Demon Prince: Eternal Sovereign Of The Multiverse Chapter 84 84: Fallen Teammate

After entering the sub-dinsional space attached to the Pri Material Plane.

Following so initial probing, Orsaga had co to realize that demons of his strength would invariably be t with designated counterasures once they stepped onto the battlefield. There wasn't much point in staying—returning was the wiser move. So he simply chose to leave the battlefield.

He began retracing his steps.

Unlike most demons, who tended to be ntally unstable, preferred acting independently, and even killed their own kind on a whim—rendering any concept of backup virtually aningless—the natives of this world had already established a relatively complete system for dealing with interplanar threats. Each role was clearly defined, and they could call in reinforcents at a mont's notice.

In such a situation, killing a powerful opponent without overwhelming force wasn't easy.

Essentially, unless he could strike fast, precisely, and lethally—eliminating the target before reinforcents arrived—he'd have to fight off several enemies at once. That wasn't impossible, though, since reinforcents weren't infinite; many of them would already be tied down by other demons.

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Beneath the Toxic Swamp, within a vast underground cavern...

"Chomp, chomp..."

The sounds of loud chewing echoed through the cave, mingling with the constant dripping of venom from above.

A rather bloated demon squatted on the ground, using multiple arms to rip into chunks of at scattered before him.

He stuffed the bloodied pieces into his mouth, devouring them to regenerate his terrifying wounds.

Wounds that had been inflicted by a demigod wielding a divine artifact.

Had his vitality not far exceeded that of most demons at his level, he wouldn't have even made it out alive.

"Vmmm..."

Just then, an unfamiliar sound rang out.

The demon froze mid-bite, eyes snapping toward the source of the noise.

There, an oval-shaped portal floated in the air—and a figure stepped out from it.

Orsaga ignored the demon squatting at the center of the cave, who was now eyeing him warily. Instead, his attention had been drawn to sothing lying at his feet.

With a flick of his tail—shaped like a fork—he speared the object and held it up before his face.

Looking at the familiar expression on the lifeless face, which clearly hadn't died peacefully, Orsaga frowned and muttered with mild irritation, "So he really went and got himself killed."

Malgrin, the High rank demon who had dragged Orsaga into this whole affair just to make up the numbers, had always had his own hidden agenda. Orsaga had known that from the start. He'd watched with amusent, curious to see what kind of sche Malgrin was plotting.

He hadn't expected that the show would end before it even began—Malgrin had beco soone else's snack. That was... genuinely unexpected.

After playing with the severed head for a mont, Orsaga accepted the reality. With a casual spinning kick, he sent the head flying.

Born free, died at random—that was the nature of demonkind.

Death was just part of the deal. Thinking about it, it wasn't really anything unusual.

So he had no complaints. If anything, the only real loss was that he'd originally intended to kill Malgrin himself. After all, recycling waste was part of his long-standing professional ethic...

A few ters away, the squatting demon tensed up.

Ever since Orsaga had entered the cave, he hadn't paid the other demon much attention. But now, having just casually kicked away a demon's skull, Orsaga's presence sent warning bells ringing in the injured demon's mind.

Unlike those scavengers who tried to take advantage of his wounded state—only to end up dead themselves—this high rank demon before him was clearly dangerous.

He could feel it in his bones.

If possible, he really didn't want to fight, especially in his current state.

Orsaga, anwhile, had been studying the demon's wounds. A glimr of curiosity appeared in his eyes.

For demons, this expression usually signaled an imminent attack.

The wounded demon instinctively began gathering his strength, preparing to strike first.

Just as he was about to make a move, Orsaga suddenly spoke:

"Mind if I ask you a question?"

After a mont's hesitation—he didn't want to fight to begin with—the other demon replied cautiously, "Ask."

Orsaga smiled. "Pick a number under 100."

"...20." Confused, the demon blurted out a number at random.

Upon hearing it, Orsaga's smile brightened. He murmured to himself, "An even number. Then I won't attack."

Just as his opponent had sensed that Orsaga was no easy target...

He, too, could sense that this guy would be difficult to kill.

But letting a heavily injured greater rank demon sit right in front of him without doing anything felt wrong.

Torn by indecision, he'd co up with a quick test:

If the demon answered with an odd number, or refused to answer, he'd strike. If it was even, he'd leave it be.

Leave it up to fate.

"?"

Ignoring the demon's confused stare—clearly not following his logic at all—Orsaga pointed to the demon's wound and said, "I'm very interested in the divine residue around that injury. Mind giving a chunk of flesh?"

"..."

A few seconds later, a fist-sized piece of flesh was tossed his way.

Orsaga didn't catch it with his hands. Instead, he used his magic to suspend it in the air beside him.

Satisfied, he nodded politely and said, "Thanks for your generosity. I'll let you get back to your al."

With that, he opened another portal and calmly stepped through it.

The injured demon kept his guard up for a while longer. Only after confirming that Orsaga had truly left did he resu eating his at—at a much faster pace this ti.

He needed to replenish his strength quickly, recover from his wounds, and get out of here. He'd find a safer place to recuperate.

---

Sowhere deep underground in the wastelands...

Stepping out of the portal, Orsaga threw a punch.

A strike powerful enough to produce a mushroom cloud was evenly distributed across the ground.

Amidst the tremors, a massive chamber took shape—walls smooth as glass, dozens of ters high and wide.

Its structure was so solid, it could survive a magnitude-eight earthquake without cracking—maybe shake loose a bit of dust, at most.

Walking into the space, Orsaga stared at the glowing chunk of flesh suspended by his side. The divine energy lingering on it was still actively corroding the tissue.

His face was filled with fascination.

Thanks to his probing so far, he now had a general sense of where he stood on the local food chain.

He had given up on his original idea of testing the waters by killing a god or two.

The gods in this world were... not easy to deal with.

He would at least need to advance to greater rank demon and walk a few steps further on that path before he'd stand a chance.

Still, that didn't dampen his curiosity about gods as a species.

And this bit of divine residue in his hand would serve as a fine dium—sothing he could use to analyze the composition of divine power.

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T/N:

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