After Bitterness Comes Sweetness (2)
At first, he thought it was a mistake—but no, it was real.
"This is mana."
But why could he feel mana in a holy temple?
He didn't know the reason, but who cared about that? The only thing that mattered was: with mana, anything was possible—magic, summoning minions, whatever he wanted.
And the direction the mana was coming from was…
…the kitchen?
The Skeleton King turned to look at the building where food was being busily carried out.
At the same time, the smell of food wafted over to him—and he staggered like a zombie.
"Damn… I'm so hungry I'm losing my mind."
It was the first time in hundreds of years he'd felt hunger—and though it was so blissful it almost brought tears to his eyes, he was at his limit.
"These damned paladins."
If he stayed like this, he really would starve to death. While the paladins were distracted, he rolled out of bed. Escaping from the blankets wasn't difficult.
Rather than trust these bastards and wait, he'd just raid their storage himself.
Now wasn't the time to be picky about hot food or cold.
He didn't even need meat—anything edible would do!
And then—it happened.
The moment the Skeleton King stepped into the kitchen, the paladins let out horrified screams.
"Good heavens, young master! Did you really come all the way here because you were hungry? Quick! Bring it here!"
"Don't worry, we've prepared the finest food for you!"
Ohh!
These bastards—dragging him to this temple was unforgivable, but since they said they'd prepared the best, he'd forgive them this once.
"We've specially prepared rare delicacies from the Imperial Palace!"
Ohh! Lovely fools!
Imperial food, no less!
Whatever it was, he'd eat it gratefully!
…Or so he thought.
But when he saw the food they brought out on golden plates, the Skeleton King's face twisted.
***
It had been hundreds of years since the Skeleton King last longed for a human body.
Just once before dying—just once—he wanted a bowl of ramen.
Spicy as hell.
The hot, fiery broth he used to boil up for a late-night snack or hangover cure. To be honest, ramen or whatever—he just wanted to eat something. Anything.
The simple act of eating, of swallowing food down his throat—that alone would've let him live happily for another hundred years.
And after all these centuries, finally—
Finally, he had a body that could eat proper human food.
Whatever it was, he'd eat it deliciously…
Deliciously…
But now, standing before this meal, the Skeleton King's face was full of disappointment.
Of course it was.
"I said… I'd eat anything deliciously, no matter what it was… But this… I never wanted to eat this."
With a baby bottle in his mouth, the Skeleton King's face crumpled. His skeletal fingers clenched tightly around the bottle.
"Okay, fine… I'm a baby now, so formula is fine…"
He didn't even have teeth yet—so he'd just have to drink this and focus on growing his body. That way he could raise his magic level faster.
But if they were going to give him something, could they at least give him milk?
"What the hell is this—tree root water? Seriously?"
The Skeleton King glared at the table with rage.
On it were golden plates filled with beans and greens.
He had barely escaped the paladins' attempt to force some suspicious green juice on him and chosen soy milk instead.
At least soy milk was better than some unknown green sludge.
Though honestly, what they brought him was less like the soy milk he remembered and more like bland water from boiled beans.
Naturally, the Skeleton King was in shock.
He was eating it now because he had no choice for survival…
"Is this really food from the Imperial Palace?"
At this point, he was seriously considering whether he should just give up and go full Saint-mode.
"Surely the Holy Empire isn't a vegetarian nation… right?"
Vegetables were fine. But to call this the finest luxury food from the Imperial Palace?
Boiled bean water? Really?
"Are these bastards from an elf nation or something?"
But soon, the Skeleton King shook his head.
No, that wasn't it.
After all these centuries, he finally had a body that could chew and eat.
Bean water or plain water—if this was their staple food, he would have to accept it with gratitude for now…
"By the way, will it really be okay to feed the young master this? Even we don't eat this stuff."
"He is to be a noble vessel of the divine, a future Saint. We have prepared only the cleanest, purest food."
"His Holiness the Pope himself ordered that all Saint candidates be fed only these specific ingredients."
"Yes. It is a trial."
"That damn Pope bastard—I should chew him up and spit him out."
He had never liked those guys.
His killing intent surged from his eyes as he gripped the baby bottle like he was about to shatter it.
Before he took out the gods, he was definitely going to twist that Pope's neck first.
Just then, the Skeleton King's gaze shifted to the paladins' lunch bags. A delicious smell was wafting from them.
And perhaps noticing his gaze, the paladins smiled with admiration.
"Could it be—you're worried about us? You needn't worry!"
"That's right. Our knight order made sure to eat plenty of meat so we could protect you, young master!"
"So please, don't worry and eat plenty of—urp! Young master, you're drooling!"
"Wait, young master! Please stop! Urk, urk!"
Ptooey! Ptooey!
These paladin bastards—he was definitely going to enslave them and work them to the bone.
"Eating this crap isn't going to stop me from becoming a Saint."
But the Pope himself had ordered this diet?
"Damn it. Whatever. I'll eat it for now."
Surprisingly, drinking it kind of felt like drinking cold soybean noodle broth—it wasn't terrible.
If only he had some sugar or salt.
Of course, for someone like the Skeleton King, conjuring seasoning with magic was easy—but?
Just casting a measly first-tier spell had already drained his mana.
"This is all because of this Saint's body."
Was it because the body didn't match his mana?
Not at all.
In fact, this body was perfect for a mage who stored power. It could store monstrous amounts of any kind of energy.
But…
"There's a limit to how good storage capacity can be—this is insane."
Well, he understood.
Compared to the gods, a human body was tiny. So how could it hold vast power?
"Filter out impurities and compress it as much as possible."
Filter and purify the power—compress it so that a single unit of energy could produce ten thousand units of strength.
But…
"Damn it. I underestimated the Saint's body."
The problem was that the compression was too powerful — even after absorbing energy, he had barely managed to fill a few drops.
Of course, that came with its own advantages. Compression meant that the same amount of energy packed a much greater punch.
In other words, his magic was exponentially more destructive. It was probably thanks to this ridiculous compression that even a mere Tier 1 spell could display the might of an advanced one.
But… this wouldn't do.
"Sure, the power's great — but at this rate, when the hell am I supposed to fill up my mana reserves?"
In the Holy Empire, the only way to replenish mana was to absorb mana cores.
But if things kept going like this, he'd probably die of old age — a hunched-back old skeleton — still scouring the land for mana cores.
"Damn it… Is this their way of telling me to convert quietly and become one of their lackeys?"
Give up fighting the gods and live out his days as their obedient little servant?
Especially when he could barely summon even a single minion thanks to this mana shortage…
But then — it happened.
The Skeleton King, who had been absentmindedly sipping bean water like it was cheap soju, suddenly froze.
"…Hm?"
He glanced at the baby bottle in his hand as though something felt off. Then, tilting his head, he took another sip.
Gulp.
"…What the hell?"
He stared at the bottle like it was some kind of insect.
"Why… does it feel like my mana's filling up the more I drink this stuff?"
Was it just his imagination?
Suspicious, the Skeleton King took several more gulps — just to be sure.
No. It wasn't his imagination.
"What the… It's real? My mana's actually increasing?!"
He glared at the baby bottle in disbelief.
He didn't know why.
But what he did know, for certain, was this:
"I can replenish mana… by eating?"
He could use magic!
A crazed gleam lit up in the Skeleton King's hollow eye sockets.
Just then—
"Oh my! Look at the young master!"
"Ohhh!"
Gulp gulp. Gulp gulp.
Where he had been cautiously sipping the bean water a moment ago, the Skeleton King now began to drain the bottle at a terrifying speed.
His mana began to surge.
"Good… Good! This is it!"
With this, it wouldn't take long to rank up his magic — or even blow this damned country of priests sky-high.
Slamming down the now-empty bottle, the Skeleton King stretched out his tiny skeletal hand, demanding another.
"Dda-ya! Dda-ya-ya-ya-ya!" (Hurry up, you worms! Bring me more!)
He even started banging the bottle on the table, startling the paladins nearby.
"Good heavens! We were worried he wouldn't be able to finish it because of the taste…"
"I heard the other Saint Candidates could barely force it down."
"Well, of course — even if they picked the prettiest crops, that's still bottom-tier farming produce…"
"Even for ascetics, what noble child would eat something that even peasants avoid? I've honestly never seen a high-ranking priest touch that stuff…"
But the Skeleton King didn't care in the slightest.
His eyes blazed as he turned to the next bottle — this time filled with green juice.
"Of course. There it is — mana in the ingredients."
And this time, it was a lot.
Until now, he'd never known — being a skeleton, he'd never eaten food before.
Who would've thought that by simply eating, you could absorb mana?
Granted, he'd never heard of such a thing being possible.
"Is it because of my skill?"
After all, he could steal mana from anything.
Which meant… just by eating, he could gather mana. It wasn't even comparable to collecting mana cores or training.
"Though, looks like the mana content varies depending on the food."
Some only had a trickle. Others were enough to last him a whole month.
"Which one is it? Which food's the jackpot?"
Not that it mattered.
"First things first — I better eat everything before these priest bastards show up!"
As the Skeleton King devoured the food with insane speed, the paladins around him seemed almost moved to tears.
"Truly, there's no doubt — this one must be the Saint among the candidates!"
"To think he's eating the humble ascetic's food with such joy, just like the Saints of old!"
Hearing their words, the Skeleton King frowned.
Saint Candidate?
Now that he thought about it, he had been hearing that ever since that fake nanny showed up.
"So… there are other Saint Candidates too, huh."
Just as a Saintess wielded power rivaling that of royalty, a Saint was a being who could command near-absolute authority within the human faction.
That was precisely why the Holy Families fought tooth and nail in their bloody power struggles.
And this utterly disgusting trash—no, this refined dish—was undoubtedly part of the Saint candidate selection process.
He could understand that much.
But there was one thing that didn't sit right with him.
'Why is there poison inside the crops?'
And it wasn't just ordinary poison.
'This is divine poison.'
Not "holy poison"—but poison that destroyed divine power.
It wasn't immediately lethal, but like any poison, it would accumulate in the body over time and eventually kill its victim. More than life or death, however, this poison was especially fatal to priests and clerics—those who relied on divine power.
'A Saint without divine power? That's basically a death sentence.'
Of course, none of this mattered to the Skeleton King.
'This poison was made from a mana core, after all.'
Mana and divine power were complete opposites—mutually destructive forces.
If you wanted to kill divine power, it only made sense to do it with mana.
And poison crafted from a mana core?
For a demon, being served something made from a mana core was no different from being offered pure mana on a silver platter.
Sure, there might still be residual toxins—but who cared?
Even if the poison was strong enough to kill an elephant, a Demon King-level being like the Skeleton King could effortlessly break it down and absorb it as pure mana.
The Skeleton King absorbed the poison in an instant, furrowing his brow in sheer ecstasy.
'Holy hell—this is three months' worth of mana!'
This stuff was amazing!
Whoever made it had seriously lost their mind when it came to cost efficiency!
How concentrated did they have to make this poison for it to be worth three months' worth of mana?
Whatever the reason behind the Pope assigning this task—whether or not it was meant for identifying Saints—one thing was clear: this wasn't the kind of poison you'd use for mere selection.
If it was for testing candidates, they wouldn't have used something that crippled divine power permanently—they would've used something faster-acting.
So, logically, this poison and its mana-drenched nature could only mean one thing: some hostile force was trying to eliminate all Saint candidates in one fell swoop.
'Ah, crap—this one's worth five months' mana!'
The Skeleton King's body trembled in delight.
Power struggle? Scheming? He didn't care about any of that right now.
Was there any stronger poison around?
Bring it on. The deadlier, the better.
***
"Did you just say the Saint candidate is from the Eshua family?"
Inside the main building of the Holy See.
A man raised a sharp eyebrow as he received the report.
He was dressed in black—a color permitted only to the Cardinals in the Holy Empire.
Looking so pristine it seemed even dust wouldn't dare settle on him, the man's displeased expression made the messenger shudder.
It was the name Eshua that had soured his master's mood.
Caught up in gossiping about the famous Eshua family of the Holy Empire, the messenger had let his tongue slip.
Hurriedly bowing his head, he continued.
"T-the Imperial Knights rescued the Eshua family's Saint candidate from kidnappers. They've relocated the child to a nearby temple."
"I know that already."
The messenger swallowed dryly.
A Cardinal—the Pope's proxy and head of one of the Empire's Five Ducal Houses, responsible for producing all priests and paladins across the continent.
With the appearance of a Saint—something unprecedented in history—not only were the Five Ducal Houses, but even minor noble families scrambling to claim that their child was the true Saint.
This incident had even drawn the Emperor's attention—a matter critical enough to decide the future balance of power in the Empire.
And yet, of all possibilities, another candidate had to emerge from one of the Five Ducal Houses.
"What shall we do…? The child is one even the Eshua family was unaware of. Eliminating them quietly would be simple."
"Leave it. If the Imperial Court hears of it, things will get messy."
"But still…"
"I've already sent a representative. There's no need to bother with a bug destined to die soon anyway."
After all, the crops sent to each Saint candidate were laced with poison.
It wasn't difficult to mix divine poison into them.
Given that the child was still an infant, even a single sip would be enough to kill them within half a day.
He wouldn't even need to see their face.
***
Meanwhile…
'More! Stronger poison!'
The Skeleton King had already downed ten bottles of the poisoned juice.
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