A few more days passed.
Orsaga casually dismissed the naga who had been freeloading off him for several days, clearly trying to cling to a powerful backer.
He closed his eyes and sank into the consciousness space linked by the Abyssal Contract...
This time, compared to the last, he had many more options.
He could clearly sense that the offerings provided from the other side were more abundant—and more chaotic. So chaotic, in fact, that even he couldn't tell what some of them were.
They might've been rare minerals or precious spellcasting materials, but Orsaga didn't care much for those things.
Preferring something more practical—like souls, which could at least be converted into Evolution Points as a baseline—he casually chose a summoning ritual that offered a massive quantity of souls.
As he drifted through the spatial tunnel, feeling time stretch on, Orsaga thought idly, 'Seems like this world's a bit more remote.'
Last time it had only taken a dozen or so seconds to arrive. This time, it had already been over thirty seconds and he still wasn't there.
After a while longer, sensing that the destination was near, Orsaga decided to stick to his usual routine—sending a projection or avatar ahead to scout the situation, just in case this was a trap...
---
Staring at the summoning circle before him, Hawthorne Shield wasn't entirely sure if the ritual had succeeded. Still, in front of his many subordinates, he kept a confident expression.
He had acquired this summoning ritual from an ancient civilization. It was his first time using it.
Just as he was debating whether to start over, the circle on the ground began to glow with a faint red light.
Hawk immediately knew—it had worked. Now came the time to verify the next step.
With a flash of blood-red flames, a twisted portal appeared at the center of the summoning circle.
Accompanied by an overpowering scent of blood, a tall figure clad in armor—what others perceived as armor, though it was actually an exoskeleton—stepped through.
At the sight of this being, several of the weaker instructors felt an instinctive sense of dread rise in their hearts.
They reflexively summoned their power and shifted into a defensive stance.
Ignoring their reactions entirely, Orsaga turned his gaze toward the figure closest to him. He could clearly sense that this was the summoner—and the guy wasn't weak either.
Though outwardly human in appearance, the man carried a strange aura that made it hard for Orsaga to be sure what race he actually belonged to.
Feeling the bindings of the summoning circle, Orsaga understood that he needed to form a contract in order to act freely in this world.
Unlike the previous botched ritual, this one was properly executed—he couldn't get away with doing whatever he wanted this time.
Lowering his head slightly and staring at the man calmly, Orsaga asked,
"What is your purpose for summoning me?"
Lifting his chin and eyeing Orsaga's powerful physique with obvious satisfaction, Hawthorne replied,
"I need you to protect my academy for a hundred years."
Orsaga blinked in surprise.
He honestly hadn't expected that answer.
Looking at the man with visible confusion, he asked again to confirm,
"You want me to protect your academy? You're asking a demon to do that—are you serious?"
Seeing Orsaga's puzzled expression, Hawthorne looked equally perplexed. He couldn't see what the issue was and repeated,
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
'That's like releasing a wild wolf in your home and asking it to guard the place,' Orsaga thought.
Hiring a demon as a security guard—now that was a genius idea.
'For a demon, this kind of work is honestly beneath me,' he thought.
But then his eyes drifted toward the pile of offerings nearby... and suddenly, the idea didn't seem so outrageous. As long as the price was right, he could be flexible.
After 0.3 seconds of intense deliberation, Orsaga asked,
"I have two questions before I decide."
Though slightly confused, Hawthorne replied,
"Go ahead."
In his mind, Orsaga was the perfect choice—not only powerful but also bound by the non-repudiable terms of the summoning ritual.
Facing Hawthorne's confident expression, Orsaga asked his first question:
"Do you have any records about demons here?"
Hawthorne replied,
"No. I only learned of your kind through the ritual I traded for."
No wonder he had the brilliant idea to hire a demon as a security guard...
Nodding in satisfaction, Orsaga asked his second question,
"You mentioned an academy—so, what kind of academy is this?"
This wasn't particularly sensitive information, so Hawthorne answered without hesitation,
"Academy of the Silent Heart. It's a school dedicated to training wizards."
'Wizards? A variant of mages, maybe?'
Though he didn't fully understand, the strong magical residue coming off Hawthorne gave Orsaga a pretty good idea.
The multiverse held countless supernatural paths. A formal academy that trained spellcasters piqued his interest. He'd never received proper instruction himself—his knowledge came mostly from inherited memories, making him a self-taught practitioner.
"Alright, I get the general idea. No further questions."
He added,
"However, I have a request. As your so-called guardian, I want access to your knowledge resources. In exchange, I can trade you knowledge or goods of equal value."
After some thought, Hawthorne agreed. Knowledge was precious to wizards, but if someone could afford it, they had no issue turning a profit.
And so, the two reached a deal. Under the power of the summoning ritual, they signed an Abyssal Contract.
Orsaga would accept the offerings and receive a yearly payment in souls. In return, he would guard the Academy of the Silent Heart for a hundred years.
During that time, he would act solely as the academy's protector—he'd have no authority over its people and wasn't allowed to harm academy members or property without just cause. However, he was granted the right to trade knowledge with them freely.
From that day forward, the Academy of the Silent Heart gained a new guardian from the Abyss. And deep within its Forbidden Forest, a beautiful sea of crimson flowers began to bloom.
In the years that followed, after several academy members accidentally wandered into the area and barely escaped with their lives, everyone came to understand—its guardian was not hospitable. If you had no reason to be there, stay far away. Sure, he wasn't allowed to harm them without reason... but "reason" was always subjective. If he felt it was a reason, then it was.
---
Seventeen Years Later
Perched on a withered branch in his human form, Orsaga flipped through a book, carefully absorbing the knowledge within.
He murmured in genuine admiration,
"What a fascinating plane... Its inner structure is divided into clusters, each loosely connected but fundamentally different. It's just like the star systems in the universe of my previous life—only when combined can they form a complete plane."
Seventeen years had been more than enough for him to understand this world in depth.
From his perspective, this was undoubtedly a high-level plane—completely unlike the previous one, which lacked supernatural power.
If that last world was like a fragile glass ornament, this one was more like a spiked metal ball—tough and dangerous to handle.
This plane was made up of numerous world clusters, and each cluster consisted of countless worlds. Inter-world warfare was normal here. The one he currently resided in was called the Wizarding World—a world that had once led the entire cluster. In ancient times, it had even launched expeditions into other clusters.
Though it had declined over the years, no longer the force it once was, its past glory still lingered in historical records.
Still, an emaciated camel is bigger than a horse.
Orsaga could guess without much effort that, despite its decline, the Wizarding World still held significant hidden power. If not, its old enemies wouldn't have let it rest so peacefully.
This was a plane where worlds could invade one another—wealth and power built on conquest.
The wizards had made no shortage of enemies. And if they'd managed to survive this long, it was only because they still had real strength hidden away.
That's why Orsaga had no plans to cause trouble here.
The academy heads might not seem like much individually, about on par with him at most—but who knew what backup they had in the shadows? If he ended up killing Hawthorne and triggered some ancient monsters to come sniffing around, that would be a disaster.
In long-standing worlds like this, if you beat the young ones, the old ones come after you—and if you beat the old ones, even older ones crawl out. It's not just a saying.
This world was deep—and filled with snapping turtles.
Orsaga had zero interest in poking around to see how deep.
Unless he was absolutely confident in his own strength—confident enough to steamroll his way through—he'd stick to the contract.
Otherwise... even with a contract, he'd find some loophole to backstab Hawthorne. After all, a demon that strictly follows a contract? That's the real joke.
Just then, the clouds above began to shift, and a massive wooden whale came speeding toward him.
Orsaga casually waved his hand, and a gap appeared in the mist above the Forbidden Forest, allowing the creature through.
That was his job, after all—beat up intruders and let the right people in. Just like a security guard.
He thought silently, 'Isn't being a guard usually a job for middle-aged men? Why am I doing this when I'm still so young?'
Then another thought struck him: 'As a demon with immortality, how old do I have to be to count as 'middle-aged'? Will I ever have a midlife crisis in this life?'
While he was lost in these meaningless musings, the massive wooden whale slowly descended nearby.
From its belly, a staircase unfolded.
Several instructors in matching uniforms, along with nearly a hundred knight-retainers wielding swords, led thousands of seven- or eight-year-old children out.
The leading instructor caught sight of Orsaga perched in the tree and instinctively greeted him with a hint of nervousness,
"Greetings, my lord."
Seeing their normally aloof instructor act so reverently, the children couldn't help but cast curious glances at Orsaga.
Orsaga didn't make things difficult—he simply waved his hand, signaling that the man could go about his business.
Relieved, the instructor immediately led the group away without delay...
_____
T/N:
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