"Bye-bye." Young Ash gave the possessed diner a faint smile and pulled the trigger before the Deadite could move. The enchanted shotgun roared at point-blank range, obliterating the host's head while the Demonic Power woven through the blast tore apart the possessing spirit at the same time. Blood and fragments sprayed across the floor, and the horrifying sight finally shattered what little composure remained among the surviving customers.
Screams erupted throughout the restaurant as Nancy and the other unpossessed diners rushed toward the exits. Several injured people stumbled after them, while others crawled away from the bodies and broken glass covering the floor. Ash did not stop them because the five evil spirits he had sensed were already inside their chosen hosts, which meant getting the remaining civilians out of the building was the safest thing they could do.
A large man from the kitchen staggered upright next, blood running down the side of his face. He calmly pulled a jagged piece of wood from the top of his skull as though it were nothing, grabbed a kitchen knife, and charged Ash with a distorted grin. At the same time, three more possessed diners came at him from behind and the side, surrounding him from nearly every direction.
Ash did not look worried.
In fact, the corner of his mouth lifted.
"Perfect timing."
He had been waiting for a chance to properly test the ability extracted from the Flame Demon.
Ash extended one hand.
Demonic Power surged through his arm, but instead of emerging as the familiar black mist, the energy ignited. Dark infernal flames burst from his palm and instantly expanded into a circular wave, sweeping outward across the restaurant floor in every direction.
Heat slammed through the room.
The wooden floor blackened and cracked beneath the advancing flames, while the air distorted from the sudden temperature spike. The four possessed attackers reacted immediately, their Deadite instincts recognizing the danger, but by the time they turned to escape, the ring of fire had already reached them.
Hellfire struck all four at once.
Their bodies were hurled backward into walls, tables, and counters before the infernal flames wrapped around them completely. The hosts screamed with overlapping human and demonic voices as the fire burned through flesh and spirit simultaneously, leaving them no opportunity to abandon their ruined bodies and escape.
Within seconds, the screaming stopped.
Four piles of ash remained.
Young Ash lowered his hand and looked around with satisfaction. "That was cleaner than expected."
He stepped over to the first Deadite he had shot and crushed the remaining supernatural residue beneath his boot to make sure nothing survived. The new ability was exactly what he had suspected after killing the Flame Demon: he could convert his spiritual energy directly into Hellfire, an infernal flame capable of attacking both physical matter and supernatural entities.
Using ordinary spiritual energy alone could ignite it, but feeding it through Demonic Power produced a much more violent result. The flames gained the same corrosive quality carried by his black energy, allowing them to burn and erode a target at the same time. The four Deadites had died too quickly for the corrosion to matter much, but against tougher creatures, the combination could become extremely useful.
Ash was under no illusion that his Hellfire had suddenly reached some legendary level. Compared with the kind of supernatural flame wielded by truly powerful infernal beings, his version was still relatively basic. It had enormous room for improvement, but as a new method for destroying spirits without needing to stab or shoot them individually, he was more than satisfied.
The five Deadite kills brought another surprise.
Ash felt the familiar strengthening surge pass through him, followed by five nearly identical supernatural impressions merging into one of his existing abilities.
Object Control.
The ability had originally come from the cloth demon back in New York and allowed him to manipulate nonliving objects, including corpses, through supernatural force. Every one of these newly destroyed spirits seemed to possess a similar minor talent, and their duplicate rewards stacked rather than disappearing.
Ash immediately noticed the improvement.
The range had increased.
So had his precision.
He could maintain control over more objects simultaneously, sustain the effect longer, and manipulate corpses or complicated objects with much finer movements than before.
Ash looked up at the ceiling fan.
He raised one hand.
The fan tore free from its mounting and floated toward him under supernatural control.
Ash studied it thoughtfully. "If this keeps improving, can I eventually stand on a sword and fly around?"
The ceiling fan gave him no answer.
Ash released it carefully onto an empty table. "Probably better not test that tonight."
Once he was certain no spirits remained inside the restaurant, Ash turned toward the destroyed restroom area. The sound of fighting was still coming from outside, so he crossed the debris-covered dining room and stepped through the huge hole where part of the restroom wall had once stood.
What he saw made him stop.
Older Ash was on the pavement wrestling with the possessed teenager, his pants only partially pulled back into place after the fight had exploded out of the restroom. The Deadite's face had already been badly damaged by repeated blows from Pablo's mechanical hand, but the body continued thrashing with supernatural strength beneath him.
Young Ash grimaced. "I really did not need to see this."
Older Ash looked up, wiped blood from his face, and shouted, "Gun!"
Ash immediately understood.
He tossed the enchanted shotgun across the gap.
Older Ash caught it with his mechanical hand just as the possessed teenager twisted free and tried to scramble away. He rolled onto one knee, raised the weapon, and fired.
The Demonic Power–charged blast struck the Deadite from behind.
Its body crashed forward.
This time, the possessing spirit died with it.
Older Ash stood and stared admiringly at the shotgun. "Oh, yeah."
He ran his mechanical fingers along the receiver.
"This thing is officially my new favorite."
Young Ash pointed downward. "You might want to finish getting dressed before you start naming weapons."
Older Ash glanced at himself.
Then at Ash.
"It's called confidence."
"It's called traumatizing bystanders."
Only then did older Ash notice the crowd gathered farther down the sidewalk.
Several people had their phones raised.
A few were still recording.
Others were whispering excitedly about the man who had just crashed through a wall fighting what looked like a possessed teenager.
Older Ash looked around in disbelief. "Nobody thought to run?"
One man lowered his phone slightly. "We thought it was a movie."
Another added, "Honestly, it looked pretty real."
Older Ash stared at them.
Then his expression changed.
He raised the shotgun.
The crowd immediately stiffened.
"Alright, freeloaders!" older Ash shouted. "You got a front-row seat to premium entertainment. Show's over, admission is one dollar."
Young Ash closed his eyes.
Older Ash pointed toward the crowd with his mechanical hand. "Come on. You pay more than that for bad streaming subscriptions. One buck each."
The bystanders looked at one another.
Somehow, a few actually started pulling out cash.
Young Ash silently turned away and pretended he had never met the man.
He activated his AIIB earpiece instead and began reporting the incident to the Lansing Branch. "Special Agent Ash Williams. Supernatural attack at West Moose restaurant, multiple civilian casualties, multiple Deadite possessions neutralized. I need medical response, scene containment, cleanup, and witness management."
The reply came quickly.
Ash gave the location and a brief summary of the Hellfire incident, though he described his own ability simply as supernatural force for the initial report. The Lansing Branch already knew enough about his unusual combat methods that nobody wasted time arguing over terminology.
By the time older Ash finished collecting his so-called admission fees, AIIB personnel were already arriving.
Dark government vehicles pulled into the parking lot, followed by emergency medical support and local coordination teams. Lansing Branch personnel began moving witnesses aside, separating injured civilians from the crowd, documenting the destroyed restaurant, and collecting statements before rumors could spread too far.
One of the field supervisors found young Ash near the rented sedan and asked for a complete sequence of events. Ash gave him the condensed version: supernatural wind, five possessing entities, hostile hosts, confirmed neutralization, additional Deadite encounter outside. He deliberately left older Ash's payment scheme out until the supervisor glanced toward the middle-aged man counting crumpled bills.
"What's he doing?"
Ash sighed.
"Recovering dinner expenses."
The supervisor stared.
Older Ash proudly held up the money. "Twenty-three bucks."
Young Ash looked at him. "You actually charged them?"
"One dollar each. Fair market value."
Strangely, none of the spectators seemed interested in complaining. A few were still laughing about the bizarre fight, and one man even said the dollar had been worth it just for the story he could tell later.
Ash looked between them.
Then at older Ash.
"This state concerns me."
Older Ash shoved the money into his pocket. "Meal paid for."
"You said ten minutes."
"Details."
While the Lansing Branch cleaned up West Moose, another vehicle was racing back across Michigan.
Ruby Knowby had spent more than ten hours driving almost continuously from New York, relying on endurance that was anything but ordinary. Her burgundy Dodge tore down the highway while older Ash's severed hand moved restlessly on the passenger seat beside her.
Ruby glanced at it.
"You'd better get it right this time."
The hand immediately pointed forward.
Ruby followed the direction.
Then frowned.
"The cabin?"
The hand flexed its fingers.
Ruby's expression sharpened as pieces began fitting together in her mind. If Ashley J. Williams had returned to Michigan with the Book of the Dead, going back to the original cabin made a disturbing amount of sense.
"Of course."
She pressed harder on the accelerator.
"You finally went back."
Ruby did not know that the hand was technically pointing toward older Ash's actual position beyond the cabin rather than the building itself. From her current angle, the cabin, older Ash, and the direction indicated by the severed hand happened to line up closely enough that her mistaken interpretation produced the correct destination anyway.
Her grip tightened on the wheel.
"Perfect."
If older Ash was returning to where everything began, Ruby could intercept him there.
And take back the Book of the Dead.
The severed hand tapped the dashboard.
Ruby glared at it. "Don't get excited. You're still getting chopped into smaller pieces if you send me on another cross-country detour."
The hand went still.
Back at West Moose, the Lansing Branch eventually released young Ash after collecting everything necessary for the initial incident report. He and older Ash did not linger, because every hour spent dealing with random Deadite attacks was another hour the active Book of the Dead remained unresolved. They climbed back into the rented sedan and continued deeper into rural Michigan.
It was already well past dark when they finally reached the highway closest to the cabin.
Older Ash directed young Ash toward what had once been a dirt access road.
The road barely existed anymore.
Weeds had swallowed most of it, brush filled the center, and young trees had grown through stretches that had once been passable by car. Decades without maintenance had reduced the route to little more than a narrow scar disappearing into the forest.
Older Ash stared into the darkness ahead.
"Looks like they shut the whole area down after what happened."
Young Ash parked the sedan at the roadside and killed the engine. "Not surprising. Five young people go into a rental cabin, most of them die under circumstances nobody can explain, and the place becomes a legal nightmare."
Older Ash's expression darkened slightly.
"Yeah."
Ash opened his door. "How far from here?"
"Not bad. Maybe half an hour on foot if I remember the trail."
Older Ash reached into the back and retrieved his chainsaw attachment.
"Before we go, give this thing the same treatment as the shotgun."
Young Ash took the chainsaw.
He placed one hand against the housing and fed a controlled amount of Demonic Power into the weapon. Black mist briefly crawled across the metal before sinking inward, leaving faint dark-red traces along several edges and reinforcing the chainsaw so it could damage spiritual and demonic entities more effectively.
Older Ash took it back with obvious approval.
"Groovy."
Young Ash pulled out a flashlight.
Older Ash looked at him. "Thought you had demon eyes now."
"I can see fine."
Ash switched the flashlight on.
"This is for you."
Older Ash frowned. "My eyes work."
"Sure."
Young Ash stepped onto the overgrown trail before the argument could continue.
His enhanced eyesight adjusted effortlessly to the darkness between the trees, allowing him to make out roots, branches, uneven ground, and distant movement with far more clarity than any ordinary person should possess at night. The flashlight beam was almost unnecessary for him, but keeping it on made the trek easier for older Ash.
Behind him, Ashley J. Williams followed with the enchanted chainsaw in one hand and the Book of the Dead secured with the other.
Ahead of them lay the cabin where his nightmare had begun decades ago.