Chapter 2: Past, Present, and Future

We Exorcist Purifiers belong to the Holy Burial Church—a vast religious order with nearly 50,000 devout followers, 2,000 Purifiers, and several hundred priests.

The priests handle doctrine, collect donations, and assign missions. But that doesn’t mean they outrank us.

Officially, we’re equals.

Even so, most Exorcist Purifiers follow their orders without question. Faith is everything here.

Me? I’m not that devout… but I’m not stupid enough to mock the teachings, either.

The headquarters of the Holy Burial Church lies deep within the Sacred Grounds of Leyline—a fortress beyond the reach of any nation. The Church’s power is absolute here.

For us, this is home.
A second birthplace.
And now, I’ve returned.

After my mission with Yuri left me injured, I needed a Saint—one of the Church’s miracle-bearers—to heal me.

Exorcist Purifiers gifted with the Sign of Miracles are called Saints. They’re rare. Revered. The Church shelters them, keeps them from battle unless absolutely necessary.

And where are they kept safe?

Here, in the Sacred Grounds of Leyline.

My wounds were severe—bad enough that I had no choice but to seek their aid.

Now, after treatment, my left arm is marred with fissure-like scars.

Not that I care. I’ll just cover them up.

Right now, I’m wearing a custom-ordered, black elastic arm cover—fingerless, so it doesn’t interfere with my grip.

But… huh.

Something about this gear tickles my old instincts.

Even though I’m a woman in this life.

I glance at my reflection in the window glass.
Rose-tied hair, bouncing with each step.

With my business here done, I consider swinging by the training grounds—

"…Elsie."

A voice calls my name.

Not Yuri’s.

A woman’s voice—firm, steady.

I turn.

Scorched-red hair. Piercing eyes.

Dressed in the same chestnut-brown vestments as me.

A high-ranking Exorcist Purifier.

Froila.

I fight the grimace creeping onto my face.

She’s the last person I wanted to see right now.

But her gaze softens.

"What a coincidence. You here on Church business?"

Her tone is casual. Probing.

I press a hand to my lips, masking my irritation with a smirk.

"Hmm? Why? You that curious?"

"Yeah, I am. Mind telling me?"

"As if~! You stalking me or something?"

"Wanting to know how my estranged disciple’s doing is pretty normal, don’t you think?"

She brushes off my sarcasm like it’s nothing.

sigh...

This woman is my master.

The Exorcist Purifier who took me in when demons devoured my parents.

She taught me everything—how to fight, how to survive… how to be an Exorcist.

She’s the closest thing I have to family.

And I hate that...

"A master who gets outdone by her disciple? Yeah, no thanks~."

"No matter how bratty you act, no matter how strong you get…"

She smiles.

"You’ll always be my cute little disciple, Elsie."

Froila the Halberd Exorcist.

Despite her tired, delinquent-like appearance, she’s absurdly kind-hearted.

Too kind.

She lets all my taunts slide.

She saved my life.

And that’s exactly why I don’t want to make her cry.

If I die before her… she’ll shed tears for me.

So at the very least…

I want her to remember me as a brat.

Not as someone she could love.

"But... what's with your arm? Did you get hurt?"

I feel her gaze—steady, worried.

And it twists something inside me.

So I lash out.

"It’s nothing serious. Just my dumb, slow partner being useless and getting me injured."

"...I see."

Froila’s face tightens.

She heard something in my words.

For someone who values comrades so much, my trash talk must grate on her.

Good. Mission accomplished.

I smirk.

"You done here? I’m kinda busy, you know?"

"Ah… right. Mind if I tag along?"

"Uh, yes, I mind? That’s creepy as hell~."

I brush past her, not waiting for an answer.

But of course—she follows me anyway.

Because she’s stubbornly, stupidly kind.

Telling her no won’t stop her.

I know that.

I let out a sigh—deep and real.

Making sure she can’t see it.

---

My gaze follows the soft pink hair of my disciple, Elsie, as she walks ahead of me.

She’s a kind girl.

The first time we met was in the ruins of a village, where I’d been hunting a demon alone. My partner had been killed in the hunt, and I was on my own.

The village had been destroyed by that demon, and that's when I found her.

She sat on the edge of a half-collapsed well, her eyes vacant, staring into nothing.

Her hands were caked in dirt.

I understood immediately.

Scattered around the village were crude graves—branches tied together with string, crosses barely holding up against the wind.

Without thinking, I asked her:

"...Did you bury them?"

She nodded, not looking at me.

"Yeah… but there’s still more left."

Her voice was rough, hoarse, as I counted the graves. More than two households’ worth. More than an entire family’s.

These weren’t just her relatives.

"You’re burying the whole village?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes fell to the farming hoe at her feet.

Everyone? Burying a single body takes immense effort—digging a hole deep and wide. And that’s before considering the sheer emotional toll. She must have been close to them, to mourn them all like this.

"...You were that close?"

"No… not really. I didn’t know most of them."

I stared at her.

"...Then why bury them? To you, they were—"

"Because they saved me."

"...They did?"

"No. My mom and dad did."

Her gaze never lifted, empty but resolute as she scanned the ruins, then spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

"So I want them to think… saving me was worth it. That’s the only reason."

Her words hit me like a blow to the chest.

She was just a child.

How could she…?

It must have hurt so much.

Yet… she put others first.

Without thinking, I picked up the hoe from her feet.

"I’ll help."

My desire to hunt the demon faded.

To be honest, I used her as an excuse not to chase it anymore.

Yes, I hated the demon for killing my partner. But I knew the reality—I stood no chance alone.

My grief couldn’t defeat the demon.

So I made Elsie my reason to turn away.

Pathetic, really.

Hours later, the graves were finished. The dead laid to rest.

I left the village with a child whose mother had been devoured by a demon.

Her small, bony fingers brushed against mine.

When I held her hand, I could feel how fragile she was.

"...Come to think of it, what’s your name?"

"I’m… Elsie."

"That’s a good name."

Elsie never smiled.

But that wasn’t her true nature.

The sight of her mother being eaten alive… that was what had stolen her smile.

She was placed in the care of the Holy Burial Church’s monastery.

Victims of demons often grow to hate them, and the Church takes in those with potential to become Exorcist Purifiers.

And just like that, Elsie chose to walk the path I once walked.

Honestly, I was against it.

Being an Exorcist Purifier is a miserable job.

It wasn’t until after my partner died that I truly understood.

We fight to save others.

But who saves us?

We give everything, only to die in the end.

That’s the life of an Exorcist Purifier.

I never intended to quit…
But I didn’t want to drag her down this path.

Yet, she had the talent of an exorcist—a true exorcist.

Her combat skills, her knowledge… she absorbed it all like dry earth drinking in the rain.

Before I knew it, she had risen to the rank of an intermediate exorcist.

She grew stronger—sprinting forward as if racing against life itself.

By then, she had even started smiling again. People gathered around her, drawn in by her presence.

She had skill. She had charm.

So naturally… she was adored.

…Yes. She was adored.

"Hah? Ew, gross! Like I’d ever take a mission with some weakling like you!"

"B-But… Elcie, going alone is—"

"Oh, please. I’m not so pathetic I need a loser’s concern, okay~?"

Somewhere along the way, she changed.

Arrogant. Condescending.

She started looking down on people.

Those who didn’t know her avoided her.

Those who knew her a little were disappointed.

Those who knew her well… were just confused.

And me?

Which one was I?

…

Right now, at the very least—

I watch the sway of her pale pink hair as she walks ahead of me.

Her steps are confident. Almost enviably so.

Yet her pace is unhurried.

Even though she resents me following her… she doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t break into a jog.

Because deep down, she’s still a kind girl.

After a short walk, we arrive at the training grounds.

Exorcists wield Sacred Silver Arms—weapons forged to combat demons.

Mastery demands relentless training.

After all, those who can’t wield their weapons freely in practice stand no chance in real battle.

The training grounds are vast.

Walls of stacked stone let the wind pass through freely.

The floor is packed earth, worn smooth by countless footsteps.

Less of a building, more of an open hall with a roof.

And as Elcie steps inside—

Only one person is there.

Whether the others are out on missions or resting, I don’t know.

But Elcie’s eyes lock onto that lone figure.

"…Hmph?"

A mischievous smirk curls on her lips.

At the far end of the grounds stands a boy.

Even from a distance, his lean, trained muscles are obvious.

His hair is white.

And in his hands—a massive silver sword, far too large for him to wield gracefully.

Elcie strides toward him, her steps exaggerated.

Whenever she puts on this cheerful act… nothing good follows.

Call it experience. Call it intuition.

But—

"Sooo~ What’re you doing here? Your stance is all sloppy… Grandpa~? Aren’t you embarrassed?"

…Seems my prediction was right on the mark.

---

I turned my gaze toward Yuri.

He stood there, dumbfounded, still gripping his Sacred Silver Arm.

Unlike usual, he wasn’t in his monastic robes—just light training clothes. Sweat glistened on his skin, outlining muscles more defined than most boys his age.

He hadn’t just arrived. He’d been at this for hours.

"What do you mean? Just… training. Elcie, did you need something from me?"

His voice held no anger, no sadness—just mild confusion.

I exhaled sharply and flicked my wrist, adjusting the armguard strapped to it.

"I’m just here to train too. Thanks to someone, I got hurt, so I need to check how things are holding up~."

At my words, Yuri’s face twisted—not with guilt, but something closer to genuine remorse.

"Ah… s-sorry. Elcie, your injury… is it okay?"

I could have played it up, made it seem worse than it was. But I didn’t want his concern.

I wasn’t here to make friends.

I wasn’t here to hurt people either.

"This? Just a scratch. Unlike you."

"…I see."

I scoffed as Yuri let out a relieved sigh.

He was too good a person. No matter how much I pushed him away, he still worried.

"So? Why’re you training on your day off? Finally realized you’re a weakling of an exorcist~?"

"Well… yeah. I did hold everyone back…"

"Oh? So you do know you’re trash?"

"Uh… kinda…"

"Not a compliment~."

I laughed, covering my mouth.

Why cover it?

Because I was bad at smiling.

It was a habit—my fingers brushing my lips, checking if the expression was right.

"…………"

Yuri scratched the back of his head, eyes darting past me—toward Froila.

Probably wondering about our relationship.

Too scared to ask.

Pathetic.

But still…

Training on his day off, trying to make up for his weakness?

Commendable.

Yuri was a low-rank exorcist—bottom of the barrel.

(Well, top of the bottom, but still.)

My fingers brushed the rosary at my chest.

Then, in one smooth motion—

"Yuri."

The moment his eyes snapped back to me, I morphed my Sacred Silver Arm.

The massive hammer swung down—

"Huh—?!"

Yuri reacted fast, raising his greatsword like a shield.

Good. He’d learned from last time—when that wolf demon ambushed him.

But.

Still.

Too soft.

I didn’t aim for the hammer’s head.

Instead, I slammed the haft against his blade, hooked it, yanked—

And twisted.

"Whoa—?!"

His balance was shattered.

The Difference Between Us.

At a glance, Yuri should’ve had the advantage.

Bigger. Stronger.

In raw physical ability? He was superior.

But exorcists don’t fight with just their bodies.

A human’s strength alone could never match a demon’s. The gap was too vast.

What bridged it?

Sacred Ether.

The energy born from the human soul.

Everyone has it—but most only a trickle.

Exorcists train. They undergo rituals.

All to expand that power.

And that was where Yuri still lacked.

And it’s precisely this Sacred Ether that makes an exorcist an exorcist.

It strengthens the body, replicates miracles, and accelerates healing—its uses are vast.

(Though despite the sacred in its name, it’s really just raw energy. Even villains can wield it. The Holy Burial Church just calls it divine for their own reasons.)

Back to the Matter at Hand

With Yuri’s greatsword hooked and his balance shattered, I swung my silver hammer straight for his face.

Sacred Silver Arms are deadly against demons. Against humans? Just blunt weapons.

But with Sacred Ether reinforcing his body, he wouldn’t break a bone.

Still—a blunt weapon is still a blunt weapon.

A direct hit to the face would—

—Yet, before impact, Yuri kicked off the ground, flipping over me.

He landed in a slide, spinning to face me with a grimace.

"Elcie, what the hell was that—?!"

His eyes flicked past me—to Froila, who stood watching with exasperation but no intention of stopping.

Of course. She understood.

What we were doing was—

"Hmm~? Just bullying the weak."

—Combat training.

---

Yuri, the boy who had just been called out, found himself staring down at Elsie as she swung her massive sledgehammer with terrifying ease.

A sledgehammer is a weapon defined by its weight—heavy at the head, long in the handle.
And hers took those traits to the extreme.

The hammerhead alone was easily twice the size of her own.
Yet the haft stretched longer than half her height—almost like a spear’s shaft.
And she wielded it with the fluid precision of a master polearm fighter.

A weapon that embraced its weight.

An amateur might say, "Wouldn’t it be better if it were light enough to swing effortlessly?"
And sure, most of the time, a lighter weapon would be preferable.
But her "Great Sledgehammer" was different.

She used the head’s mass as a counterweight, letting centrifugal force take over—letting the weapon swing her as much as she swung it.
Weight into rotation.
Rotation into speed.
Speed into devastating force.

That was her way of fighting.

"C’mon, c’mon~! If you don’t fight back, you’re just gonna get pummeled into the dirt, y’know~?"

"Gh—!"

Yuri desperately parried with his greatsword, but even so, he was being forced back—step by step.
The difference in skill was obvious.
Not just in weapon mastery, but in their control over Ether, the sacred energy.

And yet… Elsie was holding back.
Adjusting the Ether in her strikes just enough to hurt Yuri—but never to kill.

The proof?

"Ow—guh!?"

Even when hit, he was only left writhing in pain.

Now, Elsie loomed over Yuri as he crouched, clutching his side.

"If a little pain’s enough to make you freeze up, you’re gonna die~."

Harsh words—but true.
Whether struck, slashed, or even disarmed… stopping meant death.
Because demons showed humans no mercy.

With a flick of her wrist, Elsie sent him tumbling with a light tap of her hammer.

"You’re way too weak~. If you keep playing Exorcist, you’re just gonna get yourself killed for nothing. Why not quit?"

Mockery dripped from her voice.
But Yuri—

—tightened his expression, pushing past the shame, and stood up.

"That’s… not something I’ll do. Just ‘cause you say so. I… I have to do what I can…!"

He had his reasons.

But that wasn’t unusual.
Every Exorcist fought for something—big or small.
Him, her, me… everyone.

Yet, if he could turn those reasons into resolve and stand again…
Then that alone was enough.

Because strength alone wasn’t what it took to face demons—beings far beyond humans.

You needed a reason to fight.
A reason to overcome your own fear.

Elsie smirked at the now-standing Yuri.
Not her usual taunting grin—something slightly different.
But it quickly sharpened back into mockery.

"Pretty words won’t beat demons… and they definitely won’t beat me~."

She spun her hammer.
Horizontal. Vertical. A relentless, building whirlwind.
Faster. Heavier. Sharper.

Was she… charging up?

…I glanced at Yuri.

His greatsword was raised.

He meant to take it head-on?

That was—

—suicidal.

Then—crack.

The ground beneath Elsie’s feet shattered.
The sheer force of her step left the earth cratered.

And in the next instant—

—she was airborne, hammer arcing down in a devastating spin.

Yuri—

"…Heh. I see now. No wonder Elsie’s taken an interest in you."

The Weight of a Sledgehammer

Yuri hadn’t blocked the strike.

He had countered it.

Realizing he couldn’t withstand the full force of Elcie’s blow, he chose instead to meet it head-on—slamming his greatsword against the hammer’s haft mid-swing.

He still lost the contest of strength.

But he managed to reduce the impact enough to survive.

This wasn’t just desperate defense.
It was proof—proof that he had the courage to fight back.

Yuri’s face was strained, his entire body trembling.
Elcie, meanwhile, grinned in amusement.

"…Hmph."

Then, still smiling—she kicked him square in the chest.

Fair enough. Even if he had stopped the hammer, his legs had been wide open.

As Yuri tumbled across the dirt, I had to admit the logic behind it.

"That last bit wasn’t totally pathetic… but you’re still just a weakling exorcist~. Bottom-tier, gutter-licking trash—that’s all you’ll ever be~."

Harsh words. But she knew better.

Even I, an outsider, could see it.

Yuri’s technique wasn’t bottom-tier. If anything, his handling of Sacred Silver Arms put him somewhere in the middle ranks—maybe even close to the top.

What he lacked was experience, achievements… and maybe a bit of knowledge.

When he pushed himself up, dirt smeared across his face.

"…Pfft. Pathetic."

Elcie’s laughter only made his expression tighten.
…I was starting to feel sorry for him.

I exhaled sharply and called out to her.

"Elcie. You’re going too far. Even for training—"

"Training? This is just me enjoying bullying a weakling~."

…What made her act like this?

A headache threatened to bloom as I studied her.

"If that’s how you want to frame it, fine. But you’re crossing a line."

At first, I’d assumed she was testing him—to keep him from growing arrogant.
But this? This would only breed resentment.

I didn’t want her to end up alone.

"Hah? Who the hell are you to talk? Outsiders should shut the hell up~."

And just like that, she turned on me.

I didn’t feel anger.
Just… confusion. And sadness.

"I have a duty to protect you. Not just in battle—but from everything."

Yuri shot me a glance.
He must’ve pieced it together.

If he knew Elcie’s past, he’d realize—I was the exorcist who had taken her in.

But Elcie’s face twisted at my words.
Disgust? Loathing? I couldn’t tell.

"Gross… Playing substitute parent now?"

"No. But I do care about—"

"I don’t need protection from someone weaker than me~."

"…I see."

My calm reply made her smirk in triumph.

But then—her expression stiffened.

Because my hand now held a Sacred Silver Arm, transformed from my rosary.

"The hell’s that supposed to mean?"

"If you won’t listen to ‘weaker’ people… then I’ll make you listen."

The weapon in my grip was a halberd-axe.
Its haft outstripped even her sledgehammer’s length, its brutal blade merging axe and spearpoint—its reverse edge lined with jagged hooks.

Thrust. Slash. Tear. Bludgeon.
A weapon built for everything.

"…Heh. You really wanna get crippled bad enough to retire~?"

"Don’t worry. The one waking up in the infirmary will be you."

She raised her hammer.
I leveled my halberd.

Ether surged through our bodies.

The sheer clash of our auras warped the air itself—not an illusion.
Just raw power colliding.

This was—

"H-hey, both of you, calm down—"

—Instant.

Reflexively, my weapon snapped toward the voice that interrupted.

"P-please...!"

Before me stood Yuri, his face pale as he stared down the spearpoint of my halberd.

I lowered my weapon immediately.

Elcie had already dismissed hers—her massive sledgehammer collapsing back into a rosary in her palm.

"Hmph. Whatever. I'll let it slide~ For Yuri’s sake. Not like I’ve got time to waste on this anyway~?"

"…Elcie."

"Welp, Weakling Exorcist-kun can keep pointlessly 'training' if he wants~ I have better things to do."

With that, she spun on her heel—
—and strode out of the training grounds.

"Wai—…sigh."

For a moment, I considered chasing after her.
But I stopped.

Yuri took priority.

When my gaze landed on him, he flinched.

Not surprising. People often said my eyes looked hostile.
Even when I was calm, they thought I was furious.

I exhaled.

"Why did you stop us?"

"Eh? Uh… w-well…"

His fumbling made me sigh again.
None of the determination he'd shown against Elcie remained.

"…I didn’t want you to fight."

"Why?"

"Because… You're Froila, right?"

"What of it?"

"…Elcie… smiles a little when she talks about you."

My eyes widened.

"About me?"

"Yes. She’s still… rude, but… she seems happy."

"…I see."

I rested a hand on my chin.

He wasn’t lying—he genuinely believed it.
But that didn’t explain why he interfered.

"And? How does that justify stopping us?"

"If you both… care about each other… shouldn’t I want to prevent a fight?"

I blinked.

The simplicity of his logic caught me off guard—

"…Pfft. Heh. Yeah. You’re right."

I laughed.

Yuri stared, bewildered, as I turned back to him.

"You’re Yuri, correct?"

"Y-yes…?"

"You’re her partner, aren’t you? …Is she always like this?"

"…W-well. Yes."

His pained expression said it all.
This wasn’t new.

Yet, despite everything, he stayed by her side.

Just like me.

He must still believe in her.

"I see. That’s rough. She wasn’t like this before."

"Before…? She was different?"

"Yeah. More honest. Kinder—"

Though we had just met, something told me I could trust him.
With her past.
And with my feelings about it.

---

"Haaah...choo!"

Rubbing my nose, I let the cold water rush over me.

Showers were a luxury in this era, but at least we had running water. Turn the faucet, and out it came—just not hot.

The icy stream washed away the sweat from training as I replayed the day’s events in my mind.

Yuri had grown strong. Strong enough to qualify as a mid-rank Exorcist if he took the Church’s evaluation.

But I wouldn’t let him.

Raising his rank wouldn’t make him stronger—just send him against deadlier demons. And that would only increase his chances of dying.

At first, I approached him out of curiosity, drawn by that Protagonist title. But now? Now, I cared about him, not the label. Enough to want him to live happily. At least that much.

Water trickled down my skin, tracing the faint, invisible scars beneath.

Pathetic. I tried to make myself unlikable, yet I kept collecting people I wanted to protect. What an idiot. A gigantic idiot.

I sighed and shut the faucet. As I toweled off, my thoughts lingered.

Yuri stopping that fight with Froila had been a relief.

The gap between her and me? I talked big, but she was stronger. I could win with a Miracle Sign—but without it? No chance.

I could silence her with one, but I’d hidden my Signs from the Church. No way I’d reveal them now.

Besides, every Sign burned my lifespan. It was worth it to save someone from demons—but a waste for petty squabbles.

So… thank you, Yuri. Your do-gooder nature actually came in handy.

I pulled on my robes.

Well. At least Yuri and Froila had finally met.

In the game, she wasn’t my mentor—she was his. So even if I die and he’s left alone… she’ll be there.

Someone like her would recognize his potential.

Yes. This world will go on without me.

That’s why I have to make sure no one mourns me.

But after today, Froila probably hates me. Haven’t seen her that angry in years. Guess she really couldn’t stomach my words.

Good.

Yuri being there was unexpected, but it worked out.

Froila must be disgusted with me now.

She’s too decent for this. Too decent for an Exorcist, really.

And that’s exactly why I—

—

A droplet fell.

Must’ve missed a spot drying off.

Drip. Drip.

Darkening the fabric of my robes.