A long time passed.
Hank, who couldn't detect anything wrong with himself no matter how thoroughly he examined his body, turned toward Hetto, whose face had turned ashen as if he'd just recovered from a severe illness.
Confused by his ally's condition, Hank asked, "What happened to you just now?"
It was worth noting that a Knight could easily handle ten strong men, and a Great Knight could effortlessly defeat ten Knights. Such individuals served as pillars of any nation, capable of single-handedly facing a hundred enemies on the battlefield. How could he suddenly appear half-dead without any apparent cause?
Seeing Hank's bewildered expression, Hetto drew a deep breath. After a moment's hesitation, he explained, "I've possessed a special innate ability since childhood: I can sense whether surrounding creatures pose threats to me, and the greater the danger, the faster my heart races.
Just now, when I laid eyes on that person, my heart immediately began pounding as if it would burst from my chest, making me dizzy and unable to breathe. I nearly fainted. I've never experienced such intensity before..."
After considering further, he added grimly, "Though I don't know his exact strength, he is definitely not someone we can resist. There's absolutely no comparison. Even when I was young and encountered a wild wolf, I never felt such profound mortal terror—as if he could casually strangle me to death, and no amount of resistance would make any difference."
By the end, his tone had become utterly despondent, completely abandoning his initial determined expression.
After listening, Hank gritted his teeth and pressed, "Do you feel any abnormalities in your body now? Do you know what method he used on us?"
"I don't sense any irregularities, but what he employed must be the techniques of those mysterious practitioners. They're always extremely skilled in these strange and unpredictable arts, which is precisely why the Church hunts them relentlessly day and night."
Hetto had encountered many who called themselves spellcasters. In his experience, they were eccentric madmen who spent their days lurking in dark corners, often spouting nonsense and occasionally suffering fits of insanity.
Those people regarded everyone else as fools, and others generally reciprocated the sentiment.
Hank stroked his chin, lost in contemplation.
Though it appeared that not only he and Hetto, but all the others, showed no immediate reaction after suffering that strange assault, Hank instinctively felt things wouldn't remain so simple—especially remembering Ol'ksa's parting words: 'I hope you can endure for a few more days.' This convinced him the gray-black mist was definitely not benign.
However, he considered the Church's hatred for spellcasters, and how this place reeked of evil influence. He felt he might be able to find a way to summon external aid...
Ol'ksa paid little attention to the prisoners' activities after releasing the plague upon them. He simply used Source of Death Plague to monitor their physical conditions, constantly making subtle adjustments to the disease's intensity and characteristics. The incubation period couldn't be excessively long, the symptoms couldn't be too obvious, and the initial pain couldn't be too severe. He needed to discover the optimal balance point.
The captives in the cage served as test subjects for achieving that balance. Regardless of their identities or thoughts, such details mattered little; the outcome had been predetermined from the beginning.
After all, for humans who fell into a demon's grasp, escaping unharmed was practically impossible.
Though Ol'ksa wasn't as obsessed with human souls as other demons—merely treating them as equally valuable building blocks for growth—demonic nature dictated that he wouldn't abandon benefits already within reach.
It's already at your mouth; how could you let it escape?
In this world, after a period of observation, Ol'ksa—combining knowledge from his inherited memories with personal investigations—had come to understand why demons were so enthusiastic about planar invasions, even when targets existed everywhere within the Abyss.
If Abyssal creatures were all eccentric, there might be many innocent victims, but the Abyss's inhabitants were truly too simple-minded. They were either psychopaths or homicidal maniacs, plus numerous outstanding individuals who constantly sought to destroy the world and even themselves. Finding trouble with such beings proved genuinely difficult, making it challenging for everyone to engage in joyful burning, killing, and looting.
Other planes, however, were different. Their inhabitants possessed far less natural talent than Abyssal dwellers. Most had relatively simple minds, were physically weak, and resembled delicate sprouts. Many common Abyssal elements—like the very air itself—could easily prove fatal to them, making them excellent targets for harvesting.
Naturally, these realms became prime targets for Abyssal creatures to terrorize.
As for what happened when they attempted to bully the weak but got overwhelmed instead?
Did that even qualify as a problem in the Abyss?
For most inhabitants there, existence meant either killing others or being killed by others!
When he'd dwelt in the Howling Forest, Ol'ksa had attempted to set the woodland ablaze, but Abyssal plants possessed varying degrees of resilience, making widespread fires impossible to sustain. In this world, however, the situation was entirely different!
It was incredibly simple to accomplish!
Ordinary vegetation simply couldn't prevent his Bloodflame from expanding its burning range.
Even stone and common soil could be consumed by Bloodflame.
If he weren't wary of the world consciousness forcibly ejecting him, Ol'ksa was confident he could incinerate the entire Marton Duchy.
So he chose a more subtle approach—one that wouldn't create such dramatic disturbances, avoiding immediate attention and attacks from all directions.
After considerable deliberation, plagues and diseases became his intended tools!
Regardless of the world, disease remained a natural phenomenon, yet it also possessed considerable destructive power, devastation potential, and transmissibility. As long as the plague's spread and lethality could be controlled, it ranked among the finest weapons of mass destruction.
Finally, after extensive consideration, Ol'ksa used the evolution system to develop the special talent Source of Death Plague. In his estimation, this would serve as the primary ability responsible for harvesting 'crops' in the future. Bloodflame's targeting and characteristics were too obvious, suitable for direct, forceful approaches, while spells would provide more diverse methods, allowing him to create problems in any situation.
Hank and the others served as his initial test subjects. He needed to record the plague's actual effects through their real-time reactions and continuously modify its characteristics and intensity to ultimately achieve optimal balance.
It couldn't develop too rapidly, preventing adequate spread. It couldn't progress too slowly, showing no reaction until too late. The initial symptom intensity couldn't be excessive; ideally, they should remain lively and active during early stages...
The detailed data required for these parameters would need to be slowly refined through Ol'ksa's experimentation to achieve ideal results.
Furthermore, different races possessed varying physical constitutions, so the same plague would require corresponding adjustments to remain effective. All manner of complicated variables needed clear establishment.
It truly made Ol'ksa feel as though he were conducting scientific research, which gave him slight headaches.
Fortunately, he possessed Overclocked Brain; otherwise, he definitely couldn't manage these complexities...
Proper research required either a team or advanced communication networks for collaboration with others. Attempting to climb the viral technology tree alone was genuinely challenging.
Fortunately, he had the evolution system, granting him unique advantages in many endeavors; otherwise, he would never have entertained the notion of conducting research.
While walking beside the manor's pond, Ol'ksa subtly manipulated various muscle groups throughout his body using training methods from both Monk and Fighter professions, exercising control over his physical form. During spare moments, he also contemplated: The time spent observing the virus can't be wasted. I need to research spell models and fundamental energy applications for low-level magic. My energy utilization methods remain far too crude.
Another two months passed.
At midnight, dim moonlight filtered through the manor grounds.
Faint candlelight illuminated the objects within the room.
Ol'ksa stroked his chin, observing Jem Woz kneeling before him, and asked calmly, "You want me to help the Marton Duchy defeat the Yar Duchy and win this war?"
"Yes, my lord."
Jem bowed his head deeply, speaking with utmost respect.
Nodding, Ol'ksa inquired further, "Then what is the price? What compensation are you prepared to offer?"
Though he temporarily avoided personally engaging in widespread slaughter, even so, helping a group of mortals win an ordinary war posed no difficulty whatsoever. He possessed methods to achieve the desired effect and could accomplish it with mere gestures.
Jem didn't hesitate, immediately presenting the conditions he had long prepared: "If we achieve victory in this war, we will exile all prisoners to a distant, barren island across the sea. That location will become your sacrificial ground, to be handled as you see fit."
After several months of careful observation, he had generally discerned some habits of the demon before him: cruel and cunning, exactly as described in historical records, even exceeding them. However, his temperament proved unexpectedly stable; he never erupted in fury even when someone acted rashly in his presence. Beyond that, he also possessed strange self-discipline, as if every day followed meticulous planning.
Ol'ksa enjoyed slaughter and Soul Plunder.
This was something Jem felt absolutely certain about, but why the demon behaved so restrainedly within the capital remained puzzling. He had originally prepared for major disturbances throughout the city, yet not even the servants he'd deliberately arranged as potential sacrifices had met with accidents. This completely contradicted demonic nature.
The demon's actions seem subject to some form of limitation... he reasoned.
Regarding Jem's proposal, Ol'ksa expressed neither opposition nor agreement, merely sipping his tea calmly, as if deep in thought.
Listening to the soft sound of tea being consumed, Jem felt his heart begin racing uncontrollably, so he lowered his head and began counting dust particles on the floor.
Time passed gradually. Just as Jem thought his proposal was about to be rejected, Ol'ksa spoke:
"I accept your request."