I Didn't Expect This (2)

When I was young, my parents were Catholic missionaries.

"Isaac, what happens if you tell a lie?"

"I'll go to hell for being a bad kid, right?"

"No. You'll lose this month's allowance."

They really were missionaries.

Of course, that son would go on to become not some pitiful bag of bones buried in the dirt, but the head of the most vicious demons imaginable—but honestly, that part hardly mattered. Whether their son became a demon or plunged down the path of an asura, his parents couldn't have cared less. All they ever asked was that he never do anything he couldn't take responsibility for.

Which was why the Skeleton Demon King believed he'd lived his whole existence with a clear conscience, and that he'd adapted just fine to his second life as well.

'Bones... bones...'

The only thing he'd never managed to accept, even after hundreds of years, was his own reflection.

He'd wanted to become human so badly that he'd swallowed his pride and signed employment contracts with his enemies, the gods themselves. That's how much.

Right. That's how it was.

That's how it was.

"Oh my, the baby Saint has awakened."

What the hell is this dogshit situation?

The Skeleton Demon King couldn't make sense of what had happened to him. Granted, he couldn't even understand why he—who should have been sealed inside that maggot—was lying here of all places.

'Saint?'

A Saint?! Are you kidding me?

Since time immemorial, weren't Saints the very pinnacle of that divine faction—vicious, sanctimonious, and stingier than anyone alive?

And in truth, the Skeleton Demon King could still remember it to this day. The era when he was nothing but a lowly Skeleton.

"Kill them! Not a single demon beast escapes—slaughter every last one!"

All those human bastards had to do was lose some bread... fine, okay, the bread had gotten a lot bigger than "some," but still—why on earth did a pack of holy knights pile onto a whimpering baby demon beast over a little bread?

"Ah, there! The skeleton's running off with it! Take care of it!"

He'd nearly been blasted into the afterlife by a single holy spell just for going to rescue a child demon beast.

And what about after he became the Lich, King of the Undead?

"Purge the demons' territory!"

The divine faction bastards barged into other people's land and made nuisances of themselves at the drop of a hat.

Granted, when the emissaries of a so-called great nation started pulling their antics on his soil, he'd lost his temper and beaten their representative half to death and strung him up a tree, but...

"The Demon King beat the Saintess bloody and hung her from a tree! This is a clear declaration of war!"

Okay, maybe that had been going a bit far. Still, to the Skeleton Demon King, the divine faction were without question the most vicious, petty sons of bitches in existence.

Anyway, this "Saint" business was a first for him, but the creature was probably something very much like that Saintess he'd thrashed.

'I did send all of them, the first through the eighty-first Saintesses, home to the Holy Empire crying their eyes out. But still.'

A Saint would be no different. The kind of bastards who'd invoke the name of god while tearing demons limb from limb.

So why in the world were they calling him the Saint?

No—actually, that wasn't even the real question here.

'Why am I human?'

What the hell?

Suddenly reduced to a newborn infant, the Skeleton Demon King cocked his head, puzzling it over. The Seal that had come flying at him—he hadn't had time to analyze it completely, but it had been a divine spell. The highest tier of holy law, no less.

A sealing spell designed to entrap anyone who stood against the gods—that much was certain. It even devoured the soul no matter where its victim fled, which was why the Great Calamities of old had supposedly been trapped in maggots and made to grovel before the gods.

It was a mystery why an archaic holy law, one thought lost to the ages, had surfaced now—but regardless, it was a spell of that caliber.

'It did interfere at the end there, but there's no way a spell like that would let my soul slip through its fingers.'

And yet he'd ended up not in a maggot, but in a human body?

And the body of a Saint, at that?

What is this? What are they playing at?

The Skeleton Demon King was forced to consider their intentions in dead earnest.

'Don't tell me they felt bad about all the exploiting, and some scrap of conscience made them send me off in a human body instead...'

No. Absolutely not.

'I know exactly what kind of bastards those guys are.'

They were the type to watch him scrape by, feeding and clothing his subordinates on his own hard work, and bragg about their money at every turn—well, demons do suit that gaunt skeleton look after all, poverty and all, blah blah blah.

Granted, he hadn't imagined they'd go so far as to break a formal contract sealed with a true name, but the reason they'd refused right up to the end to make him human was obvious enough. They were terrified that an "undead Demon King" might lose his holy weakness.

Of all things, the undead were more vulnerable to holy power than even demons were.

'Typical slumlord bastards—ignoring the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠employment contract and pocketing the wages.'

Which was exactly why it made no sense.

Why on earth would they bother sealing him in something as worthless as a maggot?

Knowing the temperament of those smug, arrogant pricks, it would have been perfectly in character for them to lock him in that bug and torture him for eternity.

'So why did the spell misfire?'

If there was a possibility, there was exactly one.

"O King of ours, Isaac!"

"Useless. Anyone whose name is written here cannot move a single inch."

'That's it. The name!'

His name was Isak—Isaac. But no matter how many times they corrected it, for some reason the only name the seal recognized was Isaac. That was probably the cause.

'The name created the flaw, didn't it?'

A spell that sealed a soul to the location where its name was inscribed—the premise itself had been broken from the start.

Of course, that still didn't explain why he'd ended up in this body.

Why, though? Seriously, why?

'...Don't tell me this little brat's name is Isaac too...'

But then the Skeleton Demon King broke into a rotten little grin.

'No way. Even if it were possible, there's no—'

And that was the moment.

A man who appeared to be a servant waved his hands frantically.

"Peekaboo, Young Master Isaac, look over here! If you cry, the wicked Demon King will come snatch you away! Peekaboo, Young Master Isaac!"

"Oh my, how can you go around calling the baby Saint by his name like that!"

"Ah, my apologies. He looked about to cry, and it just slipped out."

"It's your face that's the problem. Move over!"

At the same time, the Skeleton Demon King smirked. See? Didn't I tell you?

'There, see? Isaac. See? There's no way the names could match, so—'

Wait. Hold on.

...Isaac?

Isaac?

'Isn't that just... another pronunciation of Isak?'

The Skeleton Demon King was flustered.

You've got to be kidding me. Really?

Granted, casting an Appraisal spell would settle it beyond doubt, but that wasn't the point right now.

'Damn it all. Of all the bodies to end up in—a worthless human lackey of the divine faction... no matter how you slice it, what the actual hell...'

And so the Skeleton Demon King cried out with all the sincerity in his soul.

"Wow, a human body! This is awesome!"

The Skeleton Demon King, who had babbled aloud without meaning to, fell silent for a moment, then let out an awkward little laugh as if he'd misspoken.

'No, no, no. I mean, I may be a Demon King in name, but ending up in the body of the gods' errand boy...'

"I can feel things in my handth, and my nothe ith—ahmp, mmmph—it'th not boneth!!!"

The Skeleton Demon King fell silent again, then coughed.

'But still, damn it, a man's got his pride...'

"Damn it all! I could even eat juk with thith! Thank you, Lordth!"

At the sight of the Demon King with his thoughts and his mouth running on two entirely separate tracks, the presumed wet nurse and servants blinked in astonishment, then laughed.

"Oh my, the baby Saint babbles so well already."

"What? No way. Already? I suppose a Saint really is on another level."

"………"

To everyone else it sounded like ordinary baby babble, apparently, but the Skeleton Demon King cleared his throat with a cough.

'He's a baby, so his brain and his mouth are running on separate tracks.'

In the end, the Skeleton Demon King glanced around for a moment, then offered a prayer to the god he'd never once sought out in the old days.

'God, Buddha, thank you so very much. Every god except the bastards here—thank you, all of you, sincerely.'

The Skeleton King cheered inwardly. And why wouldn't he? It had been hundreds of years since he'd last felt sight, smell, or touch.

'Idiots! All that swagger, and you can't even get a lousy seal right! Serves you right!'

You hated the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠idea of making me human so badly you'd stoop to cheating on a contract!

For someone whose deadened nerves hadn't even allowed him to feel sorrow, it was pure joy.

And yet—precisely because of that—something was strange.

'Why aren't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I turning into a skeleton?'

And there was a very good reason to ask: a curse lay upon his soul.

Whether it had been fastened to him when he crossed into this world, it was a supreme-tier curse that even the gods dreaded and had failed to eradicate.

Broadly speaking, it converted everything living into death—and since it turned even his own self into a creature of the death attribute, he could never shed his skeleton form.

Proof enough: the instant his soul had touched this body, this flesh should have had its skin stripped away and turned into a corpse on the spot.

And yet—why?

'Why?'

Was it possible that something was suppressing a curse even the gods couldn't remove?

Disturbed, the Skeleton Demon King closed his eyes for a moment and checked the state of his body.

'What the hell is this?!'

He could be all the more certain because, as a sorcerer hailed as a Grand Magus, he'd confidently claimed that no one alive could match him in magic and detection alike.

'This is no ordinary human body.'

Was it any wonder they called it a Saint's body? It was barely more than a child's, yet constitutionally it carried the potential to hold virtually any kind of power.

And not just any potential—virtually unlimited potential!

That he hadn't turned to bone was surely connected to this blessing-craft as well.

'Just how many blessings did they pack into this thing?'

What's more, astonishingly, this body had never had an owner to begin with. Countless souls had failed to settle in it and simply faded away—and the only one that had ever taken root was him.

'If I hadn't come along, the body itself might have died.'

At the same time, one thing became crystal clear to him.

Honestly, with this body alone he was a genius capable of absorbing even the power of gods...

The Skeleton Demon King was silent for a moment, then shook his head violently.

'No. No. NO.'

Pride was pride, no matter how fine the vessel looked.

Whatever else a Saint was, he belonged to the divine faction—and those people were all servants of the gods, the ones empowered to act in their name.

And he was supposed to become their errand boy?

'Are you out of your mind?'

Sure, he'd self-destructed at the very last moment and stuck it to them, but did they really think that alone would satisfy him?

'For starters, I'm not letting the Main God bastards who contracted with me off the hook.'

And the Demon King, reduced to a vessel for that pack of filthy swindlers...? No chance.

And then.

"His Majesty has commanded that the Saint bestowed upon us by this revelation be treasured and honored. Surely every eye in the Empire will be upon him."

His Majesty?

The Emperor of the Empire?

The Skeleton Demon King's eyeballs rolled lazily in their sockets.

'Hmm... well, all right. If I'm to be treated as an honored guest, I suppose I can linger a little while.'

After all, the moment he stepped out of here, he'd have no body left to return to anyway.

But then again—

'This isn't a body I'll be keeping for long.'

So in the meantime, he'd have to look for another way...

"Still, in a way, it's a shame. Had he not been blessed as the Saint, a young lord born of such noble blood would surely have wanted for nothing as he grew."

...Hm? The young lord? The young lord?

"Well, he is the son of one of the Holy Empire's Five Great Ducal Houses, after all."

At those words, the Skeleton Demon King doubted his own ears.

Son of a Duke?

Nobility?

...In other words, a diamond spoon?

"All the more reason to be careful, then. With the baby Saint as the prize, who knows where someone might come lunging from."

"The demon faction ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠especially might come after him."

The Skeleton Demon King beamed.

'Saint is the best. Diamond spoon is the best. And they'll even guard me without my lifting a finger.'

"Oh my, the Saint is smiling. I don't know why, but he must be in a good mood."

The baby Demon King snickered and snickered.

What were Saints and Saintesses in the first place? Weren't they the tools the gods had manufactured to feed and sustain them in times of crisis?

Weren't they the gods' proxies?

So if he simply kept his mouth shut and lazed around living large, the gods would starve to death all on their own, wouldn't they?

And if the Demon King they thought they'd sealed away was happily gorging himself on the Holy Empire's rations from inside the very Saint they treasured, leeching off them for the rest of his days?

Their blood pressure would spike so hard they'd be clutching the backs of their necks!

'No, wait. Even better.'

The Holy Empire was, in effect, the gods' own vassal state—the thing that fed and revived them. The only one of its kind.

Which meant that destroying the Holy Empire would destroy the gods along with it, wouldn't it?

"Oh my, the baby Saint is just beaming away."

"Why is he in such a good mood?"

Right. No need to trudge over to the gods themselves and waste my strength annoying them.

'For now, let's keep who I am a secret.'

Hadn't the three servants here already said it themselves? That the demon faction was after the Saint.

In that case, he could just lie back and wait for his subordinates to come to him, couldn't he?

If this place was anywhere near the Holy Empire, the demon territory would be quite some distance away. So for now—eat well at the rich folks' house, fill the belly, and bide his time.

'The only problem is that I'm a brat who can barely hold his own head up.'

But no matter. What did it matter? The servant beside him right now... no, the wet nurse, was it?

From the look of things, they might even be on the road to the estate. In fact, the others riding in the carriage with him were gazing up at the sky, fretting.

"We'd best hurry back before the rain pours down."

The Skeleton Demon King—whose old bones always ached at the first drop of rain—grinned and silently applauded the wisdom.

'Right. Let's get moving, wet nurse. I'm so hungry I've got no strength left.'

But then.

The woman holding him stroked his head with what sounded like genuine regret in her voice.

"It pains me, but I suppose it's time to begin."

"Yes. As long as he's a Saint candidate, there's no choice but to kill him."

...Eh?

The Skeleton Demon King flinched.

Kill?

Something was very, very wrong here.

"Such a shame, really. Such a pretty thing, and he smiles so sweetly."

"Nothing to be done about it. The Saint must be born of our house. Why else do you think we kidnapped this little bundle of blood?"

The story was starting to take a very peculiar turn.

"Has the head of the house noticed anything about this child?"

"No. We brought him in before that could happen."

And then, as if to say everything was going exactly to plan, they drew their daggers.

At the sight of blades flashing in his direction, the Skeleton Demon King went white as a sheet.

...No, hold on.

Weren't you people the wet nurse?

"Rest in peace, little one."

FLASH!

DAMN IT ALL! YOU WERE ASSASSINS?!?!