Inside Rank Studio, Orson took off his VR helmet, only to be greeted by Charles's unpleasant face.
"Are you out of your mind, former pro Orson?" Charles sneered.
"What did I do?" Orson replied calmly, standing up and noticing that Bradley and the others had logged out as well, heading toward him.
"Quit pretending. It's been eight hours since launch, and all you've done is kill a thousand goblins. Do you think this studio is your personal retirement home?" Charles barked, his tone full of disdain.
"I don't see it that way, Charles," Orson replied with a light smile.
Bradley quickly intervened, trying to smooth things over. "Take it easy, Charles. Orson's skills are undeniable, and he was just farming for a title—those in the know will understand."
With a forced smile, Bradley offered Charles a cigarette, but Charles turned his head with a scowl and didn't take it.
"Skill? What skill? If I hadn't given you a chance, who would hire you, Orgod?" Charles mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Orson merely looked at him without a word.
"Everyone, report your progress!" Charles commanded, grumbling under his breath.
"Leo, Level 6 Priest, sold two pieces of junk gear for 10 silver."
"Wyatt, Level 6 Paladin, got 12 silver from auction."
"…"
Bradley sighed as he reported, "Level 7 Warrior, sold one green item for 40 silver—that's about 400 bucks."
"And you, my so-called pro? Cat got your tongue?" Charles smirked, clearly waiting for Orson to embarrass himself.
Orson remained indifferent. "Orson, Level 4 Mage, 90 copper."
"Hear that? Ninety copper! This is the 'skill' of our former pro? He must have skin as thick as a rhino," Charles scoffed, seizing the chance to tear him down.
The others, except Bradley, burst into laughter, sneering at Orson's pathetic earnings.
In *Infinite Dimensions*, 1 gold was worth 100 silver, and 1 silver was worth 100 copper.
Eight hours of playtime, and he'd only earned 90 copper—a measly nine bucks.
"Come on, it's just the first day. This little gap in progress isn't hard to close," Orson said, unwilling to stoop to Charles's level. Charles was the kind of person who enjoyed belittling others to make himself feel powerful.
But Charles, seeing Orson's calm response, became irate. "So you're here to freeload, huh? I'm paying you a fat salary every month, and for what? To sit around?"
"Hey! Charles!" Bradley interrupted angrily. "Screw you!" He grabbed Charles by the collar, ready to swing, but Orson held him back. "Don't fight. It's not worth it," he said.
At over two hundred pounds, if Bradley got into a brawl, three or four people might not be enough to restrain him. Orson quickly pulled him to the side to defuse the situation.
Bradley's eyes were full of frustration. He had been a loyal fan since Orson's debut in the pro circuit at 16. Seeing his idol treated like this was more than he could bear.
"This is outright bullying!" Bradley fumed, his whole body shaking. "We're paid peanuts! Our 3,500 salary is a joke, and we still have to give up 70% of any gold we farm. What gives him the right?"
"If you're not bringing in real money, then you'd better…" Charles began, but Orson cut him off with a smirk.
"Charles, I quit."
"Orson… you're serious?" Bradley's eyes widened in shock. He knew that Orson's sister was waiting on a kidney transplant. If he quit now, what would he do?
Orson nodded, and Bradley stammered, "But… what about Sienna's surgery?"
"Don't worry," Orson reassured him with a smile. "I've got a plan. I'm thinking of forming a gaming guild."
Bradley hesitated. "But a guild seat in *Infinite Dimensions* is super expensive, man."
Charles burst out laughing. "What, did you forget? A guild seat is five million! You think you're still the Orgod from your pro days?"
His lackeys chimed in, laughing. "Amazing! Next time we see Orson, we'll call him Guild Master!"
"Keep laughing while you can," Bradley snapped, his face red with anger. "You'll regret it soon enough!"
Slamming his hand on a desk, Bradley left the studio with Orson.
"Just three months—no, one month! I'm going to slap every one of their faces red!" Bradley muttered, still fuming.
Orson put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No need for words, man. I won't let you down."
But in his mind, a glint of dark resolve took hold. *Don't worry, Bradley. In just two weeks, Charles will be calling you 'Sir.'*
Returning to his dingy, cramped rental, Orson surveyed the familiar, chaotic mess of his room.
There was one prominent decoration: a massive poster of a young Orson, surrounded by fans, raising the *Sword and Conquest* championship trophy for the third consecutive year in front of a nationwide audience. The image exuded pride and glory, a snapshot of his finest moment.
But that triumphant youth was gone. Only a revenant remained.
"I never threw that match," Orson whispered to himself. The scandal had trapped him, and the death of his sister had broken his spirit.
But now, it was time to rise again.
A phone call interrupted his thoughts.
"Hi, are you the seller of the 'Gently Used Gaming Pod, Like New'? Would you consider lowering the price a bit? I'm ready to pay a solid five thousand for it!"
"Uh…"
Orson glanced at the dusty gaming pod in the corner. It was a top-of-the-line model he'd bought two years ago for over two hundred thousand, hoping to list it online to help cover his sister's medical bills.
"Sorry, wrong number." He hung up decisively.
Given the earning potential of *Infinite Dimensions*, earning five grand would be nothing for a seasoned player like him.
In his past life, he hadn't realized how lucrative *Infinite Dimensions* was. He'd sold the gaming pod and relied on the studio's equipment, wasting an entire year and falling behind everyone else.
Not only that, but with the studio taking a 70% cut of his earnings, Charles became a millionaire while Orson barely got by.
After eating a cup of instant noodles, he powered up the gaming pod and logged back into the game.
---
**Goblin Emperor Raid Countdown: 29 minutes, 3 seconds.**
The countdown paused based on a player's online time to ensure they wouldn't miss it due to real-life interruptions.
"You have slain a [Black-skinned Goblin]. Experience +1."
Orson perched atop a hill, systematically picking off goblins below.
With his current speed, he could easily burn through fifty monsters per minute, maximizing his **Heavenly Spirit's Right Eye** bonus before the boss arrived. He was well aware that in battle, range and stamina were everything.
"Wait, did I just get a skill book?"
After around 200 goblins, he picked up a white skill book. Orson grinned. The **Goblin Ripper** title was clearly working its magic with the increased drop rate.
"You have obtained the Apprentice's Magic Tome: Chain Fireball."
**Grade E Fire Magic: Chain Fireball**
Effect: Consumes 40 MP to release three explosive fireballs, dealing 120% damage to enemies within a 5-meter radius. Cooldown: 5 seconds.
"A bit higher damage than my basic attack, but it's costly on mana," Orson muttered. It was a simple starting spell available for one silver at the Edgar Mage's Shop.
"AoE splash isn't bad. If I can round up the mobs, three fireballs could make a dent."
Equipping the spell, he planned his strategy. Paired with **Scorching Flames**, this would give his efficiency a major boost.
The only problem was that in the Newbie Village, monsters were sparsely positioned, designed to prevent crowding and give beginners a chance to learn combat safely.
*System Alert:* "Attention! Goblin Emperor will arrive in one minute!"
Orson steadied himself and checked his Soul Imprint panel:
**[Heavenly Spirit's Right Eye]**: Super God-grade
- **Passive Skill 1**: Every 10 monsters killed grants +1 meter attack range (current cap: 160/1000 meters).
- **Passive Skill 2**: Every monster killed increases MP by 1 (current cap: 1600/10000 MP).
Orson sat cross-legged, activating **Meditation** to optimize his mana. Though he was only Level 4, his extended range and massive mana pool gave him everything he needed for a tough fight.
A furious roar echoed through the valley as a colossal, robed goblin appeared, shrouded in dark magic.
**[Elite Boss: Goblin Emperor]**
**Level**: 10
**HP**: 12,000
**Attack**: 240
**Skill**: Summon Undead
"Those stats… pretty strong. This should be fun." Orson's eyes gleamed with both tension and excitement.