Episode 7. When the Bitter Ends, the Sweet Comes (3)
"What? The new saint candidate is from the Esua family? Seriously?"
"No way! I'm a fan! That's one of the noblest houses!"
At a temple in central-eastern Hella, the Holy Empire.
The monastery buzzed with unusual excitement. Priests who should have maintained solemnity fidgeted like restless children.
Not that this was unreasonable.
A divine emissary had appeared. Following the saintess from centuries past, now came a saint candidate.
Though their stay would be brief, such commotion was inevitable in this rural monastery.
Thus, the bishop didn't chastise the giddy priests making uncharacteristic mistakes.
But one thing remained utterly unacceptable.
Whoosh!
"Oh! That's the imperial crest...!"
"Your Majesty!"
Damn it, why's that blasted emperor here?
The bishop discreetly raised an eyebrow as the man entered. The emperor carried a boy of about five years.
The bishop bowed with practiced grace, as if never having scowled.
"What an honor to receive the Empire's sun."
The emperor studied the old man with visible surprise.
Understandable, given the notorious tension between crown and church.
"Never thought to see Papal HQ personnel in this backwater? You, outside the capital?"
"The saint candidate's importance demanded it. If I may ask - why does Your Majesty grace this humble place?"
"Nothing strange. This is my temple. And..."
The emperor's smile turned sharp as a blade.
"...saint candidates require personal oversight. Can't have the Papacy 'mishandling' another imperial treasure. We've lost enough candidates already."
"!"
The bishop's internal scowl deepened at the expected jab.
'So the rumors of his interest were true.'
All for naught anyway.
The bishop hid his sneer. In truth, he came under a cardinal's orders.
Isaac Esua. A saint candidate emerged from Esua.
What? From THAT Esua? This could hinder our house's candidate!
Already handled. He'll be dead by your arrival. Just confirm the corpse.
Thus, the bishop had effectively come to preside over a funeral.
'By now, that Esua brat should've ingested the poison.'
Neither imperial knights nor emperor realized their precious suckling already had poison dripping from his lips.
No - that one imperial knight among them had administered it.
'No wonder the cardinal chose this location.'
Every knight in the Holy Empire answered to the church. Compromising one imperial knight proved simple for a cardinal.
Though the emperor's personal visit surprised them, the cardinal must have anticipated even this.
Otherwise, they'd never choose an imperial temple for assassination.
Any incident here would stain the crown.
The bishop hadn't even checked the child's face.
Just another obstacle to the Pope's chosen saint.
'The nurses were feeding him when I arrived. The toxin should be taking effect...'
"KYAAAAH! Young master!"
Right on cue, a shrill scream made the bishop smile inwardly.
Finally.
At the priests' panicked cries, the emperor stiffened.
"What's happened?"
The bishop gestured.
"From that direction."
The emperor's strides quickened. The bishop followed, smile intact.
Entering the nursery, the bishop's satisfaction peaked. Priests clustered unnaturally thick around the crib.
Every temple priest seemed present - a crowd only warranted by bloodshed or death.
Yet their screams sounded... different.
"KYAAAH! Our beautiful prince!"
"...?"
Beautiful prince?
"Look how adorably he spills his green juice!"
"...?"
Green...juice? Adorable?
The swarming priests shrieked, but their expressions showed awe, not horror.
Baffled, the bishop pushed through the crowd.
What he saw made him doubt his eyes.
"Look! The young master drank fifteen bottles of this awful vegetable juice!"
"Even high priests avoid this ascetic fare nowadays!"
There sat the infant, blissfully guzzling from a tower of emptied bottles.
Beside him stood a flustered holy knight - the compromised one.
The bishop stared at the child like seeing a monster.
What?
Why's it alive?
'Holy shit. This cost-performance ratio is insane.'
The Skeleton King's eyes crinkled in silent laughter as he chugged poisoned vegetable juice.
Magnificent.
At this rate, evolution would come swiftly.
His magic reserves overflowed.
Only regret? The fifteen-bottle limit per feeding.
Though bystanders neared fainting, the culprit merely licked his lips.
After centuries without taste, even bitter greens thrilled him.
'I could chew through mountains!'
Not that he'd admit the baby-sized bottles felt restrictive. Even adults would collapse from this quantity.
Clearly, his stomach wasn't normal.
'Maybe the Survival Blessing's work.'
The divine blessing granted in his skeletal days had proven nearly useless then - survival powers for the already dead? Contradictory.
But this living body different.
Now, the blessing operated at 100%, maybe beyond.
His expanded stomach, food-to-magic conversion - all the blessing's true power.
'And this might just be the tip.'
If this was mere fraction of its might, the gods must've feared granting him humanity.
The priests' behavior proved another surprise.
"KYAAH! He'll break noble ladies' hearts when grown!"
"Taking after his lord father or lady mother?"
"..."
The Skeleton King twitched an eyebrow while nursing his bottle.
"Most handsome among saint candidates!"
"Can't wait to see him grown!"
Their blindness to his magic was fortunate, but were they mad?
Then again...
When priests took him for cleaning, the mirror revealed his face.
'Damn golden-spoon bastard!'
Instant understanding.
No face for hardships. His previous life's decent looks paled in comparison.
'Fucking silver platter from birth.'
What ancestors bred this?
Baby faces all looked similar, but...
'Platinum blonde?!'
In the Holy Empire, golden hair denoted nobility. The brighter, the higher status.
His resembled blended ivory and moonlight - the founder's legendary hue.
"Each glance reminds me of the early saints!"
"Perhaps even surpassing His Holiness the Pope..."
"Shh!"
"Anyway, his grown form will be magnificent!"
The Skeleton King sucked harder, eyeing his fake nurses.
'They didn't spare me because I'm a holy knight. They spared me because I'm pretty.'
Amidst admirers, one man stared differently.
'Who's that?'
An elderly man in white vestments - high-ranking clergy.
'The bishop?'
Why did he gape like seeing a demon?
'Did fifteen bottles seem too extreme?'
Perhaps he'd overdone the act.
'Act more baby-like.'
He attempted a cute smile. Centuries of facial atrophy betrayed him - one corner of his mouth twitched upward creepily.
The bishop recoiled further.
The Skeleton King frowned.
...Not working?
The bishop's thoughts raced.
'What is this thing?'
Smiling? After fifteen poison bottles?
The cardinal's knight had administered instant-acting toxin. Increasing doses each feeding until the final bottle held tenfold concentration.
Yet it smiled?
Where were the convulsions? The bloody demise?
That devilish grin nearly broke the bishop's mind.
'What abomination is this?'
The compromised knight shook his head - no poison left.
Noticing this, the Skeleton King smirked foxily.
'Ah. That?'
He'd tasted another poison - magic-core based. Tasty but forgettable compared to divine toxins.
Then-
"The final candidate has remarkably unique hair."
"!"
The emperor studied him with unexpected warmth.
'Your Majesty?!'
The Skeleton King's magic core thrummed. The Survival Blessing resonated.
Interest flared.
'This man holds survival-related value.'
The blessing that once merely prevented death now promised gain. In skeletal days, rare triggers frustrated him.
But reacting positively to the emperor?
'Of course!'
Whether the man himself, his items, or his empire didn't matter.
'Money source!'
His inner pauper-skeleton and ex-demon lord instincts flared.
Such figure demanded recruitment.
The emperor spoke.
"His health reassures me. When will Esua retrieve him?"
"We've sent word. They come."
"Good. Treat Esua's scion well until family arrives."
As the emperor turned to leave, the Skeleton King panicked.
'Can't lose this walking treasury!'
But infants can't speak.
Then-
The bishop bit his lip.
'If Esua reclaims him, all's lost.'
He played his final card.
"Your Majesty! This child belongs with the Inquisition first!"
"!"
The emperor froze. Priests murmured. Knights tensed.
"He may require... disposal here. Don't grow attached."
Imperial knights roared.
"Disposal?! Why?!"
The emperor's brow furrowed, attention recaptured.
"Since when does the Papacy dispose of saint candidates?"
The bishop smiled thinly.
"No concern. The saint's already chosen. This one's confirmed fake."
"!"
"We healed and interrogated his kidnappers. They mentioned... magic use. He could be demon-spawn. We can't risk it."
Only the infant smiled amidst frozen faces.
Cheeky brat.
