"..."
"What happened to you?"
Golarial looked puzzled as she watched Orsaga hand over a sum of money to the city guards.
Having sensed his return, she had rushed over to greet him—only to be met with this unexpected sight.
After handing over the fine, Orsaga casually threw an arm around her and answered with a smile, "I just killed a few random people passing by. Got a little too excited and lost control—smashed some public structures, so now he's here fining me for the damages."
Golarial was left speechless by the explanation.
There were certain aspects of Orsaga's behavior—and interests—that she simply couldn't comprehend.
But after spending a few years in the Abyss, she had grown somewhat numb to it all.
At least Orsaga still understood the concept of friend and foe. He just liked killing strangers, that's all. When dealing with those he was on decent terms with, his thought process was still more or less normal, and his attitude was actually pretty good.
Unlike some abyssal demons, who had long since lost all sense of loyalty or distinction—going berserk to the point of trying to kill themselves.
Beyond that, the so-called laws of this city also left Golarial at a loss for words.
Here, killing wasn't considered a big deal—as long as you didn't go around committing mass slaughter.
But touch a decorative bush or crack a couple of decorative tiles?
Fined. Immediately.
In most cases, a life wasn't even worth two unremarkable floor tiles.
Unless, of course, you were a scavenger.
Those people were always waiting to snatch up discarded corpses to supplement their meals—so naturally, they cared more about whether someone lived or died.
Doing everything they could to avoid letting bodies rot in the wilderness.
In that sense, perhaps scavengers were the last flicker of warmth left in the Abyss. In this heartless hell, people who still cared about the lives of strangers were vanishingly rare.
Orsaga leaned in and sniffed slightly, catching a faint scent off Golarial. Curious, he asked,
"By the way, where's Alison? Why isn't she with you?"
In his eyes, Alison and Golarial were practically soulmates.
If one of them had been a man, they probably would've gotten married already.
Golarial's expression dimmed slightly as she replied with a touch of sadness,
"She's hurt. Recuperating."
Orsaga scratched his head nonchalantly. "With her strength, she's considered fairly capable even in the Abyss. Was she ambushed?"
Although he got along decently with Alison, there wasn't anything deeper between them.
Their friendship existed mostly because of Golarial.
So hearing that Alison was injured didn't stir much concern in him.
Feeling a little awkward, Golarial explained,
"Not exactly. She was out gathering herbs near the outskirts of the city and got caught in the crossfire when two Archdemon suddenly started fighting. One stray blast hit her."
It was a very Abyss-style explanation—and Orsaga didn't even know how to respond.
After all, the idea of "freedom to live, randomness in death" wasn't just some joke here.
Special zones like Ashkarath were already considered relatively safe—not because they were truly secure, but at least you wouldn't randomly get flattened by a stray, unidentified AOE blast out of nowhere.
The moment you stepped outside the city, it wouldn't be unheard of to run into a starship firing off a planet-cracker.
In the Abyss, you basically had to reach Archdemon Rank just to be barely considered capable of protecting yourself.
While Alison had been a true demigod back in the Myling World and could go toe-to-toe with Greater Demons, that was only because abyssal demons had part of their power suppressed by that world's planar laws.
In terms of raw power, she was still a half-step below the Greater Demon Rank.
Plus, when it came to things like vitality, defense, or poison resistance... she was clearly inferior to Abyss-born demons.
Injuries that would be minor to a demon could be fatal for elves like Alison.
Listening to Orsaga's indifferent tone, Golarial puffed up her cheeks in frustration and jabbed him in the waist—twice.
Direct hits to the kidneys.
Fortunately, he was currently in human form. If he'd been in his demon form, her fingers probably would've snapped trying to poke through his armor plating.
Orsaga frowned slightly. "Why are you poking me…? Fine, I'll heal her, alright?"
He didn't really care about his kidneys—he could regrow them in minutes even if they were torn out—but it was still uncomfortable getting jabbed like that.
And only because it was Golarial. If anyone else had done that, their head would've been twisted off.
Hearing his promise, Golarial's gloomy expression instantly lifted into a smile.
She knew Orsaga well. His ability to save people was just as terrifying as his ability to kill.
It's just that he preferred to harm others—whether it helped him or not—and couldn't be bothered with saving people.
To him, the only reason he'd learned medical techniques at all was to better understand how to kill people more efficiently.
His so-called healing knowledge existed solely so he could use it in reverse—to sabotage those trying to save others.
That, to Orsaga, was fun.
Every aspect of his combat skills, every disease he created, reflected this twisted mindset.
Golarial had only discovered his exceptional medical abilities by accident.
No one else had any clue that a demon from the Abyss like Orsaga had reached a level of healing expertise that could only be described as masterful.
It was the kind of skill that could found an academy and recruit students from across the realms.
For Orsaga, as long as someone wasn't outright dead, he could usually fix them up.
And even if they were truly physically dead, with his skills, he could perform a literal resurrection.
After all, he was a master of souls.
Even if someone's soul had been shattered beyond recognition, as long as he had a piece of their tissue, he could reconstruct them using their bodily memory.
Though even he wasn't quite sure if the result was really the original person… or just a particularly detailed clone.
Not long after, the two of them arrived at their destination.
Orsaga casually pushed open the door, which was heavily reinforced with defensive wards.
Wards that could normally stop most Greater Demons—yet didn't react in the slightest this time.
After all, he was the one who had built them.
Thanks to the vast amount of knowledge and memories he'd absorbed, his expertise in this area was at grandmaster level.
The kind of mastery that could open a school and attract disciples from all corners of the multiverse.
Inside, on a large bed, Alison lay wrapped up like a mummy, quietly resting.
The moment she heard the door open, her eyes snapped open and she instinctively prepared to defend herself.
Only when she saw it was Orsaga and Golarial did she finally relax again.
Her half-bandaged face was pale and bloodless. She looked at the two of them and muttered weakly,
"You didn't even bring me any fruit…"
Seeing her so frail, Orsaga didn't respond to her words. He simply reached out and gently touched her heavily-bandaged cheek.
He sighed with genuine regret.
"Such a shame… You were so pretty. What a waste."
Hearing that, Alison's expression dimmed even further.
She instinctively shrank back from his hand, trying to pull away.
For elves—creatures almost obsessed with beauty—disfigurement was a crushing blow.
Psychologically, it was like a pervert suddenly discovering they were now impotent.
In just a split second, their once-vibrant world could be reduced to ashes.
___
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