After quietly gazing at the Eternal Obelisk Tower for a while, Golarial eventually looked away as the initial awe faded.
No matter how hard she tried, she could only see one thing—
endless white walls.
No edges, no variation, nothing new.
It was like an ant trying to comprehend the foot of a giant. Even the smallest portion of the structure was far beyond her scope of observation.
She couldn't even begin to grasp the full picture.
Her emotional arc could be summed up in six stages:
Amazement → Awe → Grandeur → Overwhelmed → Confused → Bored
No matter how magnificent something was, if all you ever saw was the same scene on repeat, it lost meaning.
With a quiet sigh, she walked over to Orsaga, nestled silently against his arm, and waited patiently for them to reach their destination.
Alison, watching this unfold, hesitated for a moment before settling beside Orsaga as well—taking hold of his other arm.
Though Orsaga had treated her earlier "deal" with a complete lack of concern, she had no intention of going back on her word.
She now belonged to Orsaga.
Golarial glanced at her but said nothing. She simply closed her eyes and leaned back in silent meditation.
No special expression.
No special reaction.
As if nothing had changed.
After all, she'd long grown used to other women hanging around Orsaga.
At least Alison wasn't as irritating as some of them.
As for Orsaga himself, he didn't feel much of anything either.
Like he'd said—he didn't care.
If someone wanted to lean in close, he had no reason to refuse. He wasn't about to play the chaste scholar in a storybook.
So, he accepted it all—calmly and unapologetically.
He sat there, arms full, face serene.
---
A few hours later, they finally arrived.
They had entered the inner region of the Eternal Obelisk Tower, where merchants and buyers from all across the multiverse bustled through the crowded walkways.
It was lively—undeniably so.
The only downside was the… culture.
Just a quick glance revealed dozens of people in the middle of brawls. Most weren't using weapons, thankfully—just arguments and shoving.
Not a single one was roasting civilians alive in the streets.
Compared to the Lava Wastelands, this place was practically a utopia.
It actually resembled a functioning society—barely.
Granted, street murders still happened. They just weren't a big deal.
Looking up at the signage overhead, Orsaga quickly confirmed the direction he needed to go.
He motioned for Alison and Golarial to follow and led the way into the crowd.
---
If Golarial and Alison had come here alone, they likely would've drawn some unwanted attention.
Two decent-looking, decently dressed elves—neither weak nor particularly strong—would be seen as walking treasure chests by a dozen unscrupulous types.
They'd had to fend off plenty of that back in the Lava Wastelands.
But now, standing beside Orsaga?
The predatory stares dropped by over 90%.
His humanoid appearance didn't fool anyone—his aura screamed Greater-Rank flame demon, and no one with half a brain wanted to provoke that kind of monster.
Golarial and Alison wandered through the stalls, wide-eyed with curiosity.
Many of the items on display were so strange they couldn't even identify what they were. Even with labels and brief descriptions, most of it was incomprehensible.
Some items only worked in specific planes of existence.
For example, a potato or yam that could enhance magical power but only if eaten on a particular world.
Which made it borderline useless to most people.
Why go through the trouble of plane-hopping just for a little magic boost, when you could just chug a potion?
And then there were the mystery goods—half-truths, fake relics, overhyped trash.
In a multiverse this vast, no one could recognize everything.
You could never be sure if what you were buying was real… or a scam.
So buying from street vendors came with extremely high risk.
But that also meant…
There was potential for jackpot-level reward.
Because many sellers had simply looted these items but didn't know what they were worth.
If you had the knowledge, you could lowball them and walk away with priceless treasures.
Flip it for 10,000 times the value.
That gamble—that potential rags-to-riches moment—was what made this place so enticing.
"One lucky find, and you're set for life."
This belief brought all kinds of risk-takers flooding in.
Seeing the barely-contained excitement on Golarial and Alison's faces, Orsaga casually reminded them:
"Unless you're absolutely sure, don't buy from the stalls."
He'd never been here personally…
But the souls he'd devoured had.
So he had a clear understanding of how things worked here.
The ones looking for bargains…
The ones selling fakes…
The ones hoping to scam a sucker—
These three types were the majority here.
Only a small portion were legitimate merchants.
Thanks to his warning, the two elves quickly pulled back their enthusiasm.
They understood full well—Orsaga usually didn't bother commenting on things like this. If he'd spoken up, it meant the risk was very real.
---
After navigating through the sprawling market and turning several corners, they finally arrived at their destination:
A large, imposing building—
[Kelrith Merchant Guild].
One glance was enough for Orsaga to assess the guild's strength.
Two Greater-Rank security guards flanked the entrance.
That alone placed them far above the Chloroya Merchant Guild from before.
After all, Chloroya only had three or four Greater-Rank beings in total.
They wouldn't waste two of them just guarding a door.
If they had that kind of firepower, they wouldn't have needed to hire outsiders like Orsaga to invade the Seven Seas realm.
They'd have rolled through it themselves.
That said, while these two were technically the same Rank, Orsaga could sense that their energy levels were on the lower end of the Greater-Rank spectrum.
Back during the Seven Seas campaign, any of the Greater-Rank demons present could've wiped them out effortlessly.
And those guards felt it too.
As soon as they noticed Orsaga's open scrutiny, their bodies tensed—like prey caught in the eyes of a serpent.
Their eyes flicked toward him warily.
They couldn't gauge his exact power, but they could tell—
He was a high-grade pureblood flame demon. And not one to be taken lightly.
Being mortals—even at Greater-Rank—they simply couldn't compare to an Abyssal demon's raw potential. Especially not within the Abyss itself.
It was a matter of racial advantage.
Bloodline dictated base stats.
If effort alone could bridge that gap, then transcendent races wouldn't sit at the top of the food chain.
Brutally put—
Equal Rank.
Equal training.
But your hardware is just better.
__
T/N:
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