After the discussion yielded no result—
The squad captain looked at the teammate still poking at that lump of something with his weapon and frowned. "Quit messing around. Move on to the next target."
Hearing the order, the team member—who had a nagging feeling that there was something off about that lump—reluctantly gave up after several fruitless attempts to uncover its secrets. With a shake to fling off the filth clinging to his weapon, he replied, "Alright."
Then, with a flick of his wrist, a dazzling arc of lightning flashed.
Crackling energy erupted in all directions, obliterating the lump along with the surrounding soil. All that remained was a scorched patch of barren earth.
Seeing this, the captain nodded in satisfaction and led the team onward toward the next glowing marker.
No one noticed the small, insignificant trace of residue left clinging to the weapon that had poked the lump—clinging tightly like it refused to let go.
——
"Seventeen total—all demigods. They must be carrying a large number of specialized artifacts and weapons. This could be a bit tricky…"
While aimlessly wandering around atop some demonic beast, Orsaga had already gathered intel on his pursuers. But even with that knowledge, he remained completely unbothered, lounging casually on the creature's back.
After thinking it over lazily, he made a decision.
"Guess I'll play a little hide-and-seek with them first…"
And then he casually pulled out a pack of spicy dried fish he'd bought in the Abyss from some guy who looked like Ultraman.
He chewed a few bites, and his cheeks puffed up slightly. A flicker of flame escaped the corner of his mouth. Instinctively, Orsaga wanted to spit the stuff out—but the taste was good, too good to waste. So he chewed a few more times and swallowed it.
A thick black smoke ring puffed lazily from his lips.
Watching how long the smoke lingered in the air, Orsaga finally understood why the vendor had warned: "Anyone without fire resistance, don't eat this stuff."
"Spicy as hell! And it explodes! Feels like I just ate nuclear fuel… but man, it's delicious."
Moved by a generous urge to share the joy, he dumped the rest of the dried fish into his mount's mouth.
"BZZZZZZ!!"
The whole packet gone in one gulp.
The birdlike mount—with a comb like a rooster's—instantly began spewing black smoke from its head. It let out an engine-like roar, and its two clawed feet began to blur with afterimages, kicking up dust and sparks as it tore off at breakneck speed.
As it zoomed forward like a beast on stimulants, leaving a trail of fire behind, the demigods chasing them were absolutely furious.
They thought Orsaga had finally started to fear them, fleeing in panic.
No one realized he was just bored—and wanted to play tag.
——
A few days later, behind the front lines—
Henry, whose hair had begun to turn white from stress, stared at the daily reports showing worsening conditions within the city. His anxiety was palpable.
Rubbing his temples, he asked his adjutant, "Still no word from Clay and his team?"
Clay—leader of the squad assigned to hunt down Orsaga.
Henry had pinned high hopes on them.
He had even spared no expense, equipping the entire team with top-grade magical gear.
But clearly, those hopes had gone unanswered. Days had passed with no news, no updates, nothing but silence.
Henry couldn't help but feel deeply frustrated.
After a pause, his adjutant finally replied with an awkward expression, "Actually… Lord Clay did send a message a while ago…"
Henry's eyes lit up. "What did he say?!"
Seeing the anticipation on Henry's face, the adjutant licked his lips nervously and relayed the message in as tactful a tone as he could manage.
"In short… the target seems to have some kind of duplication or clone ability. He's been constantly misleading the team into chasing decoys. Not only have they been unable to find his true self, but they've also attracted a large number of hidden monsters. They're currently exhausted and struggling just to stay alive…"
BANG!
With a thunderous slap, Henry's metal desk caved in under his palms, leaving two deep handprints.
"Useless… Tell them to pick up the pace—we're running out of time!"
He really wanted to curse, but considering the fact that the other party was made up of demigods, he held back. Instead, he issued the demand as politely as possible.
"Yes, sir!"
Sensing the fury in Henry's voice, the adjutant dared not say more and quickly left to relay the order.
Though his face remained solemn, he knew full well that rushing them would do little good.
Based on the most recent report, Clay's squad was in a dire situation—hounded by swarms of magical beasts, with barely a moment to breathe.
No amount of pressure would change that...
And reality matched his fears. At that very moment, the so-called pursuit team was the one being hunted instead—chased by tens of thousands of monsters nipping at their heels.
Their compass, supposedly used to track Orsaga, was now lit up with over a thousand flashing signals. They twinkled like stars across the night sky, leaving everyone in the squad with a chill in their hearts.
"What the hell are we supposed to do?"
It wasn't just the team members thinking that—Captain Clay himself was at a loss.
They had managed to catch up with the target a few days ago and used considerable effort to completely obliterate him.
But then… something strange happened.
Instead of disappearing, the signals on their compass kept increasing.
Kill one, two more would appear. Kill two, four would show up. Like weeds—no matter how many they cut down, more kept popping up.
From their initial confusion to their current numbness, they had completely lost count of how many times they'd "killed" Orsaga.
By now, they could probably keep killing one every day for a whole year.
Far from feeling accomplished, they felt humiliated.
Whether they admitted it or not, they all had the same bitter realization—
They were being toyed with.
As demigods—beings revered and feared by others—this was an unbearable disgrace.
——
In some underground lair—
Munching on grilled meat while watching a live combat projection, Orsaga shouted gleefully, "Nice! That left hook was perfect!"
Over the past few days, he had been holed up in this hidden spot, leisurely toying with Clay's squad through countless Avatars of himself.
After all, the compass they were using to track him only worked because he had deliberately left a trace for those mages to intercept. He knew exactly where it would lead—and tampering with it was child's play.
Now, caught up in the fun, he made sure to flip the giant roast chicken on his grill. Timing was everything.
This particular monster, after being beaten into submission, had unwillingly served as his mount for the past few days—force-fed spicy dried fish as a "nutritional supplement."
He wasn't heartless. Originally, he had planned to let the creature go after using it.
After all, even if it hadn't helped much, it had certainly suffered.
But then another thought struck him—
'After days of feeding it spicy fish, the thing must be well-marinated by now.
Wouldn't it be a waste not to eat it?'
So, just like that, Orsaga shed his conscience and resolved to eat the poor beast first… then maybe pick his conscience back up afterward, becoming a good demon again.
__
T/N:
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