34: I Am Your Demon 

Orson twirled his staff, clapping his hands together with force. "Rupturing Stone Vines!" 

The ground around the dilapidated castle began to tremble as if a massive creature was burrowing beneath the surface. 

"Everyone move!" Empress yelled as she and Madman quickly dodged away. Beneath their feet, the soil groaned and cracked, waves of dirt surging like tidal waves. The entire castle shook violently, its structure groaning under the stress. 

Chunks of stone started raining down from above, rapidly blocking off the already narrow entrance to the boss's lair. 

"What the hell are you doing, Orson?!" the anonymous swordsman roared in fury, glaring at the distant figure. 

"Burying you alive," Orson replied coldly. 

The anonymous knight panicked, shouting, "What's happening out there? We're trapped!" 

"Reaver, have you lost your mind?!" Usher's frustration boiled over as chaos erupted. 

Inside the crumbling ruins, Usher and his team struggled to fend off the boss while watching helplessly as their only escape was being sealed off by cascading debris. 

"Orson! I swear I'll kill you!" the anonymous swordsman screamed, his face twisting in rage. He clenched his fists and considered charging Orson, only to freeze when he noticed the massive gap between them. 

The distance was absurd—at least 500 meters! 

"Is this even possible for a player to achieve right now?!" the swordsman muttered, his confidence shaken. 

Charging that far to kill a mage? Even with his skill, he doubted he'd make it halfway before Orson's spells shredded him. And this wasn't just any mage—it was Orgod, the top-tier mage with unmatched precision. 

Orson ignored the swordsman's impotent rage, calmly casting a series of fireballs and basic attacks to rain destruction on the collapsing castle. 

Madman gawked at the spectacle, muttering, "WTF… is this guy firing rockets or something? So long, so far, and so damn deadly!" 

Empress couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "He's playing a completely different game. I knew his range was ridiculous, but this… this is outright absurd." 

With a deafening crack, the castle's foundations gave way. The entire structure collapsed in on itself, burying the entrance entirely. Inside, the muffled cries of Usher and his party were silenced beneath the rubble. 

"You have slain Player Nirji. Sin value +100." 

"You have slain Player Usher. Sin value +100." 

One by one, notifications popped up as everyone trapped inside met their end. 

This was Orson's carefully calculated plan. 

A structure of this scale collapsing under its own weight? No player with a mere few thousand HP could survive. Even bosses at this stage of the game would struggle to endure. 

-10,000! 

-10,000! 

... 

Bright red damage numbers erupted from the ruins as Keril the Butcher howled in pain, its HP plummeting by over 200,000 in an instant. 

"Shame it didn't finish the job," Orson muttered, frowning slightly. 

The boss clawed its way out of the rubble, its body shrouded in a dark aura. The stones surrounding it were violently repelled as it activated its Unstoppable Body skill. 

Boss Skill: Unstoppable Body 

Effect: For 3 seconds, ignore all control, crowd control, or displacement effects. 

"Well then, time to get to work," Orson grinned, the fiery magic swirling around him. His signature Flame Serpent spiraled down from the sky, striking the boss with unrelenting precision. 

Madman gulped nervously. "This guy's a cheater! That range—how are thieves supposed to play the game with freaks like him running around?" 

Orson's laughter was carefree. "Thieves should stick to sneaking and stealing. Why covet the radiant magnificence of a mage like me?" 

"Go to hell, you smug bastard!" Madman shot back. 

Empress maintained her composure, giving clear instructions. "I'll hold the boss's aggro. Madman, watch those two." She nodded toward the two professional players. 

"If they make a move, I'll take them out instantly," Orson said, stepping closer. 

"Orgod… long time no see," said the wind mage, Snow Dream. Her tone was hesitant, her expression conflicted. 

Orson glanced at her briefly, his voice cool and detached. "I wouldn't dare to call myself Orgod anymore." 

Snow Dream hesitated, her face flushed with embarrassment. Reaver, however, shot her a glare before stepping forward. 

"So, the match-fixing rat dares to show his face again?" Reaver sneered, his LD prefix SSR丶Reaver glowing for all to see. 

"The first Demon Swordsman… Reaver?!" Empress's eyes widened in disbelief. 

Reaver was a superstar in the gaming scene, known as the undefeated prodigy of SSR Club and a rising star in the eSports world. 

"Undefeated? That's a laugh. Isn't that right, Reaver?" Orson chuckled darkly. 

For Reaver, the title "undefeated" was both a badge of honor and a source of humiliation. Though he was hailed as the next big thing for SSR Club, he had never once beaten Orson—not as a mage, not as a swordsman, not even in the countless practice matches they'd fought. 

Reaver's face burned with rage, his voice rising to a shout. "You may be skilled, but you're nothing more than a disgraced rat—the shame of SSR and the eSports community!" 

"Whatever you say." Orson shrugged, his tone indifferent. The anger he might have felt in the past was gone, replaced by a calm born of experience. 

"Stop him from reaching the boss! I'll take care of the others!" Reaver commanded, gripping his blade tightly. 

Snow Dream's face paled as Orson approached. Her grip on her staff trembled, but she couldn't muster the courage to attack. 

"Empress, the boss is hurt and moving slowly. Just kite it around," Orson instructed without looking back. 

"Got it," Empress replied, drawing the boss's attention and leading it away. 

As Orson passed Snow Dream, he said softly, "Your technique has improved. You haven't slacked off since becoming a core player." 

Snow Dream froze, her mind racing. After a moment's hesitation, she lowered her staff and muttered, "I'm sorry, Orgod." 

Then, to everyone's surprise, she logged off mid-dungeon, vanishing from the battlefield. 

Madman stared, slack-jawed. "What the hell? Who was that chick to you? She just dipped after you said two words." 

"My disciple," Orson replied flatly, his expression briefly softening. 

Madman's jaw dropped. "No way! Is she hot? Or is she, you know… built like a tank?" 

Orson rolled his eyes. "She doesn't use a custom avatar. What you see is what she looks like in real life." 

Madman's eyes lit up. "Hook me up, bro! What's her Insta?" 

"Send me 50 gold. Prove your worth," Orson quipped. 

"Get lost!" 

The banter ended as Orson and Madman approached Reaver. 

"Two versus one? Not very sporting, is it?" Reaver sneered, though sweat beaded on his brow. 

"Of course not," Orson said with a grin. "This is a one-on-one. A duel between real men." 

He stepped forward deliberately, exuding an overwhelming aura of confidence. 

Reaver gripped his blade tightly, his heart pounding. This wasn't just Orson's strength—it was the weight of years of humiliation pressing down on him. 

"I want to break you. I want to break every single person in SSR Club," Orson said, his smile cold and maddening. 

Deactivating his Blazing Burn passive and holding back his God-tier abilities, Orson stepped into Reaver's range—20 meters, the standard for a mage. 

"F*** you!" Reaver roared, his blade flashing. He was determined to slay the demon that had haunted him for so long.