Three days later.
In the ancient waters of Velaris Sea, a fog-shrouded region of the Seven Seas Realm. A solitary vessel floated calmly upon the surface. At first glance, it seemed utterly unremarkable.
Its only unusual trait was the fact that it remained perfectly still, completely unaffected by the crashing waves or howling winds.
Seated casually at the bow, Orsaga stared down through the ocean depths, his gaze piercing through the countless layers of seawater to observe what lay below.
Among the sights beneath the waves, none drew more attention than the colossal creature lying motionless in a deep-sea trench.
Over ten thousand meters tall, its massive body had its mouth sewn shut by countless threads, its limbs nailed in place by massive spears, and its torso bound in layers upon layers of chains, wrapped even tighter than a mummy.
Dozens of rune-inscribed metal spikes were hammered into its skull, each one disrupting its neural flow and rendering it completely immobile. Even its soul had been forced into a state of weakness, making it unable to muster any spiritual energy at all.
In short, this entity was essentially a vegetative state God
and worse yet, fully conscious while being completely immobilized.
According to information provided by Helion and a few other gods, Orsaga had learned that the thing sealed beneath the sea wasn't native to this realm.
It was an Outer God, an intruder that had descended into the Seven Seas over a hundred thousand years ago. No one knew its exact origins—only that it was a corruptive force, capable of polluting entire worlds.
Even setting aside that corruptive power, this being's raw might was enough to rival the realm's own Greater Divine Power.
Back when it first descended, it caused an enormous disaster for this world. It took the joint effort of numerous Gods and a tremendous cost to finally subdue it.
As for why they didn't kill it outright?
Because its entire body was composed of extremely toxic substances and if its life signature disappeared, the resulting chain reaction would have been catastrophic.
Thus, they sealed it away, choosing to turn it into a living prisoner, a divine vegetable.
Incidentally, although those toxins sounded lethal,
they weren't entirely useless. Just like arsenic can be both a deadly poison and a valuable medicine, the toxins within this being were highly valuable, able to be processed into rare alchemical ingredients.
Which is why many of the gods had, over the years, treated this creature like a renewable resource.
Its fate?
Tragic, to say the least.
A being of terrifying power, reduced to being farmed like a pig. But this was the reality of the world. Not everyone gets a second chance.
Lose a fight?
Then either die, or get halfway there and stay miserable.
Only a lucky few can walk away in one piece.
You either win all the way… or die halfway through.
There are rarely any other outcomes.
Whether in the Abyss or across the countless planes,
those who stood at the top were always the ones who had never lost.
Because those who lost... were no longer alive.
So sure, people love to say things like, "The wheel of fate turns" or "It's just not your time,"
but in most cases, that's just wishful thinking.
---
As if sensing Orsaga's gaze, the crippled god beneath the waves slowly opened his eyes and looked upward.
There wasn't much emotion in his gaze—only a profound calm. So still, he hardly resembled the chaotic entity one might expect of an Outer God. After being imprisoned for so long, even madness had been worn down to resignation.
Facing the god's gaze, Orsaga stepped forward, using the coordinates gathered from the divine memories. He bypassed the countless isolation barriers and appeared directly beside the fallen Outer God.
With a smile, he said:
"Your old enemies are dead. You're the only piece of their legacy left, and you're about to die too."
At these words, the god's previously calm expression wavered ever so slightly. He tried to speak, but the seals prevented any sound. It was unclear whether he was shocked that his enemies had died, or simply surprised that his own end had finally come.
But Orsaga had no interest in hearing the god's final words anyway. Instead, he casually pulled out a napkin, tied it around his neck like a bib, and prepared for a meal.
He extended a finger and gently sliced open a patch of the god's flesh.
Thick, dark green blood oozed out.
Orsaga raised an eyebrow, then pulled out a spoon, intending to sample it, Only for the metallic spoonhead to immediately melt away with a sizzle, dissolved completely by the blood, leaving only the handle behind.
He tossed the ruined utensil aside, shrugging:
"Well, that's a bit intense."
Undeterred, he dipped his finger into the blood,
brought it to his lips, and gave it a thoughtful taste.
After a moment of savoring, he gave his verdict:
"Sticky texture, rotten ox blood aftertaste... bit of a spicy kick. Not bad, though. A bit heavy, but edible."
Satisfied with his analysis, Orsaga reached for a knife to carve off a slice of meat. But just as he made a small incision, a thin shadow burst from the wound—
striking with blinding speed!, It was a two-meter-long serpent, no thicker than a pair of fingers, with two mouths but no eyes.
Compared to the body it emerged from, it was minuscule—
which is probably how it had remained hidden all these years.
As the snake lunged for Orsaga's face, its double maws snapping open, Orsaga calmly shifted his head to the side,
aligning his mouth with the incoming serpent.
Crunch. Crunch.
He bit down.
Now holding the headless, twitching snake in one hand, he chewed contentedly and gave a pleased smile.
"Not bad. Got any more of these?"
"…"
Disappointed, he scratched his head.
"No more?, What a shame. I thought you might have something special tucked away. I guess the gods really were watching you closely. That's all you managed to hide after all this time?"
---
The next day.
Having finished his meal, Orsaga left Velaris Sea humming a tune, headed for his next destination. After all, this world had a history spanning millions of years, and there were still plenty of hidden vaults and ancient secrets left to unearth.
And for someone like Orsaga, who had defeated this realm's ruling powers and inherited the divine memories of the fallen gods, it was no different than skipping straight to the post-game treasure hunt.
No challenge at all.
Technically, the other demons might've been able to access the same intel, through the devoured gods' souls—
but due to differences in innate abilities, most Abyssal demons couldn't process those millennia-spanning memories in a short time.
Thus, all of the gods' remaining legacies remained, for now, open only to Orsaga.
__
T/N:
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