"Huh?! That guy... he's the dude from the outhouse poster in the village!"
"Turns out the official promo wasn't lying—absolute legend! Damn, he really didn't die!"
This sudden turn nearly crashed the brains of tens of thousands of players watching live. Excitement exploded across the servers as hordes of players dropped everything and raced across the mountain paths from Purple Thunder Fortress—just to witness his return.
"Director! Switch to the Purple Thunder Fortress feed! Now!"
SirLagsALot suddenly shouted, startling the broadcasting team.
Everyone turned to look at him, confused. They had all been laser-focused on the battle unfolding in Riftrock City. Why was this guy scrolling his phone like it was Sunday brunch?
The director and crew were clearly annoyed. None of them had ever seen a guest commentator so blatantly steal the spotlight.
But SirLagsALot remained unfazed. He calmly pushed up his thick black-rimmed glasses—purely for aesthetics—and said:
"He's back."
Silence fell for a second before chaos erupted across the studio.
Even the official hosts were in shock. They had assumed the teaser reveal was just a hype ploy—no one expected that man to actually return.
Screens flipped wildly between feeds. Dozens of producers scrambled to track players nearby the fortress. After burning through $5,000, they finally secured the stream rights from a random player on-site.
"Dude, what kind of trash camera work is this?! Get outta the way and let the Godslayer crew do the stream!"
"Wtf, we were in the middle of a siege and now we're back at the Fortress? Switch it back!"
"Wait... hold up! Something's off here!"
The feed was shaky, the player sprinting uphill, but as the camera steadied, the image cleared—and over a hundred million viewers watched, breath held.
There he stood, on a massive boulder.
"O… Or… Orgod!!"
"Holy shit! It's really him! THAT man! With that ridiculous title above his head—Lord of Forever City!!"
"Gotta hand it to the devs—props to the PR team. Now it makes sense why the two Dragon Kings and Bairinador got wrecked... it was all him!"
"Not only is Orgod still alive—he's going for godhood! One man standing against an entire magic warship?!"
Across the U.S.—in dorms, cyber cafés, and living rooms—a collective uproar echoed.
A tidal wave of "NO WAY" and "HOLY SHIT" flooded voice chats and livestreams. Even emergency lines were jammed with noise complaints.
If local police officers weren't secretly playing Infinite Dimensions themselves, it might've sparked a full-blown panic.
"If this game has a ceiling, then he IS the ceiling,"
SirLagsALot quipped to the camera. The other commentators simply shook their heads in disbelief.
This was the guy who chopped off the head of an imperial warlord and nailed it to his city gates. That level of unhinged madness was nearly divine.
If he wasn't a god—then who dared to claim the title?
"It's him! That damned scourge!"
"Hahaha! He's walked right into our hands! What a blessing it is to have him served up to us!"
The warship's clerics were first stunned—then giddy.
Pontiff Bilsatz's face lit with greed. Slaying Orgod would remove a major thorn from the Archangel's side—and elevate him to the next pope in one stroke.
"Awakened: Hurricane Spear!"
"Awakened: Judgment Flame!"
But Orson didn't so much as blink.
With a quiet incantation, two massive, blood-red hexagrams ignited in the sky above. Two elemental god avatars loomed behind him. His robe fluttered wildly, a spectral lotus platform forming beneath his feet as he began to float.
"Spell God... Is that Infinite Dimensions' Spell God?! What kind of monster IS this guy?!"
"That's gotta be Forbidden-tier spell power at least!"
"That's what a Triple Crown mage looks like?! Unreal!"
Players trembled as they watched him.
Elemental tides surged like rivers through the sky. The air shimmered, warping reality with dreamlike, destructive beauty.
For decades, players had fantasized about being god-tier: one man against the world, unstoppable.
But no matter how rich or skilled they were, the system always limited player potential.
NPCs and bosses were as powerful as the devs wanted them to be.
But Infinite Dimensions broke that rule. Lords, War Supremes—even gods—could still be defeated.
Skill fusion success rate: 11%
Fusion failure will result in penalty!
Interrupt casting? [Yes/No]
The system warning flashed. But Orson remained calm.
He was chasing the feeling spoken of in the Chaos Codex—something beyond numbers.
The Supreme Arcane Blade floated before him. He stared at his palms, where red and blue runes surged through his veins.
"This is it."
That strange sensation—he knew it well.
It was called Enlightenment.
A state beyond stats and systems, where intuition replaced calculation.
A state where understanding magic—or even forging weapons—became visceral.
In the Fusion World, magic wasn't just code—it was painfully real. NPCs and players stood on equal footing.
Someone in a past life once unlocked an A-tier awakened skill using nothing but elemental awareness.
Someone else even created an original spell during Enlightenment.
Orson was that second person. He'd been a mage for years and had mastered the class.
If only he hadn't started so low, maybe he wouldn't have been killed by Usher.
Orson turned slightly, watching the approaching players.
His mind was tranquil, but in their eyes, he saw awe, obsession, hope.
Blank once said this madman wanted to turn all players into his followers.
But Orson thought that was an oversimplification.
He wanted comrades who'd fight beside him, spill blood with him—and maybe toss in a little faith along the way.
After all, he was a kind and helpful sage.
Why would he manipulate others with faith?
That would be slander.
Now, with the eyes of the world on him, waiting for him to ascend...
Then so be it.
Worship me.
Let every shred of your belief become bullets fired at gods and demons.
If the world needs a god to protect it...
Then worship like mad.
"Wind and flame—fuse with me."
Orson's voice dropped, his eyes deep as oceans.
"Chaos Fusion!"
He moved. The staff froze midair.
"Chaos: Dance of the Fan-Flame!"
Spell: Dragon Curse Mode—Activated!
At that moment—
The streaming player tilted the camera up.
Two massive chaotic hexagrams fused into one in the sky.
Nine flaming divine dragons burst from the arcane vortex.
Scorching waves descended, the temperature alone searing flesh.
A whirlwind of fire tore across the ground, dragging NPCs and players alike into the inferno—leaving nothing but charred bones.
And that... was just the knockback and Burn effect of the spell.
A keening, guttural cry filled the sky.
The nine flame dragons hurtled toward the Daughters of Nakah warship.
"Raise the barrier!!"
Pontiff Bilsatz screamed, his voice shaking.
A brilliant holy shield snapped into place around the ship.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
The heavens split.
With each blast, the ship's defenses crumbled.
In the blink of an eye, every NPC onboard was incinerated to ash.
The dragons wrapped around the vessel, blazing like supernovas.
With a deafening crash—
The once-invincible magic warship, pride of the order, broke apart midair and came raining down in molten chunks.