Episode 9. When Bitter Ends, Sweet Comes (5)
It was a blinding light I'd never witnessed before.
A light both sacred and awe-inspiring.
This merciful yet formidable force held such allure it could enchant even its observers.
A noble, elegant halo reminiscent of divine descent - or perhaps even the benevolent radiance of the Holy Mother herself...
"You fucking bastard dare block my cash flow? Want to die?! Just fucking die already!"
The baby rattle clattered with babbling sounds utterly divorced from holiness.
Thwack!
The magically reinforced rattle smacked the bishop's face again.
The advantage of being an infant? No need to filter one's speech.
Who could understand anyway?
"Die! If you brats brand me demonkind, I can't cozy up to the Emperor! Then how'll I loot the imperial treasury, you shitstains?"
He always turned crude when money was involved.
"That Emperor bastard will become my lackey!"
Of course, it wasn't purely about wealth.
The Emperor remained the sole figure on the continent capable of countering the Pope.
'He'll be useful in emergencies.'
If the Pope uncovered his identity first, he'd need to grab valuables before getting purified.
And besides...
'Nine Demons Holy Magic?'
Exorcism magic targeting demons. The pinnacle of divine arts spanning from First to Ninth Demon levels.
The holy order's tradition held deep meaning: "Only those mastering nine demonic stages earn recognition as true clergy."
'But that's just priestly bullshit.'
To demons, it simply meant armed zealots screaming "Die, demons!" while attacking unprovoked.
Magic that utterly denied their existence - existing solely for brutal extermination.
What madman would accept this?
Even the Holy Empire's Pope and Saintess had failed to vanquish the Skeleton King.
The gods themselves abandoned attempts to destroy him.
What could some sixty-year-old punk accomplish?
A fifth-rank rookie from the Papal headquarters? Pathetic!
The Skeleton King particularly despised these scheming hypocrites.
True exorcists wouldn't waste breath on declarations!
"Think I don't see through your holy magic assassination act?!"
While rookie-tier for the Skeleton King, bishops routinely murdered infants under exorcism pretenses.
Children's lives hung by threads - mere exposure to strong energy could snap them.
But...
"500 years too early, brat!"
The Skeleton King's eyes flashed, demanding more punishment.
Thwack! Thwack!
The bishop staggered from the slap barrage, glaring viciously.
'What's this? Holy power?'
It resembled the radiant light high priests emitted during holy magic - impossibly bright for any but the highest clergy.
Yet receiving it firsthand revealed the truth:
'This isn't holy power!'
While offensive holy magic existed, it never felt this crude and vulgar.
If anything, this reeked of...
'Reinforcement magic?'
The bishop's eyes narrowed dangerously.
This brat...
Could he truly wield magic?
Not just any magic -
'Demonic energy!'
The bishop paled with dawning horror.
"This child needs proper investigation... Gurk!"
The Skeleton King's headbutt smashed the bishop's nose.
As the clergyman stumbled back bleeding, the rattle-wielding infant glared with crimson eyes.
'Think I'll let you investigate, mole-faced bastard?'
The Skeleton King smirked, dispelling the light.
He'd indeed enchanted the rattle as suspected - allowing infantile swings to stagger grown men.
Of course, he'd moderated the magic.
These fools weren't complete idiots.
Constant reinforcement would reveal the trick.
Thus he activated spells only upon impact - instantaneous bursts undetectable to observers.
A control level even expert mages struggled with, effortless for a 10th-circle archmage.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"Take this! And this! And this!"
Since covert elimination became impossible, he'd at least enjoy this payoff.
Paladins watched the lightshow in reverent awe.
"Behold! That radiance! Undoubtedly holy magic!"
"Using sacred arts before divine contract - proof he's the Saint!"
The bishop's eyes bulged.
Saint his ass!
'An Eshua child as Saint? Preposterous! Saints don't even exist!'
That was clearly magic!
Reading his thoughts, the Skeleton King smirked.
'Right. magic.'
He'd replicated the holy light from the fake wet nurse incident.
Even with his mastery, proper holy magic required basic theological knowledge.
But mimicking divine radiance?
Child's play for the Skeleton King.
A temporary illusion requiring careful timing, but...
'You'll never prove it.'
Curiously, genuine holy energy occasionally leaked through.
About one in ten light bursts contained real sanctity.
'Why can I use holy power?'
It happened with the fake nurse too.
Saints shouldn't accumulate holy energy without divine contract.
'Unless... I'm stealing the bishop's sanctity?'
Like his mana absorption ability?
If true, high-ranking clergy were perfect prey.
Noticing the Skeleton King's deceitful grin, the bishop shoved him at priests.
"Summon the Inquisitors... No! I'll take him to the Pope myself!"
Paladins immediately blocked him.
"Are you blind to that holy light?"
"He's manifesting true sacred arts!"
"Fools! That's obviously..."
The bishop's rant died as thunderous laughter echoed.
"HAHAHA!"
The Emperor's booming mirth startled everyone present.
His uncharacteristic laughter continued unnervingly.
"HAHAHAHA!"
The bishop froze. Never had he witnessed the Emperor laugh so heartily.
"Y-Your Majesty?"
The laughter ceased abruptly.
"Magic, you say?"
The air chilled with imperial menace.
The Emperor smiled like a predator cornering prey.
"How old would you say this child is, Bishop?"
"Eh? Y-yes?"
The bishop faltered under the Emperor's transformed gaze - no longer its usual diplomatic restraint.
"You claim he used magic?"
"Y-yes..."
"Human infants under three explode when wielding magic, correct?"
The bishop froze. Where was this going?
"Your Majesty... Are you suggesting..."
Demons...
"So you dare claim this child is demonkind before your Emperor?"
"N-naturally..."
The bishop's throat closed mid-sentence.
Cold sweat drenched him as he realized the trap.
'The imperial line possesses demon-discerning eyes!'
Their ancestral blood granted this power since empire's dawn.
Thousands of years diluted the legend, but the Emperor now invoked it.
"You imply your Emperor can't distinguish human from demon? That you'd dispose of this child against my will?"
The bishop shut his eyes in defeat.
'Damn it all.'
The imperial bloodline's authority kept both populace and Church in check. Never before had they wielded it so blatantly.
This wasn't mere protection -
It was threat.
'Eliminate this child, and we'll eradicate the Church.'
'Why favor this brat?'
Any sane emperor would be suspicious.
'Does the crown prince's coronation mean nothing?!'
Yet the Emperor smiled fondly at the Skeleton King.
A startled attendant hastily offered a new toy - a golden rattle!
The Skeleton King's eyes gleamed differently.
'Pure gold!'
Crafted with decade's worth of artisan skill.
'Insane! Making rattles from such wealth!'
So much for the Holy Empire's austerity.
The bishop desperately tried salvaging the situation.
"Your Majesty, he might be an assassin! Permit at least..."
His placating expression met the Emperor's serpentine smile.
"Hmm. Investigation seems unnecessary. I recognize this child as Saint."
"......!"
As the bishop's face twisted, the Skeleton King shook his rattle triumphantly.
Good money mule! More! Another expensive rattle!
He swung his heavy gold rattle at the bishop's head.
A panicked priest snatched him away. Following imperial signals, attendants produced a jewel-encrusted rattle.
The Skeleton King chuckled darkly.
The nation's political landscape unfolded clearly.
'Expected some friction, but this?'
Their relationship wasn't just bad - it was gloriously toxic.
Outwardly, the Holy Empire balanced imperial and papal rule like sun and moon.
But everyone wondered - who truly ruled?
The answer lay in their mutual annihilation attempts.
The black-haired prince in imperial arms told enough.
The Pope had undoubtedly clashed violently over this heresy.
Hence the Emperor's keen interest in Saints - potential equals to papal authority.
'Bring the Saint to our side...'
The Skeleton King's eyes gleamed with ambition.
He'd never play the Pope's lackey.
This holy nation would be devoured from within - Emperor as puppet, Pope disposed. Absolute power to conquer continents and divine realms!
The fantasy aroused him.
Securing Sainthood came first.
The Pope's faction would never relinquish it.
'But with imperial backing...'
As expected, the bishop produced documents from his bag.
"Admitting my error about his humanity..."
He glared poisonously.
"But declaring him Saint insults His Holiness! Do you understand the implications?"
Clearly rattled literally and metaphorically, he radiated murderous intent.
The Skeleton King clicked his tongue.
'Persistent cockroach.'
After mercy, still biting the hand?
This required permanent removal.
But how?
His eyes lit up spotting the bishop's bag contents.
'Wait - that's here?'
Could this explain the temple's earlier energy surge?
