Orsaga didn't bother with the people still huddled together on the floor of the school bus.
Instead, he glanced at the destroyed radio transmitter.
With a single look at the damage, he immediately deduced the direction from which the attack had come.
His gaze shifted sharply in that direction.
Roughly a few dozen meters away, in a nearby wheat field, he spotted the attacker.
It was a man dressed in a black overcoat and wearing a wide-brimmed black hat.
Since he hadn't bothered to hide like the others, his appearance stood out even more.
The man was staring directly at Orsaga, his bloodshot eyes filled with murderous intent.
But what stood out even more than his hostile gaze was his face. Though vaguely human in structure, it was covered in something resembling scales—grotesque and unnatural.
No matter how you looked at him, he didn't seem human.
Orsaga held the man's gaze for a few seconds before sighing.
'So the monsters in this world really are getting bold. Ugly as hell, and now they're strutting around in broad daylight like it's nothing…'
Almost as if he'd heard that, the man in black let out a furious roar.
Then, reaching into the leather pouch at his waist, he pulled out a dagger and hurled it with full force.
Bang!
Orsaga was unharmed. The attack hadn't been aimed at him.
Instead, it struck one of the school bus's tires—bursting it instantly.
The bus jolted violently from the impact.
Inside, the passengers—already on edge—broke out into panicked screams.
Hearing their cries, the black-clad figure flared his nostrils and took a few long sniffs, as if savoring the fear in the air.
A few seconds later, seemingly satisfied with what he sensed, a pleased smile spread across his face.
Then, ignoring Orsaga entirely, he slowly backed into the depths of the wheat field and disappeared from view.
Watching him leave, Orsaga scratched his head in confusion.
"…What kind of lame, anticlimactic entrance was that? I thought he was gonna fight."
He turned and casually nudged a wailing student nearby with his toe—a kid bawling uncontrollably.
"Man, your crying is really annoying. The guy's already gone."
The student stopped mid-wail and blinked.
"Seriously?"
---
A few minutes later, the passengers gathered in a nervous circle, still shaken.
Harris turned to Orsaga and asked,
"Who the hell was that? The guy who attacked us?"
As one of the first to hit the ground, Harris hadn't even seen their attacker.
He'd automatically assumed the object that shattered the bus window and destroyed the transmitter was the work of a sniper.
Orsaga replied honestly,
"That thing wasn't human."
"...Huh?"
Harris frowned.
"You mean… one of those things you're supposed to hunt? But in broad daylight?"
Orsaga just shrugged indifferently.
"I'm afraid so."
It had to be said—monsters brazenly causing trouble under broad daylight was a bit much, even for him.
As they spoke, Orsaga reached over and took back his handwritten Bible from the bespectacled student.
Then, flipping to a new page, he began sketching rapidly with the same pen.
Moments later…
A highly detailed, near-photorealistic image of the attacker was complete.
He handed the drawing to Harris.
"That's what the guy looked like."
Harris took the page and stared at it in stunned silence.
Aside from the colors being slightly off due to the ink, the drawing was as realistic as a high-resolution photograph.
The creature was terrifying, sure.
But what was even scarier… was Orsaga's unbelievable drawing ability.
If he hadn't watched it come together with his own eyes, Harris would never have believed someone could draw something like this—with just a fountain pen, no less.
It made him genuinely question:
'Why the hell is this guy claiming to be an exorcist?. With skills like that, Orsaga could easily pass himself off as a world-class artist. Wasn't that a better career than chasing demons?'
---
After passing the drawing around, everyone now had a clear idea of what the enemy looked like—and couldn't stop whispering about how insane Orsaga's sketching ability was.
Meanwhile, Orsaga rummaged through the wreckage of the radio transmitter and casually retrieved a second dart.
Then, near the burst tire, he picked up a strange bone dagger carved with twisted human faces locked in eternal screams.
Just as he climbed back into the bus, he overheard a male student shouting:
"I've figured it out!. This whole thing is a setup!. It's all a conspiracy cooked up by that guy we picked up on the road—Orsaga!. He's clearly working with someone else!. What, we couldn't get a signal, but the moment someone starts reading the Bible, it magically works again?."
"Yeah, right!. He must've had an accomplice plant some kind of signal jamming device nearby—this is all staged!"
Hearing that, many of the others nodded in agreement.
To them, this theory made way more sense than the idea of being attacked by some kind of monster.
After all, Orsaga had appeared out of nowhere, alone on the side of the road.
And not long after he got on the bus… everything started going wrong.
Putting two and two together, it was hard not to be suspicious.
All eyes turned toward Orsaga, who had just reentered the bus.
With the crowd seemingly on his side, the accusing student stood taller, emboldened.
Looking straight at Orsaga, he declared:
"I've seen right through you!. You got off the bus earlier just to signal your accomplice, didn't you?. You'd better start talking and tell us the truth. Otherwise—we'll have no choice but to use force!"
At that moment, Orsaga understood that their suspicion was, in some sense, reasonable.
But that didn't make it any less annoying.
Useless teammates… nothing but dead weight.
If he weren't currently limited in power and in need of some meat shields, he wouldn't waste a second on any of them.
Just as the boy was about to press further, Orsaga quietly set the bone dagger aside…
Then calmly rubbed his hands together.
Expression cold, he began walking toward them.
Seeing this, the accusing student sneered:
"What, you gonna take us all on by yourself? Fine then—let's see how many of us you can beat!"
---
Thirty seconds later.
After a few seconds of resistance—if it could even be called that—every single one of the "rebels" was lying on the floor.
They looked like a pile of dead dogs.
As for the ringleader, he was now clinging to Orsaga's pristine white shoes, face soaked with tears.
"Please—no more! We give up! You win! Whatever you say goes!"
He had both overestimated his own strength and severely underestimated Orsaga's.
As a seasoned expert in combat, Orsaga knew exactly where to hit to make someone scream for their mother—and where to strike to make them regret ever being born.
With blows that broke wills and shattered pride, it didn't matter how tough someone looked.
Even the hardest, most stone-cold badass would be crying like a child after three punches, tops.
From start to finish, everyone had been knocked out with a single hit.
No one lasted long enough to take a second.
Kicking the sobbing student away, Orsaga calmly wiped his hands and said:
"See? Would've saved us all some time if you'd just cooperated from the start."
Then he turned to the rest of the passengers.
"You all saw it. If I really had bad intentions. I wouldn't have gone through all the trouble."
Coach Harris immediately forced out an awkward laugh.
"Got it, got it! This whole mess clearly has nothing to do with you!. Just some students talking nonsense!. Please, don't take it to heart!"
_____
T/N:
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