3:00 PM — only two hours remain before the Light Dragon Civil War erupts.
Downtown BG City.
“Light Dragon Civil War—On the Brink of Breaking Out!”
“The Prequel to Infinite Dimensions’ National War of the Year Begins Today! Tune into the Official Livestream at 17:00: Godslayer Guild vs. Light Dragon Empire!”
A massive LED billboard loomed overhead as waves of onlookers—both random passersby and Infinite Dimensions players—gathered to watch. On the screen, Godslayer Guild was tearing through battlefields in high-octane highlights.
“For Godslayer—kill them all!”
The screen froze on Money Traveler, blood rage in his eyes and sword mid-swing.
The crowd roared in sync, energy surging:
“Screw the Empire! Money Traveler’s gonna wreck them!”
“He’s so damn hot! Did you see how he hard-CC’d that guy? I could watch him all day!”
“I swear I’ll stan him forever!”
Teen girls squealed, legs kicking uncontrollably—he wasn’t just powerful, he was gorgeous. The ultimate dreamboat.
But not everyone was thrilled.
“Is the official channel just milking Godslayer for clout now? Shameless.”
“Orgod vanished, and now they’re clinging to some shady warlord like the Lord of Forever City? Pathetic.”
“And that Vice President Madman? He’s a certified clown. Destroying everything Orgod built.”
…
Ironically, now that the man was “dead,” his reputation had skyrocketed. His name no longer stirred controversy, only reverence.
“To live for death… and fight to eternity.”
“You and I, witnesses of legend!”
The narrator’s voice dropped an octave as the screen flickered again. A blurred silhouette appeared—just a glimpse of a man wearing a golden olive laurel crown, riding a dragon with glowing red eyes.
He was wrapped in a halo of Bright Galaxy light, holding a uniquely shaped sword-staff. As he raised his hand, a space rift tore open and he stepped through it.
The screen shifted to a breathtaking image of mountain peaks, black spires stabbing into the sky, as sunlight cascaded through like divine revelation.
Then came the thunderous narration: “Welcome the City Lord!”
Everyone watching froze, paralyzed with a jolt of awe—like lightning had coursed through their veins.
Drivers waiting at lights. Gamers glued to their phones. All stunned into silence.
“What the hell was that? An Easter egg?!”
“That side profile… those god-tier visuals and insane gear—wait, no way…!”
Several car accidents occurred downtown—yet no one tore their eyes away from the screen.
“ORGOD?!”
A collective gasp erupted from the crowd. Hardcore fans practically launched themselves toward the screen for a closer look.
But the clip lasted only a few seconds before switching to Infinite Dimensions merch ads.
It was enough to send the audience into a frenzy. The marketing team had pulled off the unthinkable.
“That bastard Orgod again?! Why the hell would they show his face now?”
“Crap… I was on the forum yelling ‘Resurrect Orgod’ every day. Did they actually do it?”
“This must be our 1,000th day of flaming Orgod fans. What a weird anniversary gift!”
Even diehard anti-fans couldn’t pretend to be calm. Deep down, they’d missed him. They’d trolled so hard, they’d developed actual feelings. A classic case of black-stanning.
“Are they implying the Lord of Forever City… is Orgod?”
“Could just be a marketing ploy to bait views.”
Skeptics chimed in quickly. This wasn’t the first time marketing had dangled false hope. Years ago, a gaming legend was “teased” to return—tickets sold like crazy—but he never showed.
“Whatever. We’ll know when we see the stream.”
A student’s comment snapped everyone back to reality, and a stampede ensued as players raced home to catch the livestream.
Infinite Dimensions Official Broadcast.
“SirLagsALot, do you think they can hold out for 24 hours?”
The gorgeous female host smiled toward a guest in a suit and thick-rimmed glasses.
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Wrong question. You should be asking whether the Empire can survive 24 hours against my Godslayer brothers. Understand?”
This was no ordinary guest—it was SirLagsALot, Godslayer Guild’s infamous PR cannon.
He was pissed. The promo video they’d spent hours producing to show their leader’s return? Hijacked. White House media reps had called hours ago, demanding he appear on the official stream at Orson’s request.
So here he was—on a rival channel.
As someone with connections in high places, SirLagsALot recognized this move. They wanted to merge Godslayer and official traffic into one global funnel. Something huge was coming.
The host’s smile froze.
A second commentator gestured to the holographic map showing the Light Dragon Empire’s territory.
“If Forever City stands alone, without strategic depth,” he explained, “the Empire’s army just needs to breach Saint Maiden City and Purple Thunder Fortress. That’ll break the Godslayer lines entirely.”
“Exactly,” said the female host. “The open plains of the Pondenorlin region make it even easier—especially with the dragons. They’ll steamroll their way to Forever City.”
SirLagsALot shot them a side-eye.
“Wow. You guys sound super smart.”
Both commentators maintained their cool.
He snorted. “So if we go by stats and spreadsheets, we never should’ve beaten Dragon’s Kiss Guild, right?”
“Or taken down ten-billion-HP dragon kings?”
“Or wiped out an entire orc horde the size of a small country?”
He leaned in, voice dripping with disdain. “You wanna know how we did it?”
“…Slaughter. One-sided slaughter.”
Dead silence.
He wasn’t about to coddle these armchair analysts. The UJ Region had billionaires, too—and Naoko, Orgod’s disciple, crushed them like ants. The three major guilds still stood, but who really ran them now?
All part of that man’s plan.
Forever City.
“Five more hours for the Moonstone Array,” Nightshade reported.
“All magitech rifles and sniper gear have been distributed,” added Dancing Giant Boobs. “Grenades are short for now, but we’ll resupply quickly.”
“Mixed-strike teams are combat-ready,” Raven confirmed.
Iron Cavalry grunted, “Most allied knights are garbage. Barely fit to charge.”
Madman chimed in, “Only a few of the old gang’s guilds are worth watching.”
Only one hour remained.
Orson reviewed the reports, stone-faced. Cooperation with allied guilds was rocky. Some had long-standing beefs. Nearly came to blows. But their leaders kept it civil. Kicked out troublemakers. Handled disputes.
Overall, progress was solid.
“Hold your ground. Stay focused,” Orson nodded.
Forever City’s geography made it tough to defend. Orson knew a siege was bad news. Letting the Empire’s dragon swarm engage would spell disaster—not just for him, but for the countless players who’d poured their souls into building the city.
A knock.
“Lord God-Emperor, message from the Empress,” said Lili, Ursula’s sister.
“Speak.”
“The Church has sent envoys to Purple Thunder Fortress. They seek Witch’s support.”
“The Golden Duke Kassadin has arrived in Riftrock City. The Empress believes he’ll use her father to force her hand.”
“They want to bury us here…”
Orson’s gaze darkened. Riftrock City sat across a dangerous canyon from Purple Thunder Fortress. If both sides joined the Empire, they’d choke out Forever City completely.
Flying mounts wouldn’t help most players. Only a fraction had them. Ground troops would be doomed.
Riftrock City was ancient, once home to the former Golden House. Its legacy wasn’t to be taken lightly.
And Witch’s father… was its Lord?
“Passive defense isn’t my style.”
Orson strode out of the city hall. “Mixed Assault Teams, report in!”
“We’re hitting first. Wipe them clean!”
“Golden Duke? What’s he worth? Five bucks?”
“I’m blasting his ass with this gun!”
Players erupted, screaming battle cries.
“Is pre-emptive assault wise? Shouldn’t a general stay back and command?” Slaughter Spree muttered.
“We won’t lose. I’m sure of it.”
A tired voice behind him.
“You’re that gremlin leader?” Slaughter Spree snapped. “Why so confident?”
Nightshade grinned. “Easy. Our art style completely outclasses theirs.”
“…Art style?”
Slaughter Spree blinked—then heard the distant roar of magitech engines.
Down the main avenue, ten outrageous flying mechs screamed through the sky, flanked by eight howling dragons.
Dozens of magitech tanks and armored vehicles rolled in, carrying Godslayer archers and mages.
“Holy shit… yeah. Yeah, that’s a whole different game.”
Slaughter Spree’s jaw dropped. What the hell was this? Since when did this fantasy game turn full-blown cyberpunk sci-fi?