Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage-Chapter 331 - : Grey Corgis!

A series of sharp crackling explosions echoed through the forest as the towering trees surrounding Orson abruptly snapped open their eyes. Massive branches, thick as a man's waist and sturdy as iron, violently swung toward him.

Orson remained unfazed. His Heavenly Fire Staff floated steadily in front of him, and a vast six-pointed chaos star formation expanded instantly, covering an area a thousand meters wide.

Ice Prison Ring!

A surge of icy-blue mist surged outward, instantly freezing over a dozen tree monsters, turning their enormous bodies into towering, mystic Divine Ice Pillars.

In the next instant—

Chaos Flames erupted, igniting the ice structures. The clashing forces of fire and ice created a spectacular elemental phenomenon.

"I must get my hands on the middle and lower tomes of Chaos Talent as soon as possible."

Orson thought silently.

He had witnessed Grevor cast Ice-Fire Fusion Magic before, and the destructive power produced by such combinations wasn't simply a matter of 1+1; it grew exponentially stronger.

These War Treants were as tough as high-level elite bosses. Without percentage-based AoE damage, they would be incredibly troublesome to handle.

Given their enormous size alone, a normal raid party would be instantly crushed underfoot.

Debuff Purge!

A murky green glow emanated from the War Treant, forcibly stripping away the ice and chaos flames at the steep cost of losing 10% of its HP.

Immediately after—

Thousands of thick tree roots burst from the ground, whipping through the air like colossal serpents, striking toward Orson with terrifying momentum.

Orson remained expressionless.

With a casual downward press of his palm—

Grip of the Underworld!

BOOM!

The enormous elemental hand crashed down from above, crushing the bowl-thick roots into fine powder.

Its destructive momentum didn't fade—

With another thunderous impact, six War Treants were sent tumbling, splinters flying everywhere.

Critical Hit -600,000!

-20,000 HP!

Burning -40,000!

…

The damage numbers were terrifying as usual, but Orson's brows furrowed slightly.

As soon as the War Treants collapsed, even more were awakened by the commotion.

The entire forest seemed to stir ominously, the thunderous rumbling sending chills down his spine.

"This is becoming troublesome."

Orson lost patience, summoning the Crimson Lizard King, his ultimate percentage-based HP killer, ready to unleash a devastating wave of deforestation.

"Wait, Lord Orgod! Please stop!"

Right before the Doom Dragon Breath erupted, a familiar voice urgently shouted.

"Someone here… recognizes me?"

Orson was momentarily stunned.

The War Treants suddenly parted, clearing a path for a small, grey-furred figure sprinting frantically toward him on stubby legs.

"Veijander?"

Orson's confused expression deepened.

Rushing towards him was none other than the short-legged corgi—Veijander, the infamous scam-artist blacksmith from Pondenorlin City!

[Hidden Quest: Find the Lost 'Supreme Series' Blueprint]

Difficulty: Abyss-Tier

Quest Sequence 1: Enter the Grey Dwarves' Sacred Land under Veijander's guidance.

The system prompt appeared clearly before him.

Meanwhile, Veijander greeted him with a wide grin:

"Adventurer! I've been waiting ages for you! Come this way, quickly!"

In his paw, he held a green necklace shaped like a branch, glowing faintly with divine power.

Under the artifact's guidance, the War Treants ceased their attacks, quietly fading back into stealth.

"Is that the Tree Elf King's Necklace?"

Orson inspected its attributes—

It was indeed an ancient sacred artifact capable of controlling the sacred guardians—these massive tree monsters.

"Since we're old pals, how about lending me that necklace for a quick look?"

Orson narrowed his eyes, smiling gently, extending his hand toward Veijander.

Veijander's tiny corgi eyes darted around nervously.

"Lord Orgod! Long time no see! I've really, really missed you!"

Orson kept his polite smile intact, hand still extended patiently.

"Just a quick look. I promise I'll give it right back."

Veijander paused awkwardly for a moment, ignoring Orson's extended hand and continuing to ramble:

"If it weren't for your generous assistance, I'd never have become the tenth Forging Grandmaster!"

Puffing up his furry little chest proudly, Veijander showed off the black forging-hammer tattoo newly appeared on his neck.

"Your favorability with Grey Dwarven Blacksmith Veijander has increased."

"Your favorability with Grey Dwarves has increased."

"...Your favorability continues rising."

Orson's face gradually turned dark.

As Veijander's gaze became increasingly weirdly affectionate, Orson internally screamed:

"Stop! STOP RIGHT NOW!"

Favorability finally stopped at 70 points, allowing Orson to sigh with relief.

If it had climbed to 99… who knows what this little dwarf-corgi might've tried?

Through conversation, Orson discovered the previously crafted Heavenly Fire Armor Set had significantly boosted Veijander's prestige among the Grey Dwarves.

This trip to the Ashen Lands was precisely to receive the Grandmaster title bestowed by the Grey Dwarven King.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Noticing Orson's continued fixation on the necklace, Veijander sighed:

"Forget about it. This relic can only be wielded by dwarves or elves, unless…"

A sudden system prompt appeared before Orson:

"You have discovered a class-change option."

"Would you like to abandon your [SSS Chaos Overlord] (Temporary) class and accept the Grey Dwarves' invitation to become an [S-Rank Dwarven Grand Mage]?"

"Hell no!"

Orson rejected without hesitation.

The Roberts Family, one of the Ten Overlords of the US servers, had famously converted en masse into dwarf classes like Warhammer Dwarves.

Although the Warhammer Dwarves, belonging to the Hill Dwarf subrace, specialized in warfare and significantly boosted combat strength, their height permanently dropped from handsome 180-190 cm humans to just 145 cm dwarves.

No sane player would ever accept such a ridiculous debuff willingly.

Orson shook his head helplessly, following Veijander deeper into the forest. Along the way, they encountered numerous formidable war guardians, each stronger than typical monsters by far.

Soon, an immense War Tree appeared in front of them.

Towering thousands of meters, it pierced the sky, leaving Orson speechless.

Its HP alone rivaled a Saint Lord Dragon.

But even more terrifying were its branches densely packed with giant magic ballistae, dwarven cannons, and magic spell launchers—effectively creating a massive walking fortress.

This alone spoke volumes about the enormous wealth of the Grey Dwarves.

Yet Orson knew clearly that the Grey Dwarves despised war passionately.

All they cared about were glittering ores, fine ale, and the exquisite art of forging.

During the World Fusion War, they had refused to lift a finger against the invasion of the Heaven Demons.

After passing by the War Tree, Orson and Veijander reached a massive mine entrance, surrounded by scattered Grey Dwarven bodies.

"Are they… dead?"

Orson frowned.

Veijander nonchalantly shrugged.

"They're soul-wandering in the Ancient Dwarven Temple. May their weary spirits find peace!"

Orson blinked, confused. "Soul-wandering?"

Veijander grinned mischievously, revealing sharp teeth:

"Yep. They're just drunk as hell!"

Orson: "..."

Veijander guided Orson onto a minecart elevator, descending swiftly into an endless underground cavern—the grand underground city of the dwarves.

However, the moment Orson stepped out of the elevator—

An angry mob of grey-skinned, bearded dwarves surrounded him instantly.

Then came the barrage of rotten eggs, saliva, and spoiled vegetables.

"What the hell?!"

Orson cursed loudly.

Then, without hesitation—

He grabbed Veijander by the scruff, grinned wickedly:

"Sorry buddy, this one's on you!"

With a mighty swing, he hurled Veijander straight into the dwarves like a bowling ball.