Weak

A few minutes later.

Seated upon the throne, Orsaga watched the Demons repairing the floor and clearing the scene, as well as the other Demons whose expressions held varying degrees of unease. His face showed no unnecessary emotion, and he appeared utterly calm and unruffled.

Only Uilaggs, whose heart had swelled somewhat, perhaps eager to prove that he possessed abilities worthy of his current status, kept chattering away as he introduced all sorts of circumstances and information to Orsaga.

Since those things were more or less useful, Orsaga did not interrupt him. As he listened, he was also thinking about something else.

What he was thinking about was, in fact, the Demons of this plane.

They're a little weak, and not particularly fierce either.

That was Orsaga's assessment of them.

If the average racial talent of the Ordinary Humans of this plane could be rated one point—

Then the Demons of this plane could receive, at most, around fifteen points.

Aside from relatively powerful bodies and some instinctive methods of wielding magic power, they possessed no Inheritance Memory and no particularly special Talent Abilities. Their various shortcomings were too numerous to even bother counting.

Furthermore, perhaps because they had existed for too short a time and faced little external pressure, spending all their time slaughtering one another, they did not even have slightly systematic training methods. They basically relied solely on devouring souls to grow stronger, making them even more primitive than many mortal civilizations in this plane where Supernatural Power had become widespread!

Like the rabbit in the tortoise-and-hare race, they had been constantly wasting what little talent they possessed.

One day, the mortal races might very well overtake them from behind and beat them senseless...

Take Wilmot, whom Orsaga had killed earlier, for example.

If his race had