Chapter 230: Cleanup ( part 1)
After the High-Rank Demon left, Golarial casually commented,
"He seemed pretty afraid of you."
She had keenly noticed that from start to finish, the demon hadn't dared look away from Orsaga—not even for a second. Even the two elves standing next to him were completely ignored.
"Isn't that normal?"
Orsaga replied while slurping his noodles.
"He's a demon I summoned—and I could crush him with one hand. What's so strange about being afraid?"
His tone was flat, devoid of emotion, as if he were talking about some ordinary object.
To him, High-Rank or Lesser-Rank Demons were all the same—just disposable tools for specific tasks.
Golarial offered a gentle suggestion,
"I think you could consider nurturing some loyal subordinates—start building a foundation for your future demon army."
But Orsaga shook his head, rejecting the idea outright. That sort of thinking belonged to normal races—it didn't apply to Abyssal Demons.
"Not necessary. They're just lackeys. When the time comes, I'll conscript them by force. The obedient ones can stay. The disobedient ones? I'll kill them and use them as raw materials."
Faced with such blunt, ruthless words, both Golarial and Alison couldn't help but sweat a little.
"Lackeys… You're really not one to sugarcoat things, are you?"
Orsaga raised a brow, puzzled.
"Why sugarcoat it?, If I'm stronger than they are, then being chosen by me is their honor. If someone thinks otherwise, it's because there's something wrong with their thinking."
Seeing how seriously he meant it, Golarial could only sigh and nod.
"…Okay. I suppose that does make a certain kind of sense."
The logic of Abyssal Demons was often simple and brutally direct.
In just a few plain sentences, Orsaga had laid out his entire ideology:
Freedom. Democracy. Harmony.
He was free. He was democratic. He was harmonious.
Everyone else? They were freed, democratized, and harmonized—by force.
It was, in a way, flawless logic.
Truly a doctrine fit to be taught in the Abyss—Orsaga might well qualify as a great philosophical thinker down there.
At least, Golarial and Alison could only admire the "purity" of his worldview.
---
Inside the city…
A city guard was staggering under the weight of a large sack stuffed with gold, silver, and jewels, running frantically through various city gates like a headless chicken.
After crossing a pile of rubble, he came upon a tightly sealed gate—and immediately knew it was a dead end.
The city gates weren't just normal doors—they were magical constructs, bound to the city walls with powerful enchantments.
Once shut, they couldn't be opened without a special command.
Climbing over or digging under was useless too, thanks to spatial magic that regular people couldn't even perceive, let alone bypass.
Unless you possessed extraordinary power, there was no getting through.
Now, after already trying two other escape points and failing, the guard's expression was one of utter despair.
"Damn it! Can't get out here either!"
When the eastern wall fell, he had wasted no time recognizing that the situation was hopeless.
He deserted immediately and, relying on his years of patrol experience, looted various wealthy shops across the city—grabbing as many valuables as he could.
He had no intention of making a heroic last stand.
In fact, he was even a little glad for the chaos—it had given him the perfect excuse to cash out and start a new life elsewhere.
According to his plan, by now he should've been well on his way to "escaping poverty."
But this sealed gate shattered that dream entirely.
His face darkened.
'Damn it. The main force is attacking the east, and there's nothing going on in this direction—so why is this gate locked too? Could someone have locked down the entire city from the inside?'
As he mulled this over, another thought struck him:
Where were the guards stationed here?
At the last two gates he'd tried, at least there had been soldiers still trying to figure out how to open the doors.
But here—nothing.
No guards. Not even other refugees.
Just as a chill ran down his spine and he turned to leave—
The ground beneath his feet opened up into a pit.
Beneath the tiles, fleshy structures like a gaping mouth became visible.
The moment he fell in, the splash of something wet echoed up from the depths.
"Number 126,774! Delicious! I love buffets!"
A guttural demonic voice echoed in the air.
There, hidden beneath the gate, was a High-Rank Demon.
Instead of roaming the city to hunt for prey, he had cleaned out this section earlier and decided to sit back and wait for food to come to him.
It was less effort and, honestly, more efficient.
And he was quite satisfied with the results.
---
Just then, another figure appeared nearby.
It was the same High-Rank Demon who had spoken with Orsaga earlier.
He wasted no time getting to the point.
"Enough stalling. The Lesser-Rank Demons have already taken their spoils and are withdrawing per the contract.
Let's finish this up and get out. The local forces are probably starting to realize something's off."
The demon hidden underground grumbled in dissatisfaction.
"So soon?"
He'd grown rather fond of the whole open mouth, wait for food tactic.
"Pop!"
With a sound like a suction cup peeling off glass, a grotesque worm-like creature—over fifty meters long—slithered out of the ground.
Its massive body twisted like a giant anaconda as it muttered irritably,
"I'm only about 80% full…"
The other demon snapped, clearly annoyed.
"Not my problem. Finish off the stragglers—I don't want this affecting our next move."
The worm glared and growled back, opening its enormous maw.
"You dare yell at me? Keep it up and I'll kill you first…"
Then it reared up, towering like a serpent, and let out a deep roar.
A jet of pitch-black liquid—darker than ink—spewed from its mouth into the sky.
The fluid rained down slowly over one-third of the city.
Everything it touched—buildings, creatures, debris—melted rapidly, as if snow under scorching sun.
In the remaining two-thirds of the city, similar scenes unfolded.
Though the effects were different—some used black rain, others had different methods—the results were the same.
A wave of destruction.
And so, the remaining survivors throughout the city—those who had somehow lasted this long—began fighting back in desperation.
But no matter what they did…
It was all in vain.
__
T/N:
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