"Dominating! Godlike!"
"Heartbroken Loli, you better be watching! From this day forward, you're mine!"
"Save me a spot in bed later. Godslayer — charge!"
The Titan mechs descended like divine weapons from the heavens, as if they'd crossed into this realm from another dimension.
With blazing rifles and frost-forged swords, they began carving a new epic into the chronicles of Infinite Dimensions.
Bang!
Bang!
...
The elite warriors blocking Iron Cavalry's command vehicle were blasted away one by one.
A tiger among sheep—brutal and unstoppable.
Imperial soldiers panicked. Frost greatswords bathed in blood cleaved through them mercilessly. Heads flew, blood rained, and with it, any hope of breaking out was drowned in gore.
"If the Brotherhood's in danger, how could I possibly just sit back?"
Heartbroken Loli dropped the act. Eyes red with fury, she charged at the front lines, opening fire and forcing back the barbarian Domain Masters guarding the command vehicle.
"Die, heretic filth!"
Just then, a barbarian Saint Lord launched himself high into the air. His battleaxe glowed with deadly light as he dove toward the exposed rear of a mech unit.
"Shit! Watch it! Fire now!"
Iron Cavalry's face tightened. He immediately ordered the magic tanks in the rear to fire suppressing rounds.
But the Saint Lord was a seasoned veteran. His body erupted with dark energy—Body Domination. Even after being blinded by a holy flare shell, he never slowed his attack.
"Cut him off."
Heartbroken Loli's lips curled into a cold smile. She had predicted this.
Behind her, a defensive mech raised its colossal shield just in time, absorbing the heavy impact.
Then, in one fluid motion, she dual-wielded her blazing rifles and drove the enemy back with a hail of shots. Her frost greatsword followed up, breaking through defenses and smashing two Domain Masters aside.
"Push forward!"
Iron Cavalry growled. Battle Space activated, and a roaring Flame Dragon burst forth, unleashing a precise breath attack that sent the Saint Lord flying over a hundred meters.
All around, ghostfang riders snarled and charged. The Flame Dragon turned its gaze back with disdain, slashing its claws and grabbing two of the wolves, tearing them apart midair.
With tight coordination, the Godslayer squad quickly cleared out the enemies around the command vehicle.
"Break their formation!"
Iron Cavalry ordered calmly. The command tank surged forward, diving into the heart of the Imperial forces like a golden serpent.
Now with aerial Titan support, the Knights moved like a blade through butter. They sliced the Imperial line into fragments, leaving their forces scattered and disoriented.
Tons of NPCs were crushed beneath the onslaught, dying amidst the roar of magic-powered weapons.
"O omnipotent God of Light, may my soul return to the warmth of your holy light..."
A bright six-pointed star suddenly lit up at the rear of the Imperial ranks. Iron Cavalry's face darkened.
"A-rank mass resurrection spell! Break their chant—Madman!"
Hundreds of Imperial Templar Knights stomped in unison, forming a wall of interlinked shields around their high-level clerics.
"Shut the hell up already."
Madman snapped, turning toward Quarla.
"S-rank Dragon Curse spell—Golden Dominion!"
"At your command!"
Quarla's form swelled and transformed. A proto–Dragon King soared skyward, glowing gold like a miniature sun.
The earth beneath the priests rippled, then erupted with jagged golden spikes that tore through the clerics like skewers.
A massive golden throne rose from the bloodied ground, leaking sinew and flesh from its cracks.
"Quarla! You treacherous scum!"
"The Golden Dragons will face divine judgment for this betrayal!"
The pontiff screamed in rage, hurling curses at the dragon circling above.
"My people could never match the Empire in deceit."
Quarla's golden slit pupils were filled with contempt. Her jaws opened wide, and a torrent of compressed golden energy surged forth—Golden Dragon's Breath.
"The Golden Dragons... they've defected?! O great god, why have you forsaken us?"
The golden tide swept the battlefield. Imperial soldiers turned to ash at a mere touch. The ground was drenched not in blood, but in molten gold.
"Wait a minute... since when did Godslayer have a Golden Dragon? Is this power level even legal?"
"How many aces is Triple Crown Winner hiding? This dragon's HP blows high-level dragons out of the water. She's practically Dragon King-tier already!"
Thousands of Imperial soldiers had their flesh dissolved, souls disintegrated.
Even Domain Masters and Lord-class elites were nothing in Quarla's eyes—just oversized bugs.
Quarla hovered above the hills as Godslayer's magic-armored legions carved up the battlefield.
"She's not even a full Dragon King yet, and she's this broken? How the hell did Orgod kill her in the lore? This makes no sense!"
"This is the power of the upper dragon clans!"
"Holy hell, she one-shot a barbarian Domain Master with just two breaths! Normal elite NPCs don't even qualify to fight her!"
...
Shock rippled through everyone—Godslayer allies included.
Now it made sense why dragons were split into upper and lower classes.
Even if a lesser dragon hit level 120, it still couldn't compare. Their stats and combat IQ just didn't stack up.
Orson had made hunting high-level dragons look easy, leading players to believe dragons were overrated.
But in truth, any top-tier dragon had the potential to flip the board.
"Pin down the Saint Lord bosses. Hit them hard—don't let up."
Madman sneered, ordering Quarla to unleash relentless firepower.
"You damn beast! I'll rip off your scales!"
One of the Saint Lord knights charged in fury. He rode a Holy Silver Dragon, battle power nearing the Saint Lord-class peak—almost matching Quarla.
Almost.
That small gap made all the difference.
Thanks to someone's passive [Sky Sovereign], anything under King-tier was grounded—flight sealed.
And they weren't the only ones. Two violet-gold dragons and a lightning dragon were also earthbound, forced to fight from the ground.
And without the skies? Dragons became sitting ducks.
Quarla, however, ruled the air uncontested.
The Saint Lords quickly adapted, transforming into human form to shrink their hitboxes and dodge her breath.
Meanwhile, Heartbroken Loli and Iron Cavalry coordinated flawlessly, carving the Imperial line into six scattered zones. Their formation was in shambles, morale hanging by a thread.
"Time to wrap it up," Orson said quietly.
Madman nodded, drawing his legendary blade and raising it high. "Second and third squads—clear the field!"
Magical Fiancée: "Let's go!"
"Leave the Empire's ass to me. That's my specialty!"
"Our guild's got enough knights. We'll reinforce Iron Cavalry!"
...
With the signal given, over ten thousand alliance players hidden in the surrounding hills began their charge as planned.
Orson stood atop a ridge, watching the battle below. He raised the Supreme Arcane Blade.
"Ice Prison Ring."
"What the hell are you doing?! This is my stage!"
Madman glared like he was ready to kill. The Empire might've had powerful elites, but with the encirclement sealed and Quarla in play, he was confident in their win.
"Relax. This is just the beginning. You're going to be plenty busy in a moment."
Orson smirked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Remember—hold back on the kills. I'm exploiting a bug."
"A bug?"
Madman blinked, his 160 IQ unable to parse that one.
Orson's smile twisted as he turned and gave Madman a cryptic, meaningful look.
"You know what despair is?"
Madman rolled his eyes. "No girls to flirt with. That's despair. About your sister and me—"
"Shut the hell up!"
Veins bulged on Orson's forehead. Madman laughed awkwardly. "Don't break character, O mighty Archmage. Now finish your damn explanation."
"What is despair?"
Orson stroked his chin, voice calm. "It's when you give your enemy a chance to win. Just a glimpse. A thread of hope. They'll chase it with everything they've got—only to fall straight into the meat grinder. That… is despair."
Madman froze, realization hitting him like a lightning bolt.
This was a trap within a trap.
"You really are a son of a bitch," he muttered, half laughing.
By letting a portion of the enemy escape, they'd created the illusion of a prolonged tug-of-war.
That would force the Empire to keep pouring reinforcements into the strategic stronghold—Riftrock City.