**AristocraticPrince:** "Ten thousand goblins… Is this even real? Orson, are you secretly a legend?"
**HellFireThong:** "Killing a thousand goblins is for lunatics, but killing ten thousand? That''s pure genius!"
**StoneManiac:** "What did goblins ever do to you? Or are they dropping epic loot or something?"
…
The world chat exploded. In less than twenty hours, Orson had wiped out ten thousand goblins—no longer just insane, but downright terrifying.
"Orson''s got god-tier farming efficiency!" someone muttered, awe-struck, at thest dungeon before the main city boss of Pound Nn. Even if goblins were low-level beast mobs, Orson''s terrifying efficiency had everyone talking.
Orson had leveled up to Level 6, adding points to his **Scorching mes** talent, raising it to level 6, and channeling all his stats into magic attack.
Finally, his Soul Imprint had leveled up. He excitedly opened his panel.
Orson stared, eyes widening in disbelief, and finally managed to say, "Damn… that''s OP!"
He''d expected only a modest increase—maybe a doubling of his range and mana limit at most. Instead, both stats had increased fivefold!
**[Heavenly Spirit''s Right Eye]: Super God-grade**
- **Passive Skill 1**: Every 10 monsters killed grants +1 meter attack range (new cap: 1000/5000 meters).
*Deities'' Comment*: "Truth exists only within one''s range."
- **Passive Skill 2**: Each monster killed increases mana by 1 point (new cap: 10,000/50,000 MP).
*Deities'' Comment*: "No mage can resist the allure of bing a machine of destruction."
He took a sharp breath. He''dpletely underestimated the growth potential of a Super God-grade Soul Imprint. Wasn''t this set on turning him into a walking death cannon?
What kind of monster was a 5,000-meter range?!
If he attacked something that far away, he''d be firing blind…
To be clear, the average yer''s visual range in *Infinite Dimensions* capped at 2,000 meters. Anything beyond that was just a blur, impossible to target with any uracy.
In this game, Archers had the longest range. After reaching level 20 and unlocking the skill **Eagle of Light**, an elite Archer could lock onto distant targets outside their usual range. In guild wars, a high-tier Archer could even snipe enemy mages in the backlines, earning top yers afortable monthly guild stipend.
"I need a targeting system. Satellite positioning, something! Otherwise, this range is useless," Orson mused.
He checked his newly earned **Beast Tribe Heretic** title, awarded for killing ten thousand goblins.
**[Beast Tribe Heretic]**
Effect: +10% item drop rate, +1% rare drop rate.
Note: While wearing this title, entering any Beast Tribe settlement will trigger an immediate area-wide hostility.
"This title is solid!" Orson''s eyes sparkled. Though it only added an extra 1% rare drop rate, he knew there was a world of difference between "item drop rate" and "rare drop rate."
If the rare drop rate triggered, he was guaranteed loot of at least blue quality, if not higher.
As for being attacked in beast territories? Orson weed it—that just saved him the trouble of hunting down mobs.n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om
Goblin Emperor''s roar echoed through the valley, and Orson detected a hint of frustration in it.
Elite bosses in *Infinite Dimensions* had some level of intelligence. As an early-game boss, Goblin Emperor must have been infuriated by Orson''s treatment, being farmed like a goblin mob generator.
A kilometer away in the forest, the boss was now just a hazy figure to Orson. He spent a moment adjusting his aim.
Poof, poof, poof…
He started with three rapid-fire Chain Fireballs, each exploding at the boss''s feet.
**Missed!**
"Damn it. Of course, it''s not easy to hit from this distance," Orson muttered, his vision straining. In *Infinite Dimensions*, target-locking stopped working past 200 meters, so aiming required intuition alone. Just because you locked onto a target didn''t guarantee a hit—even newbies often missed basic attacks at point-nk range.
"Alright, let''s see if you can handle this!" Orson psyched himself up.
Four years of pro eSports experience, three years ying *Infinite Dimensions*, plus two years surviving in hardcore mode… If there was no clear solution, he''d just make one!
"Wind direction… check!"
"Coordinates… check!"
"Angle, 55 degrees… check!"
As he summoned his fire spell, a dark six-pointed star glowed beneath him. His hair billowed, and his magic surged with power.
Orson''s face turned serious; at this moment, he was every bit the me Mage God!
The fireballs streaked through the blue sky, drawing the attention of the yers below as they barreled toward the Level 10 Goblin Emperor.
-42!
The Chain Fireball struck the boss squarely in the head, making it stumble. Six stacks of Scorching mes activated, spreading fire across its body.
Orson''sbat log disyed a satisfying number:
603!
603!
…
In just three seconds of burning, the boss''s health—initially 12,000—had dropped by nearly a fifth, inflicting over 1,800 points of burn damage!
"Amazing…"
Orson had expected it, but seeing the effect still made his heart race.
**ThunderStrike:** "Is the… is the defense tower helping us kill the boss?"
**ILovePizza:** "What are you all waiting for? High risk, high reward! My fate is my own! Charge!"
Thousands of yers roared in excitement. The mysterious tower, seemingly protecting the Newbie Vige, was really just a benevolent powerhouse, graciously assisting the yers!
Almost a full day since the server opened, and no team had managed to take down a Level 10 elite boss. It was clear to everyone that killing this boss would yield incredible loot!
Everyone had the same thought: "The riches granted by the Divine Tower shall be mine!"
Disregarding costs or casualties, they charged at the Goblin Emperor in a chaotic wave.
**You have been detected!**
The boss instantly locked onto Orson''s hiding ce, ignoring the horde of yers rushing toward it as it summoned even more undead warriors. Fixated on him, the Goblin Emperorunched into a death charge straight for Orson.
Orson remained calm, backing up a few steps before aiming again, predicting the boss''s path.
Dozens of fireballs streaked through the air, forming a fiery meteor shower that rained down on the boss. Though many missed, every hit triggered **Scorching mes**, inflicting burn damage.
-603!
…
Minutester, the boss, now charred ck, had closed the distance to less than 200 meters from Orson.
**ThunderStrike:** "Holy crap, the boss is going down! All hail Tower Grandpa!"
It wasn''t that the Goblin Emperor wasn''t powerful—Tower Grandpa was simply too insane. In the end, the boss could only burn to ashes.
"Good thing it was an undead mage boss with a lower health pool. If it had gotten any closer, it would have obliterated me," Orson exhaled, waiting for **Scorching mes**'' cooldown beforending another hit to finish it off.
With a final blow, the boss copsed, releasing a cascade of dazzling loot.
Drooling, the nearby yers stared at the pile of equipment, among which several imperial gold coins glinted.
What a motherlode!
Each gold coin alone was worth a thousand yuan!
The boss loot was of unusually high quality, with no whitemon gear—just a mix of green and blue items.
"Is that staff… purple?"
"Could it… could it be a heroic weapon?!"
**OldBankFriend:** "Let me show you all what my thirty years of fast looting experience can do!"
A sword-wielding yer darted forward, his hand lightning-fast, snatching the heroic weapon and turning to flee. But to his shock, the staff slipped out of his hand and fell back to the ground.
"What the…? It won''t let me pick it up?!"
The swordsman''s face froze, his morale shattered. "Damn it, *Infinite Dimensions*! After we died seven or eight times over, shouldn''t these items be ours aspensation? Curse you, you *@#%$..."
A crowd of yers surrounded the loot, each attempting in vain to pick it up, only to find it impossible.
**ThunderStrike** picked up a blue chestte, only for a message to pop up: *This loot does not belong to you. If not imed in 30 minutes, it will be unlocked.*
"Doesn''t belong to me? Then who does it belong to—the GM?" **ThunderStrike** muttered, baffled.
"Ahem… if you all could just make some room, please."
Orson cleared his throat, pushing his way through the crowd.