"Long time no see. Now that I look at you, after leaving your hometown, you've been doing quite well?"
It was a brief greeting, abrupt and without any warning.
At the very least, Nurgle, who was feeding his subordinates, had received no advance premonition.
Yet that incomparably familiar voice and tone, along with the suddenly appearing obscure aura... and that horrifying, dreadful sensation.
Still made his body stiffen at once. Even the greasy fat on the huge belly covered in mouths and pustules could not help but quiver.
"..."
"..."
"..."
It was a somewhat long silence.
Countless opening lines rapidly flowed through Nurgle's mind.
But because he had no idea what he ought to say.
Nurgle's brain CPU actually crashed slightly for a moment.
"?"
This left Orsaga, who had waited for a while without receiving a response, feeling rather baffled.
"Fatty, say something?"
"Believe it or not, I'll give you a set of Lightning Five-Lash Whip??"
Nurgle fell silent again upon hearing that.
An impolite remark.
A threat whose meaning was hard to fathom.
The flavor is still just as strong. It really is that bad fellow...
He pursed the rotten flesh on his mouth.
Pursing his lips clean off, he chewed them a little. Only then did Nurgle finally turn around and look at Orsaga. Feeling the inexplicable pressure emanating from him, he could not help but sigh.
"It really has been many years."
"It seems you've crossed that step..."
Though he felt somewhat emotional.
He was not especially surprised that Orsaga had advanced to the Abyss Prince Level.
Because when they had discussed the culinary arts in Warp Space back then, he had already known what kind of personality Orsaga possessed.
He liked courting death.
The sort of fellow who feared no risks in pursuit of