What a Windfall (1)
A prison near the capital, in the mid-eastern region of the Holy Empire.
Cardinal Verith glared coldly into the cell. Inside, a bishop who had been interrogated and tortured by the imperial court was trembling, on the verge of tears.
Verith had ordered him to dispose of the Eshua brat, and the fool couldn't even manage that one task—instead smearing filth on the Papal line.
“Useless to the very end. As if getting a lever seized by the Emperor weren't enough, you go and help Eshua? Were you actually a follower of the Blue Faith all along, not the Gold?”
“I—I'm innocent! I would never… urk!”
“Watch your mouth.”
From beneath the Cardinal's feet, a knight of light surged upward in a golden glow.
“It would be quite the spectacle, wouldn't it, if that brat mastered the secrets of Eshua and started raving that he would become the Saint.”
“N-no! That child can never become the Saint! Because that little brat is—!”
“A demon?”
Cardinal Verith curled the corner of his mouth into a faint smirk.
“And you expect anyone to believe such nonsense now?”
That contemptuous smile—a smile of sheer exasperation—held even the disgust one might show an insect. Panicked, the bishop clutched desperately at the Cardinal's leg.
“You must believe me! If only you would save me from here, I—!”
“I'm sorry to inform you, but the identity verification of that brat is already complete.”
“Then—!”
“A demon capable of wielding holy power cannot exist in this world. Do you truly not understand that your words amount to blasphemy against both God and His Holiness the Pope?”
“B-but… urk!!”
The bishop's head fell, and his body crumpled to the floor.
Verith frowned at the corpse.
“The Saint must come from House Verith, and from nowhere else.”
Soon after, his attendant bowed his head.
“Are you certain it's wise to let the Saintess's child slip away? If he truly is the Saintess's child, he will become the young master's greatest rival.”
“It's fine. That brat will go to the imperial family anyway. As long as he doesn't go to Eshua, it doesn't matter. If he's with the royal house, there will always be a chance to deal with him later.”
Yes—they could dispose of him there, when the time came.
Meanwhile, at that very moment.
The Skeleton Demon King—who was headed not to the imperial family, nor anywhere else, but to Eshua—was twitching his eyebrows in irritation.
Ha. So I'm ending up at Eshua after all.
Of course, it wasn't for that stale, musty reason of “because we're blood relatives.”
Then why, you ask?
The reason was far simpler.
It began a few days prior.
Ha, you little punks. What? The gold medal is worthless? Are you kidding me?
The Skeleton Demon King had been glued to the Emperor's side, refusing to budge an inch. His uncle, once so imperiously confident, was now visibly flustered, glancing back and forth between the baby and the Emperor.
He had read the Emperor's mood in an instant.
And sure enough—
“Y-Your Majesty. I trust this goes without saying, but I believe the child should… be given to his own kin.”
But the Emperor, who was quite pleased to have the Skeleton Demon King in his arms, curled his lips into a sly grin.
“Oh? I too would dearly love to send him back to his family, but ought we not respect the child's wishes? He may be young, but I wish to honor him as a person in his own right.”
“No, that's…”
“Surely you—a member of the Eshua council and this child's own uncle—don't intend to trample your nephew's wishes? I hadn't taken you for that sort of man.”
Why, you rotten Emperor—
Though the uncle was playing the meek subordinate before the throne, his face said exactly that.
But when the uncle failed to object, it was the Eshua knight commander who grew uneasy and prodded him.
“Do you truly intend to send the young master to the imperial family?”
“I thought it might be better for the child, all things considered.”
“What?”
“We never found who took my brother and his wife. The baby could be their next target.”
“Still…”
“And above all, I can't deny the royal house simply has more to offer him.”
“Young master…”
“Our house is one of demon corpses and magic cores, nothing more. It's hardly an ideal environment to raise a child. The most valuable thing we even own is, what, the Skeleton Demon King's remains—”
That was the moment.
Thump-thump-thump.
“Hm?”
The Skeleton Demon King, mid-transfer into the attendant's arms, rolled himself clean out of the man's embrace.
“M-Milord?!”
Then, scuttling off like a cockroach in a flurry of rattling bones, the Skeleton Demon King latched onto his uncle's leg.
At that sight, the Eshua knights were so moved they couldn't keep their mouths shut.
“Young master!”
“You're coming to us?!”
But the Skeleton Demon King clinging to them had his eye sockets wide with fury.
The Skeleton Demon King's remains?! You should have led with THAT, you bastards!
It had been a whisper—but to the Skeleton Demon King, the very creator of magic cores, it was more than loud enough.
And the Skeleton Demon King's remains?
Son of a—
That's my body!
My body! The one I worked so hard to build, swindling those clueless young dragons out of their mana and fattening it up for centuries!
The moment I reclaim my original body, the 10th Tier means nothing.
The higher the rank of demon, the more mana was steeped not only in their core but in their very flesh. The deeper the accumulation, the more thoroughly the mana soaked into every last inch of the body—even a single fragment of bone or scrap of muscle carried considerable power. And this was the Demon King's body?
Compared to that, some random magic core rolling around on the street corner isn't even in the running!
Yes, the innate limitations of being a skeleton existed—but this was a body honed over hundreds of years, one that had bent every demon alive to its will and grown until it stood equal to the gods themselves.
In a word: a top-grade relic.
Recovering his original strength would be dramatically accelerated.
And it was in Eshua's possession?
How it had flowed into the Saintess's family, he couldn't say—though after 150 years of his own sealing, anything could have happened.
And so the Skeleton Demon King resolved to go to Eshua, not the imperial family.
Besides, a new reason to choose Eshua had just made itself known.
Vwoom!
That damned Origin: Survival—the one that had reacted to the Emperor—flared up yet again.
A value-assessment engine, granting escape from crises and steering him toward profit. And for some reason, it was reacting to his uncle.
Thum-thum-THUM!
And the reaction was even stronger than it had been with the Emperor.
Of course, at first he tried to ignore it.
Follow a bunch of lunatics babbling about honor and unyielding spirit? No thanks.
But lo and behold—Origin: Survival actually made the uncle's head glow, as if to say look HERE.
He'd thought the light from the Emperor was already a strong response, but his extraordinarily handsome uncle was simply blotted out entirely—
FLASH!
Hey, I told you, I'm not going no matter how much you signal!
FLASH! FLASH!
I'm not joining your cult! I said no?! NO!
FLASH-FLASH-FLASH! FLASHFLASHFLASHFLASH! FLASHFLASHFLASHFLASH!
Dammit, knock it off!
At this point that's not a "fortune" level reading, that's the jackpot of a LIFETIME!
Thus the Skeleton Demon King was left with no choice but to press a hand to his forehead.
So this means—choose Eshua for now, with the Emperor as backup?
This was an Origin that had never once given him wrong information, not even back in his skeleton days, so the Demon King narrowed his eye sockets thoughtfully.
Besides, a Saintess's family was an exorcism family.
Which means they're bound to have plenty of magic cores, too.
They'd be handling demon corpses, after all.
And an Origin reacting this strongly couldn't be about the remains and cores alone.
So, partly out of curiosity, and partly because the mood struck him—he chose Eshua.
Naturally, the moment he did, the Emperor—looking as though he'd expected it all along—had a box of gold ingots brought out.
“These were originally meant for you—for the duration of the child's stay. An insurance premium, if you will. Useless now, of course. But thanks to him, both I and the Crown Prince survived this affair, so consider it a token of my gratitude.”
And the uncle immediately asked him to take it back.
“The child merely did what any 'guardian by sacred duty' ought to do. House Eshua requires no such material compensation—”
The instant those words left his mouth, the Skeleton Demon King rolled head over heels toward the Emperor.
Oh, so now we've never once said we're going to Eshua, have we? And as the Emperor moved to receive him back into his arms, the uncle went pale and blurted out:
“W-we… we shall humbly accept, and hold it in trust for the child. You honor us, Your Majesty.”
That's it, you brat. Should've done that from the start.
Only then did the Skeleton Demon King appear satisfied, scuttling back to the Eshua knight commander and nestling snugly into his arms.
His uncle stared at him as if beholding some uncanny, otherworldly creature.
He really does understand what we're saying… doesn't he?
And so the Skeleton Demon King came to be transported to Eshua.
In any case, riding a carriage toward home was all well and good—but the question remained how things had come to this.
The Skeleton Demon King observed the Eshua knights fawning over his every mood.
“Young master, is there anything else you need?”
“Just say the word. We'll see to anything and everything.”
They still seemed half-terrified that the Skeleton Demon King might bolt back to the Emperor.
Which was understandable—given the golden lion medallion clutched in his tiny hand. It was something the Emperor had pressed into the baby's grip personally.
“Give this one to the child.”
That medallion was nothing less than a pass granting free entry into the Imperial Palace itself.
Seeing it, his uncle had torn the ornament right off his own clothes and pressed it into the baby's other hand.
Thus the Skeleton Demon King walked away with a seemingly precious mineral besides, and smirked.
Not planned, but somehow I've walked a tightrope straight into profit.
With a direct line to the royal house established, he could work that angle whenever he pleased.
No—the real problem right now lay elsewhere.
“Why would the Papal faction be after young master Isaac?”
Why? Because he'd been floated as a Saint candidate, obviously.
“Still, why go after him to such lengths…”
“No official announcement has been made yet, but word is the gods delivered a prophecy. That they would take a Saint as the Son of God.”
“…!”
The knights flinched. How could they not?
“The Son of God… you don't mean—”
“That's right. The seat of the next Pope.”
The knights' expressions hardened all at once. There was no way they couldn't grasp what that meant.
The Pope was the supreme prelate who wielded 10th-tier holy arts—the undisputed king of every priest and holy knight scattered across the continent.
In fact, there had once been an incident where a single summons from the Pope made every priest on foreign assignment abandon their posts mid-task and return to the Holy Empire.
Because of it, one small kingdom failed to repel a demonic invasion, its power shattered so utterly that it vanished without a sound.
It was a famous cautionary tale—what befell a king who dared offend the Pope's delicate pride.
And because that example was so infamous, no power-holder on the continent could afford to ignore the Pope's existence.
Least of all now, with the demon horde's strength swelling.
And yet—the immovable seat of authority, unshaken for hundreds, even thousands of years, might change hands?
Pope or not, every soul on the continent would go mad over it.
“So that's why House Verith pushed so hard to produce the Saint? Because the supreme seat might pass to another family?”
“Even the Saintess, they say—when she first appeared, the Papal Court strained every nerve trying to kill her off.”
“I see. But she was a woman, and she had the concrete purpose of subjugating the Skeleton Demon King—so the Pope didn't concern himself too much.”
“No. It's because she failed to catch the Skeleton Demon King and croaked on her own. He held her in contempt.”
Khurgh! Kghk!
“Young master Isaac! What's wrong?!”
“Are you coming down with something?!”
The Skeleton Demon King, who had been listening intently, coughed as though hacking up blood.
Stop stabbing me where it hurts! It HURTS!
By that point, the Eshua knights had swallowed hard.
“Then… do you believe it, young master Rillai? That Isaac is the Saint?”
At the question, his uncle scoffed.
“The gods never play favorites with their children. Surely, surely they wouldn't hand the Saint to the Saintess's family of all places—where's the fairness in that?”
“Ah, fair point.”
The Skeleton Demon King's eye sockets narrowed to slits.
Fairness, my aching bones. Those gods are the most lopsided bastards alive.
I don't know what kind of image polish they're paying for, but those cretins are petty, filthy, and cheap to the bone, every last one of them.
“Then who attacked the Saintess and the young duke?”
“The Skeleton Demon King, obviously. He'd nurse a grudge against the gods for defeating him.”
The Skeleton Demon King glared at his uncle, utterly aggrieved.
Falling into a baby's body was insult enough, but now this uncle of mine has gone and painted me as a patricidal monster.
No—the culprit MUST be the Skeleton Demon King. It has to be. I will accept no other culprit.
HEY!!
The Demon King goggled at his uncle, whose eyes had transformed into something straight out of Zilk and Hyde.
They really are Eshua blood, through and through.
You hate the Skeleton Demon King THAT much?! Making him the culprit before he's done a single thing?!
Still, even if the uncle insisted on that narrative, it didn't matter in the slightest—because he wasn't the culprit.
As long as I get to Eshua, that's all that counts. And if I win over the head of the house while I'm at it, even better.
That was how he'd squeeze Eshua dry, after all.
It would be nice to rack up some merit in their service while he was at it, but with a body like this…
And that was precisely when it happened.
The carriage rolled to a halt, and voices drifted in from outside.
They had finally arrived at the Eshua Duchy. But something strange was unfolding at the main gate.
“Our apologies, but I'm afraid you cannot enter.”
At the voice from outside, the knights on the driver's bench bristled.
“You can't recognize the Eshua crest right in front of you?!”
Then the carriage door burst open, and his uncle's hand went to his sword. It was the guards who had pulled it open.
And at the sight of them, the Skeleton Demon King arched a single brow.
These guys…
Sure enough, the guards grinned down at the Skeleton Demon King inside the carriage.
“Of course you can't enter.”
“That child of the Saintess's blood must be eliminated too!”
“Demon!”
The holy knights' eyes blazed, and his uncle curled his lips into a vicious smile as holy power ignited around him.
“Behold. Didn't I tell you? The culprit would be a demon.”
“For a demon to come all this way hunting him—then young master Isaac truly must possess some extraordinary power—!”
The Skeleton Demon King snorted.
Ha. Sure, fine.
Didn't know these clowns from Adam, but demons showing up was a good thing. Magic cores delivered themselves, free of charge.
And might as well rack up some merit while we're at it.
Not that he needed to lift a finger himself, really.
It felt a bit off, personally executing his own former underlings and subject races.
Yes—out of the generosity of his undead heart, he'd simply watch and not dirty his own—
“Hear me, lowly humans!”
“By the command of our great and mighty king, the Skeleton Demon King—eliminate the Saintess and the Saint!”
“…”
I'm sorry—what did you just say?
“By the will of the Skeleton Demon King, we shall kill that Saint!”
“But if you simply leave the child with us, perhaps the Skeleton Demon King will spare your lives.”
The Skeleton Demon King beamed, wide and radiant.
You little shits want to die?