Holy Sinner: Heir of Life and Death

Ezren sat motionless on the cold ground as the last glow of the System circle faded beneath his feet. A strange chill lingered in his chest, as if something ancient had been awakened inside him — something that wasn't entirely his.

His mother hadn't moved either. Serena stood frozen, staring at the space where the System panel had hovered just moments before, her eyes locked on the word neither of them wanted to see:

NECROMANCER.

Ezren looked up. "What does this mean for me now?"

Serena finally blinked, her voice quiet but firm. "It means you're in danger. We both are."

She pulled him to his feet, brushing dirt from his clothes. Her hands were trembling — not from the wind, but from fear. Real fear. Not just of the world, but of the boy standing in front of her.

They returned inside the hut. The interior was dim, lit only by a cracked crystal lantern hanging above a rusted metal table. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, bones, and odd trinkets: relics of a past Serena never spoke of.

Ezren sat in silence, gripping the edges of the chair.

"I don't understand," he said. "Why is this class so bad? Why would the System give it to me if it's cursed?"

Serena stirred a pot of boiling herbs on the stove, her back to him. "The System doesn't judge morality, Ezren. It only responds to truth — to what's inside you. Necromancy is part of your bloodline. It chose you because you already have a connection to death."

He swallowed. "Is that what you had too?"

She nodded slowly. "I was a Necromancer… before I gave it up. Or tried to."

Ezren's eyes widened. "You can give up a class?"

"No," she said. "But you can seal it — hide it deep enough that no one notices. That's why we stayed in the Outer Zones. Away from the sensors, away from the factions, away from… them."

"Who's them?"

She didn't answer.

---

Ezren's thoughts spun like a cyclone. He wanted answers — he wanted to scream — but something deep inside kept him still. The voices from the Awakening hadn't left him. Even now, he could feel faint whispers brushing the edge of his mind. It wasn't clear language, but… presence. He wasn't alone in his own body anymore.

He glanced at the corner of the room, and for just a second — no more than a blink — he saw something. A shape. A translucent shadow. A face.

It vanished before he could react.

That night, word spread.

Even in the Outer Zones, the System's alerts were received. Every town and scavenger camp had a terminal — an old-world satellite system still functional thanks to the magic-tech fusion of the System Era.

At the central outpost just a few kilometers from Ezren's hut, a terminal flickered on.

> System Alert:

> Class Awakening Detected

> Candidate: Ezren Darkmoor

> Class: Necromancer [RARE]

> Status: Active

> Region: Sector 9 – Outlands

> Global Rank: Top 1% (Rarity Tier)

> Bounty Classification: Watchlist Candidate

> This subject may pose a risk to local and regional stability.

The scavengers stared at the glowing screen.

"Another one," one muttered, his voice low.

"Name's Darkmoor. Wasn't there a bounty on that bloodline twenty years ago?"

A gruff man in a long coat stepped forward. He scratched his stubbled chin and grinned.

"Guess we're going hunting."

---

The next morning, Ezren went outside. The world looked the same — same broken roads, same ruined towers — but something inside him had changed.

Kids from the nearby huts had already heard. A few pointed. Some whispered. One boy, a few years older, stepped into Ezren's path with a crooked smile.

"Heard you're the freak now," he sneered. "Bone-boy. Going to raise some skeletons to clean your house?"

Ezren clenched his fists but said nothing.

The boy laughed. "Oh? Gonna curse me with your undead magic?"

Ezren felt his body react before his mind did. A pulse of cold radiated from his chest. Suddenly, the boy staggered back, eyes wide.

"W-what the hell?!"

Behind Ezren, a flicker of a translucent wolf-shaped spirit growled silently, unseen by most — but felt. The air turned colder, heavier.

> [Soul Sense Activated – Level 1]

> Detecting Hostile Intent...

> Shadow Form: Minor Phantom Wolf – Bound

The boy ran.

Ezren stood still, heart pounding. The wolf faded. He hadn't summoned it. It came on its own.

Back at home, Serena was already packing.

"We're leaving tonight," she said without looking at him.

Ezren blinked. "Where will we go?"

"I don't know. But it's not safe here. That alert — everyone knows now."

He hesitated. "Then teach me. If they're going to come, I need to defend myself."

She froze, then turned toward him. Her face was stern.

"Necromancy isn't a toy. It's not some class you level up for loot and XP. It binds you to death. It chips away at your soul."

He stepped closer. "But I already have it. Doesn't that mean I should learn to use it — before it uses me?"

Serena studied him for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

"Fine. But we need to follow with one rule: never raise the dead unless you must. Once you do, the System marks you differently. The more you use it, the harder it is to return to who you were."

Ezren nodded. "I understand."

But deep down, he didn't. Not yet.

Later that evening, as the sun bled red over the wastelands, a figure watched their hut from a nearby ridge. Cloaked in black, wearing a mask of bone, they held a long staff etched with glowing blue runes.

They tapped a crystal orb at their side, and a new alert appeared.

> Target Identified: Ezren Darkmoor

> Necromancer Class – Active

> Watchlist Order Received – From the Hall of Light

> Objective: Observe. Do not Engage… Yet.

The figure tilted their head. "So the boy has awakened… Just like his father."

Ezren stood outside one last time before they left. The night wind swept over him, and he opened his hand, looking at the faint traces of black mist that curled around his fingertips.

Part of him felt fear.

Another part… felt alive.

✦ End of Chapter 2 ✦