The full moon hung high in the sky, casting a quiet silver glow over the earth.
On a small hillside nearby—
Orsaga sat casually on the roof of a police cruiser, while the police chief stood beside him, using binoculars to monitor the college party in the distance. His brows furrowed slightly as he spoke, confused.
"Just the two of us? Even if that thing really shows up here, I don't think we stand a chance."
He had read some of the files on Jason before. He knew all too well.
That kind of monster wasn't something a couple of regular guys could handle.
Even if they deployed the entire police force, there would still be casualties. As far as he was concerned, the two of them weren't here to stop the killer—they were here to get killed.
Orsaga remained relaxed, leaning back with his feet resting on the car's windshield wipers.
"According to the intel I received from the International Exorcist Association, Jason has excellent detection skills. If there are too many officers nearby, he'll instantly sense something's wrong."
He stretched lazily and added, "That's why we had to do it this way. And don't forget, we deliberately reassigned the rest of the officers to the other two locations to drive him here."
The chief let out a long, resigned sigh.
"That all makes sense, I guess… but this still feels way too risky."
He was only in his early forties—wanted to do his duty, sure—but he had no interest in dying in the line of it.
Orsaga gazed up at the moon above with a calm, carefree smile.
"Don't worry. You don't understand how strong I am. Jason's nothing. I can take him one-on-one, easy."
The chief looked Orsaga up and down. He wasn't exactly skinny, but he sure didn't look like some kind of muscle-bound powerhouse either. He shook his head in disbelief.
"Jason can drag a car with one hand. You? I don't think you'd last three seconds before he splits you in half."
Orsaga shot him a smug, know-it-all look.
"No, no, no… You should be saying I'll kill him in three seconds. Back on the banks of the Stygian river, I used to go toe-to-toe with demons all day."
The chief lit a cigarette with an exasperated expression.
"It's only 8:30. Aren't you dreaming a little too early?"
After that, he just squatted beside the car, puffing away in silence. At this point, there wasn't much he could do. All they could do now was wait and see.
Meanwhile, Orsaga remained utterly unconcerned, watching the bonfire blaze in the distance and the college students dancing around it.
To him, those people were nothing but bait.
Even the chief had quietly accepted that fact.
Because in a country like this, trying to stop a party was a lost cause. Even murder investigations couldn't compete with the spirit of celebration. No matter what the law said, no one was going to listen—especially not during a party.
Unless you showed up swinging a weapon, their self-destructive enthusiasm wouldn't fade in the slightest.
So, better to let them serve a purpose: attract the killer.
After watching for a while, Orsaga sighed.
"College life around here sure is something..."
Dancing, flirting, smoking, grilling, getting high—
They were living it up while slowly sliding into depravity. A discount version of a decadent nightlife.
Demons loved these places. So many chances to lead souls into full-on corruption.
As for devils—they preferred more direct methods. They didn't care for long-term corruption or spiritual decay. Why waste time corrupting someone's soul when you could just carve it out?
Persuasion was never really on the table. Even when it was, it came dripping with malice.
The chief, now done with his cigarette, had found a new source of entertainment.
With intense focus, he looked through his binoculars again, fixated on something.
"Hmm... yeah, not bad, not bad..." he mumbled vaguely in response to Orsaga.
Following his gaze, Orsaga spotted what had caught his attention—
A couple hidden among the tall grass, doing something very... Naughty things.
He snorted.
A few minutes later—
Just as the chief was really getting into his voyeuristic view, he noticed something strange. A tall, shadowy figure had silently appeared behind the couple.
And they—completely unaware—continued their passionate encounter, oblivious to the danger looming behind them.
In the next instant, a flash of steel.
Under Jason's swift and brutal blade, two round heads tumbled to the ground.
Blood sprayed across the cornfield, soaking the earth in silence.
"Oh, shit..."
The chief jerked back, quickly lowering his binoculars. He shoved Orsaga, who was crouched nearby trying to catch a snake for his late-night snack.
"He's really here! Someone's already dead!"
"Relax, relax… Let me finish picking my dinner ingredients first," Orsaga said calmly, brushing the chief's hand aside.
He'd been waiting for Jason so long, he'd worked up an appetite.
And with fresh snake meat slithering around right in front of him, priorities had to be set.
The chief looked from the bloody party scene in the distance… to Orsaga, who was focused on wrangling a snake.
His expression was pure disbelief.
'What the hell is this?'
He started to wonder if that cigarette he smoked earlier had been laced with something. Did he accidentally light one of those marijuana-stuffed specials?
Suddenly—
Screams rang out.
A chubby student, face pale with terror, came sprinting out of the cornfield.
The other partygoers turned in surprise, confused but curious.
Before anyone could ask what was happening—
Whoosh—
From within the cornfield came the sound of something large slicing through the stalks.
A blood-covered machete came flying through the air, stabbing straight into the fat student's chest and pinning his 200-pound body against a thick wooden post like he weighed nothing.
The party fell into stunned silence.
Even the loud bass thumping from the speakers couldn't reignite the mood.
A few seconds passed.
Finally, a girl hesitantly asked, "Is this some kind of prank?"
No one could be sure.
It was just too absurd.
A real machete? A body nailed to a post?
'Is someone filming a horror movie?'
Still skeptical, a brave guy stepped closer to the post.
Then he saw the dead guy's wide, terrified eyes and slack face—frozen in disbelief and pain.
He didn't need experience to know. This was real. This was death.
The realization hit instantly, and he stumbled back in panic, shouting:
"Run! This isn't—"
But before he could finish, a towering figure loomed up behind him. With one massive swing, Jason slapped him across the head.
Crack—
The sound of bones shattering echoed in the night.
His neck twisted a full 720 degrees, like a spinning top.
Screams erupted all around.
Chaos descended on the field.
And what was Orsaga doing?
Still catching snakes.
Because a few deaths?
Nowhere near as important as securing his midnight snack.
_____
T/N:
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