As night fell…
Shhh~ Shhh~ Shhh~
A strange, unsettling sound echoed through the school bus.
It was like the whispering rasp of a butcher sharpening his blade nearby, a sound that made every passenger instinctively tense up in fear.
At that moment, someone looked at Orsaga, brows furrowed in confusion.
"…Why are you sharpening that dagger?"
Holding up the bone dagger—its gleaming white surface now polished to a like-new shine—Orsaga glanced at the student and replied casually:
"Gonna use it to chop someone up in a bit."
His tone was as blunt and matter-of-fact as ever.
Silence instantly fell over the bus.
Since Orsaga was, without question, the strongest person on board, nobody dared to provoke him.
So, the only sensible thing to do… was pretend they hadn't heard anything at all.
Once he was done sharpening the dagger, Orsaga repurposed the leftover enchanted ink he had used earlier.
With it, he began inscribing special runes—slowly and carefully—onto the blade's surface, performing a basic level enchantment.
When he finished, he grabbed the glasses-wearing student—the poor soul who had previously donated blood—and handed him the handwritten Bible once more.
Then, pointing calmly at the bone dagger, Orsaga instructed:
"Your new job is to read scripture over this dagger. Out loud. And make sure you're sincere about it. Because if I sense even a hint of laziness, and that thing attacks again. I'm using you as a meat shield."
The message was simple.
The student was moved.
Truly, there was nothing more touching than a man's honest promise.
Especially when he knew full well—if Orsaga said he'd use him as a human shield, he meant it.
How could he not be sincere after that?
Without hesitation, he knelt before the dagger, Bible in hand, and began reciting the verses with solemn devotion.
As he prayed earnestly to the Lord for deliverance from danger—he also quietly added a second request:
"…and if You happen to have a spare lightning bolt, could You maybe strike down Orsaga too?"
The others on the bus, though seething inside, didn't dare speak against Orsaga either.
They could only avert their pitying gazes from the unfortunate volunteer and go back to chatting about other things—secretly hoping they wouldn't be next.
Orsaga, for his part, couldn't care less about their thoughts.
From what the cheer captain had told him, this so-called man-eater was a monster that had survived for thousands of years.
Definitely not the kind of thing your average Joe could handle.
As for how strong such a creature might be in this particular world, Orsaga couldn't say for sure. He could only assume a middle-of-the-road threat level.
That being the case, he figured he probably wouldn't be able to take it down bare-handed.
And considering his current strength was sealed, and he had no materials to craft proper equipment...
What could he do?
Make do.
If all he could scavenge was dollar-store-tier gear, then dollar-store-tier gear it was.
The runes he inscribed onto the dagger were adapted from a little-known exorcism chapter of a Christian apocryphal text.
In a world like Harry Potter, that kind of script might be enough to summon a projection of a low-level angel.
Even though he wasn't in that kind of world…
With a few modifications, the enchantment still retained some anti-demonic effects.
If it was just some run-of-the-mill bottom-feeder demon, the dagger might be able to one-shot them.
But if it was really a centuries-old monster?
Orsaga figured he'd be lucky if the blade could even scratch it before he got sent to the afterlife.
Kind of like how lesser demons wouldn't stand a chance against his real body either.
'Still… when that guy was standing near us earlier, I didn't really feel like he was that much of a threat. Could he have been hiding his true strength? Or… maybe thousand-year-old monsters in this world are just low-tier scrubs?'
Faced with these questions, even Orsaga wasn't sure.
As he silently contemplated, Harris glanced at the bespectacled student, who was now fervently praying beside the enchanted dagger.
With a nervous expression, Harris finally asked:
"…Why not just do the chanting yourself?. Wouldn't your own prayers be more effective?"
Orsaga raised a brow.
"I don't believe in a God. Why would I pray to Him?"
Harris blinked.
"…Wait, you're not a Christian? Then how were you able to transcribe the Bible from memory?"
Orsaga answered plainly,
"Back in the day, when I was out looting and pillaging, I figured it might come in handy, so I memorized some of it."
Whenever he devoured souls, he always absorbed their memories without discrimination. Whenever he razed a place to the ground, he picked up whatever knowledge was useful.
That's why—even though he was a demon and a minor god—he was also kind of like an unlicensed exorcist, and a second-rate friend of justice.
He might not have formal credentials, but he definitely had the know-how.
"...???"
Hearing this, not just Harris—but several of the students eavesdropping nearby—were completely dumbfounded.
How were they supposed to guess that kind of answer?
Looking at Orsaga's calm expression, and then at his totally unassuming outfit…
Harris suddenly wasn't so sure about anything anymore.
Orsaga didn't look like the kind of person who went around committing atrocities…
But something about his entire vibe said he could probably cut his way from the White House to Mount Rushmore without blinking.
Wiping the cold sweat off his forehead, Harris forced a stiff smile.
"Haha… You sure like to joke."
Orsaga didn't bother explaining.
---
Ten minutes later.
BANG!
A loud thud rang out as something slammed onto the roof of the bus.
Two small dents appeared above them—and through the metal, a few jet-black claws pierced inward like spears.
Everyone on board froze, eyes wide, throats dry.
They all remembered: the monster sniffed out its prey based on fear.
So not a single person dared to scream—not even a whisper.
They were terrified that the slightest sound might draw its attention and land them at the top of the menu.
A student, shivering violently, muttered under his breath:
"…I think it's here…"
Another student immediately turned and snapped:
"NO SHIT! We can see it, genius!"
The trembling student didn't argue back.
Instead, he huddled deeper into the crowd, sniffling and crying.
"Hey, guys… y-you gotta protect me, alright?. You know the deal—guys like me never survive in horror movies!. Black dude? No plot armor?. I'm the first to go!. So seriously… y'all gotta have my back!. I swear, if we make it out of this… I'll—"
_____
T/N:
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