This One, I Didn't See Coming (4)
Kidnapping? These bastards are trying something even I wouldn't do!
The Skeleton King's eyes flashed. The light forming his mana core inside his body flickered small and faint.
And with good reason — there was nothing to be gained from humans witnessing the creation of a mana core.
Mana and holy power are natural-born enemies, after all.
Even setting that aside, he had plenty of reasons to keep it hidden.
If they find out an infant is casting magic on its own, they'll faint dead away.
The youngest age at which a human could use magic was five, at the very least.
And a baby casting spells in that world? The entire continent would erupt into chaos. Attracting the eyes of other nations would be nothing but a headache.
Well, as long as nobody interferes, we're fine.
Right now the servants were too busy squabbling over whether or not this counted as kidnapping. This was his chance.
Granted, he would have preferred to do it somewhere calm. If the flow broke while forging a mana core, his body would lose the ability to create one ever again.
But there's no chance like this.
Right now it was only nannies hovering around — but inside the Holy Empire, high priests would be crawling everywhere. Forging a mana core inside that damned nest of clergy?
Insanity.
So long as the fake nannies kept their eyes off him, this was the perfect window.
The first step is simple.
The Skeleton King closed his eyes, and darkness swallowed his vision.
This was the world behind the eyelids — nothing more than closed eyes. But he did not stop there.
Where he needed to build his mana core lay one concentration deeper: the world of the self.
[ Realm of Consciousness ]
In that instant, the Skeleton King's vision shifted.
Like sinking beneath a dark water's surface, sound and light both vanished.
There it is.
A world of perfect nothingness. This was the place where a mana core was forged.
A place like this is more than safe enough to guard a core.
A mage's heart — the mana core — had to be created somewhere secure. There were entire guilds of professional hunters who specialized in harvesting them.
That was why even the dragons, who stood at the very peak of magic, built their mana cores here.
But the Skeleton King was different from the rest.
He had possessed peerless magical talent, subdued demonkind with his bare hands, and ruled as the chief of the demons — a being who made even the gods click their tongues.
I'm going twenty levels deeper!
Past the realm of consciousness, out into the vast expanse of the unconscious — and beyond that, to the very end of it: the primal world.
The Skeleton King severed his awareness from the world outside entirely.
WHOOM!
In an instant, his mind lurched and his breath caught.
Ugh. First time actually coming here, and it's a damned dangerous place.
It was said that even the gods never entered, fearing they would lose their sense of self and dissolve into nothing. But he had his own reason for building his mana core in a place this hazardous.
The scale is on a different level entirely.
An ordinary mana core had a limit to its capacity — because the realm of consciousness itself was a bounded space.
But the world of the unconscious was different.
This was land that expanded infinitely, like an ever-growing universe!
Here, I can forge an INFINITE CORE!
A frontier even the God of Magic had never touched!
And in this moment, in this place, he detonated every ounce of his power.
KUGUGUNG!
At the same time, a radiance began to bloom before his eyes.
A mana core.
But the Skeleton King's expression as he beheld it was... strange.
What in the hell is that thing?
Mana cores came in three primary colors — red, blue, and green — and each color carried entirely different properties.
But white?
No, wait. Color wasn't the problem.
KUGUGU!
"!"
The aura radiating from that mere grain-of-millet-sized orb was staggering. Its pressure was outright fearsome — but the Skeleton King, far from alarmed, thought this might work out rather well.
Raise this thing right, and it'll become even more of a monster than I imagined.
All that remained was the engraving — carving the NAME into it.
It was the most critical step, since a single lapse in concentration here would destroy everything. But then, he wasn't the Skeleton King for nothing.
Truthfully, creating it was the hard part. Once he'd come this far, it was basically over—
And that was the moment it happened.
"Oh, wait a second. Is the baby Saint not breathing?"
"!!"
A voice drifting in from beyond the primal world — the Skeleton King nearly choked in terror.
"What are you talking about? You're seeing things."
"No, look at this. His chest isn't moving at all..."
As the servants' voices drew closer, the Skeleton King let out a silent shriek.
No, this is the most critical moment of all.
Even he — if they disturbed him now, his focus would shatter and everything would collapse!
"Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!"
No — don't!
I appreciate the concern, but it's NOT needed!
Then a male servant's voice rang out.
"I'll do it!"
God dammit, the man especially — KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF!
The Skeleton King threw himself into the final stage. Lines of light-script raced across the surface of the mana core.
And just as the servants were positioning themselves to resuscitate the child—
FLASH!
Issac
His extreme focus had paid off.
At last, the name was carved into the mana core — and in the same instant, a drum-like pulse thundered as mana vessels began threading their way through his entire body.
The mana core had activated.
The Skeleton King hastily gathered his consciousness and climbed back up from the world of the unconscious to the outside. It would take time for the mana to circulate through his whole body, but the core was running — he could use magic now.
That handles things for the foreseeable future!
Finally surfacing all the way back to the world behind his eyelids, the Skeleton King snapped his eyes open.
The servants jumped.
"His eyes — his eyes opened!"
Only when they scrambled back did the Skeleton King, finally at ease, let his eyes fall shut as if fainting. It was the first time in nearly two hundred years he had pushed his concentration that far.
Already exhausted...
"Good heavens, the baby's lost consciousness again!"
"I told you — leave the CPR to me!"
DON'T, you son of a—!
The Skeleton King's eyes flew open again, and he glared at the male servant through a litany of silent curses.
Kids these days, scaring adults half to death.
Still — living creatures were said to unleash superhuman focus in moments of crisis.
Ironically, that desperate, pinpoint concentration seemed to have made the all-important engraving as flawless as it could possibly be.
"Right. Now move the baby Saint."
"Yes... I don't like it, but kidnapping beats killing."
These bastards really won't give up on the kidnapping thing, will they.
Not that it mattered.
The moment the Skeleton King's lips began to curl—
WHUMP!
A violent current of energy surged toward him. The servants flinched back at the uncanny wind.
"Wh-what is that?"
"Don't tell me — holy arts again?"
Holy arts, my ass. It's magic, you idiots.
If holy arts drew holy power as a loan from the gods, magic was the art of stockpiling mana within one's mana core.
Right now, the Skeleton King was drinking in the mana saturating the air.
Granted, accumulating mana was a slow business, like building inner strength over years of training. A body that had only just formed its mana core should have needed months to cast its very first spell.
But—
FLASH!
Feeling something like his heart catching fire, the Skeleton King smiled.
That's right. This needed to be engraved too.
Not the Skeleton King's name, but a second carving was searing itself into the mana core.
An ability.
[Origin] of the Skeleton King
Trait:Survival
It was the Skeleton King's innate trait — his ORIGIN.
Every soul, without exception, was born carrying one. But since ordinary people never became aware of their own, few could ever wield it.
The Skeleton King had realized his during his days as a low-tier skeleton, when every single day was a living hell. And an ORIGIN engraved deep into the soul gave birth to unique, original buffs and skills.
Say, for instance, that the Skeleton King's ORIGIN of SURVIVAL was applied to Mana Absorption — the most basic 1st-Tier spell in existence...
GRRRRL—
"Ugh!"
"Hold on—ghk!"
Mana was supposed to be absorbed slowly, grain by grain, like stacking sand. But the Skeleton King's Mana Absorption, supercharged by SURVIVAL, played by entirely different rules.
Accumulation time? Meaningless.
No restrictions on target. No cap on quantity.
Mana Absorption → Mana Extortion (Bloodsucker): Instant Drain
KUGUGUNG!
The surrounding trees withered on the spot, and the cloak wrapped around the male servant crumbled to ash in a heartbeat.
"My clothes!"
In short, his ORIGIN was a trait specialized for one thing and one thing only: surviving, by any means necessary.
[Will do absolutely anything to stay alive]
He had devoured not only the mana particles floating in the air, but the very mana bound into the plants and objects around him.
Well, I didn't expect it to extort that flimsy little cloak of all things...
That thing was hardly a proper magic tool — it was the kind of junk you dipped in a mana potion for a moment, just so it would smell faintly of mana, and fished right back out...
The Skeleton King's face soured slightly, while the servants, utterly dumbfounded, stared at him.
"I've never seen that technique before. Is it a holy art? Or magic?"
"There's no way the Saint is casting magic! Stop him, now!"
The servants fumbled to draw something — but the Skeleton King just grinned, as if to say it was already too late.
1st-Tier magic.
Luminous.
Light erupted from the Skeleton King's body — a flash so blinding it seemed to steal sight itself.
"AAAGH!"
It was like splashing vinegar straight into their eyes. The servants groaned and stumbled backward.
And the Skeleton King, having turned himself into a living lamp, smiled sweetly.
So I can only cast 1st-Tier magic for now. It's more than enough.
Magic ranked from 1st Tier to 10th Tier. And a 1st-Tier spell was really just a stepping stone on the way to 2nd Tier — but how you used it was up to you. Just as an ordinary kitchen knife in the hands of a swordmaster becomes a legendary weapon, the 1st-Tier spell the Skeleton King cast operated on a different limit entirely.
And indeed it did. From a mere 1st-Tier Luminous, the servants were clutching their eyes, collapsing, and—
Huh? Hold on. Fainting?
Fainting???
The Skeleton King stared, flustered, at the servants who had now lost consciousness completely.
I was only trying to blind them for a moment. What did those things do to make them throw up and pass out?
What IS this?!
Even accounting for this blessed body, this was power no 1st-Tier spell should ever produce.
It was a phenomenon beyond even his understanding — and he had seasoned instincts for every kind of magic there was.
No, wait. Actually, this is good.
Nothing wrong with it. If a 1st-Tier spell packed this much punch, that was a bonus. It meant he could defend himself right now.
The only real problem was...
Ugh. I don't even know whose kid I am...?
Somebody should've been around to ask, at least! How am I supposed to find my way home or not?
Who could have guessed they'd all drop unconscious from a mere 1st-Tier spell? The plan had been to make them stumble, then layer on different spells!
Ugh! Fine, fine. I'll find it myself.
The Skeleton King crawled over, whimpering, and went through the servants' belongings.
They'd been posing as nannies — surely a search would turn up a house crest, a sigil, something.
But the more he searched, the more the Skeleton King's face twisted.
Searching pockets with an infant's body was hard enough, but above all, the clues—
You've got to be kidding me! Why is there NOTHING?!
Dammit. This was a problem.
He could always head to a nearby monastery, but from the sound of things — Saint candidates this, succession that — the political situation looked a mess. There was no telling who was friend or foe, so the least he could do was make sure he knew which house he belonged to before deciding where to eat. Actually, screw caution—
He had just become human again after hundreds of years!
Like cheap monastery formula milk was going to fill him up! For his very first meal in this life, he needed to stuff himself sick on some rich house's luxurious cuisine before he'd be satisfied!
Furious, the Skeleton King's eyes flashed.
"Come on, wake UP! At least tell me whose family I belong to before you pass out! You said it was a Ducal House! One of the Five Great Holy Houses!"
Though, of course, what actually came out of his mouth was rather different from what he meant.
"Dada! Dada! Dadadadada!!"
Amid the furious baby-babbling, the bizarre tableau of the Skeleton King slapping their cheeks with his tiny hands — and in that very moment—
"Ugh...! Damned bastards. Of all things, they went so far as to hire a mage to lay a spell on him."
"!"
One of the three fallen women — the one who had been their leader — staggered upright.
The Skeleton King gave a contemptuous little smirk.
Oh? A holy knight, was it?
The distinctive technique of a holy knight was flickering weakly around her.
No wonder the assassination of a newborn felt so half-hearted.
Less a matter of skill than of creed — protecting the weak was a holy knight's sacred duty. Their mindset simply differed from an assassin's.
But the woman wasn't glaring at the Skeleton King. Her eyes were fixed somewhere else entirely — on the shouts echoing from far beyond the trees.
"This way! Find the abducted Saint!"
"Damn it, where did they hide him?!"
Searchers.
The woman clicked her tongue.
"House Eshua must have loose people already. Well, he is blood of their blood. Precious, I'm sure."
Say WHAT?
The Skeleton King's eyes went round.
Meanwhile, the woman busied herself tucking his collar snugly, and — as if checking for any other spells laid on him — gave his body a meticulous once-over for good measure.
"Laying spells on their own flesh and blood. Vile creatures. I'd sooner erase this child from the world than watch House Eshua ride high."
At those words, the Skeleton King's lips curled upward.
Well, well. So my diamond-spoon ancestors apparently went by the name of Eshua.
Perfect.
Now he could find his way home properly, without any guesswork.
The Skeleton King stretched out his little fern-frond hands.
"Dada! Dada!"
At that picture of a baby begging to be held, the woman smiled an odd smile and gathered him into her arms.
"However angelic your little face may be, I'm afraid I can't hand you back. You had the mages' spells protecting you earlier, I'm sure — but even that won't save you now..."
That was the moment.
Light flared from the Skeleton King's forehead.
"...Baby?"
Stone Helmet: Body Reinforcement (1st Tier)
The Skeleton King — no, Isaac Eshua — beamed radiantly.
And in that instant, his forehead, hardened far beyond stone, slammed into the woman's forehead with devastating force.
CRACK!!
WHUMP!
It went without saying that people came running at the sound — a noise no ordinary headbutt had any right to make.