As they approached the house...
The silent surroundings gave off an unsettling stillness. On the ground, on the roof, in every corner—there wasn't even a single mosquito in sight.
Everyone felt a heightened sense of unease, like sitting on pins and needles.
Their instincts screamed caution, and they were on full alert—ready to face whatever came next.
"Be careful. That thing is hiding somewhere..."
Staring at the constantly spinning compass in his hand, the captain issued a stern warning. "If you don't want to die, get your act together."
The others said nothing, tightening their grips and raising their guard to the max.
They all knew from training that Malevolent Spirit typically relied on hallucinations or hypnosis. Only the stronger ones could manipulate physical objects and directly cause harm.
Based on their calculations, the spirit in this house might barely have the ability to affect material objects—but it certainly wasn't strong enough to crush a person with a single thought.
So the real danger wasn't the spirit—it was themselves. If they fell for the hallucinations and turned on each other or even took their own lives, the fight would be over before it began.
But knowing what to do was one thing—sticking to it under pressure was another.
Their biological instincts to avoid danger were triggering waves of fear, affecting both mind and body.
Wills began to falter. Bodies began to tremble.
In less than thirty seconds, under the oppressive atmosphere, the spirit still hadn't shown itself—but two of the team were already shaking uncontrollably.
The captain frowned at the sight, glaring at them in disgust. "Useless!"
As a former soldier, nothing irked him more than cowardice before a battle even began.
If this weren't the wrong time and place, he might've kicked them himself.
He couldn't help but feel a bit speechless at the Exorcism Department's "gold rush" recruitment strategy. No matter how many crash courses these civilians took in two months, their psychological and physical resilience still paled in comparison to trained military personnel.
If it didn't occasionally manage to produce a few rare talents, he'd think the whole thing was just a glorified death sentence.
Just then, the compass in his hand flared with a sudden red glow.
His internal alarms blared—he shouted, "It's here!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than his vision blurred.
The quiet house interior vanished, replaced by a vast, endless wilderness.
Wind blew across his face.
And from the distance, a pack of wolves sprinted toward him, their glowing eyes full of vicious hunger.
Seeing this, his face darkened. "This level of hallucination... this Malevolent Spirit is one of the stronger kinds."
The protective talisman on him began to emit a strange light.
It was a specialized tool made by the government—both the materials and the craftsmanship were highly complex.
In ancient times, only powerful nobles could have something like this.
Only because modern society had the resources—and after several generations of technical refinement—could these talismans be mass-produced. Without that progress, people like him wouldn't even qualify to carry one.
A testament to how far the world had come.
He'd also heard faint whispers that the nation was trying to popularize knowledge of various exorcism techniques.
Not expecting everyone to become a master at it, but if most people could just learn a few tricks, the harm caused by these entities would drop significantly.
Of course, those techniques came with their own risks and required a lot of careful policy planning. So for now, such reforms were still on hold.
Feeling the clarity returning to his mind as the talisman's light washed over him, the captain exhaled slightly in relief.
If the charm was working, then the spirit was still within manageable Rank—it wasn't some entity on a godlike level.
With that, he began preparing other countermeasures...
Meanwhile, the rest of the squad had each fallen into their own illusions.
Unlike the composed captain, these rookies were in complete disarray.
This was supposed to be a team operation—yet now it felt like every man for himself!
Overwhelmed by fear, everything they learned during those two months of training was thrown out the window.
Some were still trying to stay calm, but after attempting several techniques and failing to break the illusion, frustration painted their faces.
A few looked downright betrayed—like they'd been set up.
Panic soon followed, and the team scattered in desperation.
In a chaotic frenzy, they began throwing out all sorts of flashy tools and gadgets.
To be fair, thanks to modern technology and resources, they did have some useful gear.
Compared to ordinary people, they had a bit more backbone.
Unfortunately, it proved completely useless.
—
Sitting casually in a chair, one hand propping up his chin, Orsaga swept his gaze over the scene.
Some were sprinting in place, some were butterfly-stroking across the floor, others were crying and screaming—or even slapping themselves in the face.
His expression didn't shift in the slightest.
It was like watching a boring farce.
Not even the slightest ripple passed through his mind.
To him, a few weak mortals weren't even worth noticing.
He didn't even need to use his powers. Just by existing—just by virtue of his Rank—he could effortlessly control their six senses.
In fact, if Orsaga wanted to, their very thoughts would be laid bare before him.
Sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch, intuition—ultimately, all of them were just extensions of the body and mind. Through his authority, he could override them all at will.
But for the sake of entertainment, he rarely used those abilities.
After all, he was here for fun.
Cheating would ruin the game.
He tapped his slender fingers twice against the wooden armrest, his peripheral vision catching sight of a chubby man who had gone from butterfly-stroking the floor to "floor-diving"—apparently trying to tunnel underground.
Orsaga's thoughts shifted.
A flicker of contemplation passed through his eyes.
'They can't see the truth because I've shrouded their senses… So what if I'm also being misled—tricked into overlooking a certain sense—and that's why I still haven't found the target…?'
With that thought, his will stirred—transforming into invisible waves that began scanning his own condition with meticulous precision.
Skin, flesh, bone, soul—even down to cells and molecules...
Several minutes later, finding no abnormalities, he cast over a hundred spells on himself.
Still nothing.
Only then did he confirm: he hadn't unknowingly fallen under someone else's influence.
Meanwhile, back inside the illusion, the Exorcism division personnel had progressed to the next act—breaking through the hallucinations and engaging in a fierce battle of wits and strength with the spirit.
They howled and shouted, striking at invisible foes and sometimes even at each other.
—
Dozens of minutes passed.
Inside the room…
The captain—his body covered in wounds—looked at the blood-soaked floor and the lifeless bodies of several fallen comrades. He turned to the survivors and said solemnly:
"Don't grieve. Their sacrifice wasn't in vain. It's thanks to them that we were able to defeat the Malevolent Spirit."
The survivors, too, wore expressions of relief—like they had just emerged from hell.
From their perspective, they had only triumphed through a desperate team effort.
A truly thrilling and dangerous battle.
Not far from them, Orsaga was still resting his head on his hand, lost in his own thoughts.
From beginning to end, no one had noticed his presence. No one had even come close.
When the mortals finally packed up and left, his figure slowly faded into the air—disappearing from the room.
___
T/N: guys this is a new fanfic, please do support by giving it a reading and see if you like it or not.