The Dragon Clan of the Tachyon World

Unaware that his subordinates were pondering what schemes he might be plotting.

Or rather, even if he knew, Orsaga could not be bothered to care.

Whether they were loyal?

It was utterly meaningless.

After all, he regarded them merely as consumables. As long as they were useful, that was enough.

As for so-called Demon God level?

It was merely passable, barely reaching the energy tier of a Great Demon.

But in terms of overall capability, the gap was truly vast.

Compared to one another, they were as pitiful as blank accounts with no skills at all.

They could only be considered relatively rare consumables.

Thus, Orsaga did not care in the slightest who achieved the advancement.

In the end, what they had guessed was indeed correct. The Slaughter Ritual Orsaga had performed truly contained a grave problem.

Because the entire conversion process relied on Orsaga's methods.

Every tiny bit of power drawn from it.

Was equivalent to branding Orsaga's mark into one's very existence!

Incidentally, the reason its conversion rate transferred only fifty percent of the loser's power to the winner was mainly because Orsaga had taken the remaining fifty percent as a service fee.

Though he did not take much.

Still, plucking every feather from a passing goose—or leaving not even feathers behind—had always been a fine habit Orsaga could never change.

And he likewise did not care whether those Demons would discover this, much less whether they would be dissatisfied.

After all, the weak did not need the right to choose.

They only needed to accept.

After Uilaggs and that group of high-ranking Demons, each harboring their own thoughts, departed.

Orsaga sensed the somewhat restless thoughts of the female Demons beside him.

After casually sweeping his gaze over them, he calmly said:

"If you want to go, then