November of the Sainted Year (First Civil Month) - Present Day

Jimmy lay curled in his bed, gripped by terror, his soft blond hair tumbling lightly across his forehead. He had felt the subtle yet undeniable shift of Magic in the air, and he had heard the ominous noises that followed. His foster family was already deep in slumber, beyond any hope of helping him. He could sense the Sleep Spell woven over their home, and he could feel the steady weaving of other Magic Spells taking shape nearby.

He strove to silence the insistent voice echoing in his mind, the voice urging him to run. Since earlier that afternoon, he had known that danger would come for him before long, though he had not expected it to arrive with such swiftness.

Clutching the Magic Crystal pendant that Lady Sylia had entrusted to him, he activated it again and again, whispering silent prayers with each attempt. Saint Sylia had given him the pendant as both a safeguard and an alarm. It was an object that would not only shield him from harm but also send a plea for aid to her and her allies.

The Magic Crystal pendant had not left his possession in years. Though he dared not wear it openly, for fear of exposing it, it had always remained concealed in his pocket. Whenever he visited his adoptive parents, he made certain to activate some of its protective measures in advance.

For a long time, Jimmy had been aware of the dangers inherent in living with his adoptive family. Yet it was only recently that he had learned the full scope of the horrors they had concealed from him. Now he understood that he had been raised in a nest of psychopaths, and that his adoptive mother Liedsa was perhaps the most immoral among them. She had taken to sacrificing children from the Slums, including her own kin, for the sake of her corrupted Church.

It was a widely known fact that many such corrupted Churches had turned to draining young children, and even a few kidnapped or purchased adults, to harvest their Mana and Magic. This abhorrent practice had grown common among certain members of the Clergy and Nobility, who preyed upon the lower classes and the unprotected in order to amass magical resources. For them, it was a matter of survival. They were living within a Kingdom that was suffering from a historic scarcity of both Mana and Magic. The lands were withering, and with them, the people's own Magic faded with each passing day.

Jimmy's brow furrowed as the voice in his mind returned, more insistent than before. He could no longer dismiss it.

For Jimmy carried a secret, one that very few knew.

Within him resided the Soul of an adult Knight, a man who had taken possession of his body when Jimmy was still a small child, after losing his own.

Jimmy had not truly resented the arrangement. Over the years, he had learned much from the Knight, and the two of them had reached a certain understanding. Yet he loathed relinquishing control of his own body, even for a short while.

The Knight typically remained a faint conscience at the edge of his mind, assuming full control only for a few hours at night while Jimmy slept. In recent years, Jimmy had set firm boundaries. There had been a time, during his early childhood, when the Knight had held near-complete control over his body, but those days were gone.

Now, Jimmy was old enough to understand the weight of such possession.

He still permitted the Knight joint control for a few days each month. Never more than that. Yet now, the Knight pressed urgently for full control of Jimmy's body, in order to save them both from the perils that surrounded them. Jimmy, however, could not bring himself to yield.

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On a few occasions in the past, he had been forced to surrender, and each time it had left him deeply wounded. He swore he would never endure that pain again.

Lady Sylia would come.

She had promised she would.

All he needed to do was wait in silence.

She had taken him aside late that afternoon and explained precisely what he must do should anyone come for him that night. After all, he was not merely a witness to one crime, but to several—an unfortunate consequence, most likely, of his Blessings. It was only natural that more than a few would wish him dead. Yet the danger closing in on him now was not from strangers.

He could make out the voices more clearly.

He recognized his adoptive mother, Liedsa, and her unhinged sister, Darnia.

They were not alone.

A chill ran through him as the abominable voice of Liedsa's cousin, Carla, reached his ears. That one was a true monster, a woman who hated all children and had even slain her own in a fit of madness. She had been confined for a time, but was later released by her Church, who claimed to have proven that a Malevolent Spirit had driven her to such crimes. Carla herself had insisted that she had been cursed by the Saints.

Few in the Slums believed her tale.

Only those eager to find an excuse to despise the Saints pretended to do so, even using her story to recruit new followers against Lady Sylia.

Jimmy went rigid as he felt their presence draw nearer. They had just entered the small bedroom he once shared with his late cousin, Javdir. The boy of only seven years had been found dead not long ago, his lifeless body discarded near the gutters at the Slums' Outskirts.

His father, Harvies, had appeared inconsolable.

At least, outwardly.

Jimmy knew the truth, however. Even Harvies' own brother, Jielkio, was aware of what Harvies had done for a handful of coins. The man had sold his own son to a fate worse than death.

Thankfully, Lady Sylia had taken the boy in after faking his death in her customary manner, by crafting a Doll in his likeness. Yet this time, she had embedded within it a Soul shard from another, granting it genuine emotions.

Jimmy almost smiled at the thought of how ingenious the Lady was. He had nearly laughed aloud when he learned that the shard she had chosen came from Harvies himself. The Knight who shared his body had truly laughed, even applauding the Lady's cruelty and ruthlessness.

Ironically, Harvies had delivered himself to the most dreadful fate imaginable—the very fate he had intended for his son. Over time, he had descended into madness, tormented by the memories of his own dead self. After weeks plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, he had at last tried to hang himself, only to discover that death would not take him.

For Saint Sylia had invoked a Forbidden Spell of the Nights Church to turn him into an Undead, and Supreme God Izranaga himself had added a Divine Curse of his own.

And so Harvies has become a half-disfigured and utterly emasculated Zombie Slave who was condemned to nearly a millennium of Enslavement and Divine torment for daring to mock Saint Sylia by preying upon someone under her protection.

Jimmy did not know the full details, but he had heard his Knight mention something about Saint Sylia dividing Harvies, both to prolong his torture and to make practical use of him. It was, apparently, a favored method among the Nights Flock.

"Let me take over now, or we will both die!" the Knight shouted in Jimmy's mind for the sixth time, shattering his thoughts.

Jimmy clutched his head with both hands, shaking it vehemently.

Once again, he refused.

He would not surrender his freedom.

Never.

They would wait for Saint Sylia, no matter what.

He trusted her completely.

Yet now he could only hope she would arrive before they killed him.

From the murmurs he overheard, he understood that these women did not intend to sell him or drain his Magic as he had expected.

They were here to end him for good since he had seen too much of their crimes.

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