Scorched Rice Without Kim Burns Even Hotter (1)
The land of Blue — the Eshua Duchy.
Eshua, bordered by the sea, was home to a peculiar climate phenomenon.
No matter how violent the storm, the moment it crossed into Eshua's territorial waters, it cleared as though an invisible line had been drawn — always bright, always blue. Even if demons came charging in, they grew docile the instant they passed that boundary.
The people looked upon this strange phenomenon and named it the blessing of Blue: the Blue Line.
In a word, an absolute safety zone. On Eshua's land, no accident or disaster was ever supposed to occur.
It was scenery impressive enough to draw gasps of admiration even from the delegation dispatched by the Papal Court.
Today they had come to take away Isaac Eshua, the boy whose legend-filled rumors preceded him — yet the place was so peaceful they nearly forgot their purpose entirely.
"Oho! The very heart of the Blue Faith! So beautiful and peaceful one would never guess a demon encampment lies nearby! A model territory for the entire Empire."
"Indeed, no wonder they call it the twin pillar to the Papal house. That there is the famous castle of Eshua. The mightiest fortress of its kind — in thousands of years of history, no demon has ever breached it…"
BOOM!!
The mightiest fortress of its kind…
KWA-BOOOOM!
"AAAGH! The castle collapsed!"
"I TOLD you not to stand near it, you idiot!"
"Damn it, I didn't know they'd start this early in the morning!"
…Son of a—! The legendary castle just crumbled?!
The priests from the Papal Court froze at the shocking sight.
A castle that had withstood even the Demon King's invasion — collapsed? Was this not a national crisis? Was the whole country not on the verge of overturning?!
But what stunned them more was the attitude of Eshua's own residents.
"Aigoo, it crumbled again."
…Again?
"'Again'?!"
"Oh, priests, why all the fuss? It's just the castle falling down."
"Just?! The ancestral seat of House Eshua just collapsed!"
"Has it now. So it has."
The priests could only gape at the locals' reaction.
What was with this? Why were these people so calm?
"But — the castle — FELL?!"
"Yeah, it fell. So what do you want us to do about it?!"
"?????"
Who are these people?!
Eshua Castle.
Known far and wide as the headquarters of the Blue Faith.
Even the hired servants there were anything but ordinary.
"Did you hear? The East Castle blew up again."
"Young Master Isaac's doing again, I take it?"
"More precisely, the Skeleton King's. The Matriarch seems to have given up on it entirely. A cursed mana rampage from the Skeleton King, in the family that's produced Saintesses for generations."
"Don't say that. Think how much the young master must be suffering."
The servants who attended House Eshua's direct line were, at minimum, high-tier Holy Knights of the 6th Tier or above — even the lowest-ranked among them.
And what did that mean?
"Oh my, there goes the only maid who serves young Isaac."
"What a strange one. A 7th-Tier Holy Knight who was once recommended as the Pope's own bodyguard — what could she possibly see in playing wet nurse to a dead-end youngest child?"
It meant one could gossip to their heart's content about a 7th-Tier Holy Knight right in front of her, and nothing would come of it.
And sure enough, the servants of the other direct-line branches sneered openly as Asili, Isaac's nanny, walked past.
"The succession will most likely pass to Lord Goel of the Pope's own blood, or to his elder brother. She must be daft — she can't even do that simple arithmetic."
"Young Master Isaac can never inherit, not after that curse."
"Is it really true he's cursed?"
"Yes! Just yesterday another attendant snuck a peek at young Isaac and came fleeing out half-dead from fright!"
"What in the world could he possibly look like, to break a trained Eshua servant like that…?"
"One says a bald old man, one says a monster with its skin peeled off, one says a skeleton. The accounts differ, but they all agree on one thing: whatever you see, you'll come out screaming. Asili must have gone brainless from the Skeleton King's curse too, of course."
"At this point she'd best start looking for a husb—"
"…Brainless, you say?"
"GYAH! Lady Asili!"
Asili was glaring at the servants with the face of someone royally, magnificently furious.
"Did someone teach you, while you served here, to slander your own housemates of Eshua?"
"F-forgive us!"
After she'd sent the servants packing, Asili came to Isaac's side alongside Rillai — and, uncharacteristically, let her temper loose.
"Honestly, haven't they gone too far this time? Again and again and again!"
"They have. Badmouthing a comrade is going too far."
"To think they'd call young Isaac a bald old man!"
At her outburst, Rillai broke out in a cold sweat.
"…No, wait. Is that the part you're angry about?"
"Of course it is! Young Isaac's entire future is at stake! I'd find him adorable no matter what he looked like, but what if the young ladies who might one day be his match all run away from him?"
At that, Rillai could do nothing but sigh.
He knew the rumors circling the castle all too well.
How could he not? It had been ten years.
A full ten years had passed!
Put simply, the attempt to erase the Skeleton King's mana had failed.
'I knew the Skeleton King's power was monstrous, but who would have imagined even a king-ranked Holy Spirit would fail…!'
It had been despair itself.
Even now, Rillai could vividly recall the rare look of panic on his father's face ten years ago when the Holy Spirit delivered its report. Not that his father had apparently been counting on Isaac as an heir — his expectations had simply been that high.
— Hey! You brat, something's WRONG! No matter what I do, it won't purify! The Skeleton King's mana is actually GROWING!
— You must have slacked off.
— No, DAMMIT! Is that any way to talk to someone who's been pulling twenty-four-hour shifts and sleeping in the office?!
The Holy Spirit, it seemed, had been driven half-mad by the overtime.
— Listen well! Even the gods couldn't erase this. The boy will simply have to carry the Skeleton King's mana for the rest of his life.
It was, in effect, a death sentence.
Betting pools had even sprung up over when Isaac would die. What future could there be for a child fated to perish before coming of age?
Goel, who had once despaired at the thought of Isaac becoming Saint, was said to have offered prayers of thanksgiving to the gods. Justice prevails in the end, and all that.
"Still, calling a boy who's barely ten a baldy is going too far! He's not even the Skeleton King!"
"Ahem. Ahem."
Rillai coughed, but he couldn't exactly blame the rumor-mongers either.
"Anyone who sees him like this is going to assume he's cursed."
Rillai lifted Isaac, who lay sprawled on the bed.
"Uppy?"
Woken from his nap, Isaac shot Rillai a look that plainly asked what now. Astonishingly, after ten whole years, Isaac still looked exactly like a nursing infant.
Rillai wailed at the sight of him.
"Isaac! Why won't you grow older?! WHY?!"
'Funny — why don't YOU age, buddy?'
Instead of answering, Isaac made a rotten face.
Rillai was youthful to the point of embarrassment for a man of thirty. Honestly, looking at this guy, it felt as though only a year or two had passed.
"Of course, watching you means this uncle doesn't seem to age either, which I thoroughly appreciate! But honestly, isn't this a problem at this point?! You!"
'No, you vampire bastard, YOU'RE the problem! I'm doing this on purpose, and you've got no business lecturing me!'
'No wonder Goel hates you. If my own little brother were handsome, capable, AND immune to aging, I'd be sick of him too. Dammit!'
Yes. Isaac was maintaining this form deliberately.
Why on earth would he do such a thing?
Because only like this could he become the strongest — strong enough to beat even the Supreme God.
'Every kind of power absorbs best during infancy.'
It had been true of every power, without exception. Just as languages come easiest to the very young, there were things that were possible only in infancy.
'By three — the minimum age at which anyone can learn holy arts or magic — the vessels are nearly sealed, and absorption drops to half or less.'
There existed an innate domain attainable at no other time in life. Humans, too, wished they could train their infants — if only they could. But what training can a baby who can't even understand speech undergo?
For Isaac, however, it was entirely possible.
And an age already advantageous for training, sustained for ten straight years? In a word, it made a monster of a body.
'This was the plan until I'd devoured every last magic core in the annex, anyway.'
Ah, those magic cores in the annex — far more numerous than expected. What a hardship. Though, to be precise, the one bearing that hardship was the Holy Spirit with its mouth full.
Naturally so: Whisper deliberately expelled nothing but the impurities in the mana, forcing the Holy Spirit to purify them.
And the moment the spirit collapsed in exhaustion after finishing its purification, Isaac would scuttle — pitter-patter — off to the annex to eat another magic core.
Then, when the spirit woke the next morning?
— DAMMIT! Why won't it purify! WHY IS THERE MORE! I have to go find the Skeleton King, so WHY?!
Imagine waking up every single day to find the mana had multiplied. The poor spirit must have been beside itself with disbelief.
In any case — ten years of training, demolishing castles while playing the cursed child.
[Ha! I assumed even you would need at least forty years to reach this realm. Truly magnificent, my lord!]
Right. He'd piled up enough power that he was itching to test it.
'The tedious mana-grinding is finally over.'
And his holy power?
'Trained myself up to cast 6th-Tier holy arts.'
Self-study had left him lopsidedly skewed toward particular arts, but he had reached a domain absolutely impossible for his age.
Which meant it was time to return his body to its proper age. The moment Isaac gave the signal, it would shoot up in an instant.
Of course, the people who knew nothing of this…
"It grieves my heart. To be cursed by the Skeleton King and unable to cast even holy arts."
— said exactly that.
And just then—
"Brother!"
Appearing before them on their stroll was Goel, accompanied by Shuri, who had shot up to a strapping fifteen. Goel fixed Isaac — still an infant — with a look of heartfelt sorrow.
"It wounds me that the child cannot grow, but I am grateful he lives at all. I believe with all my heart that he will one day overcome the Skeleton King's curse."
'Say what?'
'This from the guy who's shown up every single year, short-circuiting — why won't he die? Why is he NOT DYING?!'
Absurd as it was, Isaac didn't much care. He was deliberately feigning inability to use his holy power, after all.
'Summoned to the Papal Court because I've gone mad?'
Ever since the treasury incident, the imperial family and the Papal Court alike had regarded Isaac as a prodigy in the making.
But he still had to keep absorbing the annex's mana while dodging the eyes of high-ranking clergy — was he insane? Getting summoned straight into the sprawling nest of those filthy priests?
Besides, now that the cursed, terminally-ill infant act had made the other direct-line branches cocky…
"Isaac, Rillai. Have you heard? Our Shuri is to receive his priestly regalia this year."
"What? Shuri? He passed the priest's examination already?"
"Yes! The youngest priest ever! A first in history! Naturally, Isaac would come to watch… ah. No, he can't, can he! He'd only become a spectacle for the crowds! Well — if Isaac had been able to attend the academy, perhaps he might have claimed the youngest-ever title, but oh dear! He couldn't even enroll! Let us pray the Skeleton King's curse doesn't leave his scalp as bald as—"
For some reason, Shuri went rigid with terror at those words. Because he had seen the expression on Isaac's face.
Flustered, Shuri shot his father a subtle that's enough jab with his elbow — as if that would register.
"Your father must have been so disappointed! To think he attached a king-ranked Holy Spirit, only for the boy to turn into a useless parasite — good for nothing but eating — like the Skeleton King himself."
'Hm. Wasn't the demons' favorite flavor a healthy thirty-three-year-old male priest?'
Isaac nodded along solemnly — but in truth, he was terribly fond(?) of Goel.
For the past ten years, it was no exaggeration to say Goel was the reason Isaac was still alive and kicking, un-ascended.
And that trifling priestly regalia — Isaac was due to receive his own soon enough.
'You need the regalia to become Saint, after all.'
[Indeed. You'll need it even if only to consume the final magic core.]
Right — the single core among those in the annex that he had never managed to eat, origin unknown.
'Far too valuable to just leave sitting there.'
Well, it seemed to be sealed by holy arts, so breaking the seal would settle it — except…
'Unsealing arts can't be learned by self-study.'
Unlike mages, most of the holy arts available to priests — connected as they were to the gods — required the priestly regalia to cast.
In a word: without the regalia, eighty percent of the holy arts were beyond even Isaac.
Yes. So it was time to stop playing infant and go collect a regalia from the Papal Court.
'And while I'm at it, I'll go retrieve the subordinate locked in the Papal prison.'
He'd already confirmed the exact location through the Shadow Lich.
Of course, eligibility for the regalia required graduating the academy, so it would take a minimum of six years. Leaving a subordinate to rot that long pained him — but then, this one had already waited a hundred and fifty years!
'You waited that long, so wait a few years more.'
'Your location is the Papal Court itself — surely I'm entitled to some thorough preparation, no?'
And this year happened to be enrollment age! Graduation? Skip a few grades and done!
So — ha! — he would simply indulge in a few years of luxurious, golden-spooned school life, bide his time at leisure, and—
"Have you heard? They're executing the Skeleton King's subordinate this year."
Isaac, mid-snicker, nearly bit through his tongue.
'Son of a— WHAT?!'
'Execute WHO?!'
Rillai was startled too.
"What? So they're finally disposing of that Fourteen Six Demon from the treasury?"
'NOBODY SAID ANYTHING ABOUT AN EXECUTION!'
"Word is the Skeleton King and his followers mean to target the Holy Empire. Perhaps that's why the Papal Court intends to execute his subordinate this year."
'You USELESS bastards!'
At the mention of the Skeleton King, Rillai had the butler usher Isaac back into his room. However he looked on the outside, the boy was only ten.
How cursed must the one who cursed him seem to a child so young? All because of that bald, skin-flayed petty tyrant of a Demon King, the poor thing could neither grow nor learn holy arts.
'Even now, his face sours every time the Skeleton King comes up. It must wound him deeply.'
"Shuri, be careful when you receive your regalia this year. The Skeleton King may come for it."
"Haha, no need to worry! The Skeleton King? I could handle him myself, easily! I am the youngest priest in history — I even skipped grades!"
"That's quite an achievement. Well done, Shuri."
"I am rather impressive, aren't I? If Isaac had enrolled, I could have tutored him myself!"
"Yes, yes! Our son has grown so dependable and talented… hm? Where did he go? Shuri!"
Where did he go? Here.
The ground seemed to drop out from under Shuri.
The lurching sensation of his body lifting off — and this feeling, this timing!
And that voice!
"Hey. Shwuri. You weawy do wie a lot, huh?"
Shuri shrieked at the sight of the small child standing before him.
"YOU ABSOLUTE MANIAC!!"
Summoned before Isaac, Shuri ground his teeth.
Isaac had used the Shadow Lich's shadow-travel to yank him straight into his room. And just as Shuri opened his mouth to demand what the hell this was—
"Somebody's telling wies now dat they're gwaduating fwom da academy?"
"……!!"
Shuri flinched. Isaac brandished his rattle as if disgusted.
"You skipped gwades using da answers I gave you, and passed da wegalia exam fwist pwace — and now dat if I'd enwolled, you'd teach me? Weally?"
Sweat poured down Shuri in sheets.
'No. No no no. You heard that from all the way over THERE? AGAIN?!'
But Isaac only nodded gravely.
"If you're sowwy, den hand over da pwize money fwom da academy quiz contest you just won. And da allowence Goel gave you too."
Shuri's eyebrows twitched.
'Damn it. Is this thing a priest or a demon?'
Ten years. A full ten years had passed, and this damned infant had only gotten madder.
"And if you do evewyfing I say fwom now on, maybe I'll forgiv—"
And by all appearances, he was about to get a great deal madder still.