Pennywise's game invitation.
Just as he had said, Orsaga only had two options: agree or refuse.
And either choice led to the same outcome—death.
The only difference was how it would happen.
If he refused, he would be eaten on the spot.
If he agreed...
Pennywise represented evil. His opponents, naturally, represented the side of justice.
And as a true-blooded Abyssal Demon—a being born from the very essence of evil—Orsaga charging headfirst into their midst would almost certainly end in disaster.
Perhaps worried that Orsaga would refuse and spoil his fun, Pennywise added playfully:
"I said I'd eat you… I meant your true body, too!"
Orsaga didn't react to the threat. Instead, he responded casually,
"Then let's begin the game. I'm quite looking forward to it."
Being able to face a foe of at least Demon Lord level wasn't necessarily a good thing—
But it was certainly rare.
And rare events, even if fatal, were often worth experiencing. Orsaga didn't feel like he would be losing out.
The moment he accepted the challenge—
Pennywise's face lit up in excitement. He raised two fingers—
And pinched Orsaga between them like a toy.
With a casual flick—
He threw Orsaga out of the current world.
Under Pennywise's power, Orsaga felt like a cannonball launched from a barrel, flung into the vast unknown.
Everything around him blurred past at impossible speeds.
At that velocity, even his sense of time began to distort.
He couldn't tell if it had been a single second or an hour.
By the time he came to his senses, Orsaga found himself suspended in a vast, empty space.
An endless ocean of liquid stretched around him. He could sense that even a single drop of it held incomprehensible power.
But that wasn't what held his attention.
What truly captivated him was the massive turtle floating in the void.
No—massive didn't begin to describe it.
It was colossal beyond imagination.
Even with all he'd seen in his life, Orsaga couldn't help but feel awe at the creature's scale.
Though the distance between them was immeasurable, the turtle still dominated his entire field of vision.
And as soon as he laid eyes on it, a foreign name appeared in his mind:
Mazloth.
Somehow, instinctively, Orsaga knew that was its name.
Tapping into the power of his true body, his vision expanded rapidly, allowing him to see more.
For example—
The titanic black tower that stood unshaken on Mazloth's back.
It was supported by six beams of light.
Orsaga couldn't determine its actual size.
Even with his full spiritual sight, he couldn't see the tower's peak—only that it rose endlessly into the void.
And in a fleeting moment, illuminated faintly by the surrounding beams, Orsaga finally caught a glimpse inside the tower.
He saw layers upon layers of floors.
Each floor was a world unto itself, containing an infinite number of universes.
And within those universes were grains of cosmic dust—each containing more worlds.
And within those micro-worlds were even more microscopic realms...
Every world nested within countless others, endlessly layered like Russian dolls.
Infinite. Unfathomable.
All bound together by those six beams of light to form the dark tower.
As for the world Orsaga had just come from—it was merely one speck among those infinite nested realms.
And it was at that moment that Mazloth—the enormous turtle—sensed the presence of its ancient rival's power: Pennywise.
It slowly turned its gaze toward Orsaga.
The distance between them was vast beyond comprehension—spanning countless universes.
But to a being capable of bearing the black tower on its back, such a distance might as well not exist.
As Mazloth's gaze settled on the tiny lifeform floating before it...
It instantly understood everything about Orsaga.
That he was a malicious entity from another multiverse.
That he was here because of Pennywise's twisted amusement.
And so, Mazloth merely regarded him for a moment with its eyes—each larger than a galaxy—then looked away.
"Just a pest…"
That phrase echoed in Orsaga's mind, not with malice, but as a simple, indifferent truth.
Like a human glancing at an ant and thinking nothing of it.
But even that passing glance was more than enough.
The will within Mazloth's gaze shattered Orsaga's body and soul in an instant.
In a single heartbeat—
That power crossed infinite distances, pierced through the barriers of reality, and traced the connection between clone and true self—
Slamming directly into Orsaga's true body in the Abyss.
It even managed to bypass the outer defensive barrier of the Lava Wastelands, though at the cost of most of its energy.
Orsaga's true body hadn't even registered the death of his clone yet—
Before the impact struck.
There was no resistance.
The hundreds of thousands of layered defensive spells inscribed on Orsaga's body shattered instantly.
It was as if someone had erased pencil marks with a rubber eraser—simple, clean, absolute.
In the blink of an eye, Orsaga ceased to exist, leaving behind not even a speck of residue.
But the next instant—
His innate ability Self-Evolution: Malignant Armament automatically activated.
Using the negative energy in the surrounding void, Orsaga was resurrected.
Before he could even react—
The same force surged again.
The newly revived Orsaga was instantly erased once more.
But Malignant Armament had not been forcibly nullified.
Thanks to its effect—
He resurrected again.
Thus began a cycle:
Annihilation and rebirth. Over and over again.
—
At the heart of the Lava Wastelands, in the capital city of Ashkarath—
Seated on his fiery throne, the realm's sole ruler—the Demon Lord Ignarok—sensed an external power forcing its way into his domain.
With a glance that transcended space and time, he saw exactly what was happening to Orsaga.
And instantly understood the situation.
A demon in his domain had provoked a being from another dimension.
Since it had nothing to do with him, Ignarok found himself watching the scene with amusement.
He could clearly feel the invading force that had crossed the multiverse and struck the Lava Wastelands.
Though its current strength was only equivalent to a handful of standard Demon Lord, the divine weight of its presence was immense.
It was possible—probable, even—that this being was stronger than Ignarok himself.
And so, the Demon Lord chose not to interfere.
After all, it was merely a slap meant to crush an ant—not worth his concern.
Even if it happened in his own territory, it wasn't enough to move him.
Besides—
Ignarok could also feel that Orsaga's power had already reached the limit of a greater Demon, and that he possessed some kind of unique ability.
He wouldn't be so easily crushed.
Unless the attacker continued to apply force…
If it was just one lazy strike, across infinite universes…
Probably. Maybe. Hopefully… it wouldn't be enough.
Just as Pennywise was curious whether Orsaga would survive—
So too was Ignarok.
Not out of concern or empathy—
But because, to beings like them, watching ants struggle was sometimes... entertaining.
That was the only value the weak truly held.