Chapter 17. What a Jackpot (1)
Eshua, you rotten bastards.
That said, they really were high nobility through and through.
The Skeleton Demon King—or rather, the future Saint who intended to devour the Holy Empire from the inside out, Isaac Eshua—was staring up at a mansion.
His expression was twisted in a way no milk-drinking infant's should have been.
How to put it—like someone had dropped an entire village onto a lake. The towering blue roofs ran a blue deeper than the sky itself, and the waterways threading everywhere were so vast and long it was impossible to tell whether this place was a lake or a town. The carvings etched into white marble, the stained glass, the breathtaking dignity—holy shit, how much did all that cost? No, the sheer majesty radiating from the buildings alone dripped with sanctity—holy shit, this is what you call frugal faith, you bastards? Even from the architecture alone you could feel millennia of history...
Cursed place. Which is to say, it was disgustingly magnificent.
Damn you, Holy Empire!
So while you were wringing the demon race dry, you were investing all of it in real estate?
The former—and current—Demon King trembled with rage as he glared at the mansion.
Of course, he had known the Holy Empire was wealthy. Every empire and kingdom was, but the Holy Empire in particular wielded prestige that echoed across the entire continent.
And it was all thanks to the demon race.
Did they have any idea how much lobbying the human faction had poured into the Holy Empire to drive out the demons? How much blood and sweat?
Compared to that, the demon faction had been a pack of beggars!
There had been prosperous times, sure—but not when the Skeleton King first arrived here. When he first fell to this world, the demons were on the verge of extinction. Things were so dire that a fleshless skeleton was being chased down by feral beasts out of sheer hunger.
Every coin and scrap of food that came in, he had poured straight back into demon infrastructure.
Thanks to that, he'd worn rags his whole existence—but he had zero regrets about it...
Zero regrets...
...Damn it all. Maybe I should just sell the mansion first and skip town?
Isaac shot a sidelong glare at the blue mansion.
Well, to a bunch of beggars it must look lavish, but really, this was probably their version of frugality.
He'd heard the Blue Faith was the most austere of the Five Great Families, after all.
In any case, the house he'd be living in from now on was far beyond his station. A bit too far, honestly.
With exactly one exception.
"Look here, Isaac! You'd better grow up fast and become like those boys over there."
The uncle holding Isaac smiled warmly as he gazed out at the training grounds.
On the sparring field, young cadets not yet past their coming-of-age ceremony were drilling with swords.
"Die, Skeleton King! Die! Die, Skeleton King!"
"Even tearing the Skeleton King limb from limb won't sate us! Whether the sun rises or sets, our grudge shall never fade! Perish, Skeleton King!"
"Die, Skeleton King, you pile of shit!"
What the hell are they teaching these kids?
The cadets weren't just beating a scarecrow shaped like the Skeleton King—they were soccer-kicking it, and their eyes were terrifying. Some of them were even cowardly stabbing their blades at its eyes and crotch.
"Our young cadets' swordsmanship improves by the day. It fills me with pride."
That stopped being swordsmanship a while ago.
That's just filthy trickery!
"Haha, Isaac will have to be like that someday too."
That's thug-gang delinquent behavior, you ass!
What the hell are these people teaching their holy knights?!
Isaac swept the training grounds with furious eyes.
Granted, the cadets were still only children. At an age where their attention spans were short, having something that sparked their interest was probably a good thing.
It was a wise choice, he'd admit...
"Hey, bullseye! I won!"
Isaac trembled with rage as he watched a pack of boys pissing on a Skeleton King doll in the corner.
"Whoa, let's ask the Commander for a pile of bird droppings next."
"Then this time let's play soccer with the Skeleton King's head."
You little shits. I'm suing you for human rights violations.
Still, he couldn't entirely blame them.
After all, those cute little chicks appeared to be Eshua cadets—students of a house that held a direct grudge against the Skeleton King.
Surely they had grievances he didn't even know about.
Right, say... maybe they lost their parents to a freak accident...
"Our father and mother will be here soon."
"Oh, then let's clean up before break ends! You take the filthy Skeleton King!"
"No way! I'll get dirty!"
Maybe I should just give them a real grudge right now?
Beams were about to fire out of Isaac's eyes.
Well, I can roughly guess why House Eshua teaches it this way.
Soldiers thrown into war could never survive on ordinary sanity and conviction.
And one of the best ways to rouse a soldier's morale in those moments was to plant hatred.
In fact, there had been no shortage of holy knights who threw themselves at him with that zombie-like conviction—no, that fanatical obsession—to erase the Skeleton King.
Come to think of it... those bastards were probably all Blue Faith.
Isaac recalled the past with a shudder of disgust, but at this point, it didn't matter.
Now that he'd been born into this body, these people would become his subordinates.
For now, focus on reclaiming the Skeleton King's flesh, swallowing it down into my dimension, and becoming the Saint.
A culture that disrespected the Skeleton King?
Lowlifes pissing on Skeleton King dolls?
What did he care.
Once this body was inside the Holy Empire, all he had to do was boil the Emperor in his own pot and turn the place into a den of evil!
Isaac cackled.
"Oh! There we go, Isaac. Seems you like the training grounds too."
Yeah. And later I'm swapping out every one of those skeleton dummies for effigies of those god bastards.
"Sir Yard. Bring Isaac one of those Skeleton King curse dolls from the training grounds. I ought to teach him the art of curses."
One or two could stay shaped like my uncle's face, honestly.
Right. He'd already boosted his physical abilities with mana. He'd be able to move in a way that didn't even bear comparison to other children his age.
And honestly, being a baby is the bigger advantage.
That was other people's problem, not his—there were abilities you could only acquire in infancy. If he trained in this state, he could undoubtedly become a monster.
And the essential ingredient for that training—mana...
There it is. I can feel the mana core's energy.
As expected of a legendary demon-hunting house. The mana cores harvested from exorcised demons had to be stashed somewhere in this mansion.
This is probably the only place in the Holy Empire where I can get my hands on mana cores.
Choosing this place over the Empire itself had been ten thousand times the right call. Here, reaching the higher tiers would be a breeze.
Though apparently there's a certain 'variable' I need to deal with first.
Right on cue, a group of grim-faced figures approached Isaac.
The butler and the maids. Rillai, thinking all was well, gave the order.
"Take Isaac to my chambers."
At that, the butler looked terribly troubled.
"...My apologies. The truth is, young Master Isaac is to be housed in the annex."
"The annex? Why?"
"Well... it's that Rillai's elder brother gave strict orders that young Master Isaac is never to set foot in the main house..."
Rillai's face went ice-cold.
"My brother truly does the most useless things. The annex? You mean that haunted wreck where people die, where curses fester, where not a single living soul remains—and he wants a child to stay there?"
As his uncle fumed, Isaac snickered.
Yeah, saw that one coming.
He'd figured it out back when he was still rolling around outside as an infant. Someone in this house clearly wasn't welcoming the existence of Isaac Eshua.
But honestly? It didn't matter one bit.
Exactly. He could feel the mana cores coming from the annex. According to Whisper, who had been scanning the surroundings, the annex was surely piled high with them.
Yes! So, Uncle! Send me there at once!
"For now, I'll take Isaac to my chambers myself. I can't leave my nephew alone in a place like that."
No, Uncle. Wrong answer. I'm fine—just send me there!
"Yes, yes, and I'll sing you a lullaby from the holy scriptures, the tales of the Saintesses of old battling the Skeleton King."
I don't need that!
And that book? To me it's an exorcism manual!
If I listen to it, I'll genuinely pass on to the afterlife!
"And once you've heard all the scriptures, you'll even learn the exorcism rite made specifically for the Skeleton King."
My uncle is trying to kill me!
I don't need it!
But just then, a voice of salvation rang out.
"I distinctly remember ordering that child to be sent to the annex?"
"!"
The voice had come from the direction of the main house. A vicious-looking man in his early twenties was descending the mansion's staircase.
"You crawl out of hiding after all this time and stir up a fuss, and it amounts to squabbling over a brat?"
Even his tone was nasty.
What the hell is this guy's deal? Not even a hundred years old and he's glaring at people like he owns the place...
"Brother."
Oh. So that's the uncle.
And though he didn't yet know the details, Isaac was certain of at least one thing.
That sneering pot-faced bastard is the one who doesn't want me in this house.
Well, so long as he merely disliked Isaac, fine. He was actually the type trying to shove him out.
And sure enough, the Sneerface glared down at Isaac with murder in his eyes.
"Put that down. Send him to the annex."
At that high-handed tone, Rillai's honest eyes turned lethal.
"Are you mocking me? This child is a direct descendant of House Eshua. Do you truly think it's acceptable to house him in the annex used for exile? Step aside. He will be reading the Skeleton King exorcism rites in my chambers."
"Ugh, listen to this horseshit. Go fish some pile of bones filthier than the Skeleton King out of a gutter, and suddenly..."
Isaac, reduced to a pile of bones yet again, clicked his tongue.
Goodness. Is that a priest or a street thug?
Not that Isaac wasn't wholeheartedly rooting for the thug.
Yes. Go on, toss me out and bury me in the annex!
Hurry!
That way I can gorge on mana cores in the annex and clear out this lunatic uncle...
"I'm sure you know exactly why you want to bury Isaac in the annex, brother. Slap the label of 'cursed child' on him and push him out of the line of succession—that's the plan, isn't it!"
"!"
No, no, wait just a second! I can't have the succession slipping through my fingers!
I still have to devour this family, become the Saint, become the Pope, and get my revenge!
Whether or not he noticed Isaac's eyes bulging, the Sneerface gave a scoffing snort.
"I heard a demon appeared before that child in the village. If that isn't a cursed child, what is? If it bothers you so much, shall I 'handle' it myself?"
At that, the knights who had come with Rillai protested furiously.
"Handle him?! Young Master Isaac was the one who slew the demon and saved us all!"
"That's right! He carries the holy power of a Saint!"
"If the Head of House learns of this, he'll surely—"
"You all work so hard inventing lies."
"They're not lies! Young Master Isaac is a Saint—"
Then the Sneerface laughed, as if the whole thing were beneath him.
"If you're going to call him a Saint, the least he could do is revive that dead tree the Head of House treasures so much, no?"
"...!"
Rillai faltered at those words.
And no wonder—the tree his brother pointed to was the blue tree, the very symbol of House Eshua. The sacred tree that, steeped in demonic energy, had already withered and died.
"What's the matter? If he received a Saint's blessing, that much should be simple, shouldn't it? What. Can't he manage it?"
"......"
As Rillai's expression darkened, the Sneerface smirked in contempt—and Isaac snorted.
Oh, so that's how you want to play it?
No, no need. This actually worked out perfectly.
Before long, Rillai found himself at a loss, and the Sneerface let his mockery show.
"Just as I thought. You all saw it, didn't you? A so-called holy knight, caught telling lies."
The people Rillai had brought along, the ones who had hoped and vouched for Isaac, backed away with murmurs of just as I thought. The Sneerface, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, gave the order.
"What are you standing around for? Hurry and cart that thing off to the ann—huh?"
But in that very instant, Goel froze in shock.
With a blinding flash of light, something utterly impossible began to happen.