A handful of insolent, curious children dared to step into the courtyard where I waited.
"Whoa, look at this— Is that blood?"
"Rust, dummy. It's just dusty. Ugh, my clothes are gonna get filthy."
"Hey, you know this place's haunted, right?"
"Of course I know. It's the Bloody Priest, isn't it?"
"The what?"
"They say he's this pale, white-haired man who just stands around, dead eyes staring at nothing. And if he finds a kid wandering here—he drags them inside, takes them apart, and eats them."
"You're such an idiot. Like I'd believe—uh..."
Their voices died mid-sentence.
Every single one of them froze and turned toward me.
Then one of them let out a scream sharp enough to shatter glass.
"A-a ghost!!"
"How dare you address a priest that way! Keep mouthing off and I'll have God's lightning strike you dead!"
"GYAAAH! It's the ghost! It's real!"
They scattered like spiders under torchlight.
Honestly. Never a dull day around here.
...Wait. Am I seriously some kind of local monster now? That's depressing.
* * *
"A priest threatening to 'kill a child' isn't exactly a good look, you know."
"Oh, you're awake, Olivier."
A boy in iron armor stepped out from the shadows toward the courtyard.
Young, his face still round with youth—but he wore a hero's crest.
Despite his youthful appearance, this one's no amateur.
His swordsmanship outstrips most trained knights, and he never forgets to leave his offering at the altar. A diligent young hero, through and through.
Lately, though, he's been showing up here far too often.
"Kind words don't reach children. If they sneak into the church and see a hero before resurrection, it might scar them for life. I'm only being harsh for their sake."
"Still... a bloody priest trying to look kind probably just looks more deranged."
That's not blood, kid. It's just rust and dust.
This place only got its 'haunted church' reputation because of the bloodstains and my appearance. If I didn't spend all my time resurrecting heroes, I could maintain the grounds better. But as it stands, the place looks abandoned, which attracts curious children.
"Well, I'll be off, then," Olivier said. "I left my offering on the altar. May the gods bless you."
"Wait."
I caught his arm before he could slip away and peered at his tired, shadowed eyes. His recent frequent visits had taken a toll on him.
"What's got you in such a rush?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing really. I just believe a hero's duty is to defeat the Demon Lord and bring peace as soon as possible."
"Heh. Words say one thing, but your body tells another."
"Wh—what's that supposed to mean?"
Olivier flinched, clutching his shoulder as if to shield himself.
What on earth is going on in that head of his? I placed a hand on his stomach, feeling the tension beneath his armor.
"Your recent wounds have been severe, and your stress levels are through the roof. I've inspected you thoroughly—your stomach is in a state I'd expect from a middle-aged bureaucrat, not a young hero. If you keep this up, it'll be your spirit that breaks, not just your body."
"Ugh..."
"Your body's covered in scratches. You've been fighting recklessly. That's not like you, Olivier. You've been sent here too often lately—if this keeps up, it won't be your body that breaks next, it'll be your spirit."
He bit his lip and stared at the ground.
"There's something going on, isn't there? It'd be a waste to see a capable hero burn out."
And, frankly, I'd rather not have my workload increase.
"...You see right through me, Father. My party's been a mess lately. I guess I've been pushing myself too hard."
"Tell me about it. Hearing a believer's troubles is part of my duty."
"I feel embarrassed exposing our dirty laundry, but... alright."
"Don't worry. I swear before God—this stays between us."
"In short... it's a romantic mess."
"...Excuse me?"
Traveling together with your life on the line—emotional entanglements aren't rare.
Still, this boy's got quite the drama for someone so angelic-looking.
"No, no! Not me! It's the others! The archer girl's awful—she was dating the mage, but she's been flirting with the warrior too. It's a full-blown love triangle! We've even had 'friendly fire' incidents mid-battle. They say it's not intentional, but..."
"Uh-huh. Have you added anyone new to the party lately?"
"No, still the same four of us. That's what makes it worse. The tension's unbearable..."
Hold on a minute. Olivier's party...
"The rest of your members—they're all women, right?"
He sighed, burying his face in his hands.
"Exactly. Which makes it even harder to say anything. I just... want to finish the journey, defeat the Demon Lord, and end this already."
"Your end goal's a bit too far off. Wouldn't it be easier to just leave that disaster of a party?"
"But if I keep switching parties, it'll ruin my reputation. They say it's best to stay with the same group for at least three years..."
Oh, for heaven's sake.
So earnest it hurts.
They'll charge into battle with their guts spilling out and lungs collapsing, but they worry about their image?
Heroes—those lunatics—don't care if they're torn to ribbons. As soon as I patch them up, they're back out there again.
Olivier's no different.
...Not that I can say any of that out loud.
"The means and the end are reversed," I told him instead. "What matters is defeating the monsters. In your current state, you can't bring out each other's strengths. You'll burn holes in your stomach long before you reach the Demon Lord's castle."
"I suppose... but it's not like there's a convenient party waiting to take me in."
"Hmm... let me think."
Wasn't there someone who might suit him...?
Then—ah.
A whiff of blood drifted from the altar.
A bad feeling prickled down my spine.
I turned, hesitantly—
and the world went red.
"Are—are you alright!?"
Olivier bolted toward the body lying sprawled before the altar.
It had been neatly sliced into rings, like a grotesque stuffed squid.
Of course, there was no chance of being "alright."
"Ugh... horrible."
"Truly. This one will take a while to fix—hm?"
Blond hair. White robes. I knew that sight all too well.
I lifted the severed head.
"You again!?"
"Wah—don't shout like that!"
"Forgive me. Reflex."
I forced my expression calm, but my insides were boiling.
Katarina.
Every time, she finds a new and inventive way to die.
And does she even pay for it?
"Is she a beginner? Poor girl, what happened to her?"
"A kamaitachi," I replied.
"How can you tell?"
I showed Olivier the cross-section of her torso.
"This amount of blood—this spray pattern—it could only happen if she were alive when sliced apart. Few monsters can cut a human to ribbons in seconds. Look here, the edges are clean, not even the tiny vessels are crushed—Olivier, are you listening?"
"D-do I have to look? If you insist, I'll try, but..."
He covered his mouth and turned away, pale as the severed head at our feet.
To spare the altar from further bloodstains, I gently lowered her remains and covered the wound.
"She's reckless," I sighed. "Charges at stronger foes without a plan. She's become a regular here before she's even shed her beginner's mark."
"That's... concerning."
"It truly is."
Concerning that I might die of overwork before she learns better.
If she'd just stop adventuring solo, her survival odds might actually improve.
A novice mage alone can't handle a swift close-range monster like a kamaitachi.
If only she had a close-combat partner—say, a swordsman hero—
"...Ah."
"What? Why are you grinning like that?"
I slung an arm around Olivier's shoulders.
"I have a wonderful idea."
* * *
"So," I declared, "you'll be working together for a while."
"Wait—what?!"
"I—I don't even understand what's happening! Who is this girl? Some local child?"
I stepped up to the altar, looking down at their bewildered faces.
"Katarina, you'll learn the art of combat from Olivier. He's skilled and disciplined. Olivier, you'll protect her and continue your journey. You fight best when you have someone to defend. Regain your focus, and don't let despair overwhelm you."
They didn't exactly look thrilled, but neither protested.
I suppose an altar lends weight even to absurd pronouncements.
Sad, really—to use my priestly authority for practical matters instead of spiritual guidance.
"Well then," I said, "I'll let you two discuss the details."
I turned to Katarina. "Now, for your resurrection donation."
"Ah—um, about that..."
She opened her clenched fist.
A few dust-covered copper coins glinted weakly in her palm.
"This is all I have..."
Unbelievable.
Does she think this place is a candy shop?
Dying this often without money should be a sin.
Still... compared to usual, I felt strangely calm.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Just—please, not the Holy Knight again! Anyone but her!"
While Katarina trembled and looked around in panic, I extended my hand toward Olivier.
"Eh? What is it?"
"When you're in a party, covering your companion's resurrection costs is part of the deal."
His face went blank—then blue.
"W-wait, you want me to pay!?"
"Of course. The scriptures say it plainly: Love your companions, and share in their burdens."
"...Please tell me you didn't pair us up just for this."
Notes:
• Olivier - A male adventurer burdened by the constant deaths of his companion Katarina.
• Katarina - A female adventurer known for her cheerful demeanor but cursed with a tendency to die repeatedly.