The serious matter Alison referred to—
—wasn't anything particularly urgent or important.
It was simply that Orsaga needed to retrieve something from a certain location.
It didn't take long before the two of them arrived at their destination:
A super mountain range composed of countless colossal volcanoes.
This was Kalasaya, a specialized forging zone that required payment to use. It was an officially regulated area under formal authority.
Barring the slaves used for blood sacrifices during the forging of magical artifacts, this place could barely be considered one of the few peaceful regions in the Lava Wastelands.
Ignoring the enthusiastic slave merchants nearby hawking their "consumables," Orsaga casually pulled out a metal token, which opened a spatial portal leading to his private section.
Just obtaining the rights to use this place for two years had cost him thirty generous souls—each one High-Rank Demon.
Stepping out of the spatial portal, he found himself standing on a black stone platform.
With a calm voice, Orsaga said to Alison, "Wait here."
He then stepped across the barrier atop the platform, walking directly into a zone brimming with terrifying heat—his feet sinking into a magma-like sludge.
This was one of the hottest areas in the entire Lava Wastelands, its temperature far exceeding that of stars and imbued with numerous unique effects.
Fortunately, as a flame demon, Orsaga was nearly immune to naturally occurring extreme temperatures. Otherwise, even he wouldn't have been able to step into this place physically and would have been restricted to remote operations from the black platform.
It didn't take long for him to reach the very center of the area, where a towering pillar of scarlet flame was steadily refining something surrounded by layers of magical runes.
With a flick of his finger, the runes dispersed automatically, and the flame pillar unraveled—causing the temperature in the zone to spike even further.
The object hidden within was finally revealed:
Ten rings, primarily dark crimson with accents of gold.
They bore no elaborate patterns or gemstone inlays—looking more like unfinished prototypes.
With a casual gesture from Orsaga, the rings floated out on their own, adjusted to the right size, and slipped onto each of his fingers.
A radiant glow bloomed. The rings' crude appearances began to morph, adapting to Orsaga's personal aesthetics.
In no time, they had completely transformed—engraved with patterns identical to the ones etched on his Malignant Armament, the signature mark of the Deathblossom.
The final design exuded an eerie fusion of divinity and malevolence—contradictory yet harmonious.
After briefly testing their functionality, Orsaga nodded in satisfaction.
1. Storage of negative energy.
2. Resistance to world suppression forces.
Aside from being incredibly tough and durable, the rings had no flashy secondary functions.
But for Orsaga, that was more than enough.
Negative energy was essentially a revival token for him, and resistance to world suppression was an absolute necessity for traveling between realms. Combined with his innate ability Self-Evolution: Malignant Armament, which granted him rapid adaptability, he could immediately engage in combat upon entering any alien world—skipping over the typical vulnerable phase.
As for the durability?
That didn't even need elaboration.
He loved to fight bare-handed. If the rings weren't tough enough, they'd shatter instantly in battle.
To prevent that, Orsaga hadn't just used massive amounts of ultra-dense materials during the forging process—he had even fused his own flesh and blood into the rings. This allowed them to absorb negative energy and repair themselves automatically.
In fact, his blood—already capable of reanimating inanimate objects with plague-born vitality—granted the rings not only regenerative properties, but also unique characteristics.
In a sense, they had become symbiotic with him.
Now, sensing the rings linking with his armor and merging with his innate ability Self-Evolution: Malignant Armament, Orsaga realized something:
These rings were now growth-type equipment—they would evolve alongside him.
"So... what should I name these things?"
That thought had him pausing in contemplation. After all, everyone else had gear with flashy, badass names—he couldn't afford to fall behind.
Ironically, the original idea for the rings had come from a pile of miscellaneous junk he had looted—weapons, armor, magical artifacts, rare materials... All of it had been sitting uselessly in storage because he fought bare-handed and came with built-in armor. They were basically collecting dust.
That's when the idea struck him—to recycle the lot.
Rather than let it all rot, he melted everything down to forge a single piece of useful gear for himself.
The junk had piled higher than Mount Everest, and it would've been a waste not to use it.
Thankfully, among the many corpses he'd created, there were plenty of victims who specialized in forging and enchantment. Combined with his inherited memories and knowledge plundered from the Myling World, nothing had gone to waste.
Under the influence of his talent Void – Revelation, inspiration had poured in non-stop, and he was able to maximize the full potential of every technique—his first serious crafting project had ended in overwhelming success.
As Orsaga stepped back onto the black platform, he stared solemnly at the rings on his fingers.
Alison, slightly puzzled, asked, "Did the forging fail?"
She wasn't the least bit surprised by the idea.
Orsaga had told her himself that he had no experience creating magical gear.
Failure was perfectly reasonable.
If anything, she just felt bad for the sheer amount of resources wasted.
She had personally witnessed him toss in an entire mountain's worth of magical materials—breaking down artifact after artifact just to extract rare elements for the forge.
The amount of money that represented made her scalp tingle.
From a glance alone, she was sure those materials could've been used to create dozens of Lesser Artifacts.
Even emptying the royal treasury of the Elsella Kingdom multiple times probably wouldn't cover it.
And Orsaga had thrown all that in just for practice.
The mere thought made her wince in pain.
All she could say was—Orsaga, this demon who made his fortune without ever investing a cent, had zero understanding of what it meant to earn money the hard way.
He treated cutting people down as both a hobby and a way to make a living.
Not only was it effortless—it was downright enjoyable.
To her question, Orsaga simply shook his head. "It didn't fail. I'm just trying to figure out what to name it. I've come up with dozens of options already, but I haven't decided which one to go with."
"…Just pick one randomly," Alison sighed.
The ever-indecisive Orsaga frowned and gave it some thought—then snapped his fingers.
Dozens of cards floated into the air, their backs turned toward Alison.
"I'll leave it to you. Pick one for me."
Alison rolled her eyes but casually pointed to a card.
On the front, four characters read:
Crimson Sin.
Orsaga finally nodded in approval.
"Perfect. As my long-overdue starter gear, from this day forth, that shall be its name."
____
T/N:
Hello everyone! My Patreon is just $3 — a perfect opportunity to access 70+ advanced chapters and support the translation.
You'll also get access to firsthand girls' pics as a bonus!
🔗 patreon.com/user?u=79514336
Or simply search Translator-Sama on Patreon