Three days later.
Back at the same inn where Orsaga had slept for half a year.
A massive, semi-transparent light screen floated before Orsaga, covered in nearly a hundred multicolored, twisted lines that climbed upward erratically, alongside countless glowing dots of various hues drifting about in irregular patterns.
Each second, some of these dots lit up while others dimmed, resembling a starry sky in constant motion.
The only difference was that these were in full color.
This was the schematic map tied to the various diseases Orsaga had spread.
The warped lines represented the development trends of different diseases, while the colored dots symbolized individual infected hosts. A dot dimming didn't necessarily mean the host had died—it could also mean they had recovered. After all, Orsaga hadn't released anything too lethal yet. Whether cured or healed naturally, it wasn't anything unusual.
Even in cases where death did occur, the diseases created by Orsaga wouldn't directly harvest the victims' souls, constrained by the supernatural forces of this world. The natives here were all devout followers of various Gods—claimed souls, not wild crops ready for reaping. A direct move would certainly alert someone that something was off.
So instead, Orsaga profited by extracting a portion of the infected's soul energy while they were still alive, in proportion to the severity of their condition. This slow siphoning avoided detection, ensuring that no gods would notice their followers failing to reach the afterlife, and thus avoiding any large-scale investigations.
In short, Orsaga had already eliminated most of the variables that could threaten his plan.
As for why not all?
He wasn't yet strong enough to cover everything.
At the moment, studying the distribution trends of the dots on the screen, Orsaga stroked his chin and casually snapped his fingers.
Immediately, the previously uniform dots transformed into a variety of new icons.
Through these icons, one could clearly distinguish between humans, elves, beastkin, dwarves… each representing a different race.
After observing for a while longer, Orsaga extended a finger and began sketching on the screen, outlining maps based on the racial distribution trends.
Unlike store-bought maps that might already be outdated, this map was direct, precise, and of significantly higher value.
Over the past six months, these diseases had spread across nearly 300 million square kilometers. On his previous world, that would cover more than half the planet's surface. But in this vast and boundless world, it was still just a drop in the bucket—far from Orsaga's intended scope.
This was mainly due to the world's slow modes of transportation. Ordinary people didn't have access to things like airplanes, so even the fastest-spreading disease could only move so quickly when hitching a ride on foot traffic.
Orsaga could've easily resolved this bottleneck by enhancing transmissibility and letting his diseases attach to highly mobile supernatural beings, or even by teleporting the diseases across distances himself. But he wasn't planning on doing that—for now.
He needed real-time data to fine-tune the illnesses, and if the spread was too wide, it would become a logistical nightmare to manage. The current expansion pace was just right—allowing him to adapt gradually without being overwhelmed.
"This strain mutated due to environmental factors, but the mortality rate is a bit too high… not exactly subtle. Better extend the incubation period."
"This mutated branch is still acceptable—for now, I'll leave it alone."
"You're just a common cold—why the hell did you evolve to cause mouth ulcers? That's not in your job description."
"This cancer variant developed a hereditary trait? That's way too extreme—what's the point if everyone dies out and no one's left to infect?"
"..."
All these diseases had been released before Orsaga entered his slumber.
And after half a year of incubation, they had taken deep root.
But due to being left unchecked for so long, many had mutated in undesirable directions, and Orsaga was far from pleased with the results. As time went on, the pathogens began evolving based on host characteristics and environmental influences. To avoid future complications, Orsaga had to intervene—reining in their effects and containing them within acceptable bounds.
After several more days of tinkering, he finally resolved all the lingering issues that had piled up during his half-year nap.
Once all the important work was done, Orsaga casually flipped his hand over, and a fist-sized crystal appeared in his palm—its surface radiant and flawless.
The moment it appeared, the entire room was bathed in a dreamlike, dazzling spectrum of light.
It was the color of souls—vibrant and awe-inspiring, capable of stirring the hearts of all who beheld it.
Gazing into the nebula-like swirls flowing within, Orsaga could feel the immense power it contained. He couldn't help but murmur in admiration, "Beautiful…"
This was the trade item given to him by Sarah, now combined with the refined soul energy he had collected over the past six months via his disease vectors—producing this high-purity soul crystal.
This single piece was worth more than a small nation in this world.
And even that was underselling it—it was the kind of treasure that money couldn't usually buy. After all, who would willingly part with such a thing?
Not only were the raw materials exceedingly difficult to obtain, but any large-scale harvesting would instantly draw attacks from all directions. Add to that the complex purification process, and this was a textbook example of a high-risk, high-skill product.
He gently licked the smooth surface, savoring the joy dancing on his taste buds, and nodded in satisfaction.
"It has a faint sweet aroma… almost like candy. Not bad—didn't waste the extra ingredients I threw in during refinement."
Without hesitation, his mouth split open nearly to his ears, and he swallowed the crystal whole in a single gulp.
Immediately, a look of sheer bliss spread across his face.
"Mmm… exquisite. Such a silky-smooth texture—truly divine."
A long moment passed before Orsaga slowly returned to his senses.
"No wonder it tastes better than that contaminated divine soul fragment inside the copper plate—it's purified from millions of souls, after all."
---
At the same time…
In a lavishly decorated mansion in Augustus.
A strikingly beautiful woman sat elegantly in a chair, looking toward a middle-aged man a short distance away. "You've had a week to consider," she said. "What is your decision?"
Though framed as a question, her tone brimmed with confidence—clearly expecting only one answer.
After staring silently at the family crest in his hand for a moment, the man sighed deeply and looked up at her. "We are willing to swear allegiance… to the esteemed Demon Lord Ignarok."
The woman wasn't surprised in the slightest. Smiling brightly, she replied, "Excellent! You will not regret this decision."
"The feeble gods shall be offered up as sacrifices to our great Lord, and we, as his loyal hounds, shall bask in the glory of his rise!"
Hearing such blasphemous words, the man—until recently a devout follower of a God—chose not to respond. He merely lowered his head with an awkward expression and gave a subdued nod.
Seeing this, the woman felt a flicker of irritation—but mostly disdain.
"Fool. You've already picked a side, yet you can't even commit to it."
____
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