Infinite Range: The Sniper Mage

"Wow, you're so embarrassing! Who's the real crybaby here?" Sienna muttered in exasperation, eyeing her brother, who was bawling like a child. He'd buried his face into her shoulder, streaking her freshly changed hospital gown with tears. Blushing furiously, she tugged on his ear. "Alright, alright! We've only been apart two days, there's no need to get so sentimental."

Only then did Orson notice the glances coming from behind. The nurse nearby gave him a disapproving look, prompting him to step aside. "You don't get it, kid," he scoffed, trying to save face. "It's called 'a gentle man's heart.'"

"A gentle man? You can't even do twenty push-ups, weakling."

Sienna didn't hold back, laughing at him mercilessly, and Orson fell silent, a bit embarrassed. This body wasn't quite in top form, to say the least.

Sienna cocked an eyebrow mischievously. "Sooo… does this mean you're taking me home? I can pack my stuff in under a minute!"

Orson knew what she meant—Sienna was worried about wasting money on medical bills. It made his heart ache.

"What, so you can go home and cause trouble?" he teased, feigning annoyance. "I've already arranged for a VIP room. Your brother's officially loaded again!"

"Wait… what?"

"Paid your surgery fees, too," he said proudly. "Zion himself will be operating next month."

Sienna's eyes widened in disbelief, but after a moment, she looked skeptical. "Wait, you didn't go and take out some insane loan, did you? Because if you did, and you don't return it immediately, I'll jump out of this window!"

Orson knew Sienna wasn't joking, either. Sighing, he quickly explained how he'd earned the money by dominating *Infinite Dimensions*.

"So that's you!" she burst into laughter. "I thought there was something suspiciously familiar about that guy everyone's calling a 'scammer' and 'official plant' on the forums!"

She handed Orson her tablet, still giggling. He glanced at it and froze, his face immediately falling. The screen showed the top post on the *Infinite Dimensions* official forum: **"Remember This Scammer! This Player's an Official Plant Here to Make Us Spend!"**

He clicked into it and saw his in-game alias, "Orgod," plastered in the first post, complete with a screenshot. The replies were filled with angry comments:

**Ace of Spades**: "I have never seen someone so shameless! It's obvious this 'Orgod' is a test player hired to bait us into spending money!"

**RyeAndShine**: "Something was fishy from the start. He even admitted to being a test player! Why isn't he banned?"

**DancerFan89**: "This game is ruined by greedy scammers like Orgod! I'll quit for real if this keeps up."

Within just an hour of being posted, the thread had racked up thousands of angry replies, making it the forum's top post.

"Wait… someone actually paid a million for a set of transitional gear?" Orson scratched his head, still in disbelief. He had been prepared to sell the gear to ShatteredCrown at a lower price if it didn't sell.

Sienna shook her head, grinning playfully. "I always knew you'd be the best, no matter what game. I'll always be your number one fan, Triple-Crown Champ!"

Orson nodded, putting on a serious face. "Of course." He couldn't help but smile. Seeing Sienna's good spirits lifted his mood, too.

In the past, whenever he competed, Sienna was always there, front row, cheering him on. Protecting this girl wasn't just a duty; she was his rock, his true inspiration. To him, it always felt like he needed her more than she needed him.

"Listen to the nurses and don't throw any tantrums," he gently reminded her, watching as the nurse approached to replace her IV drip. Sienna, looking like a well-behaved kitten, nodded obediently, pouting slightly.

"Hey… brother?" she called as he started to leave.

Orson turned back. "Yeah?"

Sienna's cheeks reddened, and she looked up at him with a sweet smile. "When I'm all better, can I play with you? I'll be a healer and support you in-game, okay?"

A warmth spread through Orson, and he nodded, smiling. "Deal. I'll be waiting."

---

Back at his place, Orson called Bradley.

"Dude, you have no idea how much I'm laughing right now. The whole office group chat is blowing up with people apologizing to me," Bradley wheezed. Charles had practically ordered every colleague who had insulted him to grovel, and Bradley was reveling in it.

"Alright, alright, calm down. I need to talk to you about something serious. Remember we talked about starting a guild?" Orson said, his tone serious.

"Of course I remember! You're serious about it?"

Orson thought it over, then replied, "Yeah, with the guild outpost battles coming up, we can't miss this chance to secure a position. It'll be a lot harder later."

"Only problem is… well, damn, five million in registration fees. That's crazy expensive," Bradley hesitated. For them, that amount might as well have been a mountain.

"No rush. We still have a week, and we'll figure out the money. Even if we have to borrow it, we'll make it work," Orson said resolutely.

Guild outposts were game-changers, especially in *Infinite Dimensions*. The stronger the guild, the more competitive they would be in clearing dungeons, fighting bosses, and gaining an edge in the upcoming player-versus-player battles. With reputation points in the game geared heavily towards guild achievements, the outposts were worth any cost.

"True. And hey, you made a killing with those items you sold. You're practically rich now!"

"Eh, just a hundred or so," Orson replied casually.

"A hundred? Try a hundred and eighty! Get real, man!" Bradley sounded almost offended.

Orson blinked. "What… one hundred and eighty?"

Bradley explained how traders had flipped his items, and Orson felt like his heart had been split open. He wanted to scream. Those scumbags had raked in eight hundred more gold than he had, practically for free! Did he risk life and limb for a boss fight just so they could profit off him? This game was a joke!

Calming himself, he arranged to meet Bradley in-game.

---

When Orson entered *Infinite Dimensions*, he found himself back at the decrepit riverbed. He barely had time to adjust before he noticed Hazel peeking at him from behind a large rock.

"Oh, brave but humble adventurer," Hazel mumbled, cheeks flushed. "Would you… assist me with my attire?"

Orson's eyes gleamed with excitement. Could there be a better start to the day? Here was Hazel, standing there in nothing but her thin undergarments. The warmth in his heart, the trembling in his hands—he could hardly contain himself.

As a reclusive gamer, he had to say this was one thing he truly appreciated about *Infinite Dimensions*. No overly modest filters blocking the view, and no "family-friendly" pixelations to ruin the immersion. Not surprisingly, though, this part of the game had outraged plenty of parents and moral watchdogs. But as far as the gods in the game world were concerned, the objections didn't matter one bit.

"You've gained +10 friendliness points with Hazel (10/100)."

Assisting the slightly deranged but beautiful NPC instantly bumped up their friendliness score. Orson muttered, "They say with a 100-point friendliness score with NPCs, you can… get married and have kids?"

In his last playthrough, Orson had been too preoccupied with hardcore mode and farming for income to bother exploring NPC relationships. But he knew that once the *Infinite Dimensions* world and reality began to converge, NPCs would take on real significance. They wouldn't be any different from real people.

He was a serious guy, after all. But he'd heard rumors of rare quests and unique classes that required high friendliness scores to unlock.

Orson knew that raising friendliness was tough, with very few chances to get points. If he hadn't returned Hazel's items after clearing the *Night of Terror* dungeon, he would never have gained these 10 points.

"Definitely worth investing some time here," he mused, bringing Hazel along to the suspension bridge leading to the city of Pandnorlin.

"That… that's Orgod!"

"Wait, and he has a female NPC with him? Dang, she's… wow! Is that how pros do it?"

The players nearby couldn't help but stare at Orson, talking in hushed voices.

"Oh my gosh! Look at that warrior! So handsome!"

"You can tell he's a looker in real life, just by his stance!"

But soon, all eyes turned to another figure, a warrior with a gray cloak and a glinting silver sword, who stood stylishly against the side of the bridge. He swept back his hood, triggering a wave of cheers from the surrounding female players.

He had a chiseled, impossibly handsome face, diamond-bright silver hair, and a frame that was both tall and perfectly toned. His golden eyes locked onto Orson with a fierce intensity as he spoke in a deep, magnetic voice: "Tell me, stranger…

 which direction does your blade point?"