Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage - Chapter 403 - 403: 403 – Your Nobility Is Admired—Now Please Die!
Bradley: “That city in the sky… what the hell is that?”
Blank: “Retreat! Forget the last dragon mount, the Demon God Barrier won’t hold!”
Drunken Dream: “Everyone to me! Denoka’s got a teleport circle—move!”
Across all fronts—whether NPC Dragon Knights or players—chaos erupted. A bone-deep chill spread through every heart. The pressure in the air wasn’t just heavy—it was suffocating.
Under that oppressive aura, personal strength felt utterly insignificant.
Even knowing this was “just a game,” players couldn’t help the tremble in their souls.
“Heaven’s domain… destroyed?” Orson muttered, narrowing his eyes. The sky projection showed a realm of ruin—once glorious, now reduced to rubble.
Even in life-sharing mode, with a health bar that defied reason, the descent of this heavenly city made him feel crushed.
“Group up! Damn it—Veijander, Grevor, Glacier!”
He shouted across the battlefield. Under the pressure of the Forbidden Dragon Curse, all of them looked pale—each sensing what was coming next.
The Purple-Gold Dragon King didn’t pursue Veijander or Flame Fosset. Instead, he cast one long look at Velorith.
Her body shimmered with lightning, nearly translucent—merging with the power of Celestial Thunder itself.
Flame Fosset held out a hand. A single raindrop splashed into his palm. “It’s starting. We may not have much time left.”
Orson’s brow furrowed. He understood exactly what Fosset meant.
No one knew the exact limits of a Dragon King’s Awakened Forbidden Curse, but its sheer potential was undeniable.
These Forbidden Curse-level spells and techniques—anything that surpassed S-rank—often exceeded the caster’s own combat power. The environment, timing, and conditions could cause cascading elemental reactions.
And rain? For lightning-based Forbidden Curses, it was the perfect casting condition.
Like how a fire spell launched in a volcano, or a water curse cast in the ocean, would draw upon surrounding elements and amplify massively.
To cast SS-rank Forbidden skills was to enter the realm of gods.
That’s what made the game’s name so fitting—Infinite Dimensions.
Daloré: “Velorith, stop! Tulikiki forbids this!”
No response.
Only cold fury burned in Velorith’s glowing blue eyes. A Dragon King, outclassed by a mere adventurer—her pride couldn’t bear the humiliation.
Flame Fosset: “This dragon bitch—is she trying to kill herself? Celestial Thunder Wrath doesn’t differentiate between friend or foe! Even the caster gets obliterated!”
Glacier looked over and asked, dead serious: “Got any booze?”
Orson smiled bitterly. Even now, the guy wanted a drink?
He pulled a bottle of [Lucid Dream] from his bag and tossed it over.
Glacier took a swig, smacked his lips. “To die with fine liquor in my gut—not a bad end.”
Orson sighed.
Sitting around waiting to die? Not his style.
He raised a hand and lobbed a Chaos Magic Ball at Velorith.
Miss!
Immune!
He exhaled. The Forbidden Curse was already in its final phase. Velorith was in a ritual state, channeling Celestial Thunder Wrath.
High above, a massive dragon phantom appeared atop the city projection.
[Heavenly Overlord – Vortigon’s Projection]
[HP: 100 million]
It looked nearly identical to Crimson Lizard King—only far larger. You couldn’t see its head or tail.
Unlike her red-gold glow, this one was deep blue, drifting like a ghost through a sea of thunder.
BOOM!
BOOM!
A blood-red lightning bolt tore the sky, crashing down on Pondenorlin City.
Hundreds of buildings disintegrated. Thousands of players evaporated.
Like dominoes, the city collapsed block by block—leaving a massive vacuum in its wake.
Orson’s spine went cold.
“Max-level Forbidden Curse… it really does feel divine.”
Even the caster couldn’t control the scope.
If that red bolt had been aimed a few meters over—it would’ve wiped them out, no question.
“This game is bullsht!*”
“I just got out of the starter zone and BOOM—dead. Dropped 14 levels. Negative one now. How is that even legal?!”
“If Orgod’s leading this mess, I’m transferring servers. I’d rather farm dung!”
The world chat was exploding.
People were furious. A stray lightning bolt had nuked their progress.
Fifteen levels gone? That was half a month of grinding. Who could stomach that?
“Fosset, it’s your time to shine.”
Orson suddenly turned toward the younger-looking Flame Fosset.
Fosset: “Shine how, exactly?”
Orson: “By dying. Heroically. Come on, man—make the sacrifice for the greater good! We believe in you!”
He said it with a straight face.
Fosset’s King’s Authority let him buy extra years of life with cash—briefly restoring his former peak.
He’d abused that trick for centuries.
Grevor nodded solemnly. “I support the motion. Master… your nobility is admired—please, go die.”
Orson’s eyes lit up.
He hadn’t expected Grevor to be so reasonable.
Maybe this Light God’s Envoy wasn’t so bad after all.
Fosset stared at them, expression frozen. His lip twitched.
“You want me to cast a Forbidden Curse against that?”
“Celestial Thunder Wrath” represented the will of Heaven’s Lord. Any creature defying that will would be instantly targeted.
“We’d all die.”
“So what, we just sit here and wait to get nuked?” Orson demanded. “The Purple-Gold Dragon King locked the zone—I can’t even use teleport items!”
He shook his head, disappointed.
They couldn’t even throw the Chaos Pope under the bus properly. What a shame.
“It’s coming.”
Veijander’s eyes widened.
Above them, dozens of divine lightning bolts gathered overhead.
He hurled the Artifact [Flame of Thunder] skyward.
Infused with King-level power, the artifact held for barely two seconds.
Then it sputtered and crashed, smoking.
Veijander tried to recall it—no use. The artifact was intact, but completely unresponsive.
“Chaos Destruction Arrows!”
Grevor unleashed a barrage of gray-tinted arrows—instantly shredded by the divine lightning.
“Blood Monarch of Chaos!”
Fosset gritted his teeth.
A massive coffin erupted from the ground.
A pale-skinned corpse with crimson wings burst forth.
Orson gaped. “This old man… looting corpses again?”
It was a Bloodborne Sovereign Puppet—a zombified emperor. Much like the Titan puppet, though only Saint Lord-class in power.
True Damage – 10 million!
True Damage – 20 million!
True Damage – 30 million!
…
The Blood Sovereign was instantly swallowed by the divine lightning.
The damage?
Stacked.
All true damage.
All fatal.
The concentrated strike from Celestial Thunder Wrath was so powerful, it snuffed out any hope of resistance.
Despair settled over them like a stormcloud.
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