[Demon Summoning]—
One of the signature abilities of abyssal demons.
It required no elaborate preparation; greater-ranking demons could summon their kin in any world at will.
The only reason they bothered setting up a formal ritual this ti was simple: the scale.
When summoning millions of demons, you needed a clear destination and stable coordinates. Otherwise, they might just appear anywhere, which could turn chaotic very fast.
Because Orsaga had always found low-ranked demons more trouble than they were worth, and summoning too many at once to be a hassle, he had never used Demon Summoning before.
Now, even though it was his first ti activating the ability, his innate demonic instincts kicked in. Within monts, he'd mastered it completely.
He could clearly distinguish, among the tens of millions of newly arrived abyssal demons, exactly which ones were bound to him by contract.
After exchanging glances with the other Greater-Rank Demons, they simultaneously issued the command:
"Prepare for battle. The enemy could be nearby already."
This kind of situation—arriving in a hostile world with no rest, forced to fight under planar suppression—would have crushed the morale of any other race.
But abyssal demons?
They were thrilled.
The second they heard there was a fight waiting for them, they practically vibrated with joy.
Claws sharpened, wings flared, eyes glowing with bloodlust—it felt like a festive celebration. The atmosphere reeked of "glorious first blood" energy.
So were already looking at their teammates as potential warm-up snacks.
Just then, Orsaga heard a commotion from nearby.
He turned his head and saw a group of mortals surrounded by a pack of low-ranked demons, all of whom wore the sa hungry, predatory grin.
At the center of the group stood a well-dressed middle-aged man—regal in bearing, with a soldier's physique—but right now, he looked like a kicked puppy. Panic in his eyes, he was desperately calling out to one of the Chloroya guild's stewards.
"Lord! Help !!"
Orsaga casually turned to a nearby guild official.
"Who's that?"
The man bowed quickly and replied in a hushed voice,
"My lord, that is the King of the Crownvale Kingdom. It's thanks to his cooperation that we were able to gather so many sacrifices for the ritual."
The mont he heard that, Orsaga understood the real story.
Pointing at one of the grotesque decorative elents on the giant corpse-arch behind them, he asked,
"Those used to be his people?"
"Only so of them," the steward admitted. "When our guild took over this world, we needed a native figure to help administer it. So we had him attack a neighboring kingdom, and during the chaos, he sacrificed the more 'rebellious' citizens. The obedient ones were spared… for now."
He rubbed his hands and forced a smile.
"So, my lord, could you perhaps… restrain the demons you summoned? At least don't let them eat too many civilians. Without soone like the king as a model defector, the other factions in the Seven Seas Realm might resist harder than we'd like…"
Classic strategy
This wasn't the ti to slaughter the pawn—not yet.
You had to fatten the pig before the slaughter.
For now, the Chloroya rchant guild needed the king alive to continue his useful role: lighting the way for others, guiding more fools into the embrace of the Abyss.
Orsaga gave the man a flat look but didn't object.
"Doesn't matter to . Can't speak for the other Greater-Rank Demons though."
Then, he ntally redirected his contracted demons away from the mortal group.
He couldn't care less about why that so-called king had switched sides or why he'd chosen to ally with the guild. But just from a glance, he could already tell the man was far older than he appeared.
His outward appearance was middle-aged and vigorous, but his biological age—based on body condition—was much closer to death's door.
So it wasn't hard to piece it together:
Classic story. Classic motive. Classic end.
Betray your country. Abandon your honor. All for the chance to cheat death.
Orsaga spent two seconds simulating the "plotline" in his head and almost groaned aloud at how stale the narrative was.
'So cliché it hurt.'
And yet, he couldn't argue—it worked. The formula never failed.
Even the wisest and noblest humans, once they grew old and weak, would often succumb to fear. Dentia, paranoia, and desperation made them vulnerable to manipulation.
The fear of death was the great equalizer.
Especially for short-lived species.
All it took was the right opportunity—and they would abandon everything to live just a little longer.
That king had tid it well. Not only did the Chloroya guild honor their deal and restore his youth, but they also had no plans (yet) to dispose of him.
From his perspective, it was a win-win.
Just then, Orsaga noticed the look Alison was giving the king.
It was not a kind one.
He smirked and teased,
"Looks like you really don't like him."
Alison responded truthfully,
"A little. I've seen this kind of thing before—twice, back in the Myling World. Both tis, we paid a heavy price."
Her voice started firm but gradually trailed off into a whisper.
She lacked confidence.
That king hadn't even fully pledged himself to the Abyss yet, and here she was—already halfway down the path.
'What does that make ?'
'Have I gone further down the villain's road than the actual villain?'
The thought unsettled her deeply.
Decades ago, she never would've imagined she'd be living in the Abyss.
Fate truly had a twisted sense of humor.
Orsaga noticed her dazed expression and chuckled.
"Let guess—thinking sad thoughts again?"
Alison glared at him.
"Must be nice," she muttered, "being able to live without a care in the world. All you ever do is eat, drink, stir up trouble… and sohow still enjoy life."
She sounded… jealous.
Orsaga, sensing the envy, proudly patted his head.
"Well—if your strength is high enough and your mindset chill enough, you could live like this too."
Alison shook her head, dejected.
"I don't think I'm capable of that."
"Honestly, neither do I."
He said it straight-faced.
She glared at him again.
anwhile, Golarial stood off to the side, watching them with quiet resignation.
This kind of exchange?
It happened every few days.
___
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