"Challenger? That's quite a modest title. Doesn't really suit your style, Usher."
Before Orson could reply, another familiar voice rang out.
"Salute to the new Sword Saint of the Deicide Clan!" one of the imperial ministers declared.
A tense hush fell over the entire assembly. Every king present felt their throats tighten, a primal pressure washing over them.
All eyes turned to a man in flowing white robes, with sword-shaped brows and a sharp gaze. His face was composed, and in his hand he casually toyed with a slender blade—the God-Slaying Sword, formed from the fusion of the [Soul-Breaking Short Sword] and [Seal-Breaking Short Sword].
The sword was faintly radiant, its golden hilt wrapped in a vine-like grip, and the edge shimmered like a dragonfly's wing. It was thin, elegant, and lethal.
This blade alone was enough to unnerve the kings.
It could only strike three times before shattering:
First strike: Breaks War Supreme Laws and seals the target's abilities.
Second strike: Strips the target of their level, reverting them to a base state.
Third strike: Gods fall.
"The Deicide Clan… So they weren't wiped out after all," muttered the hill dwarf king with a dark tone.
This ancient clan, descended from smiths who once dared forge weapons to kill Titans, had long disappeared into the empire's far eastern wilds. Revered for their blades and swordsmanship, they never participated in war—but even the Holy Light Church feared provoking them. Anyone that dared call themselves 'Deicide' clearly possessed terrifying heritage.
"Nice blade. Was it meant for me, Alexander?" Orson's eyes lit up with intrigue. Though powerful, the sword wasn't invincible. After all, what was the point of a god-slaying weapon if a mortal couldn't even approach a god to swing it?
Even getting close would cost a weakling their life hundreds of times over.
"Seems I'm not the only one looking to bring you down," Usher said, clearly pleased by Alexander's arrival. He'd heard of the swordsman's strength and their prior conflict, where Alexander had apparently been forced into retreat.
As they both now faced Orson, Usher saw opportunity.
"With Infinite Dimensions' strongest arcane challenger and a Dragon King battle beast, it's hardly unfair for two to fight one, right?"
But Alexander looked awkward and offered a sheepish smile. "Apologies. I'll have to decline."
Usher frowned. "Take him down, and we split the world between us."
"Not interested." Alexander flatly shook his head.
The scene made Orson chuckle. "What, not ready yet? Challenger?"
Usher's eyes narrowed, pride brimming. "Name your terms. Anything you want, I'll deliver."
That was the arrogance of the #1 god-tier tycoon in the US. To him, everything had a price.
But Alexander ignored him. Instead, he turned to Orson, bowing slightly. "This divine item wasn't forged to kill you. It's for my own protection."
Usher froze. He couldn't comprehend why Alexander—a prideful master swordsman—would act so deferentially to someone like Orson. Where was the pride? The ego?
Was Orson truly that strong?
Or... was Alexander weaker than the rumors claimed?
To Usher, the conclusion was obvious. He silently demoted Alexander in his mental rankings.
"Orson, there's been a misunderstanding between us," Alexander said with a sigh.
"Misunderstanding? No, I don't think so." Orson smiled coolly. "It's all about perspective. You protected Wedge, I destroyed him. That's where we differ."
He paused, leaned in, and patted Alexander's shoulder. A smug glint danced in his eyes.
"You should be calling me Captain, remember? First of the Ten Overlords of the US."
Alexander's face twitched. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
As a proud prodigy of the Lambert family, his bones were made of steel and arrogance. He believed there were only two types of people: those he could defeat, and those he couldn't—yet. That was the essence of a Sword Saint's pride.
And yet, before this man, he was expected to bow?
"If you're not gonna say it, fine—I'll just call HQ and report you."
Orson grinned devilishly and dialed. The line went to K.D. from Radiant Shuttle—on speaker, of course.
"Yo, Orson? What is it now?" K.D. answered.
Alexander panicked. His face went pale.
"…C-Captain!" he stammered.
Orson nearly laughed out loud.
"Nothing serious, just checking in. Wanted to make sure you're still alive and kicking."
"Alive, unfortunately," K.D. muttered. "How's work?"
"Not dead yet. All good here. Later."
As K.D. hung up, probably grumbling, Orson turned back and clapped Alexander on the shoulder like a benevolent boss.
"Not even geared up and you still made the top ten? Bright future, my guy. Keep up the hustle."
Alexander stood there, face frozen, teeth clenched, nodding like a man receiving a prison sentence.
Usher, meanwhile, was utterly disoriented.
Compared to getting crushed by the Godslayer Guild, being ignored—completely ignored—was far more painful.
"I've returned," Usher said through clenched fists. "This time, I'll win."
His entire body lit up with infernal flame.
Orson spared him a brief glance—nothing more. Usher had once been his nightmare. Now, he was just a bug.
Even at level 80 with an SS-class Demonic Archer build and likely three divine Soul Seals, Orson didn't flinch.
Because the demon had already been slain.
Without a word, he strolled to the vacant Immortal Throne. Alexander followed, visibly more relaxed.
"I will challenge you, Orson. In front of everyone. Do you dare accept?"
Usher's voice trembled with fury, his bow ablaze with hellfire.
"You are too weak to duel my master, little flame."
The Death God Dragon King settled into Daloré's former throne. Crimson eyes swept over the remaining dragon lords like they were slabs of meat.
None dared speak.
Orson crossed his legs and leaned back, utterly relaxed.
"I'll give you your 1v1," he said lazily. "But only if you support my resolution."
"Resolution?" Alexander asked, brow furrowed.
Orson shot him a message privately.
It revealed everything: the coming global war, the Light Dragon Empire's defensive stance, and Orson's plan to overturn it entirely—to start a conquest.
"Deal. But no beasts, no assists."
Usher agreed immediately. To him, beasts were his one weakness. He believed his raw strength was enough to win.
"Huh? You didn't even ask what my resolution is."
Orson blinked.
Did He See Through My Plan?