Once he understood how it worked, Orson’s grin stretched nearly to his ears.
Riding atop Aeloria, he kept a tight lock on the 100-kilometer range, shamelessly exploiting every inch of it.
Aeloria flew in wide arcs while Orson stood firmly in place, maintaining the maximum distance possible as he rained down spells.
"You damn fool... you’re going to get me killed!" Flame Lord finally lost her composure, roaring at the flustered Moon Sovereign.
"So what if a few beasts die? As long as we kill him, we’ll ascend as gods among the stars!" Moon Sovereign snapped back, refusing to admit the situation was slipping out of control.
But the truth was, the enemy’s auto-tracking attacks didn’t stop until they hit their target. Moon Sovereign had no choice but to use his teammates’ battle beasts as shields.
It was driving Flame Lord mad. She had personally raised three King-tier beasts, and even a proto-god chimera, only to watch them die like dogs.
"If you have any courage at all, fight me head-on! I’ll show you the difference between divine domains!" Moon Sovereign roared skyward.
"Difference? You sound awfully proud of yourself," Orson replied coldly, never pausing his barrage. "I don’t care what domain you’ve mastered, or what name you go by. I came here to kill you all."
"You despicable bastard!" Flame Lord cursed.
Orson smirked. "You’re not the first to call me that."
He didn’t know the exact range of a God-tier reformer’s attacks or how far their domains extended—but there was one thing he knew for certain.
When it came to range and destructive output, no one in the Infinite Dimensions could outmatch him.
Especially now, watching two so-called gods, beings who saw all life as ants, reduced to scrambling for cover. It only proved his belief further.
He checked the positions of the other reformers. They were closing in fast—far faster than any standard adventurer. He couldn’t afford to let them gather.
He might be confident in his close-quarters capabilities, but in a no-respawn, no-teleport zone, a single mistake meant death.
And war had no rules—only survival.
"Awakening: Grip of the Underworld!"
With a clap of his hands, twelve colossal hands burst from the ground like a forest of stone, not meant to damage but to force terrain control.
The towering grips boxed the two reformers in.
Moon Sovereign slashed two of them apart with a massive sword, and his unicorn surged forward, closing the gap to just under 90 kilometers.
But Orson still had full control of the battlefield. Not only had he denied them any breathing room—he’d pulled them straight into a trap.
"Awakening: Eclipse of the Underworld!"
Darkness exploded outward, instantly consuming Moon Sovereign.
Flame Lord tried to flank him, but Orson wasn’t blind. Chaos Magic Balls flew in, forcing her to sacrifice her last proto-god battle beast to defend herself.
"Ants will never rival dragons!"
With a thunderous roar, Moon Sovereign emerged again, covered in magical leeches.
"That guy’s a damn bulldozer... he just can’t be stopped, can he?" Orson chuckled wryly. These reformers had insane tenacity—not to mention a stable of elite beasts.
The Awakening Battlefield might have technically balanced out their stats to give adventurers a chance, but in truth, even God-ranked adventurers rarely survived fights .
Just as Orson had predicted: very few adventurers in a thousand years had dared challenge god-weapons here.
"Your time is up!" Moon Sovereign charged forward on his unicorn, a savage grin on his face, already fantasizing about his prize—Divinity.
"I’ll cover you!" Flame Lord called out. Even if she hated how he’d used her beasts as meat shields, she understood—without more protection, they’d never get close enough.
She gave the order, and her three-headed chimera rushed forward to shield Moon Sovereign’s approach.
"Centuries old and still so naive. Amazing." Orson let out a chilling laugh.
Three Judgment Flames ignited above—one leading, two trailing—forming a deadly triangle in the sky. Rocks and dirt lifted off the ground as gravitational force locked the chimera’s movement.
Chaos Magic Balls pounded its heads.
Critical Hit - 6 million
Maiming Strike - 15 million
Lethal Blow - 28 million
A hailstorm of chaotic fire detonated across the chimera’s body. Its wails of agony echoed across the battlefield as two of its heads were torn apart mid-air.
Orson pointed casually.
Three Hurricane Spears pierced its eyes and wings, slamming the beast into the dirt, skewered like a trophy.
Stormflutter Butterfly’s fierce wind effect was perfect for taking down high-HP targets.
Roughly every hundred normal attacks or skills, it had a high chance to trigger a Lethal Blow.
With Orson’s relentless field damage, that meant a near-constant string of extra damage.
Even the tankiest monster might as well have been made of paper.
"And you were the loudest. Let me show you the ocean."
Orson smiled coldly. He was a machine of divine slaughter.
Moon Sovereign, who had just thought he’d found an opening, suddenly froze. A massive tsunami slammed down on him from above.
Even with a reformer’s toughness, he was helpless against the sheer force of the wave.
To his horror, the wave flung him backward—right into the stone prison of Grip of the Underworld, now separated from his unicorn.
Critical Hit - 4 million
Critical Hit - 3.5 million
Ethereal Echoes - 2.2 million
The two reformers coughed blood as they activated Body Domination to mitigate damage, yet still staggered forward like stunned cattle.
And just as they were finally about to lay eyes on Orson—
He turned around and flew off.
Didn’t even look back.
And somehow, even as he retreated, his spells turned mid-air, swerving at impossible angles to strike again.
How were you supposed to fight that?
Moon Sovereign and Flame Lord’s faces turned pale. They were drowning in despair.
Against an untouchable monster , even a true god might cry.
"Not chasing? Then you’re already dead."
Orson’s voice echoed like thunder across the empty battlefield, slamming into their minds.
Strike them while they’re weak. Kill without mercy.
Orson’s eyes went cold. He kept casting nonstop, letting Stormflutter Butterfly handle the targeting.
"We’ve lost. I’ll give you all my gear... and every last bit of my merit!" Flame Lord cried out, her health down to less than ten million. One arm gone, her once-unmatched godblade now trembling in her remaining hand as she dropped to one knee.
Orson chuckled. According to the Awakening rules, victors could accept surrender—but only at the cost of reduced rewards, unless the loser willingly offered up all their items and merit.
God reformers always had powerful artifacts, divine items, and absurdly high merit values.
Sure, killing them outright guaranteed the base reward, but taking their loot manually could be worth far more.
Moon Sovereign spoke up. "Take our gifts. You’ll need them if you want to face Xinala."
Flame Lord added, "He’s right. Xinala and Sakan are far stronger than us. No matter how powerful you are, you won’t defeat them alone."
The two exchanged glances, then pulled out two broken weapons.
"What’s this garbage supposed to be, a ransom?"
Orson narrowed his eyes and scanned them with the Mirror of Folding—only to pause in surprise.
Godly Relic: Eclipse Fang (Damaged)
Godly Relic: Inferno Fallblade (Damaged)
The first carried a brutal curse—any strike removed 50% of the target’s max HP, permanently.
The second, simply by sitting in your inventory, boosted attack power by 30%, and came with a passive called Bloodburn, increasing damage the longer combat dragged on.
Now that was some high-end loot.
Orson sighed lightly, his gaze chilling. "From the moment you stepped onto this battlefield, retreat was no longer an option. You’re already dead."
He had no mercy for traitors who had abandoned the Era of Immortals to serve the gods.
Such feeble souls weren’t worth sparing.
"Xinala was once a God-adventurer herself. She now stands among the god-weapons by divine blessing. So why would she need a mere mortal woman to set a trap for me?"
Orson’s voice was steady, but ice-cold.
"The answer is simple."
"Because her soul... fears me."