Outside Purple Thunder Fortress, in the Level 30 Elite monster zone.
"My Lord, your decision is wise beyond words. No force can withstand the iron will of the Empire!"
A white-robed priest spoke with smug conviction.
Behind him floated a sizable magical warship, its bow adorned with the sorrowful visage of a sculpted saintess—symbol of the religious Order of the Daughters of Nakah.
"That thing's massive! Almost the size of a Dragon King!"
A colossal Crocodile Dragon emerged from the fortress, each thunderous step covering over a hundred meters, shaking the earth beneath its feet and drawing gasps from the surrounding players.
Witch, along with all the top-tier powerhouses of Purple Thunder Fortress, led an army of sixty thousand Empire soldiers and Lords, marching in grand formation toward Riftrock City.
"There's no need for your flattery, Pontiff. I know what I must do."
Witch's tone was indifferent, her crimson robes flowing around her as her face remained hidden beneath her hood.
But her heart was far from calm.
Her father stood in peril, and she knew all too well that this march might be her final act.
With both Purple Thunder Fortress and Riftrock City now forming a strategic pincer on Forever City, she was bound to face the wrath of that man.
"The blood of the golden lineage flows true. Your loyalty to the Empire is without question,"
Pontiff Bilsatz of the Nakah Order smiled cruelly, his aged eyes glinting with malice.
In truth, Purple Thunder Fortress was in no better position than Riftrock City. Even if Witch betrayed her blood and refused to fight against the heretical adventurers, the Empire's magical artillery would soon turn the fortress to rubble.
Despite the formidable strength of the Crocodile Dragon Knight and the fortress's elite guilds, they were nothing compared to the true sovereigns of the land—beings each capable of annihilating entire cities.
"This path is swarming with monsters. For your own safety, please reroute,"
A lone NPC dressed in a demon hunter's guild robe appeared, standing calmly atop a boulder, holding a crude enchanted crossbow. He looked up at the massive Crocodile Dragon without flinching, a faint smile on his lips.
"Move or be executed!" one of the order's guards barked.
A ground dragon charged to the front of the formation, and with a casual flick of the guard's spear, a flash of light erupted—instantly killing two players standing too close.
The demon hunter didn't budge. He raised an eyebrow slightly but remained still, as if he had no intention of backing down.
"This NPC is cracked! A Level 40 Elite demon hunter trying to solo an entire imperial legion?"
"No way—if someone tells me this game isn't bugged, I'll screen-record this and teach 'em a lesson!"
Players nearby began gathering with curiosity.
"Monsters? Get lost before you die!"
The guard drew his sword, his ground dragon roaring in sync.
But the hunter stood firm, unfazed. He spoke again, voice steady:
"This area is extremely dangerous. For the sake of your lives, I urge you to turn back."
"We are here to purge the demons of this world. Don't throw your life away over a moment of foolish pride, boy. The Light won't smile upon the ignorant,"
Pontiff Bilsatz said sanctimoniously.
"Witch, this man is using high-level illusion magic to alter his appearance and presence… I suspect he's one of the Chaos-touched."
The Crocodile Dragon Knight whispered in surprise.
Witch's eyes flashed beneath her hood, a rare glimmer of clarity cutting through her usual haze.
"This voice... it's familiar."
"Enough time-wasting! The heretics have breached Riftrock City. If we don't move now, our casualties will only grow!"
An Empire noble growled.
"Guards! Kill him!"
"Slay him and push forward to support the Golden Duke!"
The order's NPCs surged forward. A lone demon hunter was nothing in their eyes.
"Die!"
The guard atop the ground dragon lashed out, sending a focused blade of energy hurtling toward the hunter.
The demon hunter remained composed. With the smallest shift of his body, he dodged the blow.
Stunned, the guard struck again—but his attack was effortlessly deflected once more.
Still, the hunter didn't even look at his attacker. His gaze remained fixed upward on Witch and her entourage.
"Soldiers of Purple Thunder Fortress, you have ten seconds to retreat."
"Retreat? You think the Empire's mighty army should make way for you? What gall!"
Bilsatz's expression darkened with mockery.
With a tap of his staff, the warship's anti-dragon ballistae locked onto the demon hunter.
"10."
"9."
"8…"
The hunter's lips curled into a small smile. His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed like a thunderclap across the battlefield. Even the nearby players were so shaken they nearly dropped to their knees.
Whether he was truly strong or not didn't matter—his presence alone was overwhelming.
"Soldiers of Purple Thunder Fortress!"
Suddenly, Witch pulled back her hood, revealing her scar-covered face. Her eyes gleamed with resolve.
"Retreat!"
The members of the Nakah Order stood dumbfounded. The massive Crocodile Dragon was the first to turn and flee, cloaked in poisonous miasma, rushing back toward the fortress without looking back.
"This is the Empire's army? That scared?"
"No way. Did this guy just frighten off tens of thousands of NPCs by himself? What the actual hell?!"
"Maybe the game's AI glitched. This is straight-up fantasy madness!"
Players stood slack-jawed. Some even approached the NPC to see if he had a hidden quest.
"Witch has initiated negotiation."
"Negotiation Request: Prevent the death of Riftrock City's Lord."
"Accepting this negotiation will grant you a one-time divine item: [Horn of the Golden War God's Spirit]."
"Do you accept?"
Orson smirked. That woman had figured him out.
The Chaos trait [Phantomcraft] was endlessly useful.
Not only could it alter his appearance to resemble any NPC, at max level it let him mimic any player—gear included.
Perfect for ambushes, framing others, or plain slaughter.
"Accept."
"You have received: [Horn of the Golden War God's Spirit] x1."
"Effect: Summon the soul avatars of the Golden House's legendary champions from a thousand years past to join you in battle."
Orson raised a brow—this was a solid item. Those ancient warriors were at least Saint Lord-Class. Even if "soul form" came with drawbacks, it was still extremely potent.
Soul-form entities usually had immunity to physical damage, much like his Ice Prison Ring summons.
While it might not match up against Kings, it would annihilate any group of standard NPCs.
He didn't agree to Witch's deal because he feared her strength. Far from it.
Armed with unsealed Artifacts, maxed-out dual Super God Soul Seals, and as the world's only SSS-ranked class holder, Orson had nothing to fear from them.
The Lord of Riftrock City could live or die—it didn't matter to him.
But Witch... she was a mystery.
She seemed to possess precognitive powers, which immediately reminded him of that bastard Laketon.
According to Laketon, many of the gods' systems in Infinite Dimensions mirrored the Heaven Demon race's core logic.
Some bosses had even been encoded with Heaven Demon traits to help players develop counter-strategies for future battles.
That Witch could also guide players toward fateful encounters hinted at something much deeper—like she was designed by the gods as a kind of "newbie mentor."
She might know critical secrets about the true nature of this world.
"Die, worm!"
Dozens of NPCs surged forward, their enchanted bolts gleaming in the air.
Orson smiled faintly, dismissing all distractions.
"Time to test the new skill."
He dropped his illusion.
Before the crowd's stunned eyes, the figure of a man emerged—draped in a black War Supreme robe, olive laurel crown atop his head, and a Supreme Arcane Blade raised high.
With sword in hand, he faced the enemy alone.
"Or... Orgod! He's alive!"
A cry pierced the silence.
The battlefield exploded into chaos as every eye turned to the lone figure.
Orson's gaze burned with divine light as he declared:
"As long as the Heaven Demon gods remain, I will never fall."