Staring at the writhing mass in front of her—a lump of living sludge that continuously squirmed and twisted—Alison narrowed her eyes.
From the remaining ornamental pieces clinging to its surface and the brick-like armor plating on its body, she could roughly determine that this grotesque creature had once been a small house, now twisted into monstrosity.
It wasn't just flesh-and-blood beings—under the plague unleashed by Orsaga, the power of [Activation] had been imbued into all kinds of objects.
Wardrobes, tables, trees, stones—even entire buildings—could be warped and transformed into bizarre, nightmarish creatures.
These monsters, inheriting traits from their chaotic creator, were usually savage and frenzied. Not only did they attack the natives of this world, they would often turn on each other without hesitation, frequently descending into infighting and chaos.
As she watched the grotesque thing crawl toward the fleeing crowd, clearly preparing to slaughter, Alison's delicate brows furrowed slightly. Without any hesitation, her slender white fingers hooked the bowstring in an instant. As magic surged within her, a translucent arrow materialized in her grasp.
Several arrows flew through the air.
The monster—once a house, now fused with various warped household items—was struck hard and injured severely!
Its gaping maw, like a swirling vortex filled with high-speed grinding debris, emitted a shrill, grating scream.
Unlike the cries of living creatures, this sound was more like the deafening grind of stone against stone—an unsettling noise akin to that of an industrial mixer.
After one last howl toward the Sky—like the dying gasp of a dying flame—the creature's vitality was quickly drained by the magical arrows. Within seconds, it collapsed completely, dissolving into a putrid heap of mud and debris.
These monsters, despite their eerie appearances, were in truth little more than mass-produced cannon fodder. Against a demigod like Alison, they posed no real threat. In fact, if regular soldiers had enough courage, they might even manage to take one down themselves.
The only reason Alison and her team took action personally was to avoid needless casualties among the lower-ranked troops—and more importantly, to show the civilians that they hadn't been abandoned, that someone was still trying to protect them and reclaim the situation.
Yet when Alison met the grateful, hopeful eyes of the rescued civilians—people she knew had already been labeled as sacrifices, destined to be left behind—her heart ached as if gnawed to the jaws of death was a betrayal that made Alison feel as though her role as a protector had been utterly disgraced. She had failed those who still looked up to her with trust and admiration.
The shame gnawed at her, and along with it rose a seething hatred for the abyssal creatures invading this world. Deep within her, a desire for vengeance began to boil—a burning urge to wipe every last one of them off the face of existence.
That overwhelming malice... even Orsaga, who was merely passing by in the shadows, paused and glanced in her direction.
Yes, our dear protagonist was once again sneaking around like he was in a stealth game.
Though the barrier that protected this place was still technically operational, it had long since been infiltrated. To Orsaga, it now resembled a sieve—full of holes and utterly useless.
It could no longer stop his avatars from being projected in remotely.
Maintaining his humanoid form, he stood casually on the rooftop of a nearby building, quietly observing Alison for a few moments before withdrawing his gaze.
He more or less understood what she was so furious about, but as one of the key culprits responsible, he felt not the slightest bit of guilt.
He was a demon, after all. Even if he still retained fragments of human memory, his core nature hadn't changed in the slightest.
Murder, destruction—these were his instincts.
Whether he was the one killing or the one being killed, it didn't really matter to him.
To a demon, both outcomes were natural.
"Killing others is only right and proper. And if someone kills me, that's only right and proper too."
This was Orsaga's truest belief.
In his eyes, there was no such thing as right or wrong in the outcome—only strength and ability mattered.
Do as you please. That was his ultimate creed.
It was then, as if sensing his gaze, that Alison, who had been preparing to head toward her next objective, suddenly paused and turned slightly.
Her bright eyes shifted toward where Orsaga stood, her expression showing a flicker of distaste.
To her heightened senses, his eyes weren't filled with malice, but there was a detached, objectifying quality to his gaze—like he wasn't looking at a person, but at a thing. It made her feel instinctively uncomfortable.
She scrutinized Orsaga's humanoid form for a few seconds. Though she still felt uneasy, she had to admit—his appearance was exceptionally flawless. In fact, he looked better than most male elves. Just standing there, he exuded an inescapable allure.
The long red hair that cascaded past his shoulders, the faintly visible curved horns beneath it, and those golden, vertical pupils—she knew he wasn't human, yet couldn't identify exactly what species he was. She simply assumed he belonged to some rare and mysterious race, never once suspecting he might be a demon.
After all, from her perspective, the inner defenses might be chaotic, but the outer barrier was still intact. There was no way abyssal creatures could've infiltrated without anyone noticing. Besides, if he were an enemy, shouldn't his gaze carry at least a hint of hostility? Though his stare had made her uncomfortable, it hadn't radiated any aggression.
So, after observing him for a while longer, she withdrew her gaze, no longer paying him any attention.
In her mind, he was just some passing bystander.
Orsaga, on the other hand, didn't care much either. Though she had struck him a few times in a previous fight, he saw that as just another part of the day—nothing worth dwelling on. Hence, he held no grudge against her.
Besides, if he ever wanted to fight, he didn't need any particular reason.
For him, battle was as natural as walking or breathing.
After all, many of the people who'd died by his hand had done so merely because they'd happened to stand in just the wrong spot—and it would've felt weird not to punch them.
So no—he didn't feel any real enmity.
Casting one last glance at Alison's retreating figure, Orsaga turned his attention back underground—several hundred meters below the surface.
Down there, something he'd been hiding for days was nearly ready.
Compared to that, the infected swarming the surface—though troublesome for the defenders—were just distractions, side products meant to draw attention. Petty amusements, nothing more.
Now, feeling that the preparations had reached their peak, he knew—
The time had come.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
Alison, who had just walked a short distance away, suddenly felt the tremors coming from beneath her feet.
Her body stiffened, and she stopped in her tracks.
Watching as the buildings around her began to crack and collapse from the shaking, a terrifying thought flashed through her mind.
'If even dead things like houses can become monsters... then what about the ground itself? Or even the soil beneath it?'
As if to answer her fear, the earth beneath the front line suddenly split apart, tearing open with countless jagged cracks.
And from within those rifts emerged enormous serpents—each hundreds of meters long, their entire bodies covered in eyes.
They burst forth, roaring into the sky.
And their emergence wasn't random—they erupted at the precise locations of the defensive barrier's critical nodes.
In that instant, the hundred-year-old barrier was shattered.
Countless abyssal creatures lurking within the polluted Zone raised their heads in unison.
Surprise flickered through their gazes—but was soon replaced by madness and elation.
The Demon Tide had begun again...