The fragments trembled, merging back into a whole.
It was exactly why he'd never feared its destruction.
Artifacts could break, but so long as you gathered the pieces, they'd fuse again.
The only catch? Its cooldown was now 30 days before it could be used again.
"I've already called Dr. Jordan. He'll be here soon to start rebuilding the manor. Want to come with me?"
Orson turned back, hand outstretched to Blank—who had unknowingly drifted ten meters away.
"Are you afraid of me?"
His eyes still held that soft light, completely free of blame.
He knew exactly how she was—tough on the surface, tender and innocent underneath.
Blank said nothing at first.
Then, after a long hesitation, she gave a tiny nod.
It was the first time she'd dropped all her masks in front of him.
"Then… will you still stay with me, knowing how dangerous I am?"
He would accept whatever she chose.