WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: You have received the following rewards for killing the regional Emperor: +5,000 Free Attribute Points, +6,000 Skill Points, +10 Talent Points, 1,000,000 Gold Coins, +15,000,000 Reputation!
Orson clicked his tongue. Killing your own regional Emperor wasn’t unheard of in the merged worlds, and others had done it for far greater rewards.
Bairinador was, frankly, too weak. That probably tanked the reward value. Aside from being a pain to butcher thanks to his full Artifact loadout, he wasn’t even close to the power of any world-famous sovereign.
“The Emperor’s dead?! What the hell! I just got promoted to nobility—does this mean the empire’s gonna collapse now?”
All US players froze. Their exalted, untouchable Emperor… was just gone?
Could you even play a game like this anymore?
Someone actually chopped the head off the highest-ranking NPC in the Light Dragon faction?
Was this guy even human?
WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: As the first player worldwide to kill a regional Emperor, you have earned the exclusive title: [Kingslayer].
WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: Due to this act of rebellion, all US-region players will gain: +15% rewards from quests/dungeons, +20% XP from monster kills, +50% efficiency in all gathering/life skills.
WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT: Members of the [Kingslayer]’s guild will earn double these bonuses and receive the title: [Kingslayer’s Vanguard].
The gold system messages lit up the sky.
Global chat exploded.
NUK Region:
“Cheaters! Damn bastards! They must’ve hacked the server—this has to be a private mod!”
“I told you US players are shady. Not like us honest, glorious NUK citizens. And that Forever City guy? He’s Korean! Clearly our heritage!”
UJ Region:
“King-slayer! Sugoi! I’m moving to the US server to become a God-tier miner!”
“This is clearly the chosen server! I propose UJ region petition to merge with US!”
Maple Nation:
“Assassinating an Emperor? How disgraceful. US players are nothing but thieves. No sense of chivalry!”
“Let them fill their bags with loot. Once the World War starts next month, it’ll all be ours.”
Orson sucked in a sharp breath. This was big—beyond personal gain.
The entire US player base had been upgraded. That meant every quest, every kill, every crafting profession… now worked more efficiently than anywhere else in the game.
And for Godslayer Guild members? Double that.
It was absurd.
Their resource generation just doubled. With Dancing Giant Boobs supporting operations, Nightshade’s gremlin-horde production would now hit industrial levels.
Those weird little goblin-creatures, the more of them there were, the more ridiculous things would get.
In Orson’s past life, Nightshade alone held off the Heaven Demon invasion for weeks—with nothing but sheer numbers of engineered gremlins.
And now? His own gains were even crazier:
+50% dungeon and quest rewards.
+100% experience from monster kills.
Every mob he killed counted as two.
Terrifying.
“Tulikiki! The Emperor is dead because of you! The Main God will erase you soon!” Jenonis raged.
“Please, Archangel. I’m aware my time is short.”
“Bairinador was unfit to rule. His fall was inevitable. Such is the unchanging law of the Infinite Dimensions.”
Tulikiki’s calm tone revealed everything.
Orson chuckled. No wonder the old dragon hadn’t made a move.
Even if his own children, like Denoka and Velorith, scorned him, Tulikiki wasn’t weak.
He was a legendary dragon—on par with the Dark Dragon King Rebellion himself.
It made perfect sense.
Tulikiki had placed a master-servant blood contract on Ursula, grooming her as a future empress. Clearly, his plan was to rule from the shadows using Bairinador as a puppet.
But then Orson ruined everything—his chaos caused Grevor, the envoy of the Light God, to fail in his soul-fusion with Jenonis. That opened the door for Jenonis to descend early and take over the former pope’s body.
Now Jenonis held the real power.
That clashed with Tulikiki’s ambitions.
In retrospect, Tulikiki’s “inaction” during the chaos may have saved Orson’s life. The dragon could have teleported Bairinador to safety at any moment, but he didn’t.
“The Emperor is dead. A new one shall be chosen. I will burn the last of my lifeforce to find a worthy sovereign for the empire,” Tulikiki declared.
Ku’Jalai: “You dare stand with this traitor? What difference is there between you and the conspirator?”
Tulikiki remained composed. “The empire is rotten to its roots. As the High Dragon King, I must act with clarity.”
“Clarity? You’ve conspired with this Conqueror all along!” the Spirit King snarled.
“Heretic! Tulikiki, you are no longer fit to call yourself one of us. The Kingdom of Heaven will not forgive your betrayal!” yelled one of the Inquisition officers.
“I am the Light Dragon King. I am the son of the Dragon Emperor. This empire was born of my bloodline. I…”
Tulikiki’s aging form trembled, then transformed.
A massive silver-scaled dragon rose from the capital, old and battered but awe-inspiring—an ancient monument hanging in the sky.
“I was born free. No chains, not even those of a Four-Winged Archangel, may bind me.”
Jenonis lost it.
“Fine! FINE! By the supreme law of the Light Dragon Empire, I, as Holy Pope, shall lead the imperial army until a new Emperor is crowned!”
“All heretics and adventurers will face divine retribution!”
“Divine retribution? I am divine retribution.”
Orson sneered and casually tossed Bairinador’s head to Crimson Lizard King.
His God-Emperor Earrings flared with light—opening a teleportation gate.
Ku’Jalai’s eyes went wide. “He mustn’t escape! He will bring ruin to the empire!”
The Spirit King launched forward like a shooting star.
But just as he approached—
A shadow cut through the air.
“You’re too late. Your opponent… is us.”
Nora’s voice chimed like a bell as a dozen dark Spirit Tribe elites emerged, surrounding Ku’Jalai.
“You wretched beasts dare to stop me!?”
Power radiated from the Spirit King, shaking the heavens. His fury alone killed a mid-tier Spirit King in a single blow.
“We can’t defeat you,” Nora giggled sweetly. “But stalling? That, we can do.”
She vanished into the shadows as the assassins swarmed in, buying Orson precious seconds.
Guild Chat:
Madman: “WTF?! Again with the delayed launch! Can’t he time it right for once?!”
Old Yin: “I swear to god, if you don’t fire that cannon now, it’s gonna explode and take the whole damn fortress with it!”
Anonymous Player: “Cough. Two more minutes. Then launch it however you like.”
Iron Cavalry: “Who the hell are you? Even in guild chat you stay anonymous? You think your face is prettier than mine?”
Anonymous Player: “Me? Oh. Orson. Display bug. My bad.”
Silence.
The guild collectively short-circuited.
It had been a long time since anyone said that name.
A little too familiar. A little too missed.
Texas Musk: “O… Orson? For real?”
Divine Slash: “Wait—didn’t Madman say you got arrested for… uh… extracurricular activities?”
Orson’s face turned dark as thunder.
He @Madman.
“Where are you right now?”
Madman: “Uh… duh? Up on the cannon tower. Sippin’ tea. Waitin’ to blow shit up.”
Orson’s reply was bone-chilling.
“I asked… Where. Is. Your. Real. Body?”
Madman blinked.
“…Uh. Right next to yours, obviously—”
Pause.
Realization dawned.
“…Wait.”
“Lie back down in your pod, you little bastard. I’m gonna strangle you IRL.”