For Orsaga and the other four Greater-Rank Demons, clearing out the remaining disobedient factions posed absolutely no challenge.
It was like an adult stomping on ants. Aside from the inconvenience of traveling between scattered targets, there was barely any combat involved at all.
Given their sheer scale and power, every gesture of theirs easily wiped out resistance.
To Orsaga, this didn't even qualify as a task. At most, it felt like a slow-paced jog for the sake of stretching his legs.
With a movent speed exceeding hundreds of tis the speed of sound and a body surface temperature that easily exceeded six figures, just flying over a target area was enough to annihilate it.
The shockwaves and heat generated by his flight alone were sufficient to level buildings and incinerate their inhabitants.
In fact, to avoid causing unnecessary global devastation, he had to deliberately slow down. Otherwise, one full-speed lap around the planet would be enough to erase half of its surface civilization.
---
For comparison:
High-Rank Demons in this world were generally equivalent to national-level or continental-level threats, depending on their individual capabilities.
The weaker ones were on par with elite mortals; the stronger ones approached the level of weaker gods.
Given enough ti and resources, the mortal races could potentially defeat High-Rank Demons, assuming no external factors interfered.
But Greater-Rank Demons were an entirely different matter.
They started at mid-rank divine power. And among them, the five handpicked for this invasion were all exceptional.
Even the weakest among the five could go toe-to-toe with a major divine God, even one backed by world's will.
For the mortals of this world, facing them was like facing a natural disaster incarnate.
If no one of equal Rank intervened, any one of them could easily destroy the world alone.
In fact, excluding Orsaga, each of the other four had already destroyed more than one world across their long lifespans.
Granted, those were all weaker, low-tier worlds…
Still, it didn't change the fact that in such worlds, the simplest thod for apocalypse was to dig down to the planet's core, and unleash spells to destabilize it from within.
Why bother with walls and armies when you could just tear up the foundation?
But there was a flaw to that thod:
The souls of those who died in such "natural disasters" didn't always go to the demons.
And if there were no souls to collect…
Then what was the point of destroying the world?
So in the end, that kind of "quick work" often turned out to be a case of picking up pennies and dropping gold. Far better to take it slow and slaughter carefully.
---
Two hours later.
Another low-altitude flyover.
After making a single loop over a target island, the searing heat and pressure from Orsaga's presence lted it into a giant sheet of glass.
As for the inhabitants? Vaporized. No resistance, no surrender—most didn't even realize how they died.
Even hiding dozens of ters underground proved useless.
At that kind of thermal intensity, anything above a hundred ters deep was basically a stear, cooking those within alive.
Another one down…
Calmly hovering in midair, Orsaga absorbed the souls of the dead and unfurled his scroll to select the next target.
The dense list of locations had already been halved.
To him, the scroll felt like a nu.
Each entry listed approximate population numbers and general coordinates—basically like dish descriptions and serving sizes.
Convenient, efficient, and easy to choose from.
He even felt like he was browsing lunch options.
Whether those factions had hidden traps or backup plans didn't matter—none of them could pose a threat to him.
Just as he was wondering which "lucky dish" to pick next—
His third eye narrowed slightly.
A faint, transparent barrier appeared in front of him—just in ti to block a dagger that had suddenly materialized.
Compared to Orsaga's towering, 50-ter fra, the dagger was barely the size of his fingernail.
And while the energy within it wasn't weak, it wasn't strong either.
Trying to stab him with it was like jabbing a sewing needle at an elephant.
His expression remained perfectly calm as he looked at the attacker and said:
"You've got guts, I'll give you that~"
The assailant's strength wasn't even enough to beat a High-Rank Demon, yet here she was attempting to assassinate a Greater-Rank one.
She clearly had a death wish—a proper connoisseur of suicidal bravery.
---
While he mused on that, Orsaga's long tail whipped forward.
In a flash, the pointed tip pierced clean through the woman's abdon and lifted her into the air before him.
He calmly t her gaze, which was full of fury and defiance.
She was a regal-looking mature woman, clad in high-quality, exquisitely crafted light armor.
Her figure was flawless—on par with Golarial and Alison, if not even more striking in her own way.
The only blemish was her deathly pale complexion, caused by the hole through her stomach.
Under normal circumstances, that kind of injury was manageable for soone of her level.
But under the oppressive weight of Orsaga's authority and power, the pain beca excruciating—her whole body felt like it was convulsing.
It was a sensation far beyond ordinary human tolerance.
If she weren't biting down hard on her lip, she would've already scread.
---
Orsaga had retracted his surface heat, deliberately keeping her from being incinerated.
Then, tilting his head with faint curiosity, he asked:
"From the look in your eyes, I see more than just anger. There's confusion too. Got questions?. Well, since you're fairly easy on the eyes—and showed the courtesy of delivering yourself—I'll answer one."
The woman, who had fully expected to die within seconds, blinked in stunned silence.
Her face twitched with pain, but after a few seconds of thought, she gritted her teeth and forced out a question:
"Why did you invade our world in such a cruel way?. You clearly had the power to take over more peacefully…"
For a brief mont, Orsaga looked disappointed.
"...Ugh, that's your question?. How boring."
He shook his head.
"Obviously, because this thod is easier. Any alternative approach would still provoke resistance—leading to all kinds of ssy problems. Better to just wipe out anyone who won't submit. That way, most problems are handled before they even begin."
"You…"
It was an honest answer—but not one she could accept.
She opened her mouth, wanting to protest or ask sothing more.
But Orsaga didn't give her the chance.
In a blink, he extracted her flesh and soul—leaving nothing behind but unspoken frustration.
Then he scanned her mories.
In an instant, the reason for her suicide mission beca clear.
"Oh~, So those remnants of the Three Great Churches ford a special group, huh? Planning to stir up trouble."
"How convenient."
No need to choose his next target after all.
Spreading his wings, Orsaga turned and flew straight toward their headquarters.
__
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