Chapter 305: The Descent of Angels (II)
Sensing that Gideon might truly walk away, Jason Voorhees hurriedly added,
"As long as you help me break free, I can cooperate with you—just like him."
A low chuckle followed from Freddy Krueger.
"I thought you hated being a 'slave'," he said, deliberately emphasizing the last word.
Jason ignored the jab completely, his gaze fixed on Gideon.
Gideon shrugged. "A promise made under unequal power means nothing."
"Hmph. Don't be so quick to refuse," Jason said after a brief pause. "I have a way to reassure you—just like he did."
"Oh?" Gideon raised an eyebrow.
Jason spoke slowly, "On the wall to your right, at the very bottom—there's a loose brick with a dent on its surface. Pull it out."
Gideon followed the directions and soon found the exact brick.
He glanced at Freddy, signaling him to proceed.
"Clack!"
The brick dropped away, revealing a hidden cavity behind it.
Freddy reached inside and pulled out a white hockey mask. Its surface was dotted with ventilation holes, and a small red marking sat on the forehead.
"What is this…?" Gideon asked.
Jason replied flatly, "Protective gear. For work."
Gideon resisted the urge to comment on Jason calling murder "work." Instead, he asked,
"So what does it do?"
Jason's answer was simple:
"I cannot harm any human who holds it."
Gideon immediately understood—this item was just like Freddy's clawed glove. A unique object, tied directly to its owner's essence.
But understanding didn't mean believing.
Without hesitation, Gideon tossed the mask to the ground—and stomped on it.
"You… what are you doing?!" Jason's expression twisted violently, pain flashing across his face.
Even Freddy was visibly unsettled.
The sensation was oddly specific—like watching something deeply uncomfortable happen to someone else, yet feeling it in your own bones.
"Even I've never tortured anyone like that…" Freddy thought, slightly shaken.
Then Gideon glanced at him—clearly asking for confirmation.
Freddy quickly nodded. "He's telling the truth."
For once, Freddy actually felt a flicker of sympathy for Jason.
"…Satisfied now?" Jason asked, his voice strained.
Gideon stroked his chin, unconvinced.
"You were cautious enough to set a trap earlier," he said calmly. "So why would you willingly hand over something like this—especially when you're still imprisoned?"
Jason let out a cold snort.
…but offered no explanation.
Gideon quickly recalled the moment they had first met Jason Voorhees.
Back then, Jason had deliberately used insulting language toward Freddy Krueger. Now that he thought about it, it had clearly been a test. Jason had prepared two plans from the very beginning.
He hadn't known that Gideon and Freddy's cooperation was bound by a contract—otherwise, he would never have dared to hand over the mask so easily.
Which meant…
Gideon cast a meaningful glance at Freddy.
Freddy stiffened instantly.
"H-heh… back then I didn't remember anything, right?" A bead of cold sweat slid down his neck.
Gideon snorted but didn't pursue it further.
Across from them, Jason was already growing impatient.
"Hey, human. Speak."
"I have one last question," Gideon said, pointing at Luen. "There are many survivors here. Why did you choose him?"
Luen blinked, equally curious.
Jason frowned slightly, clearly not expecting that question.
"His soul is… unusual. It can drift outside his body. That's how I noticed him."
Then he added, staring directly at Luen,
"Since we're about to cooperate, I'll give you a warning—don't let your soul wander freely. The undead here have been watching you for a long time. They've only held back because of that thing's power."
Luen's face went pale.
"G-Gideon…!"
Gideon fell into thought.
Luen's condition resembled something he had seen before—in a previous case involving spiritual projection. Only those gifted in what the Church called the "Soul Bridge" could reach such a state.
Most clergy could only construct that bridge through mental focus, channeling divine power.
But someone like Luen…
…could directly expose their soul to divine light.
That made his potential far greater—and far more dangerous.
After confirming there was no hidden trap, Gideon agreed to Jason's proposal.
With Freddy's help, Jason was quickly freed from his restraints.
The dark energy binding him seemed unwilling to give up, but before Gideon and the others could react, it retreated back into the swirling mist.
Soon after, under Jason's guidance, the four of them began heading toward the final gate.
The Final Gate — Haddonfield
The town lay silent beneath the night sky.
A long road stretched into dense fog, the entire place surrounded by forest. Abandoned cars lined the streets, and old black-and-white televisions were scattered across the ground.
"Bzzzt… bzzzt…"
The screens flickered endlessly, showing something incomprehensible—something that resembled a living eye.
"Tap… tap…"
A small group of four moved cautiously past them—two men and two women, two already wounded.
"We can't wait any longer," a nun in a white headscarf said urgently. "Sister Isa's Coagulation is about to wear off. Without treatment, she'll collapse."
"Ford, we have to use the emergency injection on her. You'll have to hold on."
The man called Ford—a middle-aged priest—had a hatchet lodged in his back.
"It's fine," Ford said through gritted teeth. "This place seems quieter than the forest. It should be safer."
"But you've already been hooked twice…" Isa hesitated.
"This isn't the time to argue. We need to stabilize before we run into another Scavenger."
Another priest nodded. "There are buildings here. We might find medical supplies."
Isa sighed and finally agreed.
The white-clad nun rolled up her sleeve.
"Bzzzt—"
A television flickered.
A pale hand suddenly crawled out of the screen.
Then came long black hair.
The hand reached silently toward the nun's throat—
"Watch out!"
Isa shoved her aside just in time.
The hand grasped empty air.
Only then did the others notice—
A small, ghostly white figure stood beside the television.
Pale skin. Filthy nails. Hair covering its face.
Not human.
A red glow spread across the ground.
The heartbeat sound exploded in their ears.
"A… scav…!" the fat priest stammered.
"Run!" Ford shouted.
But Isa suddenly collapsed.
Her Coagulation had fully expired.
The Scavenger ignored the others, grabbed Isa, and began dragging her toward a hook.
"What do we do now…" the fat priest whispered.
"We have to save her," the nun said. "The hook is far. If we stall long enough, she can break free."
They chased after it.
They had learned this rule the hard way—through five deaths:
A Scavenger couldn't carry prey indefinitely.
Given enough time, the victim could escape.
"But there are TVs everywhere," the fat priest said. "That thing can move through them…"
"Even if we save her, she won't get far."
Silence fell.
"…There is time," Ford suddenly said.
The others looked at him.
"If we make it attack once—it'll delay long enough!"
"But then someone else gets injured…"
"That's why it has to be me."
Ford clenched his fists.
"Isa is from a Sacred Family. If we want to escape, we need her alive."
"You two are still healthy. Don't waste that advantage."
The nun's eyes widened. "But you—how will you escape?"
Ford said nothing.
"…You…"
"Not enough time!"
He ran forward.
"Hey! Ugly thing! Picking on a lady? Look at me!"
The Scavenger turned briefly—then continued toward the hook.
But the delay was enough.
Ford stepped directly into its path.
A strange white sigil flashed.
He groaned—but did not fall.
A purple sigil in his hand crumbled to dust.
[Iron Will — Tier 3]
Allows the user to withstand one attack while injured.
"Heh… was saving this…" Ford gasped.
At the same moment—
Isa broke free.
"Father Ford!"
"Run! Don't waste my life!"
She trembled.
The other two arrived.
"Don't die so easily," Ford grinned.
Another sigil flashed—
This time, he collapsed.
The nun dragged Isa away, tears streaming down her face.
Moments later—
"Crack."
Isa turned back—and covered her mouth.
Ford's limbs twisted unnaturally.
Broken.
His body was tossed aside like garbage.
The white figure flickered—then vanished into the darkness.
---
In a forest clearing several kilometers away—
"Ha… Lord Falco, thank goodness you were here," a priest gasped.
Falco adjusted his filthy but elegant attire.
"I deserve little credit. It's thanks to Lady Rolcie's relic."
Above them floated a wooden staff engraved with a cross, radiating holy light.
"Lady Rolcie is here?!"
The priest stood up in shock.
Nearby, a graceful figure stepped forward.
"Thank you, Lady Rolcie…"
She smiled gently, handing bread to a nun.
"I only follow the Lord's will. You are the true heroes."
She bowed slightly.
The survivors responded in kind.
"…Will we make it out?" one nun whispered.
"Call me Rolcie," she said softly. "The Lord brought us here for a reason. When our mission is complete, He will guide us."
"Amen."
"Amen."
---
But once she stepped away—
her expression changed.
Cold.
At the center, members of the Saddu Family surrounded something.
"Have you found it?" she asked.
"Y-yes… the guide indicates it's nearby…"
A compass-like relic trembled wildly.
"Faster. The staff won't last."
"Yes!"
Suddenly—
commotion erupted outside.
Moments later, Falco returned—with a black metallic fragment.
The compass snapped toward it instantly.
Rolcie's eyes lit up.
"Who found this?"
"A parish priest. Entered three months ago."
"Good. Tell him I'll meet him personally."
Falco bowed.
Then—
"Deactivate the staff. We're leaving."
Falco froze. "But… the Scavengers…"
Her gaze turned icy.
"This concerns the Church's future. No outsiders can know."
"…Understood."
Moments later—
the barrier vanished.
Fog poured in.
"What's happening?!"
"Where's the staff?!"
"ROL—!"
"Stay back, you lowly worms!" a Saddu member shouted.
Panic erupted.
From the forest—
laughter echoed.
Electric arcs lit the ground.
A towering figure stepped forward.
A doctor-like Scavenger.
Sparks crackled across the earth.
"Ahahahaha…"
Despair froze on every face.
Then—
A surge of electricity.
Screams filled the clearing.
Bodies convulsed.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Rolcie calmly made the sign of the cross.
"May the Lord have mercy on you."
And walked away.
Behind her—only screams remained.
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