Without paying any attention to the department head, who was left with a head full of questions, Orsaga had already strolled out of the building housing the Strategic Intelligence Division.
The various obstacles, defense mechanisms, and security personnel along the way had not even sensed his presence, much less posed any hindrance to his movement.
Standing on the meticulously decorated steps at the building's entrance, Orsaga raised his head and glanced at the star in the sky.
What was once supposed to be a blazing ball of fire was now covered with countless advertisement screens, making it resemble a massive glowing orb.
Over a hundred thousand years ago, the Stellar Empire had already succeeded in constructing a Dyson Sphere. As such, except for the necessary light output, the star above barely leaked any natural sunlight. The energy it emitted was entirely harnessed to supply nearby planets with daily energy needs.
In some ways, the Stellar Empire had long reached a state where its people no longer worried about food, clothing, shelter, or entertainment. Although it was still far from being a true utopia, compared to many underdeveloped planets, the standard of living here could only be described as dreamlike.
Of course, internal class struggles still persisted—inevitable, really.
After all, inequality is rooted in birth. How could one's mindset remain stable in the face of such disparities?
But such sociological issues held no real meaning for a demon like Orsaga.
The only reason he occasionally pondered such matters was because of the sheer volume of books he had read—his mind often sparked with random thoughts due to the excess of knowledge.
To demons, concepts like "equality" were utter nonsense. Massacring, burning, looting, bullying the weak—these were the joys of most demons.
As for Orsaga, his greatest pleasure lay in doing whatever he pleased.
Right and wrong held no weight in his mind. He simply did what made him happy. If he wanted to kill, he killed. If he wanted to rob, he robbed. The only side he stood on was his own.
Now, as he looked at the small aircrafts zooming through the air and the pedestrians casually strolling through the streets, he began contemplating whether or not to target this empire.
To be honest, a population numbering in the trillions was quite tempting.
Having reviewed the data on the four strongest individuals within the nation, he already had a general grasp of their power—and frankly, found them unworthy of concern.
Until he dealt with Raiyaglen, none of them posed any threat to him. Especially now, having benefited greatly from both Raiyaglen's and Silas's full contributions, he was stronger than ever.
Aside from certain special weapons or unexpected reinforcements, Orsaga had no reason to fear any retaliation from this empire.
However, that was precisely where the biggest problem lay.
He suspected that if he really made a move, the will of the plane might directly intervene and hammer him into oblivion.
That was quite frustrating.
As outsiders, demons like him were constantly being targeted.
Take, for example, the recent fight with Raiyaglen—he hadn't even attacked a major life-bearing planet. He'd only destroyed a small primitive nation, dug a few holes on uninhabited planets, and slightly disrupted solar wind activity.
He hadn't even done anything too outrageous!
Yet, he could already feel the suppression force of the plane increasing exponentially.
If a native had done the same things—even ten times worse—the plane's will would likely remain indifferent.
To the plane's consciousness, internal activities were part of the natural cycle and incurred no real loss. But for Orsaga, an outsider, such actions were considered external depletion—hence the heightened hostility.
Now there was a delicious cake right in front of him, but he couldn't find a way to take a bite. That made him rather irritable.
After some contemplation, plagued by a bit of indecisiveness, he decided to go with a random choice.
"Let's see how many people are on this street. Odd number—I go in hard and leave quickly. Even number—I go the slow route and bleed them dry."
With that mindset, he began counting the number of people on the street.
It didn't take long.
"Even number. Guess it's disease time…"
Ultimately, he chose the slow route.
The only problem was, being an interstellar civilization, the Stellar Empire's medical capabilities had reached an extremely high level. Ordinary diseases had minimal impact here; only a few rare afflictions could be effective.
This significantly increased Orsaga's difficulty.
Still, it only took him a day.
After all, in this field, he was a seasoned expert with extensive experience.
But being a demon with ambition, he wasn't satisfied with just that.
As a galactic empire, the Stellar Empire had a highly mobile population, with people constantly traveling across the universe.
This provided an excellent channel for disease propagation!
Determined to expand his operations, Orsaga began focusing on other interstellar powers as well. He started refining the adaptability of the diseases—ensuring they could infect multiple species across the galaxy.
His goal was simple: shared suffering.
He didn't want anyone feeling left out or unfairly treated.
To that end, he began gathering data on various species using multiple methods.
He had to admit, the interstellar era really was convenient. Nearly everything could be found online.
This greatly aided Orsaga's work, saving him a tremendous amount of time.
---
Two days later.
Just as Orsaga had overcome a major technical hurdle in virus development and was working hard to expand the universe's disease catalog, the department head of the Strategic Intelligence Division was sitting in a dark interrogation room, facing a group of investigators.
An elderly-looking officer stared solemnly at the visibly distressed department head and asked,
"What exactly happened that day?"
After being interrogated numerous times, the department head responded with a numb expression,
"We received that visual transmission. Out of curiosity, I opened it… then the moment I saw its content, an intense pain struck me. Everyone, except a few of my strongest subordinates, died from sheer pain."
"We're aware of that. Based on analysis, the image data contained the likeness of an unknown being. Its appearance had a memetic effect—any biological entity that laid eyes upon it experienced overwhelming pain, unless their strength was above a certain threshold. For safety, we've sealed the data. What we want to know is—who used your department's clearance that day to access classified records?"
The department head shook his head helplessly.
"I really don't know. No one even touched the control panel at the time…"
---
Not long after.
Several interrogators gathered in a sealed room.
The youngest among them spoke with a serious tone,
"Those survivors likely don't know the full truth. According to the surveillance footage retrieved from the AI core, no one physically accessed the console. It's probable that the intruder used a method we couldn't detect. This makes further investigation extremely difficult.."
"As for the Tradie, the ship that relayed the footage—it still hasn't been located. Based on the AI's projections, it's very likely the crew has met with disaster. I believe the scope of this case exceeds our capacity. I recommend we request support from higher authorities."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Agreed."
"Seconded."
"…"
___
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