The population of the Elsella Kingdom wasn't especially large—but it wasn't small either.
Tens of millions, at least.
Among them, more than half were ordinary civilians who possessed only basic supernatural abilities. They could perhaps bully so mortals, but in the Abyss, even that was aningless—they'd drop dead instantly upon encountering an Abyssal demon.
They couldn't even guarantee victory against the lowest rung of the food chain—those juvenile demons barely out of infancy, creatures that were often considered walking rations.
So trying to find a safe refuge for them within the Abyss was practically impossible.
After all, for those at the very bottom of the food chain, no place is truly safe. Even the floor becos a battleground—any passing creature might stomp them flat.
But Orsaga didn't need to limit his options to the Abyss.
Across the vast multiverse, there were still plenty of reasonably safe worlds out there.
In fact, it didn't take him more than a mont to co up with several viable candidates.
However, finding a location was just one part of the problem.
Interplanar migration wasn't as simple as just moving people over.
What—did people think the Will of a plane was so idiot just letting random outsiders crash on its lawn?
If you didn't prepare properly, you could end up triggering the will of the plane itself. And then?.
Natural disasters.
Pestilence.
Local inhabitants hunting you like plague rats.
It wouldn't take long for everything to spiral into catastrophe.
---
After finishing their al, Orsaga led Golarial and Alison out of the restaurant. He casually flagged down a passing transport carriage.
It was a dragon-drawn vehicle, pulled by a special breed of dragon-kin, with the weakest among them ranked at Lesser-Rank demon level.
Their wings had already mutated into powerful limbs optimized for ground traction, vastly improving both speed and endurance.
With their innate abilities enhancing the ride, these dragon-drawn carriages were known for being both fast and stable.
In Ashkarath, a city where flight and spatial travel were prohibited, this was one of the best options for long-distance travel.
Especially since the city had grown so massive over countless ages, its sheer diater now had to be asured in light-years.
Walking?
Not unless you had eternity to spare.
The driver, whose power was comparable to a High-Rank demon, noticed the three passengers weren't Abyssal demons but still clearly dangerous. He bowed respectfully and asked, "Where to, my lords?"
Because in the Abyss, politeness could an the difference between living and dying.
Of course… sotis being polite didn't save you either.
Most drivers in this line of work were affiliated with powerful patrons. Each carriage bore the mark of its backer's strength—a form of deterrent.
But even that wasn't always enough.
There were plenty of cases where a driver still got killed, sponsor or not.
Bottom line: no profession in the Abyss was truly safe.
No matter what you did, death could co in the blink of an eye.
That said, drivers also weren't necessarily harmless.
If a custor turned out to be too weak, so of them wouldn't hesitate to ditch the "driver" identity and beco "bandits" on the spot.
The Abyss was just that kind of place—pure, unfiltered savagery.
Being law-abiding wasn't realistic. At best, you'd be forced to act law-abiding.
---
Seated comfortably in the carriage, Orsaga casually shifted in his seat and tossed a soul crystal toward the driver.
It was more than generous—far beyond the normal fare.
With a calm voice, he ordered, "Take us to the nearest Abyssal Layer Transfer Hall."
No haggling.
No questions about distance.
Just pay—or don't pay, if you're strong enough.
In the Abyss, business wasn't about fairness. You earned a little through effort, but the rest ca down to power and luck.
Seeing the soul crystal land in his hand, the driver looked like he'd just won the lottery. He bowed repeatedly and exclaid, "Yes, of course! We'll depart imdiately!"
Then he snapped the reins, and the carriage began to move.
Once he'd figured out who the leader was among the three, the driver never looked back at Golarial or Alison—not even once.
Even though both were exceptionally beautiful, the driver didn't dare spare them a glance.
Because in the Abyss, looking too long might get your eyes gouged out. Or your head popped like a lon.
The three golden rules of survival:
Look less. Think less. Speak less.
He already got paid—he wasn't about to get greedy now.
Especially after sensing that unrestrained Abyssal demon aura radiating from Orsaga.
Yeah. Better keep your eyes down and your mouth shut.
---
Two days later.
As the towering building in the distance ca into view, Golarial asked, "Are we heading to another layer of the Abyss?"
Since there was no reason to hide it, Orsaga casually replied, "Yeah. Just going to buy a few things."
The items he needed could be found in the Lava Wastelands, sure. But it would've been a hassle—more ti-consuming.
So he figured he'd save ti by hopping to another layer instead.
Once the carriage stopped, the trio disembarked.
But Orsaga didn't imdiately head into the building.
Instead, with a neutral expression, he casually reached out his hand—and, in front of the nearby guards, telekinetically grabbed over a dozen High-Rank demons from the passing crowd.
Just as Golarial was starting to think he was about to kill a few people for fun again...
Orsaga pointed a finger.
Those confused and terrified demons, struggling in vain, were suddenly flooded with ntal information.
It was a set of plane coordinates, along with a basic dossier about that world.
After transmitting the data, Orsaga nonchalantly flicked his hand and launched them all into the sky—alive.
No blood.
No death.
Not what Golarial and Alison had expected at all.
Even the guards, who were just about to intervene with a warning about maintaining order, paused.
Their expressions shifted to confusion.
It was clear they had no idea what Orsaga had just done.
But since no real damage had been caused, they rely gave him a warning glance—then went back to standing guard as if nothing had happened.
As for the unlucky High-Rank demons who'd been manhandled and tossed like rag dolls?
They scrambled to their feet and fled as fast as they could—every one of them looking like they'd just escaped death itself.
__
T/N:
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