CHAPTER 5

After Bitterness Comes Sweetness (1)

"Who in the world… would do something like this?"

Central-Eastern Hella, Holy Empire.

Normally, this quiet forested region would be utterly still, devoid of human presence — but today, it was anything but calm.

And for good reason.

"All the kidnappers ended up like this…"

The search party had come to rescue the kidnapped Saint — only to find all the kidnappers already defeated, sprawled unconscious on the ground.

One of them was bleeding from his forehead. Two others had collapsed foaming at the mouth, their minds clearly broken.

And these weren't just ordinary thugs. No — even with differences in rank, all of them were fully ordained Holy Knights.

Considering the kidnappers were Holy Knights, the search party had expected a difficult fight. But to find them like this?

"Dda-ya."

…

A lone infant giggled amidst the fallen kidnappers — an eerie, surreal sight.

Before long, the tense gazes of the search party turned toward the military medic.

"What's your assessment?"

"I'll need to conduct a more detailed examination, but… two of them appear to have suffered complete mental collapse, and the other's skull has been utterly shattered. With this level of destructive power, we're looking at at least a 6th-tier spellcaster."

Gasps rippled through the search party.

6th-tier — the realm of heroes capable of razing an entire kingdom single-handedly.

"That's high-tier magic!"

"But… who could possibly—"

"Dda-ya."

…

Once again, the infant babbled incomprehensibly, forcing the search party to turn and look — at the only other presence here.

Just the baby.

Someone finally swallowed hard and spoke up cautiously.

"Could it… could it be that the young master is the one who did this…?"

"Absurd. That's just— that's far too ridiculous—!"

But the medic shook his head, looking deadly serious.

"Judging from the wounds, it seems they were struck by powerful holy arts. And… I can sense residual holy energy from the child as well."

"Then you're saying the young master really—?"

"Yes. It's possible. This may have been a 6th-tier Holy Art: Mental Collapse and Destruction."

"That's… an advanced holy art!"

Everyone fell silent, swallowing nervously as they turned toward the infant — the so-called Skull King — who, for his part, was sweating bullets.

'Hold up, I didn't even use holy energy.'

This wasn't some holy art. It wasn't even high-tier magic.

No, all he'd used was a basic 1st-tier magic spell — the kind used for lighting carriage lamps. And that skull-shattering move? That wasn't Destruction magic.

That was a headbutt.

A literal headbutt.

'What the hell… Why are they mistaking magic for holy arts?'

Maybe the saint's latent holy power was so overwhelming that it masked his magic entirely?

Somehow, a simple low-tier spell had been mistaken for an advanced holy technique.

'Well… whatever works.'

Right now, survival was the Skull King's top — no, only — priority.

He needed to find a place hidden from the gods' watchful eyes. Somewhere he could quietly gather enough mana to cast his Concealment spell.

It was good, at least, that the search party had found him quickly — just as he'd planned.

'But why the hell did the Imperial Knight Order come looking for me?'

Even with their plain traveling cloaks, he could recognize the distinct uniforms of the Holy Empire's elite knights.

And these weren't just any knights.

'High-ranking Paladins.'

High-ranking Paladins — warriors with special combat abilities reserved for humanity's greatest champions. Living weapons of the human realm.

In other words — Isaac Eshua, the body he was now inhabiting, was someone important enough for the Empire to mobilize its elites.

'Tch… If my magic rank were higher, I'd be able to identify exactly who they are from a distance.'

Most people admired Paladins — warriors who slew demons.

But not the Skull King.

He despised them.

Why? Because they were his natural enemies?

No — the Skull King was the supreme ruler of the demon realm, feared by humanity. He wasn't the type to be afraid of a few Paladins.

But—

'Those bastards… Always summoning Skeletons for their graduation exams like it's nothing.'

If they wanted to fight real demons for their practical tests, why didn't they cross over into demon territory?

'Why summon us into their own damn backyards?'

And it wasn't like Skeletons were the only monsters around. There were plenty of stronger creatures they could summon.

But no — it was always the poor, powerless Skeletons they dragged out.

At least the priests were considerate enough to just set up wards or barriers. If you chased them, they'd at least have the decency to run away.

But the Paladins?

Meatheads with muscles for brains — who saw Skeletons as easy prey precisely because they didn't have muscles.

They'd go so far as to destroy their magic cores, erasing them from existence entirely — ruthless to the extreme.

The Skull King himself had survived countless summonings for graduation exams — numbering in the thousands.

'Do they have any idea how far it is to walk home from the Holy Empire?'

They summon him, and he has to walk thousands of kilometers back home!

And every time he evolved, they summoned him again — trampling the young saplings of his undead armies over and over.

He remembered — once, after becoming a Demon King, he'd been so furious from having to resurrect so many fragmented little Skeletons that he'd stormed the exam grounds personally.

'Are bones that easy to mess with, you little punks?'

He'd turned the graduation exam site into a living hell.

And afterward? He'd told the Pope himself — "Summon me for your graduation exams one more time, and I'll flay every last one of your students alive."

Since then, they seemed to have stopped summoning him altogether.

But that was all ancient history now.

Anyway, the Skeleton King could never bring himself to like those bastards called priests.

He'd always disliked them, but now — now he hated them with a passion that had just been born moments ago.

Grrrrrr… grrrrrr…

"Damn it… how long are these bastards planning to starve me?"

He was starving.

So hungry he thought he might actually die.

In the end, unable to bear it any longer, the Skeleton King strained his neck veins like he was about to drop dead and roared.

"This stomach is a precious gift that appeared after hundreds of years! If I ruin it, are you maggots going to take responsibility?!"

His voice shook the room like a lion's roar.

"Ta-da~! Ta-da~!"

The paladins, quick-witted as ever, nodded like they had expected this.

"We understand, young master. Please be patient — you'll get to see it very soon."

See what?

Food? Meat? A grand feast that could snap a table in half?

"Ta-da! We've prepared a very special rattle just for you!"

"Look! Look here! Rattle-rattle!"

"Oh, young master, your lips are twitching! It seems you like the rattle! Peek-a-boo!"

The Skeleton King's cheek twitched.

He swore to himself — when he was finally grown and strong again, these guys would be the first to die.

***

The Skeleton King dreamed for the first time in hundreds of years.

It was a dream of grinding those damned priests and gods into dust and devouring this land for himself.

It was a beautiful sleep — the kind he'd longed for over the centuries.

But when he woke up…

"We've confirmed it. The one who dealt with the wizard was the young master."

…Wizard?

What the hell were they talking about?

He woke to find the Imperial Knights arguing about something absurd.

"It seemed odd, so we investigated the area where we found the young master… There were traces of 7th-circle magic."

Ah. Looked like they were investigating the kidnappers.

And it seemed they had mistaken the magic he used for proof that a high-level wizard had shown up.

, though?

He hadn't used any such advanced magic there.

"I mean, there's no other way the plants and trees could have withered like that."

…Oh.

They must have mistaken his mana drain for ?

Well, mana drain was a unique magic only he possessed — it wasn't strange for others to mistake it for blood-sucking magic.

Still, he figured the high-ranking priests would catch on soon enough…

"If it was , could it be the Black Angel? The 7th-circle wizard from the Magic Empire."

"Right, that filthy bastard specializes in vampiric spells."

Hey, idiots. That's not even real magic. It's just basic mana absorption.

Not some flashy, high-circle spell.

"Besides, the prophecy of the Saint's birth has spread to neighboring countries. The Magic Empire must be targeting the young master. Disgusting fiends."

"So the young master drove away not only the kidnappers but also a mage from the Magic Empire?"

For the last time — this Black Angel or Black Sugar or whatever has never set foot here.

"This must be reported to His Majesty at once! The young master has driven away the very enemies of the Holy Empire! He will become a great treasure to this nation."

What did that poor wizard ever do to deserve this!?

…Whatever. It didn't matter.

"Young master, we've arrived at your home!"

Cradled in the arms of the paladins, the place he arrived at was a luxurious mansion.

It was just a local estate, but the gardens were splendid, and holy energy quietly flowed through the entire property.

'This doesn't seem like the main family estate… Is this one of Eshua's villas?'

Most importantly, the Skeleton King had learned a lot from listening to the paladins' chatter.

First and foremost — the thing he wanted to know most:

What time was it now?

'Doesn't seem like that much time has passed since I was sealed…'

From what he could gather, the Skeleton King — the greatest Demon King in history — had fought against the gods and lost. Peace had returned to the world thanks to the gods.

The demon realm had fallen into chaos in his absence.

The Pope was keeping a close eye on the demons' movements.

In times like these, hiding his identity was absolutely crucial.

Sure, there were plenty of fools who would happily chase after the Demon King…

'But if that bastard Pope finds out who I really am, things will get really annoying.'

The Skeleton King and the Popes had always been mortal enemies — but the Pope was also the only being directly connected to the gods.

And if he got found out?

'I'll either be wiped out by a personal grudge… or worst case, dragged off to the gods. That'd be the end.'

Of course, he wouldn't go down that easily.

Not this time — not with this body.

He could raise this body to surpass even the highest gods if he wanted to. Enough to make the gods themselves despair when they realized it.

The problem was — until he regained his former strength, he was still a helpless infant. The absolute weakest.

But that would all change once he recovered his power.

'On that note… it's time to summon my subordinates.'

Once he had his subordinates supply him with mana cores, raising his magic rank was as easy as breathing.

But in this life, he didn't plan on just learning magic.

"Magic and holy power — forces that are fundamentally incompatible."

They were, figuratively speaking, the ultimate spear and the ultimate shield.

But what if he could wield both?

"Those so-called impenetrable divine barriers? I'd stroll through them like I own the place."

Why else had the Skeleton King fallen to the gods?

Sure, it was partly because he was undead — a race inherently vulnerable to divine power — but the real problem was the holy barrier that made the realm of the gods an impenetrable fortress.

To pass through that barrier, one needed divine power.

No matter how strong you were, if you couldn't even get close, it was meaningless.

But in the body of a Saint?

"It'd be like walking straight into the gods' living room without even a security check."

And if on top of that, he possessed magic capable of killing gods instantly?

"Let one of their precious angels descend — I'll assassinate it on the spot."

A wicked grin stretched across the Skeleton King's face, practically curling up to his ears.

"This pathetic theocracy? I'll tear it down from the inside."

Just imagine the looks on their faces when they realize the very man they pampered and empowered with divine gifts was the one who'd destroy them.

"Well, for now, I just need to steer clear of the temples."

After all, temples were the sanctuaries of those filthy priests — a stronghold where the most sensitive to magic gathered, brimming with weapons designed to slaughter demons.

Better safe than sorry. Even if he'd reincarnated in the body of a Saint, mentally, it was still torture.

That's why the Skeleton King's eyes curved like crescent moons as he stepped into the luxurious mansion.

"Ah, the smell of money is everywhere. Perfect."

In a place like this, he could summon his subordinates without fear of being discovered.

He absolutely despised holy knights — but he had to admit, they were the ones who'd brought him this far.

No need to hate them in this life. At least… not yet.

"Yeah… they're decent enough for holy knights. Pretty faces too…"

Soon to be corrupted, turning them into his meat shields…

But then, the Skeleton King's pleased expression froze as he realized where he was.

"…What the hell? Why is this a temple and not a house?!"

That's right. The mansion the holy knights had brought him to wasn't some villa — it was a private temple.

He'd assumed from the extravagant garden that it was a noble's estate — but it turned out to be a privately built shrine.

And as he passed through the garden, familiar temple architecture revealed itself in all its gaudy glory.

The Skeleton King shuddered as he looked at the holy knights practically swooning over him.

They said it was a house!

"Are these bastards trying to assassinate me after all?!"

Dragging him straight into a temple before he could even cast a concealment spell — was this another assassination attempt, like that nanny assassin from before?

"It's a temple, my lord. It will surely aid you in mastering divine arts."

"You'll be recognized as a true Saint here."

Saint, my ass. I'm not about this temple life!

"Damn it. This place is too dangerous, even for me."

Of course, his ultimate plan was to become a Saint and get revenge — and to do that, he needed to cozy up to the temple.

The problem was… he absolutely could not get cozy.

Why?

Because temples were places where mana could not exist.

"Divine power rejects mana."

And his subordinates?

Without mana, summoning them was flat-out impossible.

"Damn it, if only there was mana in this stupid temple…"

And then — it happened.

"…!"

He felt it.

A familiar power in the air.

Mana?

The Skeleton King's eyes gleamed.

If there was mana here… well, that changed everything.