“What’s the clue?” Orson narrowed his eyes.

The golden dragon before him was nothing like the bloodthirsty Soros. Quarla had a scruffy, cunning look, with a subtle air of wisdom—exactly how you’d imagine a thief boss might look.

“It’s… a little wild,” Madman frowned, staring at the quest details, his expression turning more and more bizarre. “Damn, it wants me to hatch at least two Golden Dragon eggs.”

He looked absolutely scandalized. “What am I, some kind of mother hen? The cost to hatch them is twenty times that of lower-tier dragon eggs! We don’t have that kind of money!”

“It’s the only way to unlock the SS-rank class Master Thief God, and claim the entire Golden Dragon hoard,” Madman added, glancing pleadingly at Orson.

Orson didn’t respond. He knew what Madman was thinking.

The lure of an SS-rank class was obvious, but the guild’s current broke-as-hell state made it awkward.

Turning to Quarla, Orson smirked. “Let me guess—this whole treasure and SS-class thing is a distraction, isn’t it?”

“As expected of the great Conqueror,” Quarla said with feigned humility, avoiding a direct answer.

“You’re not willing to watch your dragon race be wiped out by the Celestial Kingdom, so you’re looking to entrust your eggs to adventurers to preserve the bloodline, aren’t you?”

Orson’s smile faded as his tone sharpened. “You want protection? Fine. I’ll give you one. Form a servant pact with him—” He pointed at Madman. “—and I’ll hatch all the Golden Dragon eggs.”

Quarla’s golden pupils shrank violently. His gaze turned to Madman.

The Godslayer rogues were all stunned. Was their guild leader even human? That was bold as hell!

This was a golden dragon on the verge of ascending to Dragon King status, and their leader had just assigned it a master on the spot?

ThievesRule: “If this works… I swear, this’ll go down as the most broken beast-taming move in Infinite Dimensions history!”

Even trying to get a low-tier dragon beast took a fortune and no small amount of luck. But Orson? He just talked it into existence.

Quarla’s face contorted with unspeakable awkwardness. By seniority, Madman was his disciple’s disciple.

And now, he was supposed to become the servant?

But times had changed.

Golden Dragon King Soros was dead. Purple-Gold Dragon King Daloré was gone too.

The Immortal Light Dragon King had vanished. The Lightning Dragon King was being hunted by Celestial angels.

If the dragons kept living in the clouds, they were done for.

“…I accept.”

The whole group froze as Quarla dropped to one knee. A blood contract floated toward Madman.

Madman stared at the system prompt, eyes bulging. “It says here—if I hatch seven Golden Dragon eggs within three days, Quarla becomes my bonded servant. If not, the contract cancels automatically.”

“Do it,” Orson said without hesitation.

“Where the hell are we gonna get that kind of money?” Madman hissed. Godslayer was already bled dry from their war with the Empire.

Conservatively, six Golden Dragon eggs would cost tens of millions of gold coins to hatch. An astronomical figure.

“We’ll get it when we win this war.”

Orson grinned, and Madman gave a slow “oooh” as both broke into wicked laughter.

They had nothing to lose. If they lost the Light Dragon civil war, they were screwed anyway. But if they won?

The gains would be unimaginable.

The Holy Light Church had been bleeding the people dry for centuries. Gold was the one thing they definitely weren’t short on.

This divine “gift” from above? Of course they were going to take it.

Every city, town, or race that sided with their enemies would be razed. Not a single silver coin would be left behind.

Quarla, now the Thief God in both name and deed, took the opportunity to rob his own kind. He emptied the Golden Dragon hoard.

“Holy crap! This is insane! Twenty platinum chests, thirteen Divine Dragon Crystals, over three million gold coins!”

“Shame about all the legendary gear, though. It’s too old—just gonna break it down for mats.”

In his true dragon form, Quarla carried the massive treasure haul—chests, horns, scales, and high-tier materials piled high on his back.

The team rode him back, and all of them were stunned. It was like flying on a literal mountain of gold.

Madman estimated the materials were enough to forge a full elite hundred-man legendary raid unit. A full set of high-tier legendary gear for every one of them.

If sold, the haul would easily fetch 30 to 40 million gold.

Enough to hatch at least half the dragon eggs.

But to Orson, that would be short-sighted. Gold was just money—it didn’t win wars by itself.

The real value lay in the seven ultra-rare Golden Dragon eggs.

A single high-tier dragon could serve as the ultimate guild beast. Hatch one, and it would be worth more than the entire Golden Dragon stash.

Seven dragons?

That was beyond imagination.

And this… this was only one phase of Orson’s plan to pillage the dragon race.

“These dragons are too good as transport to just let them vanish into history,” Orson mused to himself.

He would raid all three dragon vaults and form a flying army of dragons to sweep across Infinite Dimensions.

As for the Holy Light Dragons, with the Platinum Duke imprisoned and Drunken Dream—heir of the Light Dragon King—rising in power, that bloodline was basically his already.

A human-shaped mount? That was as good as Orson’s.

Back at Forever City, Quarla unloaded all the treasure.

Until Madman’s hidden quest was completed, none of the loot was legally player-owned, so it had to be stored out in the open—in the lord’s mansion courtyard, no less.

“Keep hunting for the Purple-Gold Dragon nest. Report anything, and I’ll send a clone to back you up.”

Orson handed out red packets to the rogue squad.

“I don’t care if I have to dig through every mountain—we’re finding it! I’m counting on this to buy myself a Bugatti!”

“I heard someone once wandered into a secret zone full of amethyst. I’m gonna find him and interrogate him personally!”

The team was all smiles. They’d just each cleared 5,000 gold profit on one trip—of course they were fired up.

After assigning missions, Orson checked the time and opened the guild channel.

“Can you hold?” he asked. “Bradley?”

Inside Riftrock City, smoke and screams filled the air. Magic blasts echoed through the streets.

Bradley: “Three of our mechs are toast. Just give me a bit more time and I’ll wipe out every last one of the duke’s troops!”

Wild Gale: “Fall back! Warships incoming!”

Ruby: “Don’t stop me! I’m gonna solo that bastard Duke!”

…

Raven: “Surveillance tower reports two armies inbound—each around 100,000 strong. Two King-rank, eight Saint Lords, fifty Domain Masters, and hundreds of magic war machines.”

Raven: “They’re headed toward Riftrock City, approaching from the Withered Jungle and Chaos Hills.”

Raven’s info came through fast.

Celestial Fortress’s tower had effects similar to the guild skill Celestial Vision.

The upgraded platinum-tier guild could now observe targets within 1,000 kilometers. The range would expand as the guild level increased.

“Got it.”

Orson’s expression darkened. He shouted in the guild channel:

“Anyone who dares to come… will not leave alive!”

On the main road of Forever City—

“Ironblood Knights! Steel Warriors! To me! Tear them apart!”

Orson raised his hand as the stars shimmered. A void pathway opened in the sky.

“On your command!”

The Iron Cavalry surged forward. A crimson dragon silhouette streaked across the ground, followed by thunderous rumbling—

Dozens of goblin airships.

Forty Titan Mechs.

Hundreds of magical armored vehicles and tanks.

“Charge!”

“Fight to the death!”

“Slay the invaders!”

Over two thousand Godslayer players marched forward with deadly precision. Their killing aura was palpable. Each one had the poise of a veteran soldier.

It looked more like a national military parade than a guild war.

Blank appeared silently at Orson’s side.

Her eyes shimmered as she watched the iron-blooded army roll forward.

“I can’t even tell anymore… Are these players or actual soldiers? What did you do to them?”

Orson’s voice was calm, but his pride was undeniable.

“I just gave them a chance—a chance to protect themselves, their friends, and their families.”

“What they make of it… is up to them.”