Planet Gartheis.
A fairly ordinary planet.
While it contained some traces of supernatural power, their overall strength was low—nowhere near enough to hinder the development of science and technology.
Several centuries ago, adventurers and scientists confirmed through global exploration that the world was round. Since then, communication between continental regions gradually increased, evolving from a semi-isolated state to frequent exchange.
Knowledge and resources began to flow freely.
In the tide of that era, fresh soil gave rise to countless geniuses and great figures.
They, in turn, sparked intellectual and societal revolutions, slowly guiding the world from feudalism into the modern age.
In just a few hundred years, civilization achieved more progress than in the previous several thousand.
But progress always comes with a price.
With communication came conflict—regional prejudice, racial discrimination, national grudges, and family vendettas...
When these tensions piled up high enough, a global war erupted on a scale far beyond anything in history.
As the fires of war raged—
Some celebrated. Most perished.
Civilization began to be overtaken by savagery.
Capital, nations, families… all kinds of powers struggled and clashed, whether for profit or revenge.
Eventually, as the war reached a stalemate and resources were drained, the belligerents began resorting to desperate measures.
Artifacts from dusty vaults and forbidden knowledge long forgotten were brought back into play.
---
In a remote mountain forest—
Staring at the blood-inscribed summoning circle before him, the military officer frowned and asked skeptically,
"Are you sure this thing will actually work?"
The robed researcher standing nearby nodded firmly.
"Absolutely! According to all the records we've unearthed, Abyssal Demons are terrifying entities. In ancient times, they caused multiple catastrophes! If we can summon one successfully, victory in this war is all but guaranteed!"
Though still unsure, the officer's expression softened slightly.
At his signal, a group of blindfolded death row prisoners and captured enemy soldiers were brought to the site...
---
Half an hour later.
Before everyone's eyes, the summoning ritual was activated.
Ssszzzt...
A crimson glow surged as thick, dark green mist began to pour from the summoning circle, forming from nothing.
Any rock or soil touched by the mist instantly began to corrode—like snowflakes under a blazing sun.
As the green fog thickened, a towering demon appeared, standing nearly four meters tall.
Its upper body was humanoid, covered in dark green scales. But its lower half resembled that of a massive spider.
After inhaling deeply, the demon's eight compound eyes scanned the area from multiple angles before it spoke in a raspy voice to the uneasy summoners:
"According to the contract, you must provide me with sufficient souls and flesh. In return, I will secure victory for you."
With that, it casually reached toward the edge of the summoning circle, grabbed a sacrificial corpse, and began eating.
The officer felt a chill at the sight of the monster's imposing form and its blade-like limbs glinting with deadly light.
Watching the half-eaten body in its claw, a deep unease rose in his heart.
He swallowed hard, his face twitching slightly as he responded:
"Very well... We still have over ten thousand prisoners for you to enjoy. That should be... enough, I believe."
But even as he spoke, a decision was already forming in his mind.
No matter how useful the creature was in battle—once the war was over, it had to be banished immediately.
Once a skeptic of ancient myths, the officer now discarded all doubt after seeing this monster with his own eyes.
It was simply too dangerous to be allowed to remain in this world.
---
The next day.
Under clear skies, the two military alliances—each composed of several nations—resumed their battle after a brief rest.
The battleground? The Laurend Plains.
It was said that two thousand years ago, this place wasn't a plain at all, but the capital city of a nation called the Principality of Mardain.
Historical records claimed that a blood-red fire had raged here for days, reducing everything to ash.
Not only were the buildings and people consumed, but the very land was tainted by some unknown force—leaving behind a lingering toxicity.
Other than a certain species of red flower, Deathblooms, which could grow sparsely here, no other plant life could survive.
Over millennia, the place was abandoned—so desolate that even wild beasts avoided it.
Which was precisely why it had been chosen as the battlefield.
There was nothing to protect. Nothing to hold back.
They could fight without restraint.
---
Once both armies had assembled—
The thunder of tanks began to roll as steel waves surged across the plains.
Cannons fired in unison.
Jet fighters streaked across the sky like soaring eagles, weaving through the clouds in dogfights.
And hidden among the chaos, the Abyssal Demon, who had waited all day, grew more and more excited.
The scent of blood and war filled the air—an irresistible lure to a being born for slaughter.
At last, just as he could bear it no longer, the officer gave the order to attack!
In the blink of an eye, the demon surged upward in a billow of dark green mist.
He launched straight into the enemy's encampment.
There, the mist spread like wildfire.
Within seconds, over ten armored vehicles and hundreds of soldiers began to dissolve.
Flesh, bone, soil, steel...
Only a few materials could resist it. Everything else melted on contact.
The surrounding soldiers, overwhelmed by fear, frantically opened fire on the demon at the mist's center.
But their bullets never reached him—the green fog instantly dissolved all conventional ammunition.
They couldn't even touch him.
And so, the demon's slaughter began.
Tanks, infantry—it made no difference. Anything in its path was annihilated indiscriminately.
In just minutes, over a thousand soldiers lay dead, and countless war machines were destroyed.
---
At the heart of the battlefield,
As the battle reached new levels of intensity, troops flooded into the central zone.
The Deathblooms native to the region were trampled underfoot, crushed beneath tank treads.
One tank in particular was charging forward at full speed.
Unbeknownst to its crew, a single Deathbloom stood in its path.
Just as the treads were about to roll over it, a strange fluctuation rippled outward from the flower, spreading rapidly in all directions.
A figure emerged—breaking through the barriers of space and stepping slowly out of the void.
After all these years, Orsaga had returned to this universe.
The place where his journey across worlds had first begun.
_____
T/N:
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