Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

Before long, a group of humanoid creatures, each standing three meters tall and covered in white scales, emerged from the fissure.

"Hybrid dragons?" Orson's heart tensed.

[Frost Dragon Guards: Level 30]

Experience more content on empire

HP: 120,000

Attack: 700

Skills: Basic Frost Magic, Basic Combat Techniques

These mobs were absurdly tanky, with pale human-like faces and sharp, beast-like fangs. Armed with various weapons, they exuded a primal savagery that made Orson uneasy.

As he observed their monstrous forms, one disturbing thought returned to his mind: How in the world were these things bred?

The sheer mismatch of their sizes and forms defied all reason, leaving Orson once again questioning the bizarre biology of Infinite Dimensions.

"Let's go! Hop on, we're blasting them to pieces!" Nightshade shouted with uncontained excitement.

Clearly familiar with these hybrid dragonkin, he leapt onto his Magic Tank and threw open the rickety hatch.

[Goblin-Tech: Type-1 Magic Tank]

Created by Player Nightshade

Rarity: Heroic

HP: 500,000

Attack: Depends on mounted cannon power

"This thing is insane—half a million HP? This tin can is tougher than my Crimson Lizard King!" Orson muttered, feeling a chill run down his spine.

With skepticism, Orson climbed into the tank. The interior was laughably crude—just a steering wheel, a brake pedal, and a few basic levers.

"Uh… where's the cannon?" Orson asked, noting the glaring absence of a barrel.

"Sit tight and prepare to witness goblin ingenuity!" Nightshade replied with a cocky grin.

Standing atop the tank, Nightshade shouted at the top of his lungs: "Waaagh!"

"Waaagh!"

Thousands of goblins echoed his battle cry like a crazed choir, their enthusiasm infectious despite the carnage unfolding.

In the midst of the chaos, several goblins were decapitated by the frost dragon guards. Their severed heads rolled on the ground, still screaming "Waaagh!" even after death.

Orson's expression twisted in shock as streams of red light began converging on Nightshade, illuminating the magical runes etched across his body. The glowing tattoos shimmered with divine energy as Nightshade absorbed the goblins' collective faith.

"Waaagh Fusion!"

Nightshade's declaration heralded an astonishing transformation. The previously separate magic cannon began to disassemble itself, parts flying toward the tank and fusing seamlessly with its frame.

Before Orson's astonished eyes, the Magic Tank transformed into a mini tank destroyer.

"What the…? This completely defies logic!" Orson exclaimed. "It's like shouting nonsense somehow makes it work!"

The absurdity reminded him of an Infinite Dimensions legend—a mysterious artificer who had once constructed an impenetrable fortress during the Hardmode Trials. That fortress had stalled the demonic hordes for months before eventually falling, granting humanity precious time to rally.

"Could it be him?" Orson wondered, chills running down his spine.

The sheer ingenuity and absurdity of Waaagh Apostles were unlike anything he'd encountered. Ordinary materials—scrap metal, low-grade iron, even broken weapons—were being transformed into legendary constructs through raw belief.

"Hold on tight! Time for a joyride!" Nightshade's crazed grin mirrored that of his goblin followers as he floored the pedal.

The tank surged forward at an alarming speed.

"Boom!"

A red magic shell burst forth, slamming into one of the frost dragon guards and sending it flying dozens of meters.

Armor Penetration: -2000

Shatter: -1000

The shell fragments scattered, delivering splash damage and more hit numbers cascading in its wake.

After three shots, over ten dragon guards were left battered and disoriented. However, their massive HP pools made it clear they could still fight.

"Man, this cannon doesn't pack enough punch," Orson muttered.

"Recharging…"

"Recharging…"

While Nightshade infused the cannon with magic energy, a hundred goblins fearlessly charged forward, distracting the frost guards.

But against such powerful foes, the goblins fell like leaves to the frost guards' weapons, many reduced to frozen statues within moments.

"Why are there so many guards today? Usually, there's only one or two stragglers," Nightshade said, puzzled.

Orson averted his gaze awkwardly. It was no coincidence—the Abyss Questline he triggered was clearly responsible for the increased spawns.

Despite his low level, Nightshade possessed an unusually high mana pool for a caster without any mana-boosting equipment. Even so, after exhausting his reserves, the cannon was only partially charged.

Ten shots later, the cave trembled from the barrage. Yet only four frost dragon guards were left at half health.

"Yee-haw!"

Nightshade let out a whoop as a new group of reinforcements emerged from a side tunnel—Goblin Tech-Barons, each astride a goblin-built motorcycle.

[Goblin Tech-Baron: Level 30]

HP: 50,000

Attack: 400

Skills: Aggressive Instinct, Goblin Engineering, Cannibalize

The sight of these wild, punk-styled goblins zooming around on flaming motorcycles left Orson speechless.

"This… this is ridiculous."

To Orson's dismay, some of the tech-barons had pink bunny ears strapped to their helmets.

"Your handiwork, I presume?" Orson said, shooting Nightshade a disapproving look.

"Ahem… creative liberties," Nightshade replied, looking embarrassed.

The tech-barons sped around the frost guards, spraying them with wild volleys of blue-flame bullets from their oversized Gatling guns. The guards were forced to backpedal, overwhelmed by the relentless assault.

Nightshade laughed. "Wait until my goblin tribe grows to 100,000. Then I can grow Goblin Brutes—those guys make these tech-barons look like amateurs!"

"Tech-Barons? Goblin Brutes?" Orson shook his head in defeat. "This game gets weirder by the minute."

The tide seemed to turn in the goblins' favor until a deafening roar filled the cavern.

A massive Dragon Warlord emerged from the fissure.

[Frost Dragon Warlord: Level 30]

Elite Creature

HP: 1,300,000

Attack: 1,100

Skills: Eternal Frost Slash, Unyielding Body, Bloodthirsty Criticaln/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Carrying a massive glaive, the dragon warlord swung casually, unleashing devastating crescent-shaped shockwaves that cut down goblins by the dozens. The remaining goblins were decimated within seconds.

"That thing wiped out half my workforce last time before I barely managed to drive it off," Nightshade muttered grimly.

More frost guards emerged from the fissure, flanking their leader.

Nightshade turned to Orson. "We're in deep trouble. You're a red name—if you die, you'll lose a ton of loot. Want me to send a couple of tech-barons to escort you back to the city?"

"No need. That boss is probably here for me," Orson replied calmly.

Pointing to the tank's front, he added, "Can you use your Waaagh power to add a firing slot for me?"

"You sure? That's a Level 30 elite boss. Our damage output doesn't even scratch it," Nightshade said, baffled.

"Just focus on driving. I'll handle the damage," Orson replied with a grin.

Nightshade hesitated but complied. A firing port appeared on the tank's side, perfectly sized for Orson's staff.

Sliding the Sanctuary Authority Staff into the slot, Orson felt an odd sense of awkwardness. "This feels... strangely inappropriate. Well, let's see how it works."