"Hellfire Guild has arrived to aid Usher in battle!"
"911 Guild will follow the command of the US's top whale!"
"Where Usher's blade points, we strike! We'll crush Godslayer together!"
…
All across the capital, teleportation beams lit up the sky. Dozens of guild leaders emerged from the light, joining forces with the resurrected Dragon's Kiss Guild to wage bloody war against Godslayer.
Within seconds, nearly 100,000 elite guild players had swarmed into the city.
Their collective war cries shook the heavens. Their morale, boiling over. These weren't just Usher's lackeys—many of them were players who had once suffered under Godslayer's dominance.
This wasn't about honor or justice.
It was revenge.
And it was personal.
"The US server belongs to the US players! No guild should have total control!"
"Exactly! If you ruin the game for everyone else, you deserve to die!"
"Cry louder! Why's Godslayer's little dogs gone quiet now?"
The global chat exploded with taunts and righteous indignation. But Orson? He just laughed.
To these self-proclaimed saviors, Godslayer was the tyrant choking their profits.
Sure, lately the guild had kept a low profile. It gave these people breathing room—just enough to sell gear, monopolize dungeons, and squeeze the player base dry.
But back in its prime, Godslayer never hoarded dungeons. They shared loot, bringing in noobs for daily clears of Elite and Legendary raids. Bosses dropped bound chests—sometimes even Heroic gear—letting beginners skip the grind and save a fortune.
Naturally, that upset the economy.
Newbies with Hero gear meant falling prices.
And falling prices meant less profit for gear-flipping guilds.
Now that Godslayer was back?
Their money stream was in danger. So they picked their side.
Usher.
"Alright, alright, you guys keep posturing—I'm out." Orson smirked.
"Take Celestial Fortress! Take back the divine stash that belongs to us, the players of this server!"
"Charge! Dragon's Kiss Guild, to battle!"
A swarm of flying mounts lifted off, like locusts beneath the titanic Celestial Fortress.
"I think... you people have actual brain damage," Usher muttered, face dark as ink.
The air around the fortress shimmered with a deadly ripple.
Thirty-three divine pillars shot upward, each one pulsing with forbidden-tier destruction magic.
The air hummed with tension so sharp it carved through bone.
Usher finally understood why Orson had said "another time."
That lunatic wasn't scared—he just knew no one could fight in the middle of a magical apocalypse.
Dragon's Kiss Guild Channel—
Usher watched Hellfire Man and the others barrel toward the flames like idiots. His eye twitched.
"Dragon's Kiss—retreat!"
Ivy stared skyward from her perch outside the Demon Hall.
"Tell me... that man—he's completely insane, isn't he?"
Skyslasher, licking his wounds, chuckled bitterly. "We hyped it up too much... Guess the heavens weren't on our side today."
In the blink of an eye, Dragon's Kiss Guild vanished. Usher's dark dragon became a streak across the sky, leaving everyone else behind.
"Uh... Usher just bailed?" one Hellfire player muttered.
"Did we just get screwed?" Hellfire Man's face went pale. The other guild masters stood dumbfounded.
All the fire and fury. All the righteous indignation. All the talk of justice...
And their champion just noped out.
"Too late to run now. You won't get a show like this again." Orson's eyes gleamed as he looked at the swarm of idiot players flying toward the fortress.
"HELLFIRE BURN—FIRE!" Madman screeched, pointing toward the palace.
A divine artillery cannon, glowing red-hot, roared to life.
The sky shattered with a world-splitting boom.
Everything went white.
For a moment, players couldn't tell if it was day or night. Their vision went blank, ears ringing with silence.
All they felt… was heat.
Then came the hellfire.
It engulfed the imperial palace.
Everything vanished.
Structures. Statues. Stone.
Gone.
The ground exploded outward. A tide of fire and magic swallowed the land.
It was no longer a battlefield. It was a graveyard.
"Wh-what is that!?" Hellfire Man gawked.
Thousands of enemy players hovered above the crater, stunned.
A crimson pillar of death shot thousands of meters high.
The hellfire turned the sky black.
"Hey... Hellfire Man, you picked the wrong side," came a message.
"Who the hell—"
"Magical Fiancée sends her regards."
"...Oh f—"
He never finished.
The sender blocked him instantly.
And Hellfire Man was left alone, flailing helplessly in the firestorm.
Thousands of would-be "justice warriors" were turned to ash.
Even their flying mounts were obliterated.
No one could withstand that level of god-tier magic.
Even players far from the blast zone were hit by the lingering waves, their HP bars draining rapidly.
At ground zero, tens of thousands of Npcs were vaporized.
No time to scream. No time to pray.
They simply vanished—leaving behind only charred shadows where their bodies once stood.
A mushroom cloud bloomed above the capital.
The earth cracked. Shockwaves surged across the landscape.
Even players in Golden City, 100 km away, could see the blast.
"Wow! That's the biggest firework I've ever seen!" Heartbroken Loli squealed.
"Does this count as a shooting star? I wanna make a wish!" Ruby chimed in.
Godslayer Guild stood at the fortress edge—not to fight, but to admire the devastation.
"This XP gain… Forget monsters! From now on, I'm farming NPCs!" Madman cackled, watching the kill log scroll like a slot machine.
Level-up lights flashed across their bodies.
That single shot had saved them days of grinding.
Everywhere he looked, loot glittered across the ruins.
The palace had been filled with elite guards, commanders, and rare minibosses.
But something was off…
"Wait a sec," Bradley frowned. "Only a hundred imperial guards died?"
"Didn't Orson say the place was crawling with 70+ elites? What about the Saint Lord-class Dragon Knights?"
A thunderous roar answered him.
Dragon Curse: Eternal Radiant Shield!
A sacred dragon's cry echoed from the crater.
Everyone turned to look.
At the center of the smoldering ruin stood a golden sanctuary—Holy Dragon Sanctuary—unscathed.
A silver dragon, massive beyond imagination, coiled protectively around it.
His wings shimmered like starlight.
"Tulikiki…" someone whispered.
The Light Dragon King, battered by centuries of war, let out a low sigh.
"The Empire must be rebuilt. But that is no longer my duty."
"I hear my mother's call. I return to our ancestral land. A successor shall be chosen."
He shimmered, transforming into an old man leaning on a staff, and quietly stepped into the shadows.
"Should we chase him? That's a god-tier boss!" Ruby asked eagerly.
"He's at half HP! The Forbidden spell must've drained him!"
"Chase your mom!" Madman snapped. "That hall's full of Kings and demi-gods! You think we're the only ones with Forbidden-tier spells?"
Orson knew it wouldn't wipe out the Empire's core.
The cannon was just Step One.
"Assassins and warriors—switch to junk gear! Clean that battlefield. Strip every corpse you can!"
Madman's grin turned wicked.
"Time to show them what Forever City is made of!"