Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8. The Spaghetti Killer

A short while later, Ji-ho brought armfuls of materials from the truck for the gut ritual.

“W-What is he doing? Why is he carrying so much food...”

“N-No idea.”

While the truck drivers inside the barrier tilted their heads in confusion.

He immediately stood before the giant meatball, erected a barrier, and arranged an offering table.

《What are you doing at a time like this?》

‘Just watch. I'll show you something interesting.’

Fresh, luscious fruit and the head of a newly slaughtered pig were piled high as offerings for the spirit atop a table draped in interwoven blue and red cloth.

Incense was lit, and brass bowls filled with scattered rice grains and jade beads were placed at measured intervals.

Through this, he created a kind of temporary ‘divine domain.’

Once everything was ready, he held a bell infused with the spirit's energy in one hand and a shamanic ‘Seven Star Sword’ in the other.

‘Let's do this.’

Jingle-!

The sound of the bell filled the kitchen.

Do-jun's steps began moving to a strange rhythm.

‘The Spirit Sword Dance.’

A razor-edged dance meant to threaten lesser spirits and invite the descent of a god.

Each time the blade swept through the air, the spaghetti tentacles were shredded before they could approach.

The more violently the bell rang, the faster Do-jun moved.

《Oho...? A dance that amplifies divine power? I've never seen this form before.》

The spirit spoke with clear interest.

And the more it did, the faster and more intense Do-jun's movements became.

To scatter purifying power upon the spaghetti before him.

As though pouring every emotion into it, he matched his steps to the ringing bell and drove his mind toward a state of selflessness.

‘The Warrior Rite!’

The dance had already reached its climax.

A process of appeasing warrior spirits who had died violently and borrowing their tremendous martial force.

At that, even more power began pouring fiercely from the stubborn spirit.

Behind Do-jun, faint phantoms of countless beasts flashed past.

《Hmm. Interesting.》

The sword dance at its peak surged forward.

Unlike before, when the spaghetti had blocked Do-jun heavily, it now tore apart helplessly as though made of paper.

He moved farther and farther forward, closing the distance to the meatball.

“Break!”

With one final step, he pierced straight through the center of the giant meatball.

BOOOOM!

The mass of flesh exploded, and the evil spirits trapped inside scattered in every direction.

Only then did the spirit's astral form leap from the tobangguri.

《Good. I'll enjoy this meal.》

It sucked the souls in like a vacuum cleaner.

The spaghetti covering the entire area vanished like smoke, and silence fell in an instant.

“Haaaa... Good work.”

But the spirit gave no reply, apparently busy devouring its meal again.

Do-jun scratched his head awkwardly, then his eyes landed on the place where the meatball had stood.

A badge glowing golden.

The emblem of the ‘Flying Spaghetti Monster.’

When he touched it, he felt cold yin energy.

It seemed the meatball evil spirit had taken form through this as a medium.

‘This is a cursed artifact.’

It could probably be used to control or unleash that meatball spirit.

Besides, America apparently had plenty of collectors obsessed with cursed objects like these.

Of course, more importantly...

‘This could be very useful during exorcisms.’

Several creative ways to put it to use had already occurred to him.

Grinning, he wrapped the badge in talisman paper and tucked it into his clothes.

Then he returned to the hall and saw the truckers still trembling inside the protective barrier.

“Come out.”

The moment he removed the barrier, they rushed out and dropped to their knees at his feet.

“T-Thank you, sir! You really saved us!”

“You're our lifesaver!”

Do-jun lightly shook the blood from his hand and smiled.

“No need for thanks. Now, you'll need to pay what you promised.”

That was when.

《WEEEE-OOOOO!》

Loud sirens sounded outside.

***

Inside ‘Blydia,’ the largest club in Brooklyn.

Amid shameless sights unfolding in every direction, a man sat in a VIP room with women on both sides while puffing heavily on a cigar.

His name was ‘Smithers.’

Owner of the club and a Tier 7 vampire.

One of the apostles serving a ‘Great One’ who possessed the Blood of Origin.

In practice, he was little different from the ruler of Brooklyn.

An unusual irritation lingered on the face of the pleasure-loving vampire.

‘Fucking bastards...’

Recently, one of the V-RISE serum factories that had been his biggest source of income was raided.

More than a hundred members of his organization had died, while the hitman vanished without a trace.

They had lost tens of billions of won just in serum, and considering the time needed to replace the dead members, the total damage would reach into the hundreds of billions.

He drained his bitter liquor in one gulp.

‘You're saying it wasn't another gang?’

He'd already been tearing through every rival gang in Brooklyn like a man hunting rats.

The most likely suspects were the gangs directly harmed by his drug and entertainment businesses.

But he could find no trace.

Even after torture and murder, he had found absolutely nothing identifying whoever attacked the serum factory.

His leg bounced restlessly, irritation boiling over.

“A-Ah, that hurts... S-Stop.”

Smithers, who had been kissing the woman, began biting hard into her neck.

It gradually grew more violent.

“Aaaaaagh!”

Crunch! Crunch!

Blood spread everywhere.

It was a brutal display, almost like he was venting his anger.

But the subordinates seated nearby didn't move a muscle, as though it were nothing unusual.

“Haaaaah. Now I finally feel calmer.”

Then someone entered.

“Boss, the man you ordered us to bring... is here.”

“So you're... the Bloodhound?”

“Yes, Lord Smithers.”

A Latino vampire with a large, long nose.

The so-called ‘Bloodhound.’

He could detect even the faintest scent left behind at a scene, then track the person he sought as though possessed.

“Find anything?”

“Yes. At the scene, I detected a strange scent... one that didn't belong to a vampire.”

“Where is he?”

“For the moment... it seems he's left Brooklyn. The direction is... southwest.”

“Chase him. And make sure you catch him. I'll assign some useful people to you.”

At Smithers's nod, the seated subordinates rose as though they'd been waiting.

Every one of them radiated vicious energy... high-ranking vampires.

The Bloodhound smiled.

“Yes. I'll capture him as quickly as possible and offer you his head.”

***

After traveling 3,500 kilometers, Do-jun finally arrived at Window Rock, the heart of the Navajo Nation.

It was a small town of around 2,300 people, but the sight of its enormous sandstone arch opening toward the sky was overwhelming.

Modern buildings and the ancient energy of the red earth intertwined here in a strange way.

‘Here... I'll discover the true name of the spirit inside me.’

Only then could he properly use its power and reduce any possible risks.

He walked down the street with his shoulders squared.

《Ahh, this smell. So familiar... and nostalgic.》

“You're awake?”

《I've definitely been here before. The scent carried on the wind stirs my appetite.》

“Then please cooperate a little. I came here specifically to learn who you are.”

《Yes, this time... perhaps it may work...》

Was the spirit truly connected to this place?

After staying completely silent throughout the entire highway drive, it suddenly became talkative.

The problem was...

“Dáditį́h! Close the door!”

“Bąąh hóchxǫ́. An ominous being.”

Every Native American he encountered on the street or nearby openly regarded him with suspicion and hostility, refusing even to speak with him.

Apparently they weren't particularly happy to have an outsider visiting.

And his habit of muttering to himself while answering the spirit probably wasn't helping either.

《You don't seem popular here. They're openly showing how much they dislike you...》

“Don't make fun of me.”

...Apparently the spirit had discovered it enjoyed teasing him.

Well, that was separate.

With a heavy sigh, he headed straight for his destination.

Nilchʼi bi-káá, ‘the Place Above the Spirit.’

A place where Native American mediums known as Hataałii lived together.

Between canyons surrounded by red sandstone cliffs like folding screens, round earthen homes known as hogans stood in strange geometric formations, their walls engraved with ancient Navajo patterns.

Amid the eerie atmosphere.

The mediums seated outside their doors showed blatant hostility toward the outsider's arrival.

“Yá'át'ééh? Hello?”

He greeted them and showed them the portrait.

Their reactions came in one of two forms.

“Hiiiii!”

They turned white, panicked, and ran away...

“Bąąh ídliigo tʼóó bitsʼą́ą́dę́ę́ʼ! You piece of trash!”

Or they spat out vicious curses and tried to swing their staffs at him.

After suffering that several times, a sigh escaped him.

《Perhaps your face is simply too frightening. They look ready to devour you.》

‘Maybe they're wary because the aura you're giving off is too hideous. You ate all those vampires, so of course you stink.’

《My fragrance is as noble as a desert storm.》

How long had they been talking like that as he walked?

He stopped in front of the largest hogan, decorated with elaborate patterns.

This was probably the home of Hataałii Tso, leader of the Hataałii.

Just as he was about to knock, the door flew open and a young woman blocked his path.

Bronze skin, dark black hair, and piercing eyes.

She was beautiful.

But her gaze was filled with murderous intent.

She spoke fluent English.

“What are you?”

“I came because I want to meet Hataałii Tso. There's something I'd like to consult him about.”

“...This is not a place you should set foot in.”

“It'll only take a moment. I'll compensate you properly.”

At that, the woman's eyes burned fiercely.

“Compensation? Do you think I don't know what you're scheming?”

“I'm not scheming anything.”

The woman violently slapped away the bills and spread both hands.

In an instant, the air grew scorching hot as red divine power erupted from her body.

“Then why can I feel our ‘Mother's’ energy coming from you?!”

“...”

Before he could answer, she suddenly attacked.

She formed a hand seal, and flames erupted from her body.

“You... dare! Daaaare!”

Apparently she'd sensed the spirit's aura coming from Do-jun and misunderstood something.

“Wait, it's not like that. The reason I have this energy is—”

“Shut up!”

Before he could explain, the woman rushed forward and attacked, scattering flames everywhere.

‘Does she use a spirit's power too?’

The Hataałii likely served many gods like Korea or Japan rather than a single god like Catholics or Muslims.

She probably had a personal spirit of her own.

The problem was that she was extremely accustomed to wielding divine power, and her movements were smooth.

She was on a completely different level from the exorcists and evil spirits he'd faced so far.

Still...

‘Finally, someone worth stretching my body against.’

He wasn't particularly nervous.

It had simply been a long time since someone exciting enough to make him look forward to the fight had appeared.

“East, Wood, Azure Dragon!”

With his toes, he drew an invisible formation on the ground and released divine power.

He slipped between the flames and threw a talisman.

“Ice!”

Cold energy condensed just before the flames touched him, splitting the fire apart.

Yin and yang opposed one another, earth swallowed water, and water swallowed fire.

And the energy of ice... was even more intense than that of water.

A perfect neutralization of energy using the Five Elements and Yin-Yang.

It was Do-jun's favorite and most effective way to fight.

“Hyaaaah!”

Clang! Clang! Fwoooosh!

Their exchanges continued.

Whenever the woman's flames and fists slipped in close enough to consume him... Do-jun released only the minimum ice energy needed to cancel them out.

Perhaps because of that, the woman's breathing gradually grew rougher.

“Grrr! Cheap tricks! Fight me properly instead of hiding behind tricks!”

Her offense grew even fiercer.

Crackle!

“Let's stop. I only came here to talk.”

By now he had grown used to her movements, so he slipped into an opening, seized her wrist, and froze it.

He was trying to show her enough strength to calm her down.

That if he truly wanted to, he could subdue her whenever he pleased.

But it didn't work.

“Aaaaaagh! You, youuuu!”

She erupted with flames, tore her hand free, then leapt backward and released even more powerful divine energy.

Her hair turned red, while her pupils widened and emitted a crimson glow.

‘Did she possess herself with her spirit?’

Apparently she intended to tear him apart in earnest now.

Killing intent filled the area strongly enough to make the hair on his body stand up.

Do-jun scratched his head and spoke.

‘Elder... can I use possession too?’

《No.》

‘Why not?’

《I do not know exactly why... but I have no desire to use my power against that child.》

Of course he'd say that.

Do-jun had more or less expected it and let out a heavy sigh.

‘Well... I'll manage somehow.’

The woman roared like a beast and charged.

“Aaaaaaaaah!”

“Enough, Nana!”

A heavy staff sliced through the air and struck the woman squarely on the head.

“Ah!”

The flames vanished instantly, and she collapsed to the ground.

Then an old man with snow-white hair stepped forward.

“Forgive my child for losing control. The energy I sense from you... seems to have made us overly sensitive.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Hataałii Tso of this place.”

“...”

Hataałii Tso.

Leader of the Hataałii here and... one of the most influential figures in Window Rock.

The profound energy radiating from him made it clear he was no ordinary medium.

“Come inside. Let's speak slowly.”

The room Do-jun entered behind the old man resembled a bizarre museum.

Beneath burning incense, vampire hearts, skins from unknown evil spirits, and even remnants of all kinds of vengeful souls were displayed across the walls like medals.

‘...Brutal.’

Do-jun gave an awkward smile as he sat down, and Hataałii Tso asked.

“So, why did you seek me out?”

“A spirit... came to dwell within me. And I came here because I want to know its identity.”

Do-jun told him everything that had happened in that LA alley not long ago.

His meeting with the old woman, her death, and the mysterious spirit now dwelling inside him.

A heavy tear fell from Hataałii Tso's eye as he listened.

“So in the end... she passed away like that.”

“Who was she?”

The old man answered in a trembling voice.

“The one who passed that spirit to you was Áłtsé Hataałii. She was... like a mother to all of us.”

The Catastrophe-Class Exorcist Is Too Strong in America

Author

: Gisigami

Production Date

: September 15, 2026

Publisher

: ACES Media Co., Ltd.

Editor

: ACES Media Editorial Team

Address

: 12F, Urban Bench Building, 325 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul

Email

: acesmedia9@gmail.com

※ This work was published by ACES Media Co., Ltd. under contract with the copyright holder,

and its contents may not be used in any form or by any means without permission from the company and the author.

This e-book is a copyrighted work protected by copyright law, and unauthorized reproduction or redistribution may result in legal liability.

UCI

: G720:N+A129-20260914068