With Orsaga, this uninvited newcomer, entering the scene.
Cyttorak, that passerby who had died right at the start, could be ignored for now.
Mephisto, that fellow who wanted to stir up trouble, was also an obvious piece of trash.
Although his strength was Barely Acceptable, the sleaziness and cunning in his nature made him far more suited to being a somewhat distinguished stepping stone than a substantive threat.
He was like those elite wild monsters that constantly made their presence known, only to show their faces at a critical moment and then die on the spot with lightning speed before anyone could cover their ears.
Or rather.
That itself was the role OAA had arranged for him.
Whenever the occasion arose, he could serve as something for others to step on.
Therefore.
From the very beginning, after Orsaga had roughly adapted to this plane's actual circumstances, gathered and understood its scattered information, and gained a deeper understanding of the environment here, he had completely lost any desire to pay attention to the other party.
At this moment.
The vast Crimson Dimension was incomparably empty.
As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but endless tides of red energy flowing about.
Orsaga and the throne he had brought with him.
Were the only tangible objects in the entire Crimson Dimension.
Slowly rising from the throne beneath him, he casually clenched his fist.
Silently.
Orsaga began making all kinds of minute adjustments to himself, swiftly correcting each problem...
Unlike the avatars he created himself, which he could log into and use immediately with perfect compatibility.
This shell had been created by OAA.
So now.
He still needed to make some adjustments.
Otherwise, his power would be somewhat difficult to wield.
Besides that.
Since the power of this avatar had been