He didn't care what the other party was thinking.
Lowering his head, he glanced at the bloodstain on his breastplate.
Orsaga shook his head with a sigh.
It wasn't that he was injured—rather, his opponent had hit too hard, causing himself to bleed from the rebound...
"Looks like my defense has improved quite a bit. Otherwise, even with magical protection, it shouldn't be this tough."
That attack had only caused a slight vibration—he didn't feel anything else. He hadn't even bothered to move his feet.
Seeing the unwilling look in his opponent's eyes, Orsaga kindly offered, "Want me to give you another free shot?"
But to Jarlott, that question was like a deep humiliation. His expression grew even more furious, and he shouted in rage, "Are you serious?!"
Then, without hesitation, he lunged forward again, unleashing all his strength—far beyond his limit.
This time, Orsaga's expression remained unchanged. He stood calmly in mid-air.
Just as the attack was about to land, his right leg moved like lightning, turning into a blur as it smashed squarely into Jarlott's disbelieving face. The kick sent him flying hundreds of meters and crashing into the ground like a falling meteor.
Orsaga calmly retracted his foot. Watching Jarlott's shattered teeth still suspended in the air, he muttered with a smirk, "We're both demons here—don't take a joke so seriously. You think I'm here to run a charity?"
Then, his figure vanished and reappeared above the crater Jarlott had created. With a casual flick of his wrist, he hurled a searing ball of blood flame down into it.
BOOM!
A column of fire tens of meters high erupted from the crater, and Jarlott shot out from within, clearly no longer pretending to be dead.
Seeing that he hadn't lost much vitality and that his teeth were already regenerating, Orsaga wasn't surprised.
His opponent was definitely no weakling—among greater demons, he was likely on the stronger side.
Just a short while ago, Orsaga himself wouldn't have had an easy time winning a duel against him. Compared to that dark elf demigod whose name he hadn't bothered to remember, Jarlott was definitely stronger.
Of course, this had a lot to do with their respective environments. After all, this world was far too peaceful.
Even now, it was nothing compared to the Abyss, where meteor showers routinely rained down from the skies.
In Orsaga's homeland, killing and looting were as commonplace as eating and drinking—utterly mundane.
Slaughter had followed Abyssal creatures from the moment of their birth. Any demon who managed to survive in that environment had combat experience far beyond anything the natives of other planes could compare to.
Even the most insignificant lesser demon had survived by stepping over tens of thousands of its peers' corpses.
In that context, combined with their inherited racial memory, it was no exaggeration to say that 99% of opponents of the same level couldn't stand against an Abyssal creature.
The only reason the natives of this world could fight evenly with demons of the same rank—sometimes even repel them—was due to a combination of defensive networks, cooperation between different races, and most importantly, the suppressive force of this world itself. That force constantly dragged down Abyssal creatures, limiting their performance.
That was also why so many demonic beings sought to expand polluted zones.
Without that external suppression, the natives would hardly pose any threat.
They could massacre each other while casually wiping out the enemy at the same time.
Desire and contempt—this was the true attitude most Abyssal beings had toward natives of other planes.
In their eyes, these fragile creatures had no value aside from being nourishment.
At this moment, Jarlott, who felt humiliated and tricked, stared at Orsaga with a sinister glint in his eyes. He didn't waste time with any more words.
His muscles rippled and twisted, suddenly swelling as his entire body grew in size.
His veins bulged as the flow of blood through his body began to accelerate rapidly.
This was his innate ability—massively boosting all his physical attributes.
Orsaga made no move to interrupt him. He simply stood there, watching him calmly power up, even allowing a faint smile to curl at the corners of his lips.
After all, that would make things more interesting—and provide better data.
The next instant, both of them vanished from their original spots.
BOOM!
A thunderous collision erupted in mid-air.
At the very heart of the explosion, their fists met in a titanic clash.
Crack...
Jarlott clearly heard the bones in his hand begin to fracture. But he no longer cared—his other fist lashed out without hesitation toward Orsaga.
Orsaga responded in kind, his own fist meeting it head-on.
A brutal fistfight began.
BANG BANG BANG—
In the blink of an eye, the two exchanged hundreds of punches. Their fists moved so fast they left countless afterimages, making it seem like they each had hundreds of arms. The air around them was shredded by translucent shockwaves, forming a vacuum around them.
Where their fists met, surges of scorching heat erupted from the violent impacts, raising the surrounding temperature until it felt like standing inside a blazing furnace.
Dozens of seconds passed.
Splat!
As wounds accumulated on his arms, Jarlott's forearms began to fall apart like shattered bricks. His armored scales peeled off in chunks.
Eventually, his bones gave way entirely. His arms were reduced to pulp under Orsaga's relentless barrage. And with a crazed smile, Orsaga smashed his fist into Jarlott's skull, reducing him to a bloody mist with a single, final blow.
Once the corpse hit the ground, Orsaga lifted his own hand and examined the fine cracks still slowly healing along his skin.
"Impressive strength," he remarked.
Then, he cast a wave of fire over the remains, cremating the body completely—if nothing else, it was a way to offer a bit of dignity in death.
---
In equal conditions—
One unit of his mana was equivalent to seventeen units of the opponent's.
That was the conclusion Orsaga had drawn from the exchange just now.
And based on his observations, Jarlott's mana quality was about the same as Orsaga's before his last evolution.
From a numerical standpoint, Orsaga's current mana quality had already surpassed divine power—but such metrics could be misleading. After all, divine power often came from divine artifacts alone, and without a capable wielder, it was hard to gauge the actual output.
Still, this clearly showed that beings below the level of gods— divine artifact in hand or not—might not stand a chance against him.
What's more, in addition to this fundamental shift in power, Orsaga had also awakened a new innate ability:
[Unholy Wraith Body]
Hatred. Malice. Greed. Pain... All negative emotions become your fuel. Any being that perceives you will be tainted, and as long as malevolent intent surrounds you, your wounds will regenerate rapidly.
A new patch, a new meta—he was back on top.
__
T/N:
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