This was really happening?
"By the way, about that whole thing with distributing helmets to everyone across the country…"
"Don't bother worrying about it."
Orson tried to crack a joke to break the tension, but Emma shot him down with a single line.
He stood there with his mouth open, searching for something to say. But this woman… she was stubborn as hell. Her mind was made up—she was going to do this, no matter what.
It was the longest three seconds of his life.
The mighty Megacaster wracked his brain for some clever way to slip out of this. But when the excuses reached his lips, he looked at her—so serious, so earnest—and couldn't say them.
Because in this moment, any reason he gave to run would instantly turn into words that cut her to the core.
Even blockheaded Orson understood that.
Yeah. From the first moment he saw her—both in his past life and this one.
In her previous life, she was an icy beauty, cold on the outside, burning inside.
In this life, she was proud and a little immature, blazing with a passionate fire.
He always tried to keep the "blade of emotion" from cutting too deeply, to keep them both safe. But he couldn't deny it—she drew his attention at every turn.
"I'm ready. Are you?" Emma's voice was soft as autumn water, her eyes flicking toward the shower.
Orson's Adam's apple bobbed. His mouth went dry. That was about the clearest invitation imaginable.
"I don't waste time on pointless things."
Orson muttered under his breath. Emma's eyes flashed, startled to see him summon the Supreme Arcane Blade.
Then a sly smile curved his lips. His dark eyes swallowed hers whole. He murmured to himself, "Water Orb."
Emma stared, dumbfounded, as a two-meter-wide ball of water hovered over his head.
He looked at her the way one might look at a lamb about to be slaughtered.
Orson casually snapped his fingers. The water orb burst with a splash, soaking him from head to toe in freezing water, shocking his mind back to clarity.
"Megacaster—you really know your craft."
Emma couldn't help but laugh, seeing this drenched fool. Her nerves instantly eased.
Orson wiped the water from his brow and pulled off his t-shirt. The lean muscles of his torso stood out in sharp relief, faint crimson demon markings surfacing under his skin.
His long frame and handsome face gave him an added touch of dangerous arrogance.
Emma's cheeks flamed red. She couldn't help being shy, muttering, "Shameless…"
Control slipped from her hands.
Orson reached over and lightly pinched her cheek, saying offhandedly, "As you can see, I'm bad enough to scare myself. I can't promise you anything. You know what we're up against."
Emma's shoulders trembled, but she didn't brush his hand away. She lifted her chin and met his eyes with unwavering resolve.
"I just don't want any regrets. If I can have a place in your heart, that's… enough for me."
Tears shimmered in Emma's eyes. Her face was a blend of shy and determined.
In the next instant, Orson's expression shifted. She flipped things again—back to being the one in control.
She seized his wrist, spun with graceful agility, and before he realized it, he was already lying on the bed.
"That night, how you were with me… I want to be the same with you now."
Emma let out a playful giggle and boldly wrapped her arms around his waist.
Seeing that dazed, enchanted look in her eyes, Orson almost lost himself.
He suddenly remembered when that God-ranked assassin had attacked the Mage Sanctuary, how he'd pinned her on this very bed.
So it was all a setup from the start!
"Feels nice." Emma teased, pinching his waist hard.
Damage notifications practically popped up in his mind.
Orson couldn't help laughing. So much for the domineering wall slam—he'd ended up the one getting ambushed. Who could handle that?
"Seriously, that building over there can probably see us. Didn't it ever bother you living here?"
Emma rested her head on his chest, whispering. On the surface, it sounded like she was complaining about the place—but really, she was just trying to brace herself.
Orson smiled without answering. Her practiced air was way too forced, but he didn't call her out.
What experience did she even have? The way she kissed—like a pecking chick—said it all.
Orson lowered his head toward her slowly. Emma's ears turned bright red. She muttered, "Maybe… we could have a midnight snack first? I'll grab something from the fridge."
He tried not to laugh. "Don't bother. The fridge isn't even plugged in."
"Then… maybe somewhere else? This place doesn't exactly have any… atmosphere." Emma's heart was pounding, trying her best to act calm.
Orson's grin was wicked. He lifted a hand. "Veiled Mists."
Mist drifted through the room, obscuring the outside buildings and making everything around them hazy and dreamlike.
He dismissed his War Supreme set, but activated its effect. Blank looked around, surprised by the swirling Bright Galaxy. "You've… got a lot of tricks."
"And you've got a lot of schemes."
They both laughed, gazing at each other with tender warmth, like they were floating far above the world, lost in precious time together.
Lips met like wildfire, searing to the soul.
Orson gently held her waist, feeling her racing heartbeat as heated desire poured out between them.
He knew he couldn't promise this woman a future.
She knew she couldn't always be at her lover's side.
So they clung greedily to every second before the end.
Emma's eyes sparkled like a dazzling Bright Galaxy, locked on him without blinking.
Her face bloomed with radiant charm. Unafraid of his devouring gaze, she boldly revealed her most perfect self in the shifting mist.
Her skin was like creamy jade, impossibly alluring.
Her exquisite face, like a ripened fruit, exuded shy, enchanting sweetness.
Sometimes she bit her lip lightly, sometimes her lips curled into a tiny smile, hair swaying gently in the breeze as she offered up her soul to this man.
"I'll protect Sienna. And you'll love me well too, right?"
Emma's gaze turned hazy, feeling the heat spread through her body.
A hint of sorrow crossed Orson's face. He didn't want to show his weakness, but thought silently, "It's done. But I swear… I won't let them down."
Outside, under the night sky, thunder rumbled and rain poured down.
"What is that? A mirage?"
"Looks weird. Why's the lightning blood red?"
On the street, people fleeing the supermarket stopped under an awning, staring up at the night sky in shock.
Blood-red lightning tore through the heavens, thunder rolling endlessly.
In the flashes of light, it seemed like massive dragon shapes appeared—then scattered, replaced by wailing cries on the wild wind.
It was a black shadow that defied clear form, like countless ghosts from hell shrieking into the world of the living.
Then eerie figures began to show—angels with wings sprouting from their ribs, elves with longbows, demons with twisted horns.
It was like they were locked in a brutal war with the ghosts.
Soon, the ghosts in the mist grew into an unstoppable tide, surging on wild winds toward the horizon…
Angels' wings were torn!
These signs weren't limited to the US. Weather agencies worldwide issued emergency alerts for these bizarre anomalies.
Orson and Blank waited anxiously by the hospital bed.
Ever since last night's global atmospheric upheaval, players still inside Infinite Dimensions had been forcibly logged out.
Orson knew it meant the age of Infinite Dimensions was truly over.
But Sienna still hadn't logged out. It was like she was trapped inside the world, the last player who hadn't returned.
At least her vital signs were stable. Orson wasn't sure exactly what was happening, so he didn't dare shut off her capsule.
Then Orson glanced at his phone. 9:59.
By his past life's memory, only one minute remained before the world fusion arrived.