Orson's eyes glinted with a cold, lethal light.
Relics of a bygone era now served as lapdogs to the gods. It was only a matter of time before he and the Grey Watchers crossed blades.
He had no qualms about butchering the watchdogs.
Let the blood spill—it was time to clean house.
As for Xinala's claim that he was a puppet of BlazeKing, Orson couldn't care less. If anything, he owed his current power to BlazeKing.
If that ancient mastermind hadn't set this all in motion, he and Sienna would have been torn apart long ago.
BlazeKing wanted him to pick up the mantle and exact vengeance upon the pantheons—and Orson knew it.
But that didn't mean he resented it.
BlazeKing was using him?
Then he'd use BlazeKing in return.
If the terms were right, if the stakes were worth it—what did it matter who was pulling whose strings?
The Crimson Lizard King sensed the fury boiling in Orson's blood. With a flap of her wings, she soared toward Golden City, slicing the sky like a crimson blade.
At that same moment—outside Saint Maiden City…
The winds howled.
War drums thundered.
Hell's might had dyed the sky an ominous, blood-red hue.
Above them floated a ruined cathedral, long overtaken by corruption. It loomed like the skeletal corpse of a dragon, shrouded in ghostly demonic light.
Broadcast alerts blared above Usher's head:
[Orgod has ascended!]
[I'm next! Screw the NPC empires—why should kings be born and not made?!]
"Idiots," Usher growled, clearly annoyed.
Clad in blazing crimson armor, his presence radiated like wildfire.
Hellborn wraiths swirled around him.
Three Divine Soul Seals hung in his grasp.
Level 82—the undisputed number one on the global leaderboards.
He was the apex predator.
Usher, the name alone inspired awe.
"The fight hasn't even started and they're already barking like mad dogs," Ivy muttered.
"Let 'em howl. Probably waiting on their handlers to hand out troll paychecks," Skyslasher sneered.
Beneath the demonic cathedral—once the holy site of the Radiant Church—now lay only blood-soaked ruins.
Level 50 elite monsters roamed the shattered altar grounds, but even they had been slaughtered en masse.
Mountains of Imperial soldiers and Church NPC corpses were stacked like grotesque monuments.
And on the highest peak of those flesh-hewn mountains, a man sat cross-legged in meditation.
Black staff in hand.
Gold aura cloaking his body.
Faint dragon shadows swimming beneath his skin.
To anyone who'd just witnessed the slaughter at Nakah's Fortress, this would be jaw-dropping.
Because here, too… stood Orgod.
Except it wasn't the same one.
This was the golden clone.
Players from Dragon's Kiss Guild, unaware of the chaos on the Light-aligned channels, had no clue what had just gone down.
And nearly all of them were casualties of Orgod's rise.
The Eight Sages, Dragon's Kiss, and their fellow Dark-aligned guilds—organizations with massive power, wealth, and manpower—had been forced to retreat to the Dark Dragon Empire because of one man.
"I'll give you five minutes," the golden Orson said coolly.
"Five minutes? Ha! With Usher leading, it won't even take fifty seconds!" laughed CrimsonTiger, one of the Eight Sages.
Orson gave a soft smile and nodded. "You're right. This won't take long."
He activated Slaughter Mode—his name turned dark purple.
"A minimum ten million Infamy… Christ, this guy wasn't this terrifying before!"
Even a former SSR esports pro couldn't hide his shock.
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he'd never believe a single player could hold back the entire Saint Maiden City army.
Tens of thousands of NPCs hadn't even gotten close before being annihilated.
And this clone?
It had barely lost any mana.
The Crimson Lizard King hadn't even been deployed.
Now, with the golden Orson revealing his HP bar—so massive it looked like it could blot out the sky—Dragon's Kiss members were panicking.
"That's a mage? That HP bar's thicker than a goddamn tank!"
EclipseRider went pale, taking an unconscious step back like the health bar might leap out and slap him.
"This isn't the stage I wanted."
Usher's voice was calm.
Orson raised a brow. "Then what is it you want?"
Usher smiled faintly. "The strongest players of two great empires… shouldn't they have an audience?"
Orson's expression twisted into a knowing grin. "Fine. One minute."
Usher's ambition to dominate the servers was respectable.
But his pride?
That would drag him straight into hell.
Moments later, the Infinite Dimensions broadcasting team received breaking news.
US #1 Whalelord—Usher!
Vs.
US Triple Crown Winner—Orgod!
"Wait, the ruins outside Saint Maiden City? But Orgod's icon is at Golden Path… what the hell?"
The studio erupted in confusion.
"Is this a fake feed?"
"No. It's real. The source is DK Group's Usher himself!" said the assistant director, flustered.
"And Ivy just sent over the livestream node!"
The control room fell into stunned silence.
Then SirLagsALot laughed. "Oh, it's real alright. I was personally invited to co-stream by their CEO's assistant."
"This is gonna be good."
A flicker of mischief danced in his eye.
Usher had no idea.
The man he was about to fight?
Wasn't even the real Orgod.
"Connect the feed," the director ordered.
The holographic view shifted—now showing the cathedral ruins.
"Huh? Wait—what?"
The male caster choked on his breath.
"You telling me this is Orgod, too? Standing on that corpse pile?!"
"So what now—are Arcane Gods being mass-produced? Official devs think we're idiots or what?"
The view split into two: one showing Orgod's icon on the minimap, the other from Ivy's perspective—both showing identical avatars.
"Clone skill. He used it when he killed Golden Dragon Knight back in Pondenorlin City!" a viewer shouted.
"Yeah, but the range… it shouldn't last this long, should it?"
"Unless it's not just a skill—but something else entirely…"
Some doubted, but all signs pointed to one fact: this Orgod was a clone.
Only the main body could use mounts, inventory, or loot objects.
And sure enough—loot was just lying on the ground, untouched.
"He's using a clone to fight Usher? Isn't that kinda… disrespectful?"
"Disrespectful?" SirLagsALot snorted. "That's being generous."
Was the comment arrogant?
Absolutely.
But after the destruction of the Nakah cult, Orgod's legend had become unstoppable.
Even a brief glimpse of his auto-attack mastery had kept forums raving for weeks.
"The feed is live!"
Ivy beamed. She'd waited so long—finally, it was time to reclaim her pride.
"Good."
Usher's eyes gleamed. This would be his return to glory.
With his full power, he would strike fear—and admiration—back into the hearts of all US players.
He strode forward, posture regal, gaze sharp, battle aura blazing.
Hellfire ignited beneath his boots.
A Forbidden Magic-tier bow crackled with deadly frost in his grip.
He activated Slaughter Mode.
Like Orgod, his name turned pale purple—a player who'd carved his way forward atop NPC corpses.
"Wait… something's wrong with chat," TitanBreaker warned.
"Shut it!" Skyslasher snapped. "Right or wrong, that bastard Orson dies today!"
The elites of the dark side—the so-called gods among men—had only one thing on their minds:
Vengeance.
They had been mocked.
They had been forgotten.
But now?
Enough is enough.