The next day.
Back in the same meeting chamber as before—the one redesigned by the abyssal demon with a flair for the artistic.
Several Greater-Rank demons had reconvened.
The list on the scroll had been fully cleared.
Half of the targets were killed by Orsaga himself.
Along the way, he'd also scattered his plagues across various regions of the world.
After all, free nourishment—even if the quality was poor—was still worth collecting.
And as for his main business—disease—he wasn't about to neglect it. One must never forget their roots.
At that moment, the fatty demon was once again chomping on the spiced jerky hanging from the ceiling.
The artistically inclined demon started bickering with him again, looking ready for another fight.
The other three Greater-Rank demons, who already knew they couldn't kill either of the two, showed little interest.
Conflicts where no one died weren't worth watching.
If not for the binding Abyss Contract, they would've loved to join in personally and end it.
"Whoosh—"
With a gust of air, a black void opened up in the chamber.
From within stepped out Chlorel, President of the Chloroya merchant Guild.
He looked exactly the same as he had the day before—nothing particularly eye-catching.
"Looks like everyone worked fast. I suppose you're all eager to collect your rewards. In that case, let's get straight to business."
Smiling, he said, "Ten percent ownership of the world, or the souls of sixty billion sentient beings, or an equivalent in other items—take your pick."
He gave a light clap, and several scrolls were handed out by his attendants.
"Each scroll contains our merchandise list—63,784 high-value items in total. Feel free to browse and choose whatever you like. Since you're honored guests, the Guild is offering everything at 80% of market price."
At this point, a trace of pride surfaced on his face.
Building a business empire in the Abyss was no small feat. The trials he had overcome could be described as nothing short of extraordinary. In any other world, his story would be hailed as a legendary tale of struggle and triumph.
But none of the Greater-Rank demons present cared in the slightest about his backstory.
Without a word, they opened the scrolls and began flipping through them, each searching for something of value.
The inventory of a large interplanar merchant guild, sourced from countless worlds, was bound to contain just about anything.
Even Orsaga, who had already decided on receiving souls as his payment, browsed through the catalog out of sheer curiosity.
Who knows? He might just stumble upon some priceless treasure gathering dust.
Half an hour later.
"Yeah right, as if. Not a single damn deal in there…"
He sighed in disappointment and rolled the scroll back up.
Not that the items were worthless—far from it. Everything on that list was top-tier, handpicked from the inventory of a massive merchant guild. Any other Greater-Rank demon would've been delighted.
Potions, high-rank spells, customized equipment, slave contracts, even spacefaring vessels, mechanical battle armor, weapons manufacturing lines, and bizarre entries like cultivator-grade flying swords, formation compendiums, and alchemical manuals for curses and poisons—it was a treasure trove in every sense.
But none of it meant anything to Orsaga.
Potions? He could brew better ones himself.
Spells? His inherited memory and knowledge hoarded through conquest were more than sufficient.
Gear? He preferred barehanded combat.
Slaves? If he wanted some, he could just go hunt them down.
Spaceships? Please. He could fly faster on his own.
As for exotic systems like cultivation or Gu poison technique, he had no reason to dabble—he hadn't even fully understood his own innate power structure yet. Who had time to tinker with other frameworks?
All in all, souls remained the most useful commodity for him.
Hard currency—good for both energy and trade.
And so, Orsaga directly told Chlorel his choice.
Chlorel said nothing in response—just gave a calm nod.
The deal might not have earned the merchant Guild a sale, but a contract was a contract.
An Abyssal Contract was absolute.
Breaking it was not an option.
"Very well, please wait a moment..."
With that, Chlorel stepped back into the black void.
When he returned, he carried a half-human-sized chest etched with glowing runes.
Handing it to Orsaga, he said casually, "The transaction is complete. You may leave now, or stick around a few more days for the celebration."
Orsaga thought for a moment, then replied, "I'll stay for the celebration."
After all, there was no real urgency.
Whether he returned sooner or later made no difference.
And so, he returned to his seat, clutching the chest. Under the envious stares of the other Greater-Rank demons, he opened it and casually poured its contents—high-density soul crystals—straight into his mouth.
Savoring the sweet taste, his eyes narrowed slightly in satisfaction.
"Mmm~ This is the good stuff…"
The sensation was akin to a human enjoying a hearty feast of meat and wine—utterly indulgent and deeply satisfying.
While the other demons looked on with undisguised envy, Chlorel, on the other hand, was baffled.
'...Won't that overload him?'
Consuming souls wasn't unusual for demons.
But devouring that many at once—especially sixty billion—was extremely dangerous.
Each soul carried its own thoughts, experiences, and memories. If ingested in such massive quantities, they could overwhelm the mind.
At that point, a demon would be forced to either discard all the accompanying memories and retain only the raw energy, or risk personality corruption and mental instability.
Neither option was particularly pleasant.
And yet, here Orsaga was, casually downing the entire haul like a bag of snacks.
Chlorel couldn't help but worry.
The sheer flood of memories from sixty billion intelligent lives would be enough to shatter the sanity of most beings. Would Orsaga lose control and go berserk right here?
But apart from some slowed movements, Orsaga showed no signs of mental collapse.
This left Chlorel both puzzled and intrigued.
'Does he have some kind of unique talent that allows him to safely process all that energy?' he mused, confused.
After a while, he gave up speculating. Not my problem, he thought. Nosiness gets you nowhere.
As for the other Greater-Rank demons—
Most also chose either soul crystals or goods from the catalog. Only one opted to claim partial ownership of the world itself.
---
Two days later.
The celebration unfolded like the grandest of festivals. Envoys from countless nations across the world had gathered here.
Brilliant fireworks lit up the skies, booming one after another in endless succession. Honor guards marched to the beat of drums, their formation precise and ceremonial.
Even the lowliest city guards wore their finest uniforms.
The common folk had been ordered—forced, really—to smile. Frowns were strictly forbidden.
As a result, their faces displayed a strange mix of excitement and confusion. It was clear their hearts were far from settled.
If the masses were uncertain, the ruling class—kings, nobles, officials—were even more so.
As the conquered, they had no idea what their future held.
Their expressions may have been calm, but deep down, they were filled with dread.
Like rabbits held in a stranger's hand—unsure whether they were headed for the chopping block or a cozy pet cage.
High above the parade, seated in the VIP stands, Orsaga sipped a glass of wine, watching the proceedings with mild interest.
"They're lucky," he murmured. "The Chloroya merchant Guild clearly wants long-term development. At the very least, their lives are safe."
Alison, seated beside him, gave a small shake of her head.
"Maybe. But compared to their old lives, I doubt they feel very happy."
Orsaga chuckled.
"Failure always comes at a cost, doesn't it?. And the price they've paid will extend to their children, and their children's children—perhaps until this entire world collapses into ruin.
Winners get everything. Losers lose it all. That's the most basic rule of all. Paying a fixed annual tribute of souls and resources? Honestly, that's a pretty generous deal."
___
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