Episode 6: After Bitter Comes Sweet (Part 2)
I thought it might be a misconception, but I was certain.
'This is mana.'
But why would there be mana in a temple?
The reason was unknown, but who cared about that? The important thing was that with mana, anything became possible - magic, summoning subordinates, whatever.
And the direction the mana emanated from...
The kitchen?
The Skeleton King stared at the building bustling with food preparation.
Simultaneously hit by the aroma of food, he staggered like a zombie.
'Damn it! I'm so hungry I'm getting lightheaded.'
The starvation after centuries felt blissful enough to bring tears, but now it had reached its limit!
'These damned holy knights.'
Thinking he might starve to death, he rolled over. Escaping the blanket was easy while the knights were distracted.
Rather than trusting these bastards, I'll raid the pantry myself!
This was no time to be picky about cold or hot meals.
It didn't need to be meat - just anything edible!
That's when it happened.
As the Skeleton King entered the kitchen, the holy knights' shouts erupted.
"By the heavens, Young Master! Did you come all this way hungry? You! Bring it now!"
"Worry not. We've prepared the finest meal!"
Oho!
These brats. Though unforgivable for bringing me to this temple, I'll pardon them for their efforts.
"We specially obtained precious ingredients from the imperial palace!"
Oho! Clever bastards!
Even imperial cuisine!
I'll devour whatever you serve!
But the Skeleton King's face contorted when he saw the golden dishes.
For centuries, the Skeleton King had yearned for a human body.
Before dying, he'd wanted just one bowl of ramyen - no, anything edible would've sufficed.
That spicy broth!
The kind you slurp steaming hot during late nights. Truthfully, he wouldn't have cared if it was ramyen or not - just being able to chew and swallow would've made him happy for a century.
And now, after centuries...
He could finally eat proper human food.
He'd enjoy whatever they served.
Enjoy it...
Yet the Skeleton King glared at the meal with utter disgust.
'Though I said I'd eat anything... this isn't what I wanted!'
His face twisted as he gripped the baby bottle. Veins bulged in his tiny fingers.
'Well... babies drink formula...'
No teeth yet - he needed this to grow. To advance his magic tiers.
But they could've at least given proper milk!
'Tree roots? Root extract, what the fuck?!'
He glared at the table where golden dishes overflowed with beans and weeds.
This was his own choice - he'd rejected the knights' attempt to make green juice from suspicious herbs. Better to drink soybean water than unknown sludge!
Though even this was closer to bean-soaked water than actual soy milk.
No wonder he was shocked.
'Is this really imperial cuisine?!'
At this rate, he seriously considered abandoning sainthood.
'Is the Holy Empire some vegetarian nation?!'
Vegetables were fine, but calling this swill "imperial-grade nutrition"?!
Bean-soaked water? Seriously!
'Are these elf-loving bastards?'
But the Skeleton King shook his head.
No.
After centuries, he finally had a body that could eat.
Whether bean water or plain broth - if this was their staple, he'd humbly accept...
"But is this really acceptable? Giving Young Master what even we won't eat?"
"His noble body destined to become a divine proxy and ascetic requires pure nourishment."
"The Holy Father's decree mandates all saint candidates eat only these sanctified crops."
"An ordained trial."
That pope-shaped dickwart!
Those bastards never sat right with him.
The Skeleton King's murderous gaze could shatter the bottle.
Before destroying the gods, I'll start by beheading that pope!
His eyes drifted to the knights' lunchboxes emitting delicious smells.
Noticing his stare, the knights smiled tearfully.
"Are you concerned for us? Please don't trouble yourself!"
"Indeed! Our order feasted on meat rations to guard you properly!"
"So eat heartily... Ugh! Young Master's drooling!"
"Stop! Spit that out! Ughk!"
Ptui! Thwap!
I'll enslave every last one of you knights.
'Eating this garbage doesn't disqualify sainthood.'
But the pope himself ordered this?
'Screw it. Hungry now.'
Surprisingly, the bean broth tasted like kongguksu. Would've been decent with sugar and salt.
Though creating seasonings would be trivial for the Skeleton King's magic...
His mana bottomed out after one first-tier spell.
'Damn this saint's body.'
An incompatible vessel?
No - quite the opposite.
This body was perfect for mages - a monstrous mana battery.
But.
'There's such a thing as too efficient.'
Human bodies were minuscule compared to gods. To store vast power...
'Filter impurities. Compress endlessly.'
Refine and condense until one unit holds ten thousandfold potency.
But.
'Underestimated this saint vessel.'
The compression was too extreme - absorbing energy barely filled a few drops!
Though output improved. Compressed mana meant stronger spells - a first-tier spell rivaling advanced magic.
But this posed problems.
'When will I ever fill my reserves?'
The only mana source here was mana cores.
At this rate, he'd die an old man still hunting cores.
'Is this divine suggestion to convert?'
Stop opposing gods and become their lackey?
Without mana, he couldn't even summon minions...
Then it happened.
Mid-sip, the Skeleton King's expression changed.
'...Hm?'
He stared at the bottle, then gulped again.
Gulp.
'...What?'
He examined the bottle like it contained bugs.
'Why's mana increasing?'
Illusion?
After several experimental gulps, the truth was undeniable.
'Insane! It's actually accumulating!'
He glared at the bottle in disbelief.
The reason didn't matter.
Only one certainty remained...
'Eating builds mana!'
Magic becomes possible!
His eyes burned with madness.
Then-
"Look! The Young Master!"
"Oho!"
Gulp! Gulp!
The Skeleton King started chugging bottles like a madman.
Mana surged.
'Yes! With this-'
Magic advancement! Destroying these priest bastards!
Emptying a bottle instantly, he reached for more.
"Taya! Taya yayaya! (Bring more, maggots!)"
He even slammed the bottle on the table, shocking the knights.
"By the gods! We worried he'd refuse the trial meal!"
"Other candidates had to be force-fed."
"Truthfully, these are the worst-tasting sanctified crops..."
"No noble heir would pretend to enjoy what even peasants reject. Senior priests avoid this..."
Unconcerned, the Skeleton King's eyes blazed while drinking green juice.
'The mana!'
An enormous amount this time!
Having never eaten as a skeleton, he'd never known-
Could food absorb mana?
But this defied all known logic.
'My skill?'
He could drain mana from anything.
Meaning daily consumption = mana gain. No more core hunting!
'Varies by food.'
Some gave mouse-tail scraps, others months' worth.
'Which is which?'
Irrelevant.
'Eat everything before priests arrive!'
As he gorged, the knights rejoiced.
"Truly, he's the real Saint among candidates!"
"To enjoy ascetic meals only ancient saints consumed!"
The Skeleton King frowned.
Saint candidates?
Right - heard this since the fake wet nurse incident.
'Multiple candidates exist.'
Like Saintesses, Saints held imperial-level authority.
Hence noble families bled in power struggles.
This disgusting "pure food" must be part of the selection.
But one question remained.
'Why the poison?'
Not ordinary poison.
'Sacrilege Venom.'
Not holy poison, but holiness-destroying toxin.
Non-lethal short-term, but fatal accumulation. Especially devastating for clergy requiring holy power.
'A Saint without divinity might as well die.'
Harmless to the Skeleton King.
'Poison made from mana cores.'
Mana and holy power opposed.
Naturally, mana-based poison countered holiness.
Offering mana-core poison to demons?
Like serving mana juice!
Residual toxins? Irrelevant.
A Demon King-class entity like him could decompose even lethal poisons into mana!
Instantly absorbing toxins, he shuddered ecstatically.
'Three months' mana!'
Best deal ever!
Whoever spiked this maximized efficiency!
Why poison saint candidates? Not the Church's style - they'd use instant-kill for selection.
Must be hostile factions eliminating rivals...
'Five months' worth now!'
His body trembled delightedly.
Forget politics - bring stronger poisons!
"That Eshua child claims sainthood?"
In the papal chamber, a man's immaculate eyebrow rose.
His black vestments marked him as Cardinal - sole wearers of black in the Holy Empire.
The messenger trembled as his master's mood soured at "Eshua."
A notorious noble house name.
"T-the royal knights rescued Eshua's candidate from kidnappers. Now at a nearby temple."
"I know."
The messenger gulped.
Cardinals - papal proxies and heads of five ducal houses controlling all clergy.
With the unprecedented Saint emergence, every upstart clan pushed their "true candidate."
A matter attracting imperial attention, crucial for future hegemony.
Another candidate from the five ducal houses...
"Shall we intercept? An unknown Eshua child would be easy to erase."
"Don't. Involving the crown complicates matters."
"But-"
"Agents deployed. Short-lived flies aren't worth attention."
All candidate crops contained poison.
Infusing Sacrilege Venom was simple.
A nursing infant? One sip meant death within hours.
No loose ends.
Meanwhile...
'More! Stronger poison!'
The Skeleton King emptied his tenth toxic juice bottle.
