When the Bitter Runs Out, the Sweet Comes (1)
"Good heavens, who could have done such a thing…"
The east-central region of the Holy Empire of Hella.
A forest that should have been silent and empty of all life was in an uproar.
And for good reason.
So all the culprits ended up like this.
They had come to find the kidnapped Saint, only to discover the kidnappers all lying flat on the ground. One was bleeding from the forehead, and the other two were unconscious, foaming at the mouth.
These men were, despite their differences in rank, all formally ordained holy knights. Everyone had assumed that kidnappers with holy knights among them would be difficult to catch — so who on earth had done this?
"Dada."
"……"
It was truly a bizarre sight: a single infant, giggling by himself amid the fallen kidnappers.
Soon the search party's tense eyes turned to the field medic.
"What's the verdict?"
"I'll need to examine them more closely, but two of them have suffered complete mental collapse, and the third's skull has been utterly shattered. Power of this magnitude would require at least a 6th-Tier spellcaster."
The search party could barely contain their shock.
A 6th-Tier mage stood in the hero-class realm — one capable of razing an entire kingdom to wasteland single-handedly.
"A 6th-Tier caster? That's a high-tier ability user!"
"But who in the world…?"
"Dada."
"……"
At the babbling that rang out yet again, the search party had no choice but to look at the Skeleton King.
The only ones present were the fallen kidnappers and the baby.
Finally, someone gulped and spoke up carefully.
"W-would it perhaps be possible that the Young Lord is the one who left the kidnappers in this state…?"
"Don't be absurd. No matter how you look at it, that's impossible…!"
But the field medic insisted it really might be the case.
"Judging by their wounds, they seem to have been struck by a powerful holy art. And I can sense that same holy power emanating from the child."
"Then the Young Lord truly…?"
"Yes. He is the Saint, after all. It might well have been 6th-Tier Mind Shatter and Destruction holy arts."
"Those high-tier holy arts?!"
At the medic's words, everyone swallowed hard and looked at the Skeleton King — while the perpetrator himself was sweating buckets.
No, I never used any holy power.
That wasn't a holy art to begin with — it was just basic 1st-Tier magic… yes, the same lighting spell you people stick in your carriages. And the shattered skull wasn't Destruction — it was just a headbutt…
Damn it, whatever. No point trying to figure it out.
Why on earth did they think magic was a holy art?
Is the Saint's holy power so overwhelming that it's masking the mana signature?
And a lowly 1st-Tier spell had apparently produced the effect of a high-tier one. Thanks to that, they seemed to have gotten their assumptions thoroughly tangled — but hey, it worked out fine for him.
For the Skeleton King as he was now, the first priority was survival, and the second priority was also survival.
Which meant he needed a place hidden from the gods' eyes. First things first — he had to gather enough mana in a comfortable spot to cast his Disguise spell.
And sure enough, the searchers had found him quickly, exactly as he'd intended…
But why is it the Imperial Knights who've come looking for me?
They wore plain cloaks, but there was no mistaking the uniforms of the Holy Empire's royal knights. And not just ordinary knights, either.
High-tier holy knights.
High-tier holy knights were the rare individuals who wielded special combat abilities on the side of humanity — a critical weapon for the human faction, no less.
Well, that also meant Isaac Eschua was someone important enough for the royal house itself to come searching.
Tch. If only I could raise my magic tier, I'd have known exactly who these bastards were even from far away.
Everyone else raved about how amazing high-tier holy knights were — the ones who slew demons — but the Skeleton King despised them.
Why? Because they were his natural predators?
No. The Skeleton King was the leader of the demon faction, the one who made humanity tremble in fear. He was hardly the sort to be scared of a handful of holy knights.
But.
Those rotten bastards who kept summoning nothing but Skeletons for their damn graduation exams.
If you want to take your practical exam on Subjugating Demons, then defect to the demon faction, you idiots.
Why do you keep dragging us into your territory, huh?!
And plenty of magic beasts were far stronger than skeletons, so why was it always the weak little skeletons they summoned?
The priests at least had the decency to merely throw up barriers and run away when chased. But the damned holy knights were all brawn and no brains, and apparently a muscle-less skeleton just looked like easy prey to them.
They were vicious creatures who would smash a skeleton all the way down to its magic core, erasing its very existence.
Worse, the Skeleton King had survived every single one of his kidnappings, meaning he'd been summoned for graduation exams thousands of times over.
Do you have any idea how long it takes to walk home from the Holy Empire?
They summoned him and strolled off, and walking thousands of kilometers back was his problem!
And every time he evolved, they'd summon him again, and by way of thanks he got to trample their fresh young sprouts nice and evenly. He distinctly remembered doing just that.
In fact, had that once been after he'd become the Demon King?
There had been a time when he was so furious at seeing all those pitiful young skeletons come crawling back in pieces that he revived them on the spot, seething.
And still they summoned him again and again without ever getting tired of it.
Out of sheer irritation, he had once deliberately let himself be summoned into a graduation exam hall and turned it into a hellish scene of carnage for the cadets.
Granted, after he'd told the Pope of the time, 'Summon us into your kids' graduation exams one more time, and I'll skin every last one of their heads,' skeleton extermination had apparently vanished from the exams entirely. But that was all ancient history anyway.
In any case, the Skeleton King could never, ever bring himself to like priests.
He had disliked them from the start, but the reason his dislike had curdled into burning hatred had been born just moments ago.
Grrumble! Grrumble!
Damn it, just how long are these bastards planning to starve a baby?
He was hungry.
So hungry he felt like he was dying.
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, the Skeleton King raised his voice as if death itself were at hand.
"This is a precious stomach I haven't had for hundreds of years! If it ruptures, are you going to take responsibility, you worthless pieces of trash?!"
The Skeleton King roared like a lion, pouring all his fury into it.
"Dada! Dada!"
And the sharp-eared holy knights nodded at once, as if they understood perfectly.
"Of course, Young Lord. You needn't fuss — you'll see it very soon."
See? See what?
Food? Meat? A feast that would break the table legs?
"Ta-da! We've specially prepared a rare rattle for you!"
"Here you are! Rattle-rattle!"
"Oh my, Young Lord, your lips are smacking. It seems you like the rattle! Peek-a-boo!"
The Skeleton King's cheeks twitched and smacked.
Once he had grown up, he resolved, he was going to eliminate these people first.
The Skeleton King dreamed for the first time in hundreds of years.
It was a dream of grinding every last one of the damned priests and their gods into dust, and devouring this country as his own.
Waking from the deep, restful sleep he'd been longing for after all those centuries was wonderful — except…
"It's confirmed. It was the Young Lord who dealt with the mage."
Mage?
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
When he woke, the royal knights were engaged in some strange debate.
"No wonder it felt off. As it turns out, there were traces of 7th-Tier Blood Absorption magic at the site where the Young Lord was found."
Ah. Apparently they were still investigating the kidnappers.
And having deduced that someone had used magic there, they'd now concluded a mage had finally shown up.
Blood Absorption, out of nowhere?
He'd used no such high-tier magic at that place — what were they on about?
"Nothing else could wither grass and trees like that."
The moment he heard that, it clicked.
Had they mistaken his mana extortion for blood absorption?
Well, Mana Extortion was a unique spell possessed by the Skeleton King alone — it had been mistaken for blood draining even back in the day.
So he could understand the confusion, but these were high-ranking priests. They should have caught an error that basic in no time…
"Blood Absorption? Then it must be the Black Angel. The 7th-Tier mage of the Magic Empire."
"Come to think of it, blood draining is that filthy creature's specialty."
No, you idiots. That's basic mana absorption — I'd be embarrassed to even call it a spell, let alone a high-tier one!
"The prophecy of the Saint's birth has been spreading quietly to other nations as well. The Magic Empire is the sworn enemy of the Holy Empire, so no doubt they were after the Young Lord. Filthy vermin."
"So the Young Lord drove off not only the kidnappers, but a Magic Empire mage as well?"
Black Angel or Black Devil or whoever — I've never even been here!
"Good heavens. We must confess this to His Majesty at once. To drive off even the sworn enemy of the Holy Empire — he will become a great treasure of the nation."
And just what crime did that mage commit, exactly?!
Well, whatever.
"Young Lord, we've arrived home!"
Carried in the holy knights' arms, the destination was a luxurious estate.
It was a mansion near the village, its garden resplendent, subtle holy power seeping from every corner.
Doesn't seem to be the main house. A vacation villa owned by the Eschua family, perhaps?
More importantly, the Skeleton King had gleaned a great deal from the holy knights' chatter.
First and foremost, the thing he most wanted to know: his own situation.
What year is it now?
It doesn't seem like an enormous amount of time has passed since I was sealed.
From what he'd overheard, the Skeleton King — the worst Demon King in history — had fought the gods and lost, and peace had come to them. The demon faction, meanwhile, was in chaos over the Demon King's absence.
Even the Pope was keeping a wary eye on the demons' movements.
In circumstances like these, Disguise was essential.
Not that plenty of demons wouldn't come tailing him, overjoyed, if they learned who he was…
Above all, if that Pope bastard learns my identity, things get truly troublesome.
The Skeleton King and the successive Popes had always been bitter, mortal enemies — but the Pope above all was the only being directly connected to the gods.
And if the man found out who he was?
Best case, he gets snuffed out over a personal grudge. Worst case, I get dragged off to the gods. And then it's over.
Not that he'd fall easily, of course.
Not this time, when he had a body capable of crushing them all.
Given the chance, he could raise this body exactly as he pleased, until it surpassed even the Supreme God — enough to make the gods despair the moment they realized what was happening.
The only problem was that, until his power returned, he — still a mere suckling — was the absolute underdog.
But that, too, would all be resolved the moment he reclaimed his original strength.
Which is exactly why I'll start by summoning my subordinates.
Once he could procure a magic core through his minions, raising his magic tier would be child's play.
And this time around, he had no intention of mastering magic alone.
Magic and holy arts are opposing forces that can never coexist.
Think of them as the ultimate spear and the ultimate shield.
But what if he could wield both?
Then even that precious 'impenetrable barrier' they're all so smug about would be a door he could stroll through freely, whenever he liked.
Why else had the Skeleton King lost to the gods?
Partly because undead were vulnerable to holy power — but above all, because of the divine barrier that made the God Realm an impregnable fortress.
The condition for entering and leaving that barrier: possessing holy power.
No matter how strong you were, you couldn't even approach the place. That was the whole problem.
But with the body of a Saint?
He could walk in and out of the gods' inner chambers without so much as an identity check.
And what if, inside those chambers, he also carried the power of magic — the kind that could kill a god outright?
Let any winged angel vermin come down. I'll assassinate them on the spot!
The Skeleton King's grin stretched from ear to ear, cackling.
This country of priests and their ilk — I'll erase it from the inside out.
Just imagine their faces when they realized the thief they'd been robbed by was right there, living off their largesse and wielding the power of the God Realm thanks to their own doing!
Well, for the time being I just need to be careful around the Temple.
That place was the headquarters of the filthy priests.
The Temple was where those most sensitive to demonic mana gathered — a place stocked with every conceivable anti-demon killing tool.
So yes, caution was warranted. Reincarnated as a Saint or not, it would be a spiritual ordeal.
And so, as he was carried into the luxurious estate, the Skeleton King's eyes curved into a satisfied crescent moon.
This place reeks of wealth. Absolutely magnificent.
Here, he could summon his subordinates at his leisure, with no risk of being found out.
The Skeleton King loathed holy knights to death — but they were, after all, the ones who'd carried him this far. In this life, there was no real need to hate them.
That's right. At this level, the holy knights are useful, decent-looking fellows…
Fellows I'll corrupt in due time and turn into meat shields…
But then, realizing the true nature of the estate, the Skeleton King's expression changed.
Son of a—! Why is this a TEMPLE and not a house?!
Right. The estate the holy knights had brought him to was not a villa at all — it was a temple!
The garden had been so lavish he'd assumed it was a noble's mansion, but it turned out to be a private temple built by some noble family.
Sure enough, once they passed through the garden, the luxurious yet unmistakably familiar architecture of a temple revealed itself.
And so the Skeleton King ground his teeth at the holy knights, who were fawning over him with delight.
You said home!
Are these damn holy knights planning to assassinate me after all?
Before he could even cast Disguise, they'd dragged him straight into a temple! An assassin wet nurse, and now an assassination ward?!
"A temple will be a great help to the Young Lord, since he's already capable of using holy arts."
"He's certain to be formally recognized as the Saint."
Saint, great. Temple, no thanks!
Damn it. Of all things, a temple is genuinely dangerous.
Granted, he planned to become the Saint and take his revenge someday — so the Temple was a place he absolutely needed to get close to. The problem was that getting close to it was simply impossible.
For good reason: the Temple was a place where mana could not exist.
Holy power repels mana.
And his subordinates?
How could he possibly summon anything without mana in the first place!
Damn it. If the temple just had a little mana lying around, I wouldn't be agonizing over this.
But at that very moment—
"!"
He sensed a familiar power nearby.
Mana?
The Skeleton King's eyes sparkled.
If there was mana here, the whole story changed.