Female Dorm God came across his peculiar Soul Seal in the most unusual way.
One day in the starter village, he encountered an old fisherman. The elder, who also served as the village’s pastor, loved fishing during his downtime. However, his luck was terrible. Nine out of ten times, he’d return empty-handed. When he did catch something, it was often bizarre—corpses or random magical beasts.
The old man lamented that he was cursed and poured his frustrations onto Female Dorm God, who naturally dismissed it as mere bad luck. As an experienced angler himself, he offered to show off his own fishing skills and help the old man out.
Surprisingly, he also caught nothing. Just as he was ready to give up, he finally got a bite—but instead of a fish, he reeled in a jade arm. Terrified, he almost wet himself. Before he could comprehend what had happened, the arm fused into his body, granting him the Soul Seal of the Left Hand of the Cursed King (Epic Rank).
When he turned back to ask the old pastor what was going on, the man had vanished without a trace.
Bradley looked dubious. “Do you think I’m a kid? Epic Soul Seals just lying around for anyone to find? That’s the most ridiculous fairytale I’ve heard all day.”
“Swear to the gods! I’m telling the truth!” Female Dorm God protested, exasperated. “This stupid thing got me kicked out of dozens of teams. Reaching level 20 was pure torture.”
Orson couldn’t help but chuckle. Without understanding its properties, teammates would understandably misinterpret his Soul Seal as sabotage. After all, he nearly wiped his team earlier by “healing” the tank to near-death.
“It’s plausible,” Orson said thoughtfully. “Soul Seals can manifest in countless ways, including through lucky encounters.”
He was a perfect example. Who would’ve thought a simple quiz could earn him a Super God-grade Soul Seal? Infinite Dimensions was filled with surprises.
“I’ll send you a guild invite,” Orson added.
“Thank you, great one! I promise to follow you loyally—uh, I mean, serve diligently!” Female Dorm God fumbled, hastily correcting himself.
The trio made their way back toward Pondenorlin City.
With just a few hours until the guild base wars began, the world chat was ablaze with recruitment ads. Large guilds had already secured their rosters, carefully selecting elite players over level 20 who had completed their class awakenings.
Orson reviewed Godslayer’s roster. To his dismay, only 50 members were present—and most were casual female players.
It was clear that Madman and Bradley had a hand in this.
Still, Orson wasn’t concerned. Infinite Dimensions had just begun, and a wave of professional players would soon flood in. Many were still at low levels, and some were only just starting. Orson had his sights on future legends—master tacticians and gameplay prodigies capable of turning the tide of any battle.
As they crossed into the Frozen Wastes, Female Dorm God suddenly shouted, “Why are there so many red names?!”
The group halted. All around, red-named players were gathering—dozens, then hundreds, forming a small army.
“Withdraw immediately!” shouted AskSword, the leader of a nearby guild. “Everyone from AskSword, leave the hunting grounds now. Hurry! The Saint Slayer Syndicate is here!”
Hearing the command, fifty or sixty players scattered, abandoning their farming spots.
Casual players cursed under their breath. “Those bastards again! All they do is kill and loot. What’s their problem?!”
Despite their grumbling, everyone wisely retreated. No one wanted to mess with the infamous red-named mercenary group.
Bradley sneered, unimpressed. “What’s the big deal? A few dozen red names, and they’re running scared?”
As the red-named players closed in, Orson’s eyes narrowed. Their movements made it clear: this wasn’t a random attack.
Saint Slayer Syndicate was a mercenary group that thrived on chaos, offering “headhunting services” for bounties. Once they locked onto a target, even guild leaders and pro players found it difficult to escape their relentless pursuit.
“Are you Orson?” their leader, a 23rd-level rogue named Shura’s Will, stepped forward. His shadowy cloak and ruthless gaze exuded menace.
“I am. Who hired you?” Orson asked, his tone calm.
“That’s confidential,” Shura’s Will replied, smirking. “But the bounty is quite generous—5,000 gold for your head.”
Saint Slayer Water God, a water mage, laughed mockingly. “Hear that, ‘Three-Time Champion’? Save us the trouble and delete your character now. Spare yourself the humiliation of being camped at the respawn point.”
Bradley sneered, stabbing his dual swords into the ground. “Come and get me if you dare!”
“Enough talk,” Orson said, his composure unshaken. “Let’s get this over with—I’ve got things to do.”
The confidence in his voice unsettled the syndicate.
Female Dorm God, on the other hand, looked ready to bolt. “Uh… should we run?” he muttered, taking a few steps back.
“You’re surrounded,” Bradley pointed out, gesturing to the players cutting off their retreat. “Running’s not an option.”
Water God grinned maliciously. “Enough chatter. Kill him.”
The mage raised his staff, summoning a towering Tidal Surge aimed at the trio.
Orson calmly stepped forward, conjuring a radiant Sun Shield. The wall of light effortlessly absorbed the attack, leaving him unscathed.
“What the—no damage?!” Water God’s confidence faltered.
“Take care of the ones behind us,” Orson said to Bradley. “I’ll handle the front.”
“What about me?” Female Dorm God piped up nervously. “Should I, uh, heal?”
Orson waved him off. “No thanks. Just… stay put.”
Bradley grinned, his swords glinting ominously. “My big sword’s been itching for a fight!” He launched himself at the advancing melee players.
Arrows rained down, but Bradley’s expert swordplay deflected most of them. A few struck true, but his nearly 10,000 HP made the damage negligible.
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“Reversal Slash!”
His Light Sword unleashed three consecutive strikes, each stronger than the last.
-880!
-1,100!
-1,300!
The final blow sent a heavily armored tank staggering back, his 6,000 HP nearly gone. “What the hell is this damage?!”
Meanwhile, Orson turned his attention to the players attempting to flank them. He muttered a spell, summoning jagged Stone Spikes to block their path.
“Five thousand gold for my head?” Orson smirked coldly. “Let’s see who’ll take it.”
A fiery dragon erupted from his staff, engulfing the stunned attackers.
-1,160!
-4,330!
The battlefield turned to chaos as Orson and Bradley demonstrated why they were considered legends in their own right.
Female Dorm God, watching from the sidelines, muttered to himself, “I’m just a secret weapon… right? A secret weapon always comes in at the end…”
He clutched his staff tightly, silently praying he wouldn’t have to step in.