Abyss Layer 6,548,257 – Lava Wastelands
Still the same breathtaking scenery.
Still the same "peaceful, happy" living.
'If only those flaming storms in the sky would calm down a little… they've been interfering with my teleportation,' Orsaga thought contentedly after returning home.
To celebrate, he casually killed a passing pedestrian.
Next to him, Golarial shuffled aside to avoid the splattering blood and muttered with obvious distaste, "Could you not just randomly kill people? That one didn't even do anything to you."
He'd been somewhat restrained in the otherworlds, but now that they were back in the Abyss, Orsaga had immediately returned to his usual murder-for-fun routine.
Orsaga just waved her off with a dismissive smile. "Just muscle memory. A bit of harmless entertainment. Besides, in the Abyss, this kind of hobby is fairly tame."
To prove his point, he gestured toward a group of demons roasting a sentient creature over a fire nearby, and a few beastmen on the adjacent street openly assaulting women.
Strictly speaking, his little celebration didn't even make the top ten for disturbing behavior.
"…You're really comparing who's worse now?" Golarial sighed, rubbing her temple in frustration.
If it weren't for the city's abundant resources, no one would ever bother coming here. Crime was so rampant that just walking down the street meant passing dozens of crimes in progress.
Literal dozens.
Orsaga, unfazed, replied, "What? Comparing atrocities among demons is pretty standard. Honestly, I'm one of the more well-behaved ones."
That kind of blunt honesty left Golarial speechless.
And truthfully… he wasn't wrong. In the hierarchy of depravity that was Abyssal demon society, Orsaga did rank among the "mildly deranged" types—if only by comparison.
At that moment, a scavenger approached and politely pointed at the corpse near Orsaga.
"Excuse me—"
"Take it. It's yours," Orsaga said before he could even finish.
"Thank you kindly! May you continue to slay countless more!" the scavenger beamed as he accepted the unexpected windfall, offering a heartfelt blessing.
Though Orsaga had already devoured the soul, the body's flesh was still valuable—more than enough to boil into soup or slice up for a dozen hotpot meals.
For the scavenger, it was like stumbling across a fresh butchered pig on the roadside—pure joy.
"No need to thank me," Orsaga said modestly, the image of generosity.
Of course, to him, this was bottom-tier scavenger fare. He considered himself a premium-level scavenger—only interested in high-value souls and large-scale operations. Street kills like this weren't worth his time.
With that in mind, he couldn't help but wear a smug expression of pride, thinking about his elite "career" as a soul-reaper.
The scavenger, meanwhile, felt an inexplicable sense of inferiority.
'Damn… what's with this 'successful man' aura he's giving off…'
Even the corpse in his hands suddenly lost some of its appeal.
Watching the scene unfold, Golarial could only sigh and turn to Alison.
"He's off in his own world again… his thoughts really jump around a lot."
"I know exactly what you mean," Alison nodded in agreement.
Sometimes he was perfectly normal. Other times… completely unhinged.
Then again, every Abyssal demon was some degree of mentally unstable—it was more about how bad the condition was.
Golarial whispered, "Do you think meds could fix that kind of crazy?"
Alison glanced at Orsaga, who was still basking in self-satisfaction over his imaginary garbage career, and shook her head with a straight face.
"No. I'm pretty sure he was born this way. Totally incurable."
Hearing their little discussion, Orsaga flicked his tail in annoyance. "Do you two really have to insult me to my face?"
Without hesitation, they both nodded and answered in unison:
"Obviously. You've got so much going for you—it's just a shame your brain works the way it does."
Their expressions even showed genuine regret, like they were truly disappointed that someone with Orsaga's specs came pre-installed with such a broken operating system.
"…"
He felt thoroughly insulted—but couldn't find a good rebuttal.
Seeing his grumpy expression, Golarial quickly tried to comfort him.
"Well, you're kind of a psycho… but still a pretty good one."
"…Thanks, I guess." He let out a helpless sigh.
"Since we're finally back, why don't we go out and grab something nice to eat?" he suggested.
But that immediately reminded Golarial of a certain… traumatic memory.
That restaurant.
Just the décor alone had looked like a pile of meaty, bloody paste—with hair.
The food had been just as grotesque. One glance at the dishes had made her feel physically and mentally violated.
"Please don't take us to that restaurant again…"
"Fine, fine. We'll go somewhere new then~" Orsaga agreed nonchalantly.
---
Not long after.
Inside a water-filled pocket dimension.
Schools of fish swam through the surrounding sea, but around Orsaga's party, a transparent barrier kept the seawater out. Only refracted, shimmering light danced across their surroundings, creating a serene and refined dining atmosphere.
Nearby, a choir of mermaids, sirens, and sea witches sang a haunting, melodic hymn that echoed gently through the chamber.
The mood was tranquil, nostalgic—even soothing.
Alison closed her eyes and listened for a while, letting herself relax.
"This place… really has a beautiful atmosphere," she murmured.
Then she remembered the price tag.
A private dimension. A twelve-member elite vocal ensemble. Carefully selected gourmet dishes.
The kind of bill that made her wallet cry just thinking about it.
Only someone like Orsaga—who treated wealth like pocket lint—could dine here so casually.
"Atmosphere?" Orsaga calmly cut into a steak made from magical beast meat and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess it's alright~"
To him, it was nothing special.
He'd inherited the memories of gods—and their lives made even this look humble.
Entire planes had been harvested to maintain their lifestyles. Even the most modest settings among the divine were far more extravagant.
Priceless magical metals forged into tiles. Millennia-old wine used as mouthwash for sacred pets. Bathtubs carved from meteorite gems. Entire cities laid out as formation circuits.
Compared to that, this underwater banquet was borderline quaint.
So naturally, Orsaga didn't feel much.
Watching his indifference, Alison fell silent for a moment—then spoke.
"I know you've done so much for me already, and I owe you more than I can ever repay… but could you grant me one request?"
Casually biting a chunk out of his decorative plate—"Mmm~ this plate's even absorbed some of the flavor…"—Orsaga glanced at her.
It was the first time he'd seen her look genuinely uncomfortable.
With mild curiosity, he said, "Let's hear it~"
Alison took a breath.
"I want you to help my people. Help them find a safe place… where they can survive."
__
T/N:
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