Under the confused gaze of his opponent—
As his head was reattached—
Because it was an original part straight from the factory, so to speak, there was no rejection between his body and head. With just a slight twist of his neck, Orsaga's body returned to normal, as if nothing had happened at all.
Looking at the beastman before him—who had raised his blade once more, though this time with a hint of hesitation—Orsaga said flatly, "Your swordsmanship isn't bad, but your temper is worse than mine, and I'm a demon. That's a bit troublesome."
Ever since he began studying various martial arts styles, Orsaga had noticed that regardless of the discipline or profession, once one reached a certain level, there was always an emphasis on the training of willpower. From that foundation, concepts like Martial Will, Spirit Aura, and Soul Sense were born—each used to further enhance one's physical capabilities.
So, with the mindset of exploring every possible path, Orsaga had always paid special attention to train his will. Whether it was due to natural talent, personal affinity, or simply the twisted thinking of a demon, he had never once encountered a bottleneck or inner demon on this path. His progress had always been smooth and unhindered.
In his hundred-plus years in the world of wizards, he had long since reached the point where his willpower was etched into every one of his cells.
At that level, his already extraordinary demonic vitality was further enhanced. Unless damage was inflicted at the cellular level, ordinary physical attacks could be completely ignored.
Even if swords pierced his body, as long as the damage didn't destroy the cells themselves, the moment the blade was withdrawn, he would instantly regenerate—no energy loss, rapid recovery. Reattaching his own head was, in his view, just a basic application of that.
He hadn't quite reached the point of regenerating from a single drop of blood yet, but if he wanted to, every bone in his body could dislocate itself, perform a full set of military martial arts, and then slip back into place like putting on a suit of armor.
Not that he saw much use in that—maybe just to scare people…
Still, it was a method worth keeping in his arsenal. It might come in handy someday.
Truth be told, if it weren't for the beastman's weapon being inscribed with anti-demon runes, Orsaga would've just stood there and taken a few hits out of curiosity—to experience firsthand what magical weapons in this world could do.
If it had been a regular weapon, he wouldn't have even flinched. Unless it carried power beyond what he could endure, such attacks wouldn't be able to kill him.
The beastman warrior, watching the demon casually limbering up and seemingly ignoring him, still wore a cold, stern expression—but deep inside, he knew he had started to doubt his own blade. Worse still, the combat techniques he had honed over a lifetime were treated by the enemy as a joke, effortlessly dodged without a scratch.
This was proof that the gap between their strengths was enormous. If the fight continued, his odds of survival would be extremely low.
After a brief moment of thought, he didn't hesitate any longer and immediately activated his trump card.
As a warrior, he had his pride. He didn't fear dying on the battlefield—in fact, he considered it an honor. But in a war that concerned the survival of his entire race, he knew that sacrificing pride was the right thing to do. Dying for the sake of "honor" now would be irresponsible. It would be the greatest waste of the resources his people had invested in him.
Gripping his blade tightly, he thought to himself, 'Even if I have to die, it should only be when it's absolutely necessary. And right now, it's clearly not the time…'
With that thought in mind, he looked at Orsaga with a trace of apology in his eyes—because what he was about to do went against the beastman traditions and his own identity as a warrior.
Seeing that strange look, Orsaga was slightly puzzled. He couldn't figure out what the beastman was thinking.
His first instinct was to just kill the guy and read his memory afterward.
That way, he'd know everything!
But before he could take a step, a sudden sense of danger surged through him.
The magic power within his body instantly turned into fuel, dramatically increasing his physical defenses.
In the very next moment, an overwhelming pressure surged in from all directions, locking him in place. Even the surrounding space twisted under its weight.
It was as if billions of tons of mass had descended upon him all at once.
The effect was immediate—his body, like a heavy object dropped into water, was forced down into the ground with incredible speed. In just a blink, he had been driven hundreds of meters deep—and was still sinking, far from reaching the bottom.
Above the spot where he vanished, a glowing, arched portal materialized.
From within it stepped an elderly human mage with a head of white hair, leaning on a staff topped with a glowing gemstone. He looked toward the beastman and asked with concern, "Are you injured? Do you need to return for healing?"
The beastman shook his head. "Not injured. But this enemy is difficult to deal with. According to demonic rankings, he's just a High rank demon, but his strength far exceeds that. I'd say he's stronger than most Greater rank demons. He shrugged off my strongest attack like it was a joke, so I had no choice but to activate the backup plan."
Hearing this, the old mage furrowed his brows and analyzed,
"A high rank demon tougher than most Greater rank demons?
A demon prodigy, perhaps?
By the power levels of our world, he's probably already brushing up against demigod territory. That kind of enemy is certainly beyond your ability to handle. You did the right thing. Regardless of anything else, eliminating him now would be a great win."
The beastman nodded, then looked at the still-glowing staff and asked, "Is he still resisting? Do we need to take further measures?"
The staff, named Will of the Earth, had been blessed by the High Priest of the Earth God and allowed its wielder to harness the power of the land to bind enemies. The glowing gemstone indicated the target was still resisting.
But the old mage casually waved off the suggestion. "No need. Will of the Earth can concentrate the weight of all soil within two kilometers onto a single target while preventing spatial abilities from being used to escape. Under those conditions, no high rank demon could possibly survive. He may still be struggling, but he'll be crushed to pulp soon enough."
Reassured by that, the beastman turned to help the others in battle.
Boom… Boom…
Before he could act, a low rumble echoed from deep underground.
At first it was faint—barely noticeable. But seconds later, it drowned out the sounds of battle nearby. The ground began to tremble violently, sending pebbles—and even corpses—bouncing into the air.
The fighting all around came to an abrupt halt as demons and natives alike stared at the ground in confusion.
Unlike the clueless crowd, the mage stared at his staff, which was now glowing brighter than ever, his face filled with disbelief.
He immediately focused all his attention on the spell, trying to increase its power to suppress Orsaga.
But the next second—
A deafening roar and earthquake-like tremor erupted as the land within a two-kilometer radius suddenly rose. In mere seconds, the ground surged upward by hundreds of meters, turning the once-flat battlefield into a towering cliff.
Then it kept rising.
When it had climbed over a thousand meters, everyone realized something shocking—the underside of the massive landmass was a perfectly rounded hemisphere. It was as if the soil had been sealed within an invisible boundary, compressed into a single, solid entity.
And at the bottom of that hemisphere, Orsaga was flying up from the depths—carrying the entire thing on his back.
The old mage's confidence evaporated. Staring at the sight, his face turned pale as he muttered in disbelief, "How is this possible… How can he lift something that massive?!"
Plenty had managed to break Will of the Earth before—but even demigods and greater rank demons had only escaped through trickery. No one had ever faced it head-on and brute-forced their way out.
Ignoring the mage's panic, the now fully transformed Orsaga—standing over six meters tall—stared grimly at the land above his head.
He could feel the force binding the soil together and pressing it down on him.
Lifting it wasn't enough. He had to destroy the force itself.
After a moment of observation, his eyes locked onto the point where that unknown power was concentrated. Taking a deep breath, he gathered strength throughout his body with perfect control.
For the first time in decades, he pushed his physical stats—well into the triple digits—to their absolute limit.
Left hand supporting the land above—
Right hand pulled back at his waist—
A straight punch upward!
With an explosion like a missile detonation, his right fist punched through the entire thousand-meter landmass, obliterating the mysterious force that held it together. The soil above burst apart, and the shockwave launched countless fighters into the air—most of them dying instantly.
As chunks of soil began to fall, Orsaga's gaze followed the dissipating power to its source—
The old mage with the shattered gemstone atop his staff, standing pale and dumbfounded.
A cruel smile curled across Orsaga's lips.
Without hesitation, he vanished at hundreds of times the speed of sound—his fist colliding with the mage's chest in less than 0.01 seconds.
The resulting heat and impact rendered the mage's magical gear and protective spells completely useless. They disintegrated instantly.
Under the precision of Orsaga's strike, every single one of the old man's cells was destroyed simultaneously.
When the dust settled, the mage—and the several meters of land around him—had been completely vaporized. Not even a trace remained.
Ignoring the beastman, who had sensed something wrong and teleported away just in time, Orsaga retracted his fist.
Taking a deep breath, he smiled and muttered to himself—
"Now that was a good warm-up…"
___
T/N:
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