When the Bitter Runs Out, the Sweet Arrives (3)
"What? The new Saint candidate is a child of that House Eshua? Are you serious?"
"That's insane, I'm a fan of theirs! That's one of the greatest houses in the Empire!"
At a temple in the central-eastern reaches of the Holy Empire of Hella, the monastery was abuzz with an excitement unlike any ordinary day, all of it centered on the existence of a Saint.
But one man felt very differently about it.
Damn it all. Why is the Emperor here, of all places?
The bishop's eyebrows shot up as he watched the Emperor stride into the temple, a boy of about five cradled in his arms.
"To behold the sun of the Empire itself — it is a tremendous honor for us clergy."
The Emperor regarded the bishop with visible surprise.
Understandably so — the imperial throne and the Papacy were on wretched terms.
"I hardly expected to find a man of the Papal Court's head office in a place like this."
"It concerns the precious Saint, Your Majesty. Though I confess I wonder what brings so exalted a personage to such a humble corner of the Empire."
"There is nothing strange about it. This is a temple that I myself built. And besides—"
The Emperor flashed the bishop a smile that did not reach his eyes, as if wary of the man.
"If it concerns the Saint, then I should come in person. If I were to leave it to the Papacy and the precious child were to go 'wrong' again, that would be a serious problem indeed. We cannot afford to lose another candidate, can we."
"!"
It was the very jab he had been bracing for, and the bishop frowned inwardly.
So they've heard I'm taking a keen interest in the Saint. Fine. Either way, he's wasted a trip.
The bishop sneered to himself.
In truth, he had come here on the Cardinal's direct orders.
'Isaac Eschua.' A Saint candidate has appeared from House Eshua.
— Pardon? From that House Eshua? Isn't that a disaster? The boy would be a major obstacle to our own family's child becoming the Saint.
— The wheels are already in motion. By the time you arrive, he will be dying. All you need do is confirm the corpse and return.
Which meant he had, in effect, come here to attend a funeral.
By now, that Eshua brat should have swallowed his poison.
The Emperor knew nothing of it.
That one of his very own knights was slipping poison to that precious little morsel of a baby!
Well, recruiting a single imperial knight isn't exactly a tall order.
Every knight in the Holy Empire was a holy knight bound to the Papacy. For a Cardinal, it was child's play.
Of course, he had never dreamed the Emperor himself would come all this way just to lay eyes on one insignificant infant — but surely the Cardinal had anticipated even that and acted accordingly. Otherwise, he would never have chosen this place as the murder site.
This was a temple owned by none other than the Emperor. If anything went wrong here, the blame would fall squarely on the imperial house.
They said he was being fed when I arrived, so the poison should be spreading about now…
"KYAAAAH! Young Master Isaac!"
Just then, a piercing scream rang out from deeper within the temple, and the bishop smiled inwardly.
So the signal's finally come.
At the priests' unusual cries, the Emperor's expression changed at once.
"What is the matter?"
"It appears something has happened to the young lord Isaac."
The Emperor strode forward first, his pace quickening. The bishop followed, feigning ignorance, a smile playing on his lips.
And when they finally entered the room where the baby was, the bishop was thoroughly pleased with himself — for the child was surrounded by a dense crowd of priests.
Unless someone was coughing up blood and collapsing, a crowd that thick could only mean one thing.
Proof of it: everyone was pale as death, screaming in—
"KYAAAAH! Our beautiful young lord!"
"……"
Kyaaah. Our beautiful young lord?
"How can anyone be so utterly adorable, even while drooling green juice everywhere!"
"……?"
…Green juice? What? What's adorable about that???
The bishop shoved through the crowd — and immediately doubted his own eyes.
"Look, everyone! The young lord has drained fifteen whole bottles of that vile green juice!"
"I know it's the food of ascetics, but those are blends even high priests hardly touch anymore…!"
There sat an infant, chugging from an ever-growing stack of baby bottles.
With an expression of sheer, unbridled ecstasy, no less.
And beside him stood a holy knight of mysterious identity, who — for reasons the bishop could not fathom — looked positively flustered upon noticing him.
The bishop stared at the baby as if beholding a monster.
What…? Why is this thing still alive?
Ah, damn. The cost-effectiveness on this is insane. Genuinely insane.
The Skeleton Demon King's eyes were hehehe-ing as he kept drinking down the poisoned green juice.
Good.
Very, very good!
Keep this up and ranking up will be a piece of cake! The mana is pouring in by the bucketful!
Mana gain just from eating? What kind of cheat code is this?!
And since it all accumulates as he consumes it, the more he eats, the bigger the profit!
Granted, the priests had all but fainted.
"Fifteen bottles, from a baby bottle… Is the Saint's divine trait, by any chance, an appetite?"
Yeah, no. That's not it.
Though even by my own standards, that stomach size is far from normal.
Then again, maybe I have the Origin: Survival to thank for this.
The truth was, in his skeleton days he had barely been able to use the Origin's power at all.
Survival as a power, for one who was already dead?
In a way, it was contradictory — a fundamentally flawed ability.
But this living body was different.
Meaning I can now use the power of Survival at one hundred percent.
Eating was one such example. The stretched stomach, the ability to absorb mana through food — surely that was the Origin's doing as well.
Which was precisely why the curses came pouring out of him.
Those damn gods. They didn't keep me from being reborn human on purpose, did they?
Just to keep him from using his survival ability in full.
He had been a monster even at half power. What would happen if he ever unlocked the rest?
"KYAAAH! I've never seen such a beautiful baby in my life! Surely the fairest of all the Saint candidates!"
"When he grows up, he'll make every woman in the Empire weep!"
…Wait. Don't tell me the looks and the popularity are also part of the survival ability?
Yet amid that adoring crowd, exactly one person was staring at him as though he were a monster.
What's with that guy?
An old man. No — not an ordinary old man. Judging by the white robes, a clergyman of fairly high rank.
A bishop?
But why was the bishop looking at him like that — face drained white, eyes full of loathing?
Ah. Maybe downing fifteen bottles was a bit too perverted after all?
Admittedly, even he knew he'd been acting in a way no baby should.
Right. Time to act like an actual baby.
One slip, and his identity was blown.
Determined to lower the bishop's guard, the Skeleton Demon King resolved to smile as adorably as he possibly could.
He hadn't used his facial muscles once in several hundred years, so the odds were uncertain — but the moment he strained his lips with everything he had, one corner of his mouth climbed grotesquely toward his ear. Hehehehe.
The bishop recoiled backward in even greater horror at that smile.
Which made the Skeleton Demon King narrow his eyes.
…Huh. So smiling does come out a little wrong?
But regardless, the bishop was staring at him as though nothing about this could possibly be real.
What… what is this brat?
Is he smiling?
He drank fifteen bottles of the deadliest poison — and he's smiling NOW??
The poison planted by the knight the Cardinal had bribed was near-instant-acting.
The knight had confessed to adding poison every single time the baby was given fresh green juice.
Worse — because nothing happened no matter how much he drank, the knight had kept upping the dose one bottle at a time, until by the final bottle he had, without quite realizing it, mixed in ten times the lethal amount.
And he was smiling?
It should have taken every ounce of him just to writhe in agony and bleed out — and instead he was grinning blatantly, even smugly??
That smile — verging on something demonic — very nearly drove the bishop out of his mind.
What in the world IS this thing?
Why won't he die?
As the bishop trembled like a man staring at a ghost, the Skeleton Demon King seemed to catch on, and smiled like a fox.
Ah. Could it be that?
There had been another kind of deadly poison besides Divine Poison, one mixed into food.
That one was made from magic cores too, so he'd gobbled it right down, yum yum — but were these the people who'd slipped it in?
That was when it happened.
"The last Saint candidate has a most blessed hair color."
"!"
At the voice of a blond man, the Skeleton Demon King's brow furrowed.
Who the hell is this one now? And why does he have to drip with noble elegance from hair to heels? So goddamn irritating—
"Your Majesty!"
What? Your Majesty? THIS guy?
The Skeleton Demon King regarded him with fascination.
It was astonishing enough that the Emperor of the Holy Empire had come to see him in person — but that wasn't the most surprising part.
Flash! Flash!
'!'
Bright light was radiating from the Emperor's body.
This reaction. It's the Origin of Survival, engraved into my magic core, responding. And so he was, frankly, stunned.
For this to react means this man carries significant value.
It was no accident that it was called Survival. The power revealed who would be a boon to his continued existence, and who would be his death. And in this case, the reaction signaled an enormous boon.
Of course, the sense was so sweeping and imprecise that he couldn't tell whether it pointed to the Emperor himself, to something the Emperor carried, or to the imperial house standing behind him.
But—
I MUST get my hands on this one!
However, the bishop hurried over in alarm.
"Your Majesty. Allow me to examine the child."
But the Emperor had no intention of handing the Skeleton Demon King over to the bishop.
"We will proceed once the Eshuas arrive."
"But Your Majesty!"
"Do not trouble yourself."
Then the Emperor carried the Skeleton Demon King over to a mirror and smiled.
"Could one with hair of this color ever bring harm to the Empire?"
"!"
At the same moment, the Skeleton Demon King saw himself in the mirror — and his jaw dropped.
Damn it all. Even the FACE is gold-spooned with this kid!
What on earth did his ancestors and parents do for a living?
He'd honestly assumed all baby faces looked more or less the same.
Motherf— so people really are born different from the very seed.
No wonder everyone around him was losing their minds.
No, wait. Forget the face — that's not what matters here.
PLATINUM BLONDE!
Blonde hair was already exceptionally precious in the Holy Empire. The lighter the shade, the more one was treated as nobility born — and platinum blonde doubly so.
And this wasn't just any blonde. It was a brightness like white flecked with a pinch of powdered ivory.
Before long, even the priests were gazing at him with fond delight.
"Platinum blonde — the symbol of the founding dynasty of the Holy Empire, no?"
"Goodness. The more I look at the young lord, the more he reminds me of the First Founder himself."
"Truly. Far closer to God, even, than His Holiness the present Pope—"
"Shhh!"
So THAT'S why those fake wet nurses have been fussing over me so obsessively.
Now that I think of it — did the holy knight spare me not because of my sainthood, but because I'm pretty?
Smiling, the Emperor turned to the priests.
"How far out did you say the Eshuas are?"
"When word was sent, they were said to be close by. They should arrive shortly."
"Good. Tend to him with the utmost care and return him to his family. And bishop — you will follow me."
The Emperor had seen what he came to see and turned as if to leave — and the Skeleton Demon King panicked.
I can't just let a guy my Origin reacted to walk away!
Besides, when would he ever see the Emperor again? If not now, then practically never.
But he was in no position to speak, and had no way of drawing the Emperor's attention.
Cry? Am I supposed to CRY?!
And then, the bishop bit his lip.
So the Emperor intends to keep me apart from that brat, does he?
Had he foreseen that I might do the child harm?
But this was a problem.
Once that infant returns to House Eshua, I'll never get my hands on him again.
A Saint had to come from the papal line. And worse, this could be the beginning of a closer bond between the throne and House Eshua. His one and only chance to dispose of that child was before the Eshuas arrived.
It's now or never.
And if the family truly was nearby, he had to move fast.
Which left exactly one argument that might sway an Emperor standing in his way.
"Your Majesty! That child must be sent to the inquisitors — not returned to his family!"
"!"
The Emperor, mid-turn, stopped dead. The priests startled and stirred, and even the knights looked at the bishop in consternation.
"Depending on the circumstances, he may need to be dealt with right here — I beg you, do not let sentiment cloud your judgment."
Even the imperial knights who had escorted the Skeleton Demon King here recoiled in alarm.
"Dealt with? Why would you ever harm the young lord!"
The Emperor's brow creased in displeasure. Yet the moment the bishop made this play, the Emperor's interest in the Skeleton Demon King only deepened.
"'Dispose of' a Saint candidate? Is that a thing the Papacy believes itself entitled to say aloud?"
But the bishop only curled his lips upward.
"On that point, you may rest easy, Your Majesty. The Saint has already been decided — another child. And this one is, beyond any doubt, no Saint."
"!"
"I have taken the statements of the kidnappers who abducted him. They claim the child used magic. If he could be a child of the demonkin, how can we possibly leave him be?"
The Emperor and the knights stared at the bishop, half-choked with disbelief. But the Skeleton Demon King smiled — with something suspiciously close to delight.
Well, well. Look at this fella.
At the same time, the corner of his mouth curled upward.
That little punk… if I play this right, I might actually be able to use him.