The Spirit Said, 'You're Unworthy as My Master, Cancel the Contract!' So I’ll Give It to My Sister Who Wants It - Episode 1.22

“Skia, I have something to ask you.”

Mistia and Skia walked down the academy’s long corridor. Strangely, they encountered no one else, as if the building itself had isolated them, urging them to have a proper conversation. When Mistia called out to him, Skia stopped abruptly and turned around. His expression was uneasy, as though he regretted going too far.

(A sad face… but still,)

Mistia made up her mind. She had sensed it for some time, but now she resolved not to run away from the truth.

“You are not an ordinary spirit, are you? The professor said that the power of magic increases according to a spirit’s rank. The difference between you and the Shaitans was overwhelming… but it was far too vast. Your magical energy must far exceed mine. Are you, perhaps—”

“Let me say it myself.”

Skia grasped Mistia’s hands tightly with both of his own. His cobalt-blue eyes wavered with sorrow. She was forcing him to speak about something difficult. Yet, she wanted to know. She could no longer pretend ignorance. Skia had become too important to her—and at the same time, too dangerous.

“As you have guessed, I was once known as a ‘Great Spirit’ in this land.”

“…!”

A Great Spirit.

A mighty being that had once protected the royal capital, Asteria, and its surrounding lands. Thanks to its presence, the kingdom had been safeguarded from monsters. Nowadays, adventurers had taken on that role. However, as in the Redfield Territory, the cost of hiring adventurers had severely strained Asteria’s finances. In other words, Skia was someone the kingdom desperately needed. He was not meant to be idly attending an academy with Mistia.

A shadow darkened Skia’s face. Mistia felt her heart grow uneasy. She wanted to hear more, yet she also didn’t want to.

“…I was using you.”

The sharp words from his beautiful lips pierced Mistia’s heart deeply. Why had this flawless and magnificent spirit been so kind to a mere inexperienced girl like her? The pain in her chest was suffocating, as if her heart was being tightly squeezed.

Had she been betrayed again?

Shock consumed her, turning everything black.

“What… do you mean by that?”

Mistia’s lips trembled. Sensing it, Skia tightened his grip on her hands. She recalled the past betrayal by a spirit—those scornful gazes, those heartless words. The feeling of loving with all her heart, yet never being rewarded.

But suddenly, it all made sense. For a spirit as powerful as Skia to dedicate himself to her, there had to be a reason.

“What I am about to tell you is something I would rather keep hidden. But if you truly wish to know… then I must speak.”

His long golden eyelashes lowered, and Skia began to speak slowly.

The story of his past.

•

The scent of something burning—something unpleasant. The smell of dampness and mud-choked grass. Battlefields always reeked. Skia sat on the ground, clutching a single sword that was thrust into the earth.

(It feels like I’ve been fighting since the moment I was born.)

Skia, the spirit, was born on a stormy day in September, when lightning struck a special crystal.

The crystal shattered with a brilliant flash, and its tremendous energy took the shape of him. Normally, spirits were invisible entities that drifted freely, taking form only when summoned by a spirit user who provided them with magic. But Skia had no need for a summoner—he possessed enough magic to manifest himself independently.

He could create his own form and wield magic freely, even without a master.

Lightning had shattered the sacred crystal that once protected the royal capital. That rare phenomenon had granted Skia a vessel worthy of a Great Spirit from birth.

The moment he was born, his overwhelming magical energy was detected by the capital’s mages. He had no way to suppress it. Soon, he was taken to the castle—and that was when his torment began.

Humans were cruel to Skia.

With the destruction of the crystal, monsters had begun to roam freely where they had once been kept at bay. Of course, Skia had never intended for this to happen. But humans did not see it that way.

“Since you destroyed it, you must take responsibility.”

By this twisted human logic, he was forced into servitude.

Despite being a spirit, he was made to wield a sword, undergo relentless training, and fight without rest. Spirits could heal themselves as long as they had magic, which meant he was expected to battle endlessly.

Skia had no choice.

He stood at the front lines, fought alongside soldiers, inspired them, and healed them with light magic. He reattached severed limbs with recovery spells. They praised him, chanting, “Glory to the Great Spirit!”—and this became his normal.

And so, over time, he was revered as the guardian of humanity and the Great Spirit of Asteria.

(Where do these monsters even come from? No matter how many I slay, they never stop.)

Skia was utterly exhausted.

The tent prepared for him was spacious, but he sat on a wooden crate in the corner, leaning against his sword and staring at the ground. Maybe it was laziness. But there was no one here to reprimand him. The nobles who gave orders sat in the capital, sipping their wine in lavish rooms.

This expedition was massive. The army had been sent to eradicate a swarm of ‘Hounds’—dog-like monsters with black bodies and glowing green eyes that plagued the land around the capital.

The worst thing about Hounds was their sheer numbers. Left unchecked, they multiplied at an alarming rate. Their monster cores spread disease, poisoning the land and water, infecting humans. Every carcass had to be burned.

Thus, throughout the long campaign, Skia endured the stench of burning flesh.

(It’s suffocating. Villages we tried to save were already annihilated. Survivors? The ones who lived had sacrificed their loved ones to escape. Why? How can humans betray those they love and still go on living?)

He couldn’t understand. He had witnessed things too horrific to speak of. He had been forced to execute his own men when they tried to desert, even when their only wish was to see their daughters one last time. That was the law of humans.

The people he fought to protect were filthy, deceitful, and full of hatred.

(Why am I fighting? I don’t know anymore. I’m tired. I want to disappear.)

Since the moment of his birth, he had known no peace. From the depths of his soul, Skia wished to vanish.

Then, a brilliant light engulfed him.

Startled, he rose from the crate, his sword clattering to the ground.

“My body is fading…? What is this? No… it can’t be.”

He recognized this phenomenon. He had read about it before but dismissed it as impossible.

Realization struck him, and he hastily retrieved his fallen sword.

“I am… being summoned?”

Spirits were only summoned by those with greater magical potential. As a Great Spirit, he had thought himself beyond summons.

As he drifted through the void, warm sunlight touched his eyelids.

When he opened his eyes, a single girl stood before him.