Opening his eyes, he stretched lazily.
"A new day begins… even if this place has no night."
Leisurely, he strolled to the edge of the cavern. Gazing out at the chaotic scenery below, Orsaga let out a casual yawn.
Though he didn't actually need sleep, he sometimes chose to enter a self-induced slumber—not for any particular reason, simply because it felt good.
His current location was within the free housing zone, part of a lawless area—what locals called the "The Forsaken Crags."
This area was made up of steep cliffs dotted with countless caves. The rule here was simple: anyone could live in any cave. If the cave was already occupied, you just killed the current resident and took it over. No questions asked.
The only catch? If you picked the wrong fight, you'd end up dead on someone's dinner plate—served with gratitude.
There were safer, more regulated areas too, but Orsaga couldn't be bothered to go that far. Plus, those zones functioned more like official hotels, and they weren't cheap.
Outsiders doing business in the Abyss might spring for the extra protection, but for the native demons? Safety was a joke. Their warped sense of morality meant no place was truly safe.
With a casual tug, Orsaga tore the previous occupant's head off and studied the horn atop its skull.
"Mystic wand, mystic wand… where should I go today?" he muttered.
Tapping his fingertip against the horn, he cast a low-tier divination spell.
"Smack!"
A solid slap sent the head spinning across the cave floor like a top, kicking up a cloud of dust.
When it finally stopped, Orsaga glanced at the direction the horn pointed and—without hesitation—leapt off the cliff, flying downward at a relaxed pace.
After walking for who-knew-how-long, he suddenly felt a flicker of premonition.
He paused and looked around carefully.
Eventually, his eyes landed on a familiar figure.
It was that young man from the team who'd entered the city just behind him.
Orsaga still remembered the awe in the kid's voice back then.
But now, the youth stood alone. None of his teammates were in sight.
He looked utterly broken, like someone who'd just taken a major emotional hit.
Orsaga let out a sigh of mock sympathy and walked over.
He didn't know what had happened, but given the nature of the Abyss, he could already guess the gist of it.
'Sigh… Young people just can't handle hardship. Always wearing their emotions on their sleeve. And I'm only two years old myself…'
---
Moments later.
Orsaga casually tossed the man's corpse aside and wiped the blood from his hands.
After a bit of friendly "conversation," and using his demonic abilities, Orsaga had pieced together the whole story.
The unlucky young man and his team came from a fairly wealthy plane of existence.
There, interplanar trade was a highly lucrative business.
Their current assignment—operating a trade route into the Abyss—was among the most profitable, and the most dangerous.
So they always came prepared.
This time, everything had gone smoothly. Aside from wiping out a dozen [Lesser Demons], they'd encountered no trouble with any [High Demons], and their team suffered no casualties.
After arriving, they rested for a bit.
Yesterday, they'd tracked down a familiar dwarven supplier, someone they'd worked with before.
The two sides met in a black market outside the city and quickly completed the trade.
Everything had gone off without a hitch—no double-cross, no traps. Everyone was happy.
But then, out of nowhere, the sky erupted with a deafening roar.
In that instant, the young man saw the dwarf trader and his own team leader's faces turn deathly pale.
Before he could even react, a beam of white light broke through the market's defensive barriers and swallowed the entire place in a blinding flash.
Pain exploded through his body. He blacked out on the spot.
When he came to, he found himself lying in ruins, covered in injuries.
Thanks to a defensive artifact gifted by his parents, he had barely survived.
Everyone else—his team, the merchants—were burnt to a crisp. The entire black market had turned into a charred grave.
Using a healing potion from his kit, he patched himself up.
After a quick survey, he realized the black market had been obliterated by a single attack. A massive crater, several kilometers wide, had been left behind.
That white beam? Just the aftershock of the real attack.
His entire crew? Crushed like ants beneath a brawl they had no part in. Utterly meaningless deaths.
He didn't know what kind of being could unleash that kind of power—but he knew it was far above his pay grade.
So, he salvaged whatever valuables and resources remained, hid them in a secret location, and returned alone to the city, waiting for his trade guild to realize something had gone wrong and send someone to find him.
And then he met Orsaga.
End of story.
---
After thinking it through, Orsaga commented with a touch of pity, "Pretty tragic… but hey, I'm happy with this little loot box."
Since the guy had indirectly made him a nice profit, Orsaga at least gave him a dignified ending—spitting a glob of fiery saliva that incinerated the body to ash.
No need to let the corpse become someone else's snack.
He ignored the other creatures silently watching from the shadows nearby.
As he had observed earlier, that human had been far too naive.
In the Abyss, where only the strong survive, wearing a look of utter despair was practically asking to be killed.
It was like painting a bullseye on your forehead: Come stomp the wounded dog!
Even without Orsaga, any of the nearby predators would've happily torn him apart.
Here, showing weakness invited a swarm of teeth.
No fear, no hesitation—only the strongest, most ruthless survived.
Anything less? Just prey.
Even the most powerful prey was just a bigger slab of meat.
No matter how massive a bull may be, the wolves will still come for a bite—even if they know it might cost them their lives.
And the only reason no one dared to mess with Orsaga?
Aura.
Just one glance, and everyone knew—he was a predator.
Even standing still, he radiated bloodlust. The danger clinging to him was palpable.
He looked like the kind of being who could lash out at any second.
That's why, when he first looked at that team, they immediately drew their weapons—they'd instinctively read his gaze as a threat.
The scavengers watching from the sidelines might've planned to pounce on the lost human.
They'd probably even fought among themselves over who'd get first dibs.
But when Orsaga claimed the kill, no one dared object.
They knew—this guy wouldn't hesitate to add them to the pile.
Predators retreat in the face of stronger predators.
That's the law of nature.
And in the Abyss, it's gospel.
So when Orsaga casually turned his back and walked away, the rest of them glanced at one another, then scattered like nothing had happened.
Only a small pile of ashes remained, drifting away in the breeze...
---
Several days later.
Inside a strangely decorated inn, a bit too grotesque for description.
Orsaga lazily tore off a chunk of unidentifiable roasted meat and popped it into his mouth.
Chewing thoughtfully, he nodded in satisfaction. "Mm… not bad at all."
Resting lightly against his shoulder was a stunning female Naga.
Hearing his praise, she plucked a slice of meat, chewed it delicately, and smiled in agreement. "It really is delicious."
She was draped in ornate battle armor, with the upper body of a voluptuous human woman covered in smooth, green-tinged scales. Her lower half resembled a long, slender serpent—easily seven or eight meters in length.
Not that any of that mattered to Orsaga.
With a hybrid sense of aesthetics drawn from both humans and demons, he had no issue with monstrous beauties.
Besides, she was the one who clung to him—he wasn't losing anything.
She just happened to match his taste, so he didn't mind keeping her around.
Ever since he personally killed Trina, his perspective on these kinds of things had shifted. He had no "personal ride" for now, so public transport was fine.
No commitment needed.
They'd been together for several days now, and he hadn't even asked her name.
Just a temporary toy. Nothing worth remembering.
The Naga enjoyed the food but winced internally at its price. Without this powerful Flame Demon by her side, a mere [Lesser Demon] like her couldn't dream of affording such luxury.
So she turned up her charm even more, nestling against him like a docile bird.
Even if she was technically larger than Orsaga.
After all, generous, handsome, and even-tempered demons were extremely rare.
He was a top-tier sugar daddy.
But Orsaga couldn't care less what she thought.
Ever since he inherited that "gift package" from a generous soul, life had been smooth sailing—eating well, sleeping better, living in luxury.
And yet, he thought idly:
"Still kind of boring... Might be time to visit another world."
_____
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