The cold, synthetic voice echoed, and the surviving Destroyers froze in place, as if unsure of what to do.
Their heads turned in unison toward Orson’s position, blind and lost.
Orson’s lips curved in a knowing smile. These strange machines weren’t omnipotent. They couldn’t copy everything. At least not the S-tier forbidden magic or the soul-brand techniques. Their bodies simply couldn’t withstand it.
Meanwhile, the knight-form Destroyer that he had killed was knitting itself back together at frightening speed. Its maximum health, though, was thirty million lower than before. Resurrection, yes—but not without cost.
With the enemy’s weakness in hand, Orson stopped playing around. He rained long-range fire down, hammering their health into kill range before shifting into Chaos Rogue and diving in to fight them up close.
Snow whirled through the air. Chaos mist billowed. His mastery of six-shift switching climbed with every second. His eyes burned with cold brilliance, calm yet unshakably confident.
The Supreme Arcane Blade reshaped itself at his command, flowing from form to form as he danced through their ranks like a hidden dragon breaking free of its cage.
Strike. Parry. Riposte.
"Now this," Orson exhaled, hair whipping in the gale, loosing a roar like a battle-mad tiger, "this is living."
The thrill of it coursed through him. The pain of wounds running down his arms. The crimson drops dripping from his blade to sizzle against snow. His lungs burned as he steadied himself, but his mind was sharp, clearer than ever.
Even for the strongest mage Earth’s Infinite Dimensions had ever produced, brawling at point-blank against six perfect copies of himself was pressure unlike any other. Normally he’d never give up the safety of range. That wasn’t his style. But the future’s enemies would never let him hide. He had to get used to it. Danger wasn’t going away.
And with danger came evolution. His evolution.
"Come on. Respawn faster."
He stepped back, letting his health regen, standing tall atop a jagged boulder while the machines reformed. He wanted to squeeze every last drop of potential from these things.
If those three quasi-divine beasts that had died here had a soul left to watch, they would never rest easy—because Orson was treating their killers like training dummies, farm mobs for his growth.
The battle stretched on until midnight. The sacred mountain lay silent, the only sound the shriek of the wind around its peaks. In that silence, a god-tier warrior of six forms was being forged.
"There’s still room to improve," Orson muttered. His Chaos Halberd snapped upward, flinging the last Destroyer into the air. Gold-tinged light gathered at his fingertips as he drew an invisible bowstring. A rain of arrows howled like ghosts, shredding the machine into dust.
A full squad wipe. His health barely dipped a hundred million. His armor had been pierced twice, close calls both, but compared to the chaotic mess of their first clash, it was a clean, precise victory.
With his insane crits, absurd range, and overwhelming damage, if he went all-out in mage form and kited them, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. Still, the melee practice was worth it.
The six Destroyers lay in pieces. Silent. No further resurrection.
"If there’s a V-model," Orson thought, eyes narrowing, "then there must be stronger models too." The thought thrilled him. He was already impatient for the next round.
He turned toward the entrance of the Eightieth Heaven, tamping down his battle lust, and walked inside.
Light warped. The cave bent. His vision flickered.
He stood within a fortress of massive green-stone walls, built like a square enclosure from ancient China. Two towering vermillion gates blocked the exits, leaving no view of what lay beyond.
"Quick! Climb the walls!"
A familiar voice. Orson spun and saw Darulunina’s group. They were shocked to see him too—until Darulunina’s face drained white.
"Behind you!" she screamed.
Orson turned. A monstrous mantis-shaped creature, black as ink, brought its claws down like hammers. White bone-spikes erupted across the ground.
Orson’s eyes flashed. The Supreme Arcane Blade fired a Chaos Orb into the ground, and he rode the blast skyward. Mid-air, his form shifted to warrior. Chaos Blade raised high, he cleaved down.
The monster split clean in two.
Green blood spilled across the stones. The Fireborn youths stared wide-eyed.
"One shot. He one-shot it."
"You’ve slain the mid-tier demon Flesh-Crusher. EXP +200,000!"
"Free Attribute Points +300!"
Orson narrowed his eyes. "That was no echo."
The fortress floor was littered with corpses. Demons piled like cordwood. Adventurer skeletons among them. When the system chimed with contribution points earned, his frown deepened.
There had been no signs of demonic invasion in The Sunforge World. Yet here they were, inside the mountain’s trial.
A massive dungeon. That was what this Sacred Mountain really was. From watching old adventurer echoes, to fighting real demons head-on—it was all progression, like any other Infinite Dimensions world.
"But where do these demons come from?"
His gaze drifted upward. The ceiling of this realm was a haze of gray fog. Impenetrable.
"See! The chief’s not dead! I told you he was too tough to die!" Nuhachit cackled.
"You little..." Orson sighed and flicked the boy’s forehead so hard he went tumbling meters away.
Darulunina’s cheeks flushed. She slipped her arm through his, clinging tight, eyes shining. "I knew it. You’d be fine."
The Wolf Empire twins were just as moved. If this man could escape from the Eternal ones who slew even tribal totems, then maybe—just maybe—the dream of breaking the cage was no longer impossible.
Orson glanced over them. In less than a day they’d grown noticeably stronger. Some were already level 50.
Not surprising, considering the monsters here weren’t beasts but true demons. With DoomBringer and other veterans keeping watch, all they had to do was farm.
"With you here, chief, we’ll all be max level within a year," Nuhachit grinned, rubbing the lump on his forehead. "Then climbing to the top will be a walk in the park."
Darulunina rolled her eyes. "You’re a Tri-Shift awakened. Maybe stop wetting yourself every time a demon looks at you."
"I did not! That was water! Water spilled on my pants!" Nuhachit sputtered, hands clamped over his crotch as the others snickered.
Orson chuckled and waved them down. "Listen. The road ahead is only going to get worse. You need to stay here."
"What? You’re leaving already?" Nuhachit blinked.
"Shut up," Darulunina cut him off, her expression firm. "Without DoomBringer protecting us, we’d all be dead already. Don’t drag him down."
She knew she couldn’t help. But she wouldn’t be a burden either. If the Eternal ones showed again, only DoomBringer could even stand in the way.
"Relax," Orson smiled. "I’ll clear the path. Then I’ll come back for you."
He turned to the ancient knight. "Keep them safe. I’ll make sure you and your master meet again."
A spark lit in DoomBringer’s clouded eyes. His stiff head dipped in a nod.