After bitterness comes sweetness (5)
It was a light unlike anything he had ever seen.
Holy — yet awe-inspiring.
A power so benevolent yet overwhelming that anyone who witnessed it couldn't help but be captivated.
An ethereal, elegant radiance — like the very light a god might descend with from the heavens.
No, perhaps even compassionate… like the Virgin Mother herself.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT — YOU THINK YOU CAN MESS WITH MY CASH COW? YOU WANNA DIE? NO, JUST FUCKING DIE!"
Of course, in reality, there was nothing compassionate about the baby's babbling — especially as the rattle in his hand swung viciously again.
Crack!
The rattle, enchanted with reinforcement magic, smashed squarely into the bishop's face.
The best thing about being a baby?
You didn't have to censor your words.
No one could understand him anyway!
"DIE, I SAID! IF YOU FRAME ME AS A DEMON, I CAN'T COZY UP TO THE EMPEROR! AND IF I CAN'T GET CLOSE TO THE EMPEROR, I CAN'T RAID THE IMPERIAL TREASURE VAULT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Money had a way of making even the most refined people talk dirty — and the Skull King was no exception.
"That bastard emperor must become my errand boy!"
Of course, this wasn't just about money.
The emperor was the only person on this continent who could stand against the pope.
'He'll be useful when things go south.'
And if the pope found out the Skull King's true identity first, well — he'd have to at least rob the treasury before disappearing into the sunset.
But putting all that aside — what?
'Exorcism Holy Arts?'
In short, a divine technique used to purge demons. One of the most powerful arts in the Holy Faction, classified from First Demon (Ilma) to Ninth Demon (Guma).
It was a long-standing tradition among priests — only those who mastered all nine arts were considered "true" clergy.
But that was just from their perspective.
From a demon's point of view?
It was basically a declaration of war — a technique that existed for the sole purpose of killing them, denying their very existence.
Who in their right mind would accept that with a smile?
Even the pope, the pinnacle of the Holy Empire, and the saintess herself had failed to destroy the Skull King.
Even the gods had given up on trying to erase him.
And now some brat — barely in his sixties at most — was trying what exactly?
Even if he came from the papal headquarters, at best, he'd only be a fifth-tier priestling.
And if there was one thing the Skull King truly hated, it was guys like this — pretending to be all righteous on the outside while scheming murder on the inside.
If you're going to slay a demon, at least have the decency to say so to their face!
"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW YOU'RE JUST PRETENDING TO USE HOLY ARTS WHILE TRYING TO ASSASSINATE ME?!"
From the Skull King's perspective, the bishop was still just a fledgling — but even a bishop wouldn't hesitate to kill an infant under the excuse of exorcising a demon.
After all, babies could easily die just from being exposed to strong spiritual energy.
However—
"You're five hundred years too early for that, you punk!"
The Skull King's crimson eyes flashed with rage, as if to say keep getting hit.
Crack! Crack!
The bishop, slapped senseless, glared at him in shock.
'What… divine power?'
Visually, it looked like it.
That sacred light — unmistakably the same as when priests used holy arts. In fact, only high-ranking priests could produce such brilliance.
But the bishop — being the one directly taking the hits — knew the truth.
'This isn't divine power!'
Sure, there were offensive holy arts, but none of them were this crude — this vulgar.
No, judging by the sheer filthiness and brutality of the energy, it could only be one thing.
'Reinforcement magic…?!'
The bishop's eyes darkened.
This brat…
Was he really using magic?
And not just ordinary magic, either.
'Demonic power!'
The bishop grew even more tense.
"This child must be investigated thoroughly — ngh?!"
Just as the bishop reached to grab the Skull King's head, he took another blow right to the face.
Blood spurted. The bishop staggered.
The Skull King — clutching his rattle — glared at him with blood-red eyes.
'You think I'll let you do that, you damn mole?'
Dispelling the light, the Skull King grinned slyly.
As the bishop had guessed, he had indeed enchanted his rattle with reinforcement magic.
After all, how else could a baby's swing pack enough force to daze an adult?
Of course, he was careful about it.
These guys weren't idiots.
Keeping the magic constantly active would maintain its power — but it'd get him caught in no time.
That's why he only triggered the magic the instant it touched the bishop's skin — then immediately dispelled it.
So fast no one could notice — but without losing an ounce of power.
Controlling magic to this degree was something even high-level mages struggled with.
But the Skull King?
He was a tenth-tier archmage — the absolute pinnacle.
Controlling magic was easier than breathing.
He swung the rattle again, beating the bishop mercilessly.
"DAH! DAH-DAH-DAH!! DAH-YAH!"
At this point, he might as well get something out of this situation.
The more attention he attracted, the harder it'd be for them to kill him quietly.
The paladins, watching the bursts of light explode with every strike of the rattle, were in awe.
"Behold! That light! It must be the holy arts!"
"To wield divine arts without even forming a contract with God — truly proof he is a Saint!"
At those words, the bishop's bloodshot eyes bulged.
Saint, my ass!
'There's no way Esua's child is a Saint! Saints don't even exist to begin with!'
It had to be magic.
Sensing the meaning behind the bishop's glare, the Skull King's eyes curved mischievously.
'That's right — it's just a spell.'
He had simply recreated the divine glow that burst out back when he blew up the fake nanny.
Even a magic master like the Skull King needed to study the basics of holy arts — if only to fake them convincingly.
And the Holy Light?
For the Skeleton King, replicating that was as easy as breathing.
Of course, it was nothing more than a temporary illusion — only effective against certain opponents and something he needed to use with caution.
'Did you really think you could catch me with evidence?'
That said, some real divine power was leaking out.
Roughly once every ten bursts of light?
So the Skeleton King was, inwardly, a little surprised.
'Why can I even use divine power?'
Come to think of it, back when he was dealing with that fake nanny, divine power had erupted from him out of nowhere too.
But no matter how blessed a saint might be, without a contract with a god, divine power shouldn't naturally gather in one's body.
'…Don't tell me he's siphoning divine power from the people around him… like I do with mana?'
If that was true, then a high-ranking priest overflowing with divine energy would be prime prey.
Perhaps sensing the mocking glint in the Skeleton King's eyes, the bishop shoved him toward a priest like he was tossing away trash and began collecting his thoughts.
"Summon the Inquisitor… No, forget it! I'll personally take him to the Pope at the Holy See!"
But the paladins blocked the bishop, as if asking if he was still being stubborn.
"Did you not see the light he radiated!"
"He's using legitimate sacred arts!"
"Did you all gouge out your eyes before coming here? What part of that looked like sacred arts to you?! That was clearly magic—!"
And at that very moment—
"Hahahaha!"
The Emperor suddenly burst into loud laughter.
The booming sound stunned everyone — paladins, the bishop, and priests alike.
And his laughter didn't stop.
"Hahahaha."
The Emperor's laughter continued, leaving the bishop visibly flustered.
He had never once seen the Emperor laugh so heartily and openly.
"Y-Your Majesty?"
Even the paladins looked unsettled.
But then, as if a switch had been flipped, the Emperor's laughter cut off like a lie.
"Magic, is it."
His icy words chilled the air itself.
He curled his lips upward, as if to block the bishop from harming the Skeleton King.
"Bishop, tell me… how old do you think that child is?"
"W-What…?"
The bishop let out an involuntary noise — the Emperor's gaze had shifted into something completely different from its usual self.
Perhaps it was because the Imperial Family had fought against the Holy See for so long.
The eyes that usually regarded the Holy See with weary indifference were now sharp and deadly.
"You claim that child used magic?"
"Y-Yes."
"Indeed. It's well-known that if a human child under the age of three uses magic, their body would explode and they'd die."
The bishop froze.
Who didn't know that?
But why bring that up now of all times?
"Your Majesty… are you saying that child is—"
A demon spawn…
"Yes. So are you saying here, in front of me, that this child is a demon's offspring?"
"Of course—"
The bishop started to answer but stopped dead.
His face drained of color, cold sweat dripping down.
He had realized the Emperor's true intent.
He couldn't say it.
Not here — not in this place — even if a sword were at his throat.
That the child was a demon spawn.
'It's said that the Imperial Family possesses eyes that can distinguish between humans and demons.'
Due to their unique bloodline.
With those eyes, they cut down demons disguised as humans.
Of course, that was all said to be a tale from the empire's founding era.
After thousands of years, no one knew if it was true or not.
But the Emperor — armed with the legitimacy of that bloodline — was saying this:
"So what you're saying is… the Emperor himself cannot distinguish a demon from a human child, and thus, you are ignoring my command and attempting to dispose of that child as a demon?"
The bishop shut his eyes tight in defeat.
'Damn it.'
The reason why the empire's people and even the Holy See respected the Imperial Family was that bloodline.
But never before had the Imperial Family wielded it so shamelessly to suppress them.
After all, they couldn't completely ignore their delicate relationship with the Holy See.
But now — for a child — the Emperor was willing to weather political storms and change his stance?
'This isn't just an order to spare the child… it's a threat.'
If they touched that child, the Emperor would cut off the head of the Holy See itself.
'The Emperor has taken a liking to that child.'
But… why?
There's no way someone like the Emperor wouldn't be suspicious of this whole situation.
'Is he really willing to let the Crown Prince's enthronement ceremony go up in flames for this?!'
But regardless of what anyone else thought, the Emperor merely looked at the Skull King and smiled.
A smile full of affection.
The sight left the attendants flustered, and one of them hastily offered something to the Skull King.
It was none other than… a golden rattle.
The Skull King's eyes gleamed — for a very different reason.
"Pure gold!"
Just by looking at the craftsmanship, he could tell — this was the kind of piece a farmer could live off for ten years without lifting a finger.
"What the hell? They made something like this into a baby's toy? Are they insane?"
Wasn't this supposed to be the Holy Empire of asceticism?
Just how much gold were they rolling in to waste it like this?
It was then that the bishop, torn between confusion and outrage, glared fiercely at the Skull King.
"Your Majesty, this may be an assassin sent to kill the Holy Child. Please — grant us permission for at least a simple investigation…"
His eyes pleaded let's settle this peacefully — don't go this far over one brat.
But the Emperor only smiled slyly, like a snake.
"Hmm… I wonder if that's even necessary. To me, this child looks like the Holy Child."
"…!"
The bishop's face twisted grotesquely.
And in response, the Skull King shook the golden rattle gleefully.
Money! My precious money source! Good boy, good boy, that's right!
More! Let's go!
And if they handed over another expensive rattle? Even better!
The Skull King was even tempted to smack the bishop over the head again with the heavy lump of pure gold.
Panicking, the attendant's eyes went wide as he grabbed the child and bolted — perhaps realizing the Skull King really had intended to send the bishop's head flying.
At that very moment, the Emperor subtly gestured.
With a long sigh, the attendant pulled out another rattle — this one encrusted with jewels.
It felt like the unspoken message was "Since we're doing this, why not shut him up properly — break his jaw while you're at it."
The Skull King let out a devilish chuckle.
Because now, he could clearly see the future of this nation he would be living in.
"Well, I had my suspicions, but…"
These bastards hate each other more than I thought.
No — hate was too mild a word. Their relationship was complete and utter garbage.
Of course, on the surface, the Imperial Family and the Papacy were supposed to rule the Holy Empire in harmony — the 'Sun' and the 'Moon' governing together.
But reality?
"There's a saying — who's the real ruler of the Empire: the Emperor or the Pope?"
Neither side dominated — they were locked in a vicious, bloody power struggle.
"Well, just looking at that crown prince makes it pretty obvious why they don't get along."
The boy in the Emperor's arms had pitch-black hair — something absolutely despised in the Holy Empire.
No doubt the Pope had clashed with the Emperor over it countless times — probably to the point of outright character assassination.
That explained why the Emperor was so attached to the child.
A Holy Child, after all, could one day rival the Pope in power.
But what would happen if such a figure were firmly on the Emperor's side?
The Skull King's eyes curved slyly at the thought.
He had no intention of getting cozy with the Papacy anyway.
Everyone assumed that a Holy Child would naturally belong to the Papal faction — but him? Not a chance.
"What kind of idiot would become their lapdog?"
The Skull King intended to devour this so-called land of the gods from the inside out and make it his own.
Turn the Emperor into his lackey. Get rid of the annoying Pope. And from there — conquer the rest of the continent, even the divine realms!
Just imagining it was ecstasy.
But to do that, the first step was clear — the Holy Child.
Of course, the Papacy wouldn't let go of that seat without a fight.
"Just look at that bishop's behavior — totally obvious he's a Vatican stooge."
But with the Emperor's backing, they wouldn't be able to snatch the title away so easily.
And sure enough — it happened.
"I admit it was my mistake to say he isn't human."
The bishop had summoned his attendants to fetch his belongings, his brow deeply furrowed.
"However — to declare him the Holy Child is a direct challenge to His Holiness the Pope. Are you certain you wish to do this, Your Majesty?"
Seemed like getting smacked in the face with a rattle by a toddler had really scrambled his brains.
From the bishop's eyes, the Skull King could feel nothing but murderous intent.
"Tsk. Persistent bastard."
He had shown some mercy, but clearly this one didn't know gratitude.
Judging by his attitude, the bishop was determined to eliminate him no matter what.
"Just how much money did they stuff into this guy's pockets?"
At this point, if he was going to remove the bishop, he couldn't do it halfway.
Otherwise, the man would keep clinging on.
And if he was going to get rid of him — best to do it in a way that brought maximum benefit.
But how?
There had to be a way…
Just then, the bishop pulled an object from the bag his attendants had brought.
The Skull King, never missing an opening, stole a glance inside — and his eyes lit up in delight.
What the hell? Why is that in there?
Wait.
Could it be… the magic he'd sensed back at the temple — was that this?
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