With one shot, Kabaliri shattered the ogre's skull. The creature's body collapsed and thrashed on the ground before falling utterly still.
A cheer erupted from the students on the bus. They thought Kabaliri had finished off the ogre. But Kabaliri knew better. The ogre wasn't dead; it was feigning death, waiting for her to let down her guard so it could ambush her.
That trick might fool some, but not her. Playing dead? Fine—she'd make it truly die.
She casually shoved her Colt Python into her pocket, then drew a baseball bat over a meter long from the same pocket. Gasps and bewildered looks rippled through the crowd—none could fathom how she'd slipped that bat into her pocket.
Don't ask questions. Just chalk it up to a mysterious space artifact.
Under expectant and astonished gazes, Kabaliri hefted the bat—nearly half her height. She knelt beside the ogre, infused the bat with divine energy, and raised it high.
The ogre, realizing its ruse had failed, scrambled to its feet, claws ready to swipe. But what met it was a merciless barrage of blows from Kabaliri. She easily dodged its attacks and, with a swift reverse swing, slammed the enchanted bat into its ribcage.
Though the ogre's hide could shrug off ordinary bullets, against Kabaliri it cracked like tofu. Each strike rang with a sickening crack. In no time, the ogre's bones splintered from skull to spine. She then drove the bat into its face, shattering its row of razor-sharp teeth—those teeth would litter the ground.
The entire ordeal unfolded before the busload of students, who watched in awe at Kabaliri's power and winced at her brutality. The sight of an angelic little girl hammering a monstrous ogre was jarringly surreal.
Father Burke, unfazed—having grown accustomed to Kabaliri's methods—strided forward. He surveyed the mangled remains and asked coolly, "All done?"
Kabaliri smirked. "Not yet. This isn't the real one."
Her eyes drifted toward the ground—more precisely, beneath it.
...
The ogre's origins stretch back centuries—long before the Ansa people set foot here, when the land belonged to the native tribes. Even then, the ogre roamed these lands. In some tribal records, it was revered as an avatar of the Feathered Serpent and honored in rituals. Kabaliri found such claims dubious. If the Feathered Serpent really were that pathetic, it deserved no worship.
After facing the ogre firsthand, Kabaliri understood its true nature. In one word: mediocre.
Against unprepared humans, the ogre seemed nearly invincible. But push it even slightly, and it fell apart. Frankly, a handful of resolute soldiers with modern weaponry could have turned it into a punching bag.
As for its so-called immortality—that was nonsense. The ogre only appeared invulnerable because it fought through phantoms; its true form lay buried underground, untouched.
Kabaliri saw through the deception at once. To finish the job, she needed to destroy the original.
She let a trickle of her divine energy ignite the corpse. Then she told Father Burke, "Watch over these bodies. I'll be back soon."
Burke nodded. He knew Kabaliri's plan and felt no worry. If she met trouble, only God Himself could save her.
With that, Kabaliri strode into the nearby woods alone. Father Burke returned to the bus to calm the surviving students.
...
Within minutes, Kabaliri found the entrance to the underground lair. Without hesitation, she leapt in. The darkness didn't hinder her vision. Following the tunnel, she reached a cavern whose walls bore ancient fungus, like entrails of a colossal beast. In patches untouched by fungus, faded murals depicted tribal ceremonies venerating the ogre.
Such worship made sense: in ignorant times, humanity instinctively revered powerful, dangerous creatures. Even crushed by Kabaliri, the ogre had dominated primitive human foes.
Times had changed—and the ogre had fallen unlucky crossing paths with her.
Deeper into the cavern, faint whispers echoed—warnings, pleas for mercy. Kabaliri paid them no mind and pressed on.
At last, she arrived at the heart of the cave. There lay the ogre's true form: a three-meter-wide orb encased in jagged, protruding teeth—a bizarre totem of death. To ordinary people, perhaps fearsome. To her, a mere target.
Ignoring the orb's frantic wails, Kabaliri formed a white sphere of light in her palm. It illuminated the entire chamber, and the orb trembled in its glow. She made no hesitation and tossed the sphere onto the ogre's core.
Divine power erupted, engulfing the orb in white flames. Black smoke billowed, carrying a putrid stench that clung to the walls. Yet the odor and fumes parted before Kabaliri, who stood unscathed as the orb incinerated.
Ash drifted down like snowflakes.
Then, in her ear, the system's voice chimed:
"Virtue served and evil punished: +175 Merit Points."
"Divine power increase rewarded!"
"175 points at once—that's not bad."
"Looks like I underestimated the ogre."
I've completed a fluent English translation of Chapter 5, preserving the character names, tone, and narrative style for foreign readers. Let me know if you'd like any tweaks—whether it's adjusting phrasing, tone, or any specific lines!