Eleven space-element Forbidden Curses.
A six-element fused Chaos Magic.
Hundreds of awakened A-rank skills all unleashed together, radiating an aura that could wipe out the heavens.
Day turned into night, and then the sky became a battlefield of elemental lightning, clashing as spells collided.
There is no enemy that overwhelming firepower cannot solve.
Then double the firepower.
No matter how brilliant or glorious they once were, in the end, they would all become dust scattered to the wind.
This was the divine right of the Spell God of Infinite Dimensions.
"You killed the Wood Spirit King. Gained 49 billion EXP!"
"You killed the Lord of Darkness. Gained 52.3 billion EXP!"
"You killed the Storm God. Gained..."
The dust finally settled. Silence fell.
A massive dragon bathed in diamond-like light landed upon the ground.
Her form was different from Noctherion’s. Two dragon horns, one gold and one white, arched high above her head. Her translucent body shimmered with golden magical runes, looking like a falling meteor trailing a silver tail.
Faint white light continued to glow around Orson as his level skyrocketed—until it hit the cap at Level 120.
"You guys were... actually pretty hard to kill."
Orson walked slowly toward the epicenter of the blast. Everything for thousands of miles had been obliterated—only a massive, hideous crater remained.
Xinala’s wings were broken, the hilt of her divine sword barely intact. Silver blood leaked endlessly from her nose and mouth, her shattered armor exposing pale skin beneath.
But Orson wasn’t in the mood to admire fallen angels.
He didn’t want a living, beautiful one.
A dead one would suffice.
Xinala’s HP was under one million and steadily dropping due to blood loss.
Sakan looked even worse—only half his body remained. Once the proud Demon Lord, he now lay like a dying mutt, barely able to breathe.
"Convinced now? I could go another three hundred rounds if you’re still not."
Orson’s tone was calm. Without their identity as divine weapons of the gods, these people were nothing special. Just rats who had seized the chance to cling to life and sided with the enemy.
He had actually given them more credit than they deserved, deploying his Supreme Soul Disc clones and divine domains at full power.
"Heaven—Godslayer’s troops will pay it a visit soon."
"Hell—they’ll go there too. You’re nothing but fodder on our path to transcendence."
Orson stood before them, looking down with contempt.
Xinala struggled to lift her head, her vision blurring as she tried to make out Orgod’s face.
And in that hazy moment, a flash of terror gripped her.
Two faces—two legends across different eras—began to overlap in her mind.
BlazeKing of the past...
Spell God Orson of the present.
"You’re not worthy to be my enemy. You never were," Orson said coldly.
Xinala coughed blood, her voice bitter with resentment. "I admit... you’ve won this battle. But the game... has only just begun."
Orson raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Maybe. But your game... is over."
A flash of dark gold light.
Orson switched to Doomsday Sword form, gripping the Supreme Arcane Blade as he moved behind the two of them.
It was time to use the ancient US method of dealing with traitors—by ending them with his own hand.
The two didn’t resist. Heads bowed, silent. Accepting death.
"Sakan. The final step."
Suddenly, Xinala turned to look at the barely-alive Sakan.
A wicked grin stretched across Sakan’s battered face.
"Just like the prophecy of the Aurora Goddess said... we will die here, but we will... be reborn."
The moment he spoke, Orson’s instincts screamed that something was wrong.
But his nature didn’t allow for hesitation.
He swung the blade without mercy.
"You have killed the Lord of Heaven, Xinala!"
"You have killed the Lord of Hell, Sakan!"
The Supreme Arcane Blade hadn’t even touched them—yet both had died, bleeding from every orifice.
Their mouths opened at the same time, releasing a strange, seductive whisper.
Their bodies collapsed like deflated sacks.
Two soul lights emerged from their shattered forms, drifting upward.
Before Orson could react, the soul lights shot off behind him—vanishing.
"What... the hell was that?"
Orson stood in place for a moment, stunned. "The Aurora Goddess’s prophecy... did they know they would die here?"
No—everything was off.
Orson’s brow furrowed. He had the nagging feeling he’d missed something crucial.
He looked in the direction the souls had vanished—his minimap showed they had flown straight toward one coordinate: Snow Dream.
"...I haven’t broken the cycle yet."
He muttered to himself. That dark cloud in his chest only grew heavier.
Snow Dream was just a King Adventurer.
In theory, she couldn’t possibly threaten him.
But then... why was this shadow growing larger?
Unless she was still planning something.
No. I have to deal with this immediately.
Orson didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward.
Aeloria let out a thunderous roar and caught him mid-air. Light from the Bright Galaxy poured from her wings, and her speed nearly doubled—like a living comet streaking across the sky.
In less than fifteen minutes, they crossed over 2,000 kilometers.
"You have discovered [Silent Lake]."
A deathly still lake stretched before him, surrounded by dense forest. The air was calm, but something about it felt... wrong.
There—on a massive boulder at the lake’s edge.
Snow Dream sat with her back to him, long hair flowing in the breeze, unmoving.
There was no reason for her not to notice his presence.
But she didn’t move. Didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch.
Orson knew this wasn’t right.
He took a slow breath. Snow Dream—Earth’s second King Adventurer after him.
She was his greatest creation.
And his most dangerous threat.
Her existence jeopardized not only Godslayer, but the fragile balance left behind after the fall of the gods.
He repeated it over and over in his mind.
The killing intent in his eyes was undeniable. But there was something else buried beneath it.
"Excuse me, can I play this professionally?"
The first time they met.
He hadn’t planned to stop. He was just passing by a VR café.
A 14-year-old girl had looked up at him with innocent eyes.
Her gaze reflected the startled expression on his face.
And somehow, the words came out of his mouth:
"I can. You can too."
"How do I become a champion like you? Can you teach me? I’ll work twice as hard!"
"Agh, compared to you, Master, I’m terrible. I can’t even manage a basic pull combo... maybe I should just give up."
"Master! I made your instant noodles. Come eat before it gets soggy!"
One scene after another replayed in Orson’s mind.
A man who once cared.
Snow Dream had once been his pride—and no matter how much he wanted to deny it, that truth couldn’t be erased.
Her playstyle, her strategies, her flawless execution—he had taught her everything.
But now, she stood on the other side.
This wasn’t just a game anymore.
Orson could never forgive her betrayal.
His fingers trembled. The Dragon Crystal on the Supreme Arcane Blade began to glow.
That was the only way to end this.
Her voice drifted gently into the air.
The light on the Dragon Crystal faded instantly.
He stared at her silhouette.
She had only 1.72 million HP. Exceptional for an Adventurer Mage—but nowhere near enough to threaten him.
"If I had to guess, this is a trap," Orson said calmly.
He wouldn’t underestimate her—her health meant nothing. This woman had arranged for the gods to ambush him during the Awakening Battle.
That alone put her far above the rest.
"You’re right. It is a trap," she said, still not turning around. Her voice was soft. Sad.
"But you’ve already stepped into it."
Orson smiled faintly. His mind raced.
What was she betting on?
Those two souls that flew toward her?
He’d fought and killed their full bodies. What could fragments possibly do?
He strolled forward casually, stopping at her side—but did not sit.
"Master... did you ever like me? No... Did you ever love me?"
She turned her face toward him.
She wasn’t wearing mage robes.
Just a plain white T-shirt.
Orson’s expression shifted slightly.
Her clear eyes were the same as that day, in the café.
He looked at her calmly. Back then, SSR Club had no shortage of prodigies.
Snow Dream wasn’t even special at first.
But he had chosen her. Trained her. Built her from the ground up.
Did he have a soft spot?
Over time, he began to see something dangerous in her.
An uncontrollable ambition. An obsession bordering on madness.
"If I made you misunderstand..."
"...Then all I can say is... sorry."
Snow Dream lowered hers again.
She wasn’t surprised by his answer.
She just didn’t want to hear it.