Chapter 469: 469: Rise Again! “Well, shit… guess he’s really dead this ti.”
“Four broken ribs, one punctured the lung. Both Achilles tendons severed. But that’s not even the worst of it,”
Jas shook his head with a sigh. “He suffered massive blunt trauma to the head. When they found him, he’d just co out of ergency cranial surgery. They’ve confird brain death—he’s in a vegetative state.”
“Brain death?”
Orson’s heart sank into a dark abyss.
dically speaking, Drunken Dream was nothing but a shell now. Even if so miracle brought him back, he’d never be the sa.
“His butler was loyal to the end. Took multiple rounds to the gut and still dragged him here before he died.”
Jas’s hand trembled around his cigarette. He stepped back instinctively—he could feel the pressure building. A volcano on the verge of eruption.
He had created the Archmage of Infinite Dinsions with his own hands.
And he knew better than anyone what the Archmage’s wrath looked like.
“You two close?” Jas asked cautiously.
Orson’s eyes were vacant. Then, slowly, they focused. He spoke softly:
“He was like a disciple to .”
Jas sucked in a sharp breath.
So snot-nosed heir from the Upton Family had dared to ss with the Archmage?
He could already see the tragic end awaiting them.
Worse, crossing Orson now ant crossing the top brass of the US itself.
The Upton Family might’ve been big in the mundane world—but to the federal governnt, they were just roaches.
Since being betrayed by Snow Dream, Orson had rejected the idea of taking disciples entirely.
Even ShatteredCrown had been denied.
But when Orson pushed open the ICU door, emotions surged like a tidal wave.
The Silver Dragon Knight King who once stood proud with spear in hand, slaying demons in the sky…
Was now lying here, a broken wreck.
Bruised and battered, dried blood still crusted on his skin—this wasn’t the charming, handso blind bastard Orson rembered.
This was a damn corpse, a mummy straight out of a tomb.
“Son of a bitch…”
Orson’s jaw clenched, his eyes turned bloodshot. Rage erupted in his chest.
BOOM!
A wave of elental force exploded outward.
Every window in the ICU shattered into dust. Alarms blared.
Jas stood frozen, staring at him in shock.
“…He got even stronger… Is this what it ans to be a Trialwalker?”
Doctors and nurses rushed toward the commotion, but Jas slamd the door shut and blocked it.
Seeing Orson seething with murderous intent, he quickly tried to calm him.
“What’s done is done. Getting angry won’t change it. We’ve already captured Max—I’ve got him being transported back to BG City.”
“Good.”
The killing aura receded like a tide.
Orson stared at Drunken Dream in silence, then reached into his inventory.
A translucent crystal bottle shimred into existence.
Jas stared, dumbfounded.
“Wait, what the hell is that? Don’t tell … it’s a ga item?”
“Rootless Water.”
Orson’s voice was calm.
“A revival relic from the ga? You really think that’ll work here?”
Jas frowned, unsure.
“What if it backfires?”
“I don’t know. But we have to try.”
Orson hesitated. The Rootless Water glowed faintly, but the system tagged it as “weakened.”
That likely ant he hadn’t fully weaponized yet.
The world fusion hadn’t begun. Players weren’t real Trialwalkers. Even though Orson could access Infinite Dinsions permissions, items, beasts, and gear were severely nerfed in the real world.
He sat beside the bed, deep in thought.
Then rummaged through his inventory again.
Jas nearly passed out.
Dozens of crystal bottles appeared on the bed—each one filled with priceless Rootless Water.
“Where the hell did you get all that!?”
“I found the source. It respawns every so often.” Orson answered flatly.
“Wait… so you can just… bring people back forever?”
“Not exactly. It has limits—long cooldowns, and it only works on-site. If your enemy’s stronger than you, having an extra life doesn’t really help.”
Jas rubbed his nose awkwardly.
“Think I could, uh… buy a couple bottles later?”
“I’ll give you so. No charge.”
Orson shot him a glance.
They were tied together now—him and the Ten Overlords of the US. Helping him find Yuri earned them a few favors.
“Damn, you’re all right, man. I was way out of line before.”
Jas grinned. Orson was suddenly looking a lot more agreeable.
“It’s dicine ti.”
Orson picked up a bottle, forcing a smile.
“Don’t you dare die on , you shaless playboy. You’ve still got a dozen NPC babes waiting for you.”
“Stop! That’s a critical patient! What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Call security! Whatever grudge you’ve got, this isn’t the place for it!”
Doctors panicked, yelling from the hallway.
Jas turned and snapped:
“I am security. And I’m taking full responsibility.”
He pulled out his radio and ordered the hallway cleared.
Soon, peace returned to the floor.
“Rootless Water partial effect activated!”
“Rootless Water partial effect activated!”
…
The alerts kept popping up as Orson transford into the mad doctor of Zuan, shoving bottle after bottle down Yuri’s throat with Jas holding his jaw open.
In minutes, twenty bottles were gone—enough to buy a mansion in downtown Manhattan.
“I hate you!!!”
Berenice’s voice shrieked from inside the inventory.
Her precious treasures were vanishing, and Orson didn’t even flinch.
Pouting, she sulked back into his bag.
“Still no change. You sure this is gonna work?”
Jas asked. There was no glowing miracle. Yuri remained in a deep coma. The monitors didn’t budge.
Orson wasn’t surprised.
“There’s one last step.”
“What step?”
“We need to let him… die a little harder.”
Jas blinked, stunned.
“What the fuck does that an!? Aren’t you trying to save him!?”
Before he could react, Orson reached over and yanked the pistol off Jas’s belt.
“Are you fucking insane?!”
Jas broke into a cold sweat.
Orson calmly flipped off the safety and loaded the chamber.
He stepped in front of the bed and aid at Yuri’s chest.
“If this works, may you rise reborn in rage.
Strike down all who dare oppose you.”
Orson gritted his teeth and shouted:
“WAKE UP, KNIGHT KING!”
BANG!
A blood-red flower blood on Yuri’s chest.
His vitals flatlined instantly.
A loud alarm blared in the room.
“Well, shit… guess he’s really dead now.”
Jas wiped his brow, puffing his cigarette.
Even a killer like him felt a chill seeing soone execute their own apprentice so casually.
The room fell silent.
Orson stared at the body, unblinking.
Minute by minute passed. Still no change.
“Did I get it wrong?”
Orson’s brow furrowed, doubt creeping in.
“I’ll go call soone to clean this up…”
Jas sighed and stood.
But just as he turned around—
The sky outside darkened.
A black vortex swirled above.
Orson and Jas whipped around.
In the vortex, a mirage shimred—
the Holy Land of the Half-Orcs.
Or… sothing eerily similar.
Draconis’s corpse wasn’t there, but the rest matched.
Atop a towering sword peak sat a man in black, eyes like blood rubies.
He looked to the heavens, sorrow etched in his features.
“Solarius… my love… where did you go?
Why did you leave ?”
“Wait… is that the Crimson Lizard King’s ancestor!?”
Orson stood frozen in shock.
Those eyes—those unmistakable blood-red eyes—
Even through his altered form, he looked exactly like a younger version of her.
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