Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage - Chapter 714: The Tri-Shift Awakeners!
Chapter 714: 714: The Tri-Shift Awakeners!
“Pyramids?”
Darulubus chuckled proudly, raising his gaze to the towering structure. “The pilgrims who measured it on foot said this wonder stretches endlessly!”
Orson froze, scalp tingling at the sight of a pyramid so impossibly massive. It felt less like something this world could produce and more like a relic of some alien high civilization.
And according to Darulubus, this was just one among many such wonders scattered across this world—every one of them colossal and magnificent.
“Could it be his handiwork?” Orson muttered under his breath. In the depths of the galaxy, to find pyramids… he couldn’t help but think of the Ancestor who had betrayed the Radiant Shuttle and ascended alone into immortality.
“Papa, is he really the God’s son?”
A little girl trotted forward timidly, hiding behind Darulubus while peeking out to study Orson.
“There’s no mistake. The same face. The same tongue as us.”
Darulubus laughed, booming with pride, and waved his people out of hiding.
“God’s son…”
Orson’s expression twisted slightly. These natives of the Sunforge World called themselves the Fireborn. Once, their planet was nothing—primitive tribes with only the faintest spark of intelligence.
Then the Fire God descended, enlightened them, and raised these awe-inspiring wonders that spanned continents. With him came the Infinite Dimensions system. His people became Awakeners, marching to war against the legions of the Abyss.
But centuries ago, disaster struck. Lightning and hurricanes scourged the Sunforge World for a hundred years. The Fireborn population collapsed to less than one percent of its peak, their fledgling civilization shattered into countless scattered tribes.
Darulubus’s clan, the Firevenom, was just one such remnant.
The story went that during that cataclysm the Fire God himself was ambushed and slain, and his death closed every portal leading beyond this world.
The Sunforge World became a forsaken island, cut off from the gods.
Only exiles and wanderers who strayed too far could stumble into it. Which meant an alien adventurer like Orson was unusual, but not entirely unexpected.
“Then there’s no way back…”
Orson sighed inwardly. But there was no bitterness. Hiding from the gods’ pursuit in a world cut off from the galaxy… that wasn’t the worst fate.
“What’s—”
The ground shook beneath his boots, the tremor growing into a violent rumble.
“Run, God’s son! The Devourfang is here!”
The little girl, Darulunina, screamed, yanking on his arm and dragging him away as she fled.
Darulubus, however, laughed like thunder. “Perfect bait! The God’s son drew out a big one!”
He bent his massive legs, muscles exploding with power, and leapt a hundred meters onto a boulder beyond the trembling earth.
“Prepare yourselves!”
His bronzed body shimmered white. The burly warrior’s frame shrank and tightened, turning lithe and sharp. He tossed aside his crude spear.
Then his elbows split open, bone and sinew twisting into a longbow slick with blood. Six fingers curled against the string, drawing from his own wound to shape a crimson arrow.
“What the hell kind of class is that?”
Orson’s eyes went wide. Darulubus’s status flickered—once an A-rank Spear Warrior, now suddenly an A-rank Bloodsting Archer.
Two classes?
No… it was more than that.
Because Orson hadn’t seen him use a single piece of gear, no relic, no item to change class. He wore nothing but hide and scale, like the rest of his tribe. And yet all of them carried two forms.
BOOM!
The red soil exploded upward as a massive beast erupted from below.
Rows of jagged teeth churned dirt into slurry, filtering it through slits in its jaws. It was like a land-whale, a gaping maw wide enough to swallow a dragon whole.
[Devourfang – Lv.110]
[Ultra Elite Beast]
[HP: 34,000,000]
[Attack: 30,000]
[Skills: Tremor Smash, Steel Scales, Maw of Devouring]
Orson frowned. The numbers were absurd, but at the end of the day, it was just a beast. Not a godspawn, not an Abyss demon. He’d expected more from the “cataclysm.”
The Firevenom tribe spread out. Half their hunters shifted into ranged forms, releasing arrows, bolts, and blood-forged projectiles in disciplined volleys.
The beast roared in pain, slamming its bulk down, sending shockwaves and soil waves rolling outward.
Orson instinctively shoved Darulunina behind him, staff raising. “Flame Dra—”
Magic release failed.
Magic release failed.
He stopped, exhaling hard. Right. His skills were sealed.
He nearly pulled a Chaos Orb to crush the monster the old-fashioned way—but the little girl grabbed his wrist and shook her head.
“My papa’s strong! Don’t worry, God’s son!”
He hesitated, then glanced back at the battle. She wasn’t wrong.
The hunters were seasoned. Three agile rogues darted up the Devourfang’s back, plunging blades to draw its fury. When its scales flared, jagged as blades to reflect damage, the rogues instantly shifted—growing taller, one arm into a bone shield, the other into a cleaver, taunting the beast head-on.
“That response speed…”
Orson’s eyes lit. Their transitions were flawless—instant, seamless. Not a skill, not an item. A natural reflex.
The Devourfang thrashed, its health plunging below half.
Darulubus roared, his body twisting again. This time, he raised a staff, crimson sigils blazing.
“Blood Dragon—Burst!”
“…Three classes?” Orson’s jaw dropped.
Darulunina puffed up proudly. “Of course! My papa is the strongest! The only Tri-Shift warrior in all the Sunforge mountains!”
“Tri-Shift…”
Orson was stunned. If one man could swap through three classes like that—then what stopped them from mastering six?
The Fireborn weren’t just adaptable. They were theoretically flawless Awakeners, capable of erasing every weakness a class could have.
The beast shrieked as blood poured from its wounds, gurgled, and collapsed in the dirt, dead.
“Praise our king!”
“Glory eternal to the King!”
The Firevenom hunters shouted with joy, bloodied but victorious. The Devourfang’s meat alone would feed the tribe for months.
Exile Domain Exp +1.
Loot denied.
Exile Domain Exp +1.
Loot denied.
Orson’s eyes narrowed. Just one experience point? From a beast that powerful? And no drops at all—only flesh remained, while every material worth forging simply blinked out of existence.
His gaze swept the battlefield, unease tightening his chest.
If killing monsters only gave one point… if nothing dropped but meat…
Then how did Awakeners of this world level up?
