In Orsaga's view, if conventional wizards typically pursued the study of elemental forces, then the wizards of this world clearly walked a different path—one rooted in biology and the dark arts of curses.
Among them, there was always at least one whose appearance was utterly grotesque, even less human than Orsaga himself.
You could imagine just how unnatural these wizards looked.
Multiple eyes and extra limbs were standard features. Only those with two or three heads could be considered truly distinctive.
Standing among these freakish, almost demonic humans, Orsaga's crimson eyes, golden pupils, and sharp claws no longer seemed remarkable. If anything, he looked rather ordinary.
'I actually look more human than the humans here... What a discovery.'
He had sighed to himself more than once.
Though, of course, no one else shared his amusement.
Glancing toward Hawthorne—who was still hidden in a spatial fold and clearly had no intention of showing his face—Orsaga asked, "How many of those little ones do you think can actually become full-fledged wizards?"
Although he didn't quite understand the reason behind the question, Hawthorne still answered, "This batch numbers around 1,200. Based on previous success rates, no more than thirty will make it to full wizard status."
Orsaga chuckled and commented, "If I recall correctly, someone with the potential to become a wizard appears only once in every 17,000 people. And of those, only about one in forty actually becomes a full wizard. That's what? One or two out of a million?"
Even traditional wizard paths—well-known for their low advancement rates—had far better odds than that.
If it weren't for the sheer size of the wizarding world and the fact that the continent itself was vast and densely populated, these wizards wouldn't have been able to form a civilization at all with such pitiful conversion rates.
In response to his remark, Hawthorne said calmly, "That's irrelevant. A single true wizard is worth more to me than a million ordinary people. They are the foundation of our civilization. The rest are just useless soil."
"Fair enough. A single outstanding individual is often far more valuable than a crowd of mediocrities," Orsaga nodded, offering no argument. Then he added, "But I think those ordinary people could serve better purposes than just acting as inefficient breeding machines. Perhaps they could be directed to develop in other technical fields."
Hawthorne rejected the idea outright. "There's no need. It's too troublesome. And unstable."
With that, he disappeared through the spatial rift, clearly uninterested in continuing the discussion.
Sensing Hawthorne's departure, Orsaga shook his head with a sigh. "Well, that's a shame…"
He wasn't feeling sorry for the commoners, of course. He just regretted missing the chance to watch an entertaining development.
Had Hawthorne taken his suggestion seriously, Orsaga was confident he could've nudged this world's mortal kingdoms toward a technological civilization.
A rising science-based society clashing with an ancient wizarding world—that alone was enough to make Orsaga feel a flicker of excitement.
When that time came, would the long-declining wizards still be able to maintain their rule over the world?
No matter the outcome, such a collision would inevitably bring about conflict.
Even though Orsaga didn't plan to stir up chaos just yet, the demon in him couldn't help but look forward to seeing this world set ablaze.
Leaping down from a tree branch, he casually plucked a flower from the ground and rolled it between his fingers.
He could clearly feel it—the unmistakable malice each Deathblossom emitted toward the world around it.
After over a decade of development, Orsaga's plague had evolved significantly. One of its most important new features was something he called World Corrosion.
With a single thought, he could activate the power of Deathblossom Catastrophe – Deathblossom to spread his plague and carve out a zone tailored specifically for him.
Once the Deathblossoms fully bloomed, Orsaga could operate within the infected region while largely ignoring the world's natural suppressive forces—no longer needing to suffer constant rejection from the alien environment.
For Orsaga—who already possessed partial resistance to the world's rejection—this was a game-changer.
It meant that he could enter a foreign world in a near-peak state, no longer bound by the weakness that typically plagued demons in such circumstances.
And for a demon, possessing a method to turn hostile territory into friendly ground was absolutely essential.
Otherwise, once they caused too much destruction, the world's own will would violently eject them.
That was why learning to turn the battlefield into home turf was a vital skill for every demon.
Orsaga's inherited memories contained plenty of related spells and rituals, but they were often too flashy, overly complex, or riddled with flaws. He treated them more as reference material than usable tools.
Using them as inspiration, he developed new applications for his innate ability—Deathblossom Catastrophe – Deathblossom Bloom.
From that foundation, he built a method of invasion uniquely suited to him.
His other innate talents also played a key role.
Often, when he hit a bottleneck—unable to think his way through a problem—he'd simply be chewing on a chicken leg and beating up some random passerby to unwind… and suddenly, inspiration would strike out of nowhere.
It was proof that success is 99% hard work and 1% inspiration… but if you have cheats, you can skip most of the work and jump straight to results!
So Orsaga chose to cheat.
A person should know their limits. A demon, even more so. Orsaga understood himself well. If things could go smoothly, why make them harder?
He still didn't know the full truth behind the Evolution System, but up to now, it had done him no harm. It acted more like a passive tool than anything else—didn't even come with a basic AI.
He had never felt any need to be wary of it.
If the Evolution System was really some kind of elaborate trap, he couldn't imagine what the mastermind stood to gain. It'd be like a god poisoning an immortality pill just to kill a random rabbit—what would be the point?
Too bored?
Going out of their way to kill him when they could crush him with a finger? Why waste the effort?
He didn't believe for a second he was more valuable than the Evolution System itself.
And even if some godlike entity truly was scheming against him, Orsaga didn't think his meager strength could stir up any real waves in front of such a being.
Any resistance he put up would be nothing more than a clown's pitiful act. If someone like that wanted to crush him, they wouldn't need his permission.
So rather than obsess over conspiracy theories, Orsaga believed it was better to take things one step at a time.
At the very least, the knowledge and perspective he gained through power had never lied to him.
Even if one day he lost everything, with what he had now learned and understood, he could still immediately switch careers—into a spellcaster or a martial path.
And that was the foundation of his confidence.
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