Of course, I could have ordered Dante to fight him.

Even if Dante couldn't kill the Exorcist, he could easily defend me.

The third form of Dante—the only version this 'man' could see—was dangerous enough that approaching me would come at a cost.

But I didn't give Dante any command.

There were three steps to exorcising this domain.

The first step was gathering information.

The second step was surviving the hammers.

The third step was different.

It was more dangerous than the first two combined.

To begin the third step, the one performing the ritual had to be placed in mortal danger while continuing the exorcism.

This was to enact the past.

'I did a good job showing goodwill,' I thought as I continued the dance.

'Well, even if he wasn't here to kill me, I would've had to time this with the hammer's impact.'

The temple beneath my feet began to tremble.

Small vibrations ran through the stone floor, rattling the ritual tools I had laid out earlier.

Dust fell from the beams above.

The Exorcist noticed it too.

His posture changed. Urgency creeped into his movements.

"Stop, Caelum! If you continue, I will fatally injure you!" he shouted.

I didn't slow down.

I didn't even look at him.

I kept dancing.

And as I waited for him to finally follow through, my thoughts drifted.

Was I the evil one, for using his kindness against him?

Or was he the evil one, for being willing to sacrifice many to save one?

In the first place, who decided what evil even was?

'I don't care.'

Yes, I did not care.

In my previous life, I was called many things.

The Demon of Shadows. History's worst criminal. The bane of life itself.

People had carved those titles into stone.

I might have been given another life.

But I hadn't changed.

'I will survive.'

'And I will protect those dear to me.'

'This time…'

'I will not fail.'

'For that, I will do whatever it takes.'

"Caelum!"

The Exorcist finally snapped.

A dagger of shadow flew toward my head.

It was fast. Clean, and lethal.

Just as the blade came within inches of my face, the world paused.

Everything stopped.

The dagger hung in the air. The trembling stones froze mid-shudder. Even the pressure from above vanished.

'The third step is beginning,' I realized.

I reached under my robes and touched the ring tied to the thread around my neck.

The Recollection Ring was still there.

Good.

The world dissolved.

—

When reality fixed itself again, I was no longer myself.

I looked around.

I—no, the priest was standing at the temple's main grounds.

"Huh," the priest muttered, staring at his hands. "What was I doing?"

He looked around slowly.

The temple was intact, clean, and well-maintained.

It had been built only ten years ago and was cared for every single day.

Wooden beams were polished.

The stone floor was free of cracks.

People stood before him.

Some were kneeling.

Others stood quietly, hands folded.

Their faces were tense, tired, but hopeful.

The priest looked down at himself.

He was wearing ceremonial garbs.

White, layered carefully, the sleeves hanging just right.

He turned his gaze outward through the open area of the temple.

Dark clouds filled the sky, thick and unmoving.

Storm winds stirred, but no light pierced through.

The lanterns hanging inside the temple were the only source of illumination.

"Oh," the priest said quietly. "Right."

Memories settled into place.

"I was performing the ritual to calm the wrath of the Sky God."

The clouds had covered the sky for years.

Crops no longer grew.

Fields that once fed the village lay barren.

"This must be because the Sky God is angry with us," the priest thought.

Every year, he had performed rituals to appease the god.

"This year's ritual is the final one."

A festival used to be held on this day, once the harvest was complete. Laughter, food, music. The entire village celebrating together.

Now, there was none of that.

With the crops not growing, the people had become a shadow of their past self.

Hunger had hollowed their faces. Fear had replaced joy.

The ritual today wasn't a celebration.

It was a plea.

After gathering his thoughts, the priest raised his voice.

"Everyone. I will now begin the ritual," he said.

"Yes, please."

"Please save us, priest."

"We can't survive like this."

The priest nodded and lifted the flute.

He began to play.

The melody was slow and steady.

He moved as he played, his steps following an old pattern passed down through generations.

At certain points, he stopped playing and sang instead, his voice blending into the rhythm.

The people watched in silence.

Some, those who were standing, began to mimic his movements.

Others remained kneeling, heads bowed.

As the ritual neared its end, the ground shook.

People looked around, startled, but no one ran.

Those kneeling stayed kneeling.

Those standing continued copying the priest's dance.

They believed the Sky God was going to deliver his judgment.

Forgive them.

Clear the clouds.

The tremors grew stronger.

Then lightning flashed across the sky.

The thunder that followed was deafening.

As if that strike had been a signal, the earthquake intensified.

Lanterns shook violently, then fell, shattering as they hit the ground.

Light vanished.

A complete blackout swallowed the temple.

The shaking became violent.

Beams cracked. Walls groaned.

Screams filled the darkness.

People were thrown to the ground.

Others were struck by falling debris.

Escaping was nearly impossible without light.

Panic spread, but there was nowhere to go.

When dawn came the next day, the clouds were still there.

The village gathered what remained of their courage and approached the temple.

The sight was devastating.

The structure had partially collapsed. Rubble filled the interior. Bodies were crushed beneath broken walls and beams.

Many were dead.

"What is this?"

"This… this is the anger of the Sky God."

"He punished us. He refuses to forgive us."

"But why?"

Fear rippled through the crowd.

The priest stood among them, stunned.

His hands trembled as he stared at the destruction.

Why had this happened?

Had they truly angered the god?

Then a voice rose from the crowd.

"Everyone who died… they were dancing and singing with the priest yesterday."

"What?"

"That can't be true!"

"No, it is. Look, Mikami and Tatsuya were dancing. Others too. They're dead."

"Wait… only the ones who were dancing died?"

"Why?"

"Is it the priest?"

"Did the Sky God kill them because they made him angry?"

Once a rumor began, the truth no longer mattered.

Especially not to people who had been pushed into a corner.

Years of failed harvests had hollowed them out, and yesterday's disaster had taken their parents, their children, their neighbors.

Grief had nowhere to go, so it turned outward.

They needed someone to blame.

And the priest, who had stood before them year after year and promised that the rituals would save everyone, was the perfect target.

"No, no, listen to me. This isn't true. Please, listen," the priest pleaded.

No one did.

He must have been the reason the Sky God kept the sky covered. He was a bad omen. A demon in human skin. The Sky God had spared him on purpose, not out of mercy, but so the people could punish him instead.

Only then would forgiveness come.

That was how the story spread.

Each day, the rumors twisted a little more.

They grew sharper, and uglier.

Details were added, changed, and exaggerated.

By the time a few weeks had passed, the truth no longer existed in anyone's mind.

The priest stayed in the broken temple, sleeping in short, terrified intervals.

Every sound made him flinch. Every shadow felt like an accusation.

He knew what was coming.

And one day, it arrived.

An Exorcist came, bearing the authority of the Shogun, the ruler of the region.

The order was clear.

The priest was to be apprehended and executed.

The priest tried to run.

He barely made it past the temple steps before the Exorcist caught him.

There was no discussion. No attempt to hear his side.

The Exorcist grabbed him and dragged him down the mountain toward the town.

People lined the roads.

The priest stumbled, his feet scraping against the dirt as he was pulled along.

His voice cracked as he tried to speak.

"Haruto, you… you don't think I'm a demon, right? I used to share my food with you. You used to say I was kind."

"Akari, you trust me, don't you? You learned so many ghost-dispelling prayers from me."

"Kaito…. You used to call me… big brother…"

No one responded to his pleas.

"Someone… Please… save me…"

By the time they reached the marketplace, he was crying openly.

A wooden platform had already been prepared.

The execution stand stood in the center of the square, stained dark from past punishments.

The Shogun sat above it, watching with uninterested eyes.

The Exorcist forced the priest up the steps.

His legs felt weak, as if they no longer belonged to him.

"Priest," the Shogun said, his voice carrying easily across the square.

"Y-Yes, my lord," the priest replied, bowing so deeply he nearly fell.

"You are a demon."

"No," the priest said quickly. "My lord, please trust me. I would never—"

"The Sky God has spoken. He demands your execution. Only then will he forgive us," the Shogun said, cutting him off.

The priest shook his head violently.

"Please, Please don't kill me, my lord. I swear I've done nothing wrong."

He crawled forward and clutched at the Shogun's robes, pressing his forehead to the ground.

The Shogun didn't move.

The Exorcist pulled the priest away and threw him back onto the platform.

The impact knocked the breath from his lungs.

The Shogun leaned forward slightly.

"But we are not demons. So speak. We will grant you one wish before you die. Tell us. What do you want?"

The square fell silent.

The priest lay there, shaking. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

He wanted to beg for his life.

He wanted to scream that it wasn't fair.

But he already knew the answer.

His life would not be spared.

Tears streamed down his face as memories surfaced.

He remembered the temple when it was first built.

The way the wood smelled fresh and clean.

The laughter of children running through the courtyard.

The festivals after harvest, when the lanterns glowed warmly and people danced without fear.

He had shared his food with the hungry, he had given blankets to the poor, he had given up his sleep to look after the injured.

So why?

Why was there not a single person who was speaking on his behalf?

Did they truly believe he was a demon?

Was there no one who would stand on his side?

Sorrow and hatred began to brew in his heart.

He, who should've been executed while cursing at everyone, suddenly felt a warmth at his chest.

He touched the source of the warmth.

It was a ring.

[Recollection Ring]

The ring activated, and the priest—no, I woke up.

I was breathing heavily.

Tears were streaming down my face. My emotions were in an upheaval. I could feel the sorrow and hatred of the priest.

But before I could think much, my memories and personality began to be sealed again.

This was the doing of the Cursed Spirit.

Since I couldn't use the Recollection Ring again in a short time, this was a checkmate.

But…

Just as I felt the emotions of the priest, the priest also felt my emotions.

'Remember.'

I spoke with the vestige of my disappearing will.

In this trial, everyone's will and personality were suppressed, and they would act on the predetermined script written by the Cursed Spirit Blackout Priest.

We could not do anything.

But if we did not do anything, we would die.

It was a paradox, and the reason why this step was the hardest.

'Remember who you are, and why you became what you are.'

My emotions flowed into the priest, and I—no, the priest took deep breaths.

The tears slowly stopped flowing from the eyes of the priest.

Words echoed in his mind.

'Remember who you are, and why you became what you are.'

Sorrow and hatred burned in his heart.

And…

So did a new emotion.

Resolve.

To see things through to the end.

"Shogun."

He looked at the Shogun.

"Please, let me complete the ritual that I could not yesterday. Only a few steps are left. After I complete them, the Sky God will forgive our village."

Immediately after the words left his mouth, the face of the Shogun reddened in anger, and the people began to hurl curses at him.

The Shogun glared at him.

He raised his hand, and the crowd became quiet.

Then, he spoke to the priest.

"I wanted to let you die painlessly, but if this is how you are going to be, then fine," the Shogun spoke with anger. "Exorcist, bring oil and a torch!"

As the Exorcist went to bring oil, the Shogun sneered at the priest.

"You can do the ritual while you are being burned alive."

The priest flinched, hearing those words.

But he closed his eyes and nodded.

He was going to die no matter what had happened.

He had resolved himself to die.

So he would finish his task.

Why?

For the people?

No.

It was not for the people.

The Exorcist brought the oil.

The Shogun poured it over the priest.

The stench made the priest shudder.

Then, before the priest could say anything, the Shogun put the torch on him.

Pain.

Unimaginable pain flooded his mind.

Was he screaming?

Was he thrashing around?

The priest did not know.

All he knew was pain.

Just as the pain threatened to engulf his mind, an emotion burned fiercely in his heart.

Resolve.

'Remember.'

The priest tried to stand with trembling limbs, to ignore the pain.

'Remember who you are, and what made you who you are.'

He began to dance.

He sang the prayers.

Was he dancing properly?

Was he singing or screaming in pain?

The priest could not tell.

His mind was in too much pain.

But…

He did not stop.

Who was he dancing for?

Who was he trying to protect?

The people of the village?

He loved them, yes.

But they were not the reason.

'The land that gave me food.'

'The temple that gave me shelter.'

'The birds that sang for me every day.'

This beautiful village had saved him, who had lost his parents during childhood.

He grew in the village, under the blessings of the land and nature.

One day, the priest had asked his teacher how he should help the village.

The answer had been simple.

Become a priest.

Serve the people of the village, who are the children of the land and nature.

'To all of you, who protected me until now.'

'Thank you.'

When the night brought scary darkness, the stars lit his path.

When loneliness in the temple gnawed at his heart, the sun warmed his chest.

'Thank you for being with me until now.'

'Thank you for helping me through the loneliness.'

The priest, recalling his past, burning alive, died with a smile on his face.

He completed the ritual with his dying breath.

He had seen things through to the end.

And…

The clouds parted from the skies.

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