Gazing at the front line several dozen kilometers away, Orsaga knew he couldn't get any closer.
His innate ability was warning him—any further and he might be attacked.
The front line was composed of countless fortresses linked together by massive walls, locking down the corrupted lands wrought by the demons.
A fortress stood every few kilometers.
They resembled medieval castles, constructed from a mysterious white stone. Each stood nearly two hundred meters tall and covered an area the size of a small town. At the top of each floated a pristine, translucent crystal.
Soldiers stood in ranks along the walls, weapons in hand. Tower-like structures—resembling arrow towers—were spaced throughout. Orsaga could sense that every brick was etched with powerful magical runes, granting the structure strength far beyond the mundane.
Through his Eye of Insight, he saw fluctuating energy waves coming from nearly every soldier—varying in intensity.
Though most of them were just barely above Lesser Rank Demons, it still indicated they weren't easy opponents.
'Looks like I'll have to wait until the monsters try to launch an assault before I can test the waters myself...' Orsaga thought.
If this barrier was capable of sealing off so many demons—including several Greater Rank Demons—then traditional flight, tunneling, or teleportation likely wouldn't work to bypass it.
He didn't mind being thrown in here by those Abyssal bastards—sent straight into a closed-off killing zone.
After all, with the current global situation, the other regions of this world had likely already prepared their defenses. Heading there wouldn't yield any better results.
Moreover, being outside this containment zone might offer a bit more freedom, but it also meant greater suppression from the world itself. Without the local region's "buff," an ordinary demon's power would likely be reduced to a tenth or less. If discovered, they'd easily be hunted down by enemies far weaker than them. Dying in such a pathetic way wasn't worth it.
In a high-tier world like this, a fully developed defensive system was already in place.
And with the upper-tier gods united in their efforts, demons—being outsiders—were essentially marked targets.
Who knew? Maybe even the stars in the sky were watching them with malice. Without first punching a hole in the current world order, there was simply no room to maneuver. Lone infiltration would be pure suicide.
"Assist the demons allied with Ignarok in expanding the spatial rift."
That was the clause Orsaga had agreed to when he signed the Abyssal Pact.
This "assistance" didn't mean he had to personally carve open the rift. It could be interpreted more loosely—after all, acting like a wage slave was a little beneath his pride.
For instance, helping break through this obstructive front line and letting the demon horde spill outward so they could more easily gather sacrifices—or using other chaotic methods to force open the space—would still count as fulfilling the pact.
Based on his estimation, as long as he made some notable contributions during the assault, it would be enough to meet the conditions of the Abyssal Contract. Then he'd be free of debt, unburdened. After all, he was just a High Rank Demon. Surviving and breaking through this front line would be achievement enough.
According to information he'd recently gleaned from the dead, the gods of this world had, decades ago, reincarnated some of their Holy saints down into the mortal realm.
They were here to aid the mortal races of the world.
And quite a few of those reincarnated saints were currently gathered within the front lines.
Taking them out wouldn't be easy.
From the fragmented memories he'd extracted, Orsaga had a rough sense of where he stood in this world's hierarchy.
Aside from a handful of elite mortal races, few could truly threaten him. Still, the specifics could only be confirmed in actual combat. In a world of this caliber, there were bound to be hidden trump cards. If someone whipped out a divine weapon mid-fight, the chance of Orsaga being crushed couldn't be ignored—especially when the opposition had divine patrons backing them.
"Hmm?"
Sensing a rapidly approaching creature behind him, Orsaga turned around to see a tall, emaciated figure—roughly three meters in height—rushing toward him.
He didn't bother to dodge. Standing still, he simply observed as the figure drew closer.
Once the stranger was within ten meters, Orsaga could clearly feel that the other had no intent to attack.
Tilting his head in curiosity, he asked, "Something you need?"
From the energy radiating off the figure, he sensed the power level was close to that of a Greater Rank Demon—but not quite. The other had yet to break through the threshold. Like himself, this one was still a High Rank Demon, and within the same Rank, Orsaga feared no one.
That's why he allowed the stranger to approach freely.
The demon looked at Orsaga, smiling calmly. "Dear friend, I remember you. You arrived in this world around the same time I did. I've come with a proposal—I want to invite you to join forces."
The moment he heard the overly familiar "dear friend," Orsaga knew—this guy was a professional team-killer.
No demon could call someone "dear friend" so fluently without betraying dozens of allies first.
Still, he asked indifferently, "What's the proposal?"
The stranger eagerly explained, "You and I both know the overall goal is to break through the front line, but it's in a demon's nature to stir up chaos. Some will inevitably act out. That's why I want to form a sort of mutual aid group—just among demons who can communicate—to keep ourselves safe."
He assumed that if Orsaga had let him approach without hostility, he was likely someone who could be reasoned with.
Listening to the pitch, Orsaga couldn't help but feel the "troublemakers" the guy referred to probably included himself—after all, he had just been considering reaping some quick Evolution Points by harvesting a few weaker demons.
If he couldn't kill enemies, well, killing teammates might at least make up for it.
But seeing the sincerity on the demon's face, Orsaga figured it was best not to say that out loud.
After a brief moment of thought, he asked, "How many have you recruited so far?"
"Twenty," the stranger replied enthusiastically. "All High Rank Demons, like us. We're not the type who enjoy being ordered around, but we want some security. Most of us are calm, and capable of peaceful conversation."
"Is that so? I didn't expect us 'peace-loving demons' to have our own little club... Alright then, I'll join."
Figuring he had nothing better to do, Orsaga agreed, thinking it might be fun to mix in and see what the group was about.
"Great! Welcome aboard, my friend! You can call me Malgrin!"
Even though he suspected Malgrin might someday stab him in the back, Orsaga still nodded and replied, "Nice name. I'm Orsaga. Let's take care of each other from now on."
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T/N:
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