It was another bright, sunny day.
"Want a drink?"
Sitting casually atop a flower, Orsaga lifted his cup of tea and asked the nearby Hawthorne.
"No need."
With a wave of his hand, Hawthorne declined the offer and went straight to the point. "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"
Orsaga gave the same response as before, still uninterested. "As I said earlier, I have no intention of getting involved in your two worlds' war. I'm also not extending our contract. So once the time is up, I'm heading home."
In other words, he was planning to get out early—better to leave before they could drag him into doing grunt work.
Hearing the entirely expected answer, Hawthorne fell silent for a moment before replying, "...Very well, then."
Watching Hawthorne's figure disappear, Orsaga swirled the tea in his cup with a calm expression.
Yet deep down, he felt a twinge of disappointment. If the conversation had completely broken down and Hawthorne had attacked out of anger, maybe he could've squeezed one last payoff before leaving. After all, he knew the academy grounds like the back of his hand. If it came to a fight, he could act swiftly and cleanly.
In his mind, any missed opportunity to make a profit was a loss—so yes, he felt like he'd lost out.
---
After the contract ended...
Layer 6,548,257 of the Abyss,
Inside a city.
Looking around at the familiar but unchanged streets, Orsaga inhaled deeply. The air was laced with sulfur and toxic fumes, yet to him, it smelled like the sweet fragrance of freedom.
Strangely enough, he found himself a little nostalgic.
But after a couple more breaths, he frowned. "Something smells... off."
After a moment of thought, his eyes lit up—he figured out what was wrong!
Without hesitation, he turned and delivered a powerful whip-kick to a nearby demon, reducing the creature to a bloody pulp.
The spray of blood even helped wash the faces of a few stunned bystanders.
Ignoring the still-dazed passersby, Orsaga inhaled the scent of fresh blood and gave a satisfied smile.
Then, with a serious tone, he scolded the crowd, "I've been standing here for several minutes and no one's died? What kind of nonsense is this? Where's your abyssal pride? This kind of good public order—disgraceful!"
As he spoke, he took out a vial from his coat. The potion glowed with a powerful, ghostly blue energy.
It was a creation of his self-taught alchemical skills—a potion known as [Soulwake Elixir], capable of enhancing one's soul sensitivity.
After a brief explanation, he tossed it to a nearby abyssal dwarf and said with a smirk, "Whoever gets it, gets to keep it!"
The next instant, the dwarf was reduced to chunks by the swarm of competitors.
Watching the chaos, Orsaga nodded in approval. "Now this feels like home. Can't have everyone getting along—what would that look like?"
With that, he wandered off, leaving the mess behind.
---
Watching his receding figure, a creature that looked a bit like alien sat in a hovering mechanical chair, staring in disbelief.
He turned to the dark elf beside him and asked, "Is everyone in the Abyss this insane?"
He had assumed Orsaga was up to something, that there was a deeper motive behind his chaotic actions. But no—turns out the guy was just that bored.
"Uh…"
The dark elf thought hard before replying, rather uncertainly, "Not exactly... He's one of the crazier ones. Most abyssal beings are relatively normal compared to him."
"I see…"
Still unconvinced, the alien-like figure looked around. The crowd, though initially fighting over the potion, had now shifted into an all-out brawl. He concluded that the locals were even more deranged than what the reports had described—utterly devoid of logic or restraint.
Even his so-called "guide," the dark elf, only appeared somewhat normal on the surface. He knew full well that if his own civilization didn't have trade relations with the elf's clan, he'd probably have been stabbed in the back already.
And indeed, his suspicions weren't wrong. Unlike the straightforward, violent temperament of demons, dark elves preferred underhanded tactics. They were masters of backstabbing—especially when it came to betraying their own allies.
Trying to form genuine bonds with them? That was a guaranteed shortcut to a miserable death.
---
Of course, Orsaga was unaware of all these background thoughts and worries.
He just felt great.
In the Wizarding World, all those rules meant he had to restrain his demonic urges. But in the Abyss? He could kill anyone who looked at him funny without a second thought.
The sense of liberation was so overwhelming that he almost broke into song.
---
Grigg's Tavern
Standing in front of the battered, heavily patched signboard, Orsaga sighed, "Ah… good old place. The name's still the same. Looks like the owner hasn't died in the last few centuries. A bit of a shame, honestly."
Though only a hundred years had passed in the Wizarding World, time in the Abyss flowed differently. Nearly four hundred years had passed here, and he had assumed the tavern was long gone. But not only had it survived, even the owner hadn't changed.
As he stepped inside, he saw a familiar figure behind the bar amidst the crowd of patrons.
The bartender, though recognizable, was in worse shape than before—missing about a third of his many arms, and apparently blind in one eye. Basically, a half cripple.
Orsaga walked over like an old regular and said casually, "Bartender, give me a drink. Anything you like."
Grigg, the bartender, squinted at Orsaga. Though he couldn't quite place him, something about this guest felt familiar. "Alright, one moment please."
As he mixed the drink, he asked with a polite smile, "You seem a bit unfamiliar. Have you been here before?"
Only then did Orsaga realize he was still in his human form. Thanks to his innate abilities, very few could see through it. He simply reverted to his true form.
In an instant, a six-meter-tall armored demon appeared before Grigg. His features were humanoid, but his skin was engraved with countless floral patterns—grotesque and terrifying.
Grigg looked up at the towering figure, stunned. The familiar markings instantly triggered his memory.
He had secretly investigated Orsaga long ago, but the trail had gone cold after a decade, so he gave up.
Now, standing before him, Orsaga was not only significantly taller, but also radiating a power far beyond what he once had. Though technically still a High Rank Demon, his strength clearly surpassed others of that rank—he could probably crush them with a flick of his finger.
'How did he become this powerful?!'
'Damn it—he's definitely hiding some huge secret! I should've made my move back then!'
Jealousy nearly spilled out of his heart, but Grigg maintained a professional smile and handed over the drink.
Orsaga downed it in one gulp, savoring the taste.
"Mmm, still as good as ever."
"Thank you for the compliment," Grigg replied with a smile.
"All these years, I still think of your drinks from time to time."
"Well—"
The two chatted idly for a bit, until Orsaga decided it was time to leave.
Grigg quickly said, "Take care! We hope to see you again soon!"
Orsaga replied nonchalantly, "There won't be a next time. I've decided to learn mixology myself."
Grigg froze for a moment. It was the first time a customer had said something like that to his face.
His expression twitched slightly before returning to normal. "Well, best of luck to you."
But Orsaga waved his hand dismissively. "No, no—I'll need your help to succeed."
"?"
Before Grigg could process what that meant—
A tremendous force slammed into him.
His hidden defenses triggered emergency warnings, but it was already too late.
Grigg's expression changed as a massive hand reached forward and completely blocked his view.
Orsaga grabbed his head like a toy and slowly lifted him off the ground, his smile growing cold and cruel.
The grip tightened.
Crack…
In a burst of agony, Grigg heard the sound of his own skull beginning to crack. He struggled violently.
All around them, patrons and staff alike paled in horror at the overwhelming aura of both beings.
They turned to flee, fearing they'd be caught in the crossfire—but with their strength, they didn't even have time to run.
A moment later, crimson flames erupted from Orsaga's hand, engulfing the entire tavern in an instant.
Be it living creatures, physical materials, or pure energy—everything was consumed in a furious blaze. Grigg, being the closest, took the full force with his face.
Sometime later, Orsaga casually walked out from the crystallized ruins of the bar, ignoring the terrified bystanders.
He muttered to himself, "So that succubus is already dead... what a shame."
___
T/N:
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