A desolate mountain.
It wasn't particularly tall—only about three to five hundred ters.
Within several kiloters of its base, the land was overgrown with tangled, chaotic thickets. Hidden among the low shrubs were twisted vines, each one grotesquely adorned with human faces.
If one looked closely enough, beneath the veil of creeping vines, they could just make out the ruins of a small town.
Buildings, roads, vehicles... all clearly of modern design, yet the level of decay made them appear as though they had weathered centuries of ti.
As the breeze swept past, faint wails—so soft they felt like hallucinations—floated through the air, sending a ripple of unease through the silence.
Standing at the edge, Orsaga inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of resentnt lingering in the air.
His usually calm deanor lightened just a bit.
To him, this sweet, intoxicating air was a long-lost pleasure.
After taking it in for a while, sensing the power of the spirit lurking in the distance, he smiled and praised, "On such a low-tier planet, to have reached the peak of the Lesser Demon Rank in just over a decade... that's truly impressive. On another world, you might've even been the protagonist."
According to the local power classification of this world, the creature hiding within the mountain could fully be considered a top-tier Vengeful Spirit.
Just a step away from advancing to Evil Spirit—a Rank that would allow free movent.
It was, without question, the most powerful spirit he had encountered here in recent years.
Though luck had certainly played a role.
Several decades ago, this mountain had been a battlefield. Beneath its soil lay the bones of over a hundred thousand corpses, brimming with resentful energy—ideal nourishnt for malevolent entities. Add in the fact that a small town was nearby, with little in the way of defenses, and it had everything needed for rapid growth.
It had simply exploited a loophole and advanced faster than the others.
But Orsaga didn't find anything wrong with that. After all, luck was a part of strength.
In response to his praise, the vine-covered shrubs began to stir.
Like cobras poised to strike, the twisted, face-covered vines slowly rose into the air.
Their disfigured faces ceased their wailing and all turned their gaze toward him—filled with hostility and warning.
"Leave."
"Leave."
"Leave."
"Lea—"
Invisible psychic energy conveyed the command with unmistakable clarity.
Orsaga only gave a casual chuckle.
His gaze bypassed the kiloters of terrain and the hundreds of ters of soil, directly locking onto the creature hiding within the vines—observing him.
He analyzed it thoroughly, inside and out.
Then he nodded in approval. "Quite a good foundation. A few more beatings and you should break through... I imagine you'll taste quite nice by then."
His tone was no different than one might use when evaluating a fattened pig awaiting slaughter.
In that instant, the spirit—now possessing a degree of sentience due to its growing power—was instantly enraged!
Tens of thousands of vines lashed out like venomous serpents, stabbing toward Orsaga.
So dense were their numbers that they ford a writhing, living wave.
But Orsaga simply raised a hand and pinched the air.
In that mont, the several-hundred-ter mountain crumbled like a child's sandcastle, exploding into dust.
The spirit, despite the distance of several kiloters, was seized in an instant and dragged into his hand.
The tidal wave of vines disintegrated simultaneously.
Still reeling in shock, the spirit froze in place.
It wasn't until much later that it finally reacted.
Staring into Orsaga's golden vertical pupils—now just inches away—it scread in madness, "Spare ! Spare !"
Orsaga rely shook his head calmly. "Still a bit slow in the head..."
Just then, the distant sound of engines and marching feet echoed across the land.
It was the sound of vehicles and troops advancing.
Though they were over ten kiloters away, to Orsaga, it might as well have been right next to him.
He could see the sweat on the soldiers' faces with perfect clarity.
"They're being controlled..."
Through both tangible and intangible barriers, his vision pierced directly into the soldiers' brains—and deeper, into their souls.
He clearly saw a foreign force manipulating them.
Judging by the frequency of that power, Orsaga instantly dismissed the spirit in his hand as the source.
There was simply no comparison.
[Advanced Spell – Eye of Eliza]
As the spell activated, a strange wave radiated outward from him, siphoning a fragnt of energy from the soldiers and using it to trace the origin of the control across countless barriers.
In Orsaga's eyes, the view rapidly shifted—underground, under the sea, across plains, within sprawling cities, even into distant, unknown starfields. Scene after scene unfolded before him.
It was as if the entity behind that power had left traces everywhere.
As the shifting visions accelerated, a far more potent and sinister energy suddenly erged from an unknown location. It forcibly shattered the structure of Eye of Eliza, cutting off the trace entirely.
Not only that—the force began to reverse-track the spell, targeting Orsaga himself.
However, after such a long chain of consumption, the remaining power was weak and had no opportunity to manifest.
Orsaga's Malignant Armant neutralized it effortlessly.
Rather than being angry at the failed trace, or nervous about the reverse-probe, Orsaga actually smiled—delighted.
Ever since arriving in this dinsion, he had been unsure whether the spirit on this planet were a natural phenonon or the result of so external force.
He hadn't been able to get a read on it.
But just now, from the characteristics of that energy, he finally got his answer.
These occurrences were indeed caused by an external force—and its master was currently on this planet.
They were likely watching him even now.
It seed that his continued collection of anomalies and Spirits had finally drawn their attention.
Given that this mysterious presence still hadn't acted directly, Orsaga inferred that while it might be slightly more powerful than him, it couldn't be by much.
After a thorough sweep and finding no unusual traces, he muttered to himself, a little exasperated: "Quite the hider..."
Just then, a series of thunderous booms rang out from afar.
"BOOM BOOM!!"
The sound of artillery firing.
That military force, whose original mission was to guard the mountain and prevent the spirit's spread, had clearly had its orders changed after being taken over.
Perhaps this was to test Orsaga's temperant.
Or perhaps to test his capabilities.
But whatever the reason, the mont they attacked him—whether under control or not—their fate was sealed.
Orsaga had never cared why soone offended him.
As the high-speed shells approached, he exhaled gently.
That breath instantly turned into wind-fed fire, rapidly transforming into a towering storm of fla hundreds of ters tall.
It swept forward, engulfing the entire military force.
Artillery shells, vehicles, dazed soldiers—everything was incinerated in an instant.
All that remained was a sea of fire, burning across several kiloters.
After completing this, Orsaga waited a while in the sa spot.
But when no counterattack ca, he curled his lips in disdain and opened a spatial rift—vanishing without a trace.
_____
T/N:
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