After saying his piece, Orsaga didn't linger—he turned around and vanished straight into a pocket dimension.
And with his departure, not a single living creature remained within several hundred kilometers. Everything fled!
The blood-red lightning that had lingered in the sky for a while finally dissipated, and the skies cleared once again.
All that was left behind was a colossal crater, several kilometers deep—a complete and utter wasteland.
Inside the front line, those present looked up at the clear sky and shining sun, baffled by the sudden change in weather.
"???"
"What's going on? Did the ancient evil appear or not?"
Henry turned to the nearby elven demigod with a deeply confused look. As far as he was concerned, the elf had lived the longest among them and was also the one who had brought up the whole "ancient evil" thing. If anyone was an authority on the matter, it should be him.
At least compared to the others present, that was the general consensus.
Faced with Henry's question, the elven demigod opened his mouth and hesitantly replied,
"Judging from the current situation, the ancient evil probably didn't descend—it seems like it was rejected by the world and forced out again."
Realizing his explanation was too vague, he quickly added, "I mean probably. Probably. You guys understand what I mean, right?"
After all, if he guessed wrong, he'd definitely be the one to take the blame.
Without a word, the Beastman demigod next to him strode up and gave him a solid kick, sending him staggering. "Understand your ass. Just say you don't know!"
The elf immediately flew into a rage, leaping at him with a snarl. "A mere shaman dares to kick me, I'll beat the crap out of you!"
"Oh, I'd like to see you try—"
"[Dragon's Might], [Shadow Panther's Agility]..."
Unwilling to back down, the Beastman buffed himself with several spells, and the two began brawling on the spot.
"Hiss…"
Watching the elven demigod getting thrashed by the Beastman, Henry couldn't help but doubt everything the elf had said. After all, the guy wasn't even confident in his own explanation—how could anyone take him seriously?
After some debate, the various demigods finally agreed on a course of action: activate the defensive barrier at full power for a few days and stay on high alert.
If anything went wrong, they'd initiate a full retreat without hesitation!
---
Dozens of days later.
The issues caused by the forcibly interrupted transformation had finally been resolved by Orsaga.
As the dimensional gate opened, he stepped out from the pocket dimension connected to this plane's material world.
His appearance had once again changed.
The long, pointed ears that once resembled those of an elf had disappeared. In their place were small, wing-like appendages—miniature versions of the wings on his back—growing where his ears used to be. Between his brows, on his forehead, a vertical pupil had emerged.
To be honest, it felt rather strange.
His vision, hearing, and even other physical senses had been vastly enhanced, reaching a new level of perception.
With just his eyes, he could now see the trajectories of spatial transference.
Perhaps with further evolution, he might even gain the power to gaze into the highest celestial realms and peer into the deepest circles of Abyss.
In addition, the deathblossom markings on his body had undergone significant changes.
Their roots had twisted into strange, arcane runes that now sprawled across Orsaga's entire body.
The transformation made him appear even more sinisterly beautiful, exuding a bizarre allure that could easily draw others in.
He rolled his neck in a full circle, stretching his limbs a little.
Looking down at the earth beneath his feet, which had begun to wither and crack ever since he stepped on it, Orsaga bared his teeth in a grin.
In just a few seconds, a patch of land several dozen square meters in size had become lifeless, and the Deathblossom was still spreading.
It was a sign that the world itself was rejecting him.
"This is starting to feel a bit like a drought demon…"
Muttering to himself, he quickly dismissed the thought. After all, as a demon, he was already a cosmic fugitive—someone universally loathed across any realm. A little rejection was hardly worth worrying about.
As long as you keep an open mind, no problem is insurmountable!
With a flap of the four wings on his back, Orsaga launched himself into the sky, flying into the distance.
Just like every time he completed a transformation, he needed a test.
Even though this transformation was only halfway complete, he still chose to follow his usual ritual—find a worthy opponent and test his limits.
For Orsaga, determining his position in the food chain was always an essential process. Only then could he truly understand himself.
With his greatly enhanced senses, it didn't take long for him to locate his next target.
His flight speed increased rapidly.
Since he hadn't made any effort to conceal his presence, his approach—straight and aggressive—quickly alerted his target. The opponent's eyes were already filled with vigilance and hostility.
Hovering mid-air, Orsaga looked down at the demon glaring up at him from the ground.
Unbothered, he smiled and said, "I want to spar with you."
Sniffing the thick, oppressive demonic aura wafting from Orsaga, Jarlott immediately sensed something off. It was a deeply disturbing sensation, as if countless whispers were trying to seep into his mind, making it difficult to stay calm.
Although Jarlott was itching to grant his wish and beat him into the ground, there was something about the way Orsaga simply stood there that radiated an undeniable sense of danger. It made him hesitant to act rashly.
For a moment, the air between them became heavy with silence and tension.
Seeing his opponent hesitate, Orsaga didn't press the matter.
With a casual swipe of his hand, several blood-red flaming spears materialized in midair and hurtled mercilessly toward Jarlott.
Provoked again and again, Jarlott—hot-tempered by nature—finally snapped!
He instantly summoned dozens of clones and charged into the sky toward Orsaga like a moth to a flame.
Orsaga, however, remained still.
To Jarlott's surprise, he didn't even try to dodge, letting all of the incoming attacks land simultaneously.
Boom!
It sounded like tens of thousands of tons of explosives had gone off at once. The shockwave blasted the surrounding air into a vacuum.
Direct hit!
And yet—Jarlott felt no joy.
He could tell clearly: despite taking the full brunt of his enraged assault, Orsaga was completely unharmed.
Every single one of his attacks had been neutralized by Orsaga's magic.
Like an egg smashing against a rock.
At best, he might've managed to dust off a little grime—nothing more.
Faced with this horrifying realization, a single thought arose in Jarlott's mind:
'I'm screwed…'
__
T/N:
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