CHAPTER 2

I didn't see this coming (2)

His parents, who passed away when he was young, had been Catholic missionaries.

"Isaac, what happens if you tell a lie?"

"Bad kids go to hell, right?"

"No. You just lose your allowance for the month."

Yeah… they really were missionaries.

Of course, their son would later go on to become not some forgotten skeleton buried in the dirt, but the terrifying ruler of all demons.

But honestly? That didn't really matter to them.

Whether their son became a demon king or walked the path of Asura, they only had one rule — take responsibility for your own actions.

Because of that, the Skeleton King had always believed he'd lived without shame, adapting just fine even in this second life.

But…

"Bones… bones…"

There was one thing he could never get used to — not in a hundred years, not in a thousand — his own appearance.

It was bad enough he once swallowed his pride and signed employment contracts with his enemies — the gods — just for a chance to become human again…

That's how much he hated being like this.

And yet…

"Oh my, the baby Saint has awakened."

…What the hell is this?

The Skeleton King could not comprehend the situation he was in.

He didn't even know why he wasn't still trapped inside that worm like he was supposed to be.

"Saint?"

A Saint!?

A Saint — the so-called holiest of the holy — wasn't that basically the top dog of those self-righteous, petty bastards from the divine faction?

He still couldn't forget.

Back when he'd just been a lowly skeleton…

"Kill them! Leave no beast alive!"

Humans sent entire squads of Holy Knights after a crying baby monster just because it had stolen some bread… okay, fine, it was a really big loaf of bread, but still.

"Over there! The skeleton is escaping with the beast! Take them down!"

He'd almost been purified on the spot while trying to save that baby monster.

And later, after becoming a Lich King?

"Purge the lands of demons!"

The divine faction never missed a chance to invade demon territory, constantly getting in his way.

Of course, after those "ambassadors" from a great nation pulled their little stunts in his lands, he might have overreacted by beating one of them half to death and hanging them from a tree…

"The Demon King has assaulted the Saintess and hung her from a tree! This is a clear declaration of war!"

Okay, maybe he went a little far.

But to him, the divine faction were nothing but petty, cruel, sanctimonious bastards.

He'd never encountered a "Saint" before, but surely it was no different from that Saintess he beat up.

"I sent every Saintess from the 1st to the 80th generation back home crying to the Holy Empire anyway."

This "Saint" would be no different.

Just another pawn of the gods, looking to dismember demons in the name of holiness.

But then why… why were they calling him a Saint?

Actually, that wasn't even the biggest problem right now.

"Why am I human?"

What the hell?

The Skeleton King, now apparently a newborn baby, tilted his head in confusion.

He didn't have time to fully analyze it, but the spell that had hit him was a divine technique — the highest-grade holy art.

It was a sealing art specifically designed to imprison those who defied the gods.

No matter where you fled, it would drag your soul into the seal — even ancient calamities had been forced to submit to the gods after being trapped in worms or other wretched things.

It was a mystery how such an ancient, supposedly lost holy art had reappeared, but its power was undeniable.

"Even though I resisted at the last moment… there's no way a spell of that caliber would lose track of my soul."

And yet… he wasn't in a worm.

He was in a human body.

In the body of a Saint, no less?

What… what the hell?

What were these bastards trying to pull?

He had to seriously consider their intentions.

"Maybe… maybe they actually felt bad about how they treated me, so out of some last shred of conscience they let me be reborn as a human—"

No. No way in hell.

"Those bastards? Yeah, right."

These were the same bastards who mocked him for struggling to feed his subordinates through self-sufficiency, bragging about their riches, saying things like, "Skeletons suit the impoverished demon race best, after all."

He never thought they'd actually break a formal contract, but their refusal to ever let him become human was probably because they were terrified of the "Undead Demon King" losing his holy weakness.

Undead were even weaker to divine power than demons.

"Bastards who ignore employment contracts and steal your pay… typical scumbag employers."

That's why this was even weirder.

Why would those arrogant pricks go out of their way to seal him inside a worm?

With their personalities, it would've made more sense for them to leave him trapped there and torture him for eternity.

"So why did the spell misfire?"

If there was any possible explanation, it was this.

"Our king, !"

"It's useless. None whose name is written here can move."

"Right… my name!"

His name was Isaac.

But no matter how many times he corrected them, for some reason everyone here pronounced it .

That must have been it.

"The mistake came from the name?"

The spell sealed the soul at the location matching the written name — but if that premise was flawed from the start…

Of course, that still didn't explain why he ended up in this body.

Why? Why him?

Why a Saint?

'No way… This little brat's name isn't… Isaac… is it?'

But soon enough, the Skeleton King twisted his lips into a rotten grin.

'Come on. There's no way—'

And that's when it happened.

One of the attendants — a man, by the looks of it — suddenly waved his hands frantically.

"Peekaboo! Isaac, look over here! If you cry, the big bad Demon King will come snatch you away~ Peekaboo, Isaac!"

"Hey! You can't just blurt out the baby Saint's name like that!"

"Oh— My apologies! He looked like he was about to cry, so I just blurted it out without thinking—"

"It's because of your scary face! Move over!"

At the same time, the Skeleton King sneered to himself, as if to say, See? What did I tell you?

'See? Isaac. Told you — no way it's the same—'

…Wait.

Isaac?

Isaac?

'Isn't that just another way of pronouncing Isak?'

For the first time in ages, the Skeleton King felt rattled.

No way… seriously?

Sure, if he used an Appraisal spell, he could confirm it instantly — but that wasn't the pressing issue right now.

'Shit. Of all things, I reincarnated into one of those disgusting, bug-like humans from the Holy Faction… What kind of bullshit luck is this…'

Overcome with emotion, the Skeleton King shouted from the depths of his heart:

"Wow, a human body is freakin' awesome!"

Without realizing it, the Skeleton King had babbled like a real infant. After a brief, stunned silence, he let out a dry, awkward chuckle — as if surprised by his own slip-up.

'No, no… Come on. I'm the Demon King — how could I end up in the body of a lackey of the gods…'

"I can feel things with my palms! I can smell stuff! This isn't bone—this is flesh!!!"

After another beat of silence, the Skeleton King cleared his throat.

'Still… damn. A man's gotta have pride…'

"I can even eat chicken with this! God, thank you so freakin' much!"

The wet nurses and attendants nearby stared at him in shock — then burst out laughing.

"Oh my, the baby Saint babbles so well!"

"What? No way, already? As expected of the Saint!"

"…."

It seemed like gibberish to them — mere baby babble — but the Skeleton King coughed, feeling oddly embarrassed.

'Damn kid's body — my brain and mouth are completely out of sync.'

In the end, the Skeleton King glanced around furtively… and offered up a prayer to the heavens — something he'd never once done in his life.

'Thank you, God, Buddha — hell, thank you to every deity except the bastards in this world.'

The Skeleton King cheered inwardly.

And why wouldn't he? It had been hundreds of years since he'd last felt sight, smell, and touch like this.

'Idiots! After all that arrogance, you couldn't even maintain a proper seal! Serves you right!'

They'd been so desperate not to let him take a human form that they'd resorted to the most underhanded contracts — and yet, here he was.

He couldn't even feel sadness when the gods he hated died — his emotions long since withered away — but this? This was pure joy.

But that was precisely why something felt… off.

'Why… haven't I turned into a skeleton?'

You see, there was a curse on his soul.

Reversal of Life and Death (Cataclysm-Class).

It was a curse so powerful that even the gods feared it — one they hadn't been able to remove. It reversed life and death — converting everything living into death — including his own body, forever binding him to skeletal form.

By all rights, the moment his soul touched this body, its flesh should've rotted away, leaving only a corpse.

And yet.

'Why…?'

Could this body be suppressing even a curse the gods couldn't lift?

Feeling increasingly uneasy, the Skeleton King closed his eyes and began to inspect his new body.

'What… the hell is this?'

As a Grand Archmage — unmatched in magic and sensory perception — he was absolutely certain.

'This isn't an ordinary human body.'

Perhaps there was a reason it was called a Saint.

Despite being just a child, this body possessed the innate potential to contain any power — almost infinitely.

And it was likely this blessing that was preventing his body from turning skeletal.

'Just how many blessings did they pour into this kid?'

What's more — and this shocked even him — this body's original owner had never existed.

Countless souls had failed to settle into this body… and he was the only one who had succeeded.

'Honestly… if I hadn't come in, this body might've just died.'

At the same time, he realized something else.

With this body alone… he could probably absorb even divine power.

The Skeleton King fell silent for a long moment — then shook his head violently.

'No, no, no.'

No matter how perfect the vessel… a man's gotta have his pride.

Since they were called a Saint, that meant they were part of the Holy Faction. And all of them served the gods — beings that granted them power.

But now they wanted him to be their little errand boy?

'Are they insane?'

Sure, he'd blown himself up at the last second to screw them over, but did they really think that was enough to satisfy his grudge?

'First things first — those so-called gods I made a contract with? They're dead men walking.'

And yet… now the Demon King had to live in the body of some holy puppet of theirs?

It was around that time—

"His Majesty has commanded us to find the Saint chosen by the latest oracle and treat them with the utmost respect. Naturally, all eyes will be on you."

His Majesty?

The Emperor of the Empire?

The Skeleton King rolled his eyes.

'Hmm… well, fine. If I'm going to be treated like some honored guest, I guess I can stick around for a bit.'

Not like he had a body to return to right now anyway.

But still—

'I'm not planning to stay long.'

He needed to figure out another way out of this mess in the meantime…

"But it's also a little sad, isn't it? Even if he hadn't been chosen as a Saint, he was already a noble young master by birth. He would've grown up with nothing lacking."

…Huh? Young master? Young master?

"Well, he is the heir of one of the Five Great Ducal Houses of the Holy Empire."

The Skeleton King doubted his ears.

A duke's son?

Nobility?

…Wait. Are we talking diamond-spoon level rich?

"With such a background, we must be extra careful. Who knows what threats may come after our little Saint."

"Especially the demons — they'll surely target him."

The Skeleton King smiled brightly.

'Being a Saint is the best. Born rich, protected for free… what more could I want?'

"Oh my, the Saint is smiling! Whatever it is, he must be feeling very happy."

The baby Demon King let out a giggle.

After all, what were Saints and Holy Figures, really? They were just tools created to feed the gods when things got tough.

They were avatars of the gods!

So all he had to do was keep his mouth shut and enjoy the high life — the gods would starve to death on their own.

And if word got out that the Demon King they thought they'd sealed away was actually living it up inside their precious Saint, gorging himself on the Holy Empire's food?

They'd be so pissed their blood pressure would skyrocket.

'No — actually…'

The Holy Empire was basically the gods' own country — the only one that fed them and let them prosper.

So wouldn't that mean if the Holy Empire fell, the gods would fall with it?

"Oh my, the baby Saint is smiling so brightly!"

"Why is he so happy, I wonder?"

Exactly. No need to waste effort fighting them directly.

'I should keep my identity hidden for now.'

Besides, didn't these three attendants already say it themselves?

Demons would be after the Saint.

That meant all he had to do was sit still and wait — his underlings would come find him sooner or later.

Assuming he was near the Holy Empire, the demon faction was probably quite far away. So for now, the smart move was to stay in this mansion and eat like a king.

'The only problem is… I'm literally a newborn who can't even hold my head up.'

But whatever. That didn't matter.

The woman holding him — was she a nanny?

Judging from the situation, they were probably on their way back to the estate. The others in the carriage were glancing nervously at the sky.

"We should hurry back before the rain starts."

The Skeleton King — who hated how his bones ached whenever it rained — smiled in agreement.

'Yeah, let's get going, nanny. I'm starving over here.'

But then—

The woman holding him gently stroked his head with a look of regret.

"It pains me, but it's about time we start."

"Yes. As a Saint candidate, we have no choice but to kill him."

…Huh?

The Skeleton King froze.

Kill?

Something was off.

"It's such a shame. He's such a beautiful child, and he smiles so easily."

"But it can't be helped. The Saint must come from our family. That's the whole reason we kidnapped this little thing in the first place."

The conversation was starting to take a weird — no, terrifying — turn.

"The family head has noticed something about this child?"

"No. We took him before that could happen."

As if following a well-rehearsed plan, they drew their daggers.

Staring at the blade glinting toward him, the Skeleton King went pale.

…Wait. Hold up.

Weren't these guys supposed to be nannies?

"Farewell, little one."

Shing!

WHAT THE HELL— THEY WERE ASSASSINS?!?!