Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

After Soren and Raphael’s explosive battle, few dared to challenge stage one and ran off to find an easier target.

Stage one wasn’t the only one with this problem. Stage seven and twelve, two of the four that had kept the starting fighter from the beginning, also had few challengers, including the new and rising stage six and three who were overtaken by strong competitors.

Of course, Brioc Laurier had stood from the start to end, and was heavily avoided by other fighters. Although he also displayed immense strength, the main reason he was avoided was because of his bloody way of fighting. Injuries would slice into the skin of his opponent and his own without stop, but he wouldn't even hesitate and continue attacking while laughing maniacally.

Truly deserving of the 'crazy' title given to him along with the Death Saint, Celine.

The monitor glanced at Soren half-heartedly, a little surprised to see him make it to the end, and told him, "The next round will begin tomorrow afternoon."

"Hm." Soren nodded in response, walking off the stage before stopping at a particular, robed person. “What are you doing?”

Raphael leaned lazily on the wall and smiled. “I’m here on a request from somebody”

“Erlen and Vincent.” The prince said it with such confidence, even Raphael was surprised.

“Oh? You’re pretty smart. Yeah, something’s going on so they asked for some help.” He didn’t elaborate further, and Soren didn’t ask. The 'something' was likely to be another troublesome event.

“You were asked to compete?”

“Of course not,” said Raphael with a laugh. “Your brother didn’t need to compete either.”

“Then?”

“Watching such a thrilling battle, doesn’t that stir up your desire to fight?”

Well, Soren couldn’t deny that, not after fighting as seriously as he did. Not that he regretted it either — he would’ve taken it seriously for anybody that pulled out that urge. Although he avoided the main characters despite knowing that they had that strength, it was hard not to take a bite of a dish served before you.

"Well then, little prince, what are you doing here?" wondered Raphael with a smile.

Soren shrugged. "Playing."

"Are you not aware of what sort of competition this is?" Then, he glanced at Damien who stood quietly at the side with a knowing look. "Well, I guess you don't really have to be worried about danger."

Raphael acknowledged Soren's strength to the fullest after their battle, even if the other's movements had been jerky a few times. Not to mention, even if he wasn't certain of the true identity of the prince's servant, the pale-faced teenager wasn't simple either. Damien's silent, pulsing air of murder was clear to anybody who was familiar with it — and Raphael was extremely so.

He had even considered warning the prince since he wasn't so cold as to allow somebody to die before his eyes if he could help it, but the teenager remained in the background with no real intent. There wasn't even the honest urge to protect his master, just an indifferent peace from watching on the side.

Vincent's little brother was in no real danger, so Raphael would say nothing.

"Are you thinking of winning?" The protagonist didn't believe that this person would come for the simple act of 'playing' as he had been told. Raphael wasn't one to believe in rumours, since in his many lifetimes, they were wrong more often than not.

Soren nodded. "Is there any point in entering, if not to win?"

"Ah, but I entered and lost."

"That was your own stupidity."

Raphael smiled, though his hand tapped his sword at a steady pace. "Right." 

"Okay, bye." waved Soren carelessly, not wanting to stay around any longer after having received the answer he wanted.

Raphael said, "Be careful, little prince."

Soren paused. "Obviously."

"It's just a warning, relax. There'll be some trouble brewing in the kingdom soon, and it's better for you to avoid it."

"It won't affect me."

"What?" Raphael raised an eyebrow as Soren tilted his head to look back, eyes uninterested.

He said simply, "I won't be in town soon."

"Where do you plan to go?"

"Somewhere to mess around." Raphael's expression showed a clear look of disbelief, but Soren didn't care. Technically, he really was going to mess around during his vacation. After the situation with the children was sorted, he'd disappear right in that town and find somewhere to go. If anybody wondered, he'd make up a rumour that he disappeared on the misty mountain, where one couldn't leave after stepping their foot in.

At that time, Damien would most likely retire from his post as well, dealing with the messy internal affairs of his tribe, and thoroughly destroying that scheming bastard of a leader who dared to sell the children.

'Poor guy.' 

Although that person didn't deserve any mercy for his crimes, Damien would likely make him regret ever being born with a simple slide of his hand, and a quiet sound from his throat. The teenager, pale and slender as he was, did not allow those who doubled-crossed him to live happily, even in hell.

Almost to the point where one would feel sorry for the villain. 

Of course, it was just an afterthought. That person had it coming, messing around with the tribe that a devilish fox led.

"Aren't you tired?" asked Raphael.

"Obviously," replied Soren with a frown. 

Raphael stared at him for a moment before wondering aloud, "Aren't you really different from all the rumours?"

"Do you trust them?"

"Rumours always exist for a reason, whether it's because they're actually true, or for other reasons."

"The rumours are true. Some are over-exaggerated to slander my name," said Soren calmly, without a change in his expression. It was clear as day to anybody that Raphael was voicing his suspicions, and that nothing Soren or anybody else could say would make those suspicions clear.

A person couldn't survive so many lifetimes if they were naïve. Or more accurately, a naïve person could not continue without changing after living so many lifetimes.

However, it was this twisted hero of justice that was the most bothersome to deal with. Soren turned away and walked off, not bothering to see if Raphael had anything else to say. He'd admit that the fight was enjoyable, waking up his aching nerves that used to run on full power every day during the apocalypse, but that was all it was.

All it'd ever be.

 “Hmm, I see. Well then, enjoy the rest of the competition,” said Raphael, pushing off the walk with his leg with a wave. “Have fun, ‘lil prince.”

Soren watched him leave, then turned to head back to his room.

Besides, Damien watched quietly, curiously. After all, the dynamic between two people who were cautious, yet careless with each other was a unique one.

Back at the room, Lock had already woken and was curled up in the corner of Soren's bed, glaring cautiously at the door with exhausted eyes. His condition was obviously poor, but his hand stretched out in front of his sister who sat by his side, while his glare was vicious and suspicious. 

Soren looked at him, then at the girl, and said, "I'm not so bored that I'd beat up a kid."

However, Lock's stiffness didn't relax, and Soren didn't make any attempt to come off more welcoming. He wasn't as cruel to children, but they would still have to face the realities of life, eventually. He didn't intend to baby them, regardless of how pitiful they may be.

Though to Soren, he didn't think these children should be pitied. They were just one of many, surviving in this cruel world. It was worth respecting if anything, but not pitiable. 

Kat pursed her lips, tugging on her brother's arm gently. "Brother, brother, this mister is a good man, ok? He said he'd help--"

"Quiet, Kat. You should be--" Suddenly, a fit of coughs had him doubling over as tears welled up in his eyes from the burning pain as he hacked. He continued to cough for a while as Soren waved at Damien.

When the boy finished coughing, Damien stepped forward and handed him a glass of water.

The boy glared from behind his bony arms, growling. "I won't drink that!" 

Damien stared at him quietly. "It's good to not be naïve, but do you really want to die?"

"....."

“Are you not aware of your current state? Even if you're not scared of dying, do you think your sister can live alone without you? Do you intend to abandon her, for the sake of your silliness?"

Silence filled the air as Lock looked at his sister who was still tugging his arm and then at the two people in front of him. It was true, death was something he was already prepared for while living in the slums. He played a game of tug and war with life and death on a daily basis, walking on a thin tightrope that could break at any moment.

It was tiring, really. Especially for a child who could hardly do anything, who adults looked at with disgust or scorn. But it had been worth struggling, living with his sister.

He thought that for her sake; he didn't mind dying. But after trying to protect her for so long, could she really live by herself? Kat was strong and determined, carrying that unique desperation for life that most slum kids had, but how far could she go?

Staring at the boy's changing expressions, Soren glanced at Damien. As expected, the teenager's skill of asking a dozen questions and getting a rise from the other person was quite good. Neither interrupted Lock's thoughts, Damien already expecting what sort of things the child was thinking of, and Soren not really caring. 

It was their choice to make, and Soren wouldn't meddle if he wasn't wanted.

After a few moments, Lock furrowed his brows tightly, staring at the glass of water through wide eyes, to the point one would wonder if it would shatter. He slowly stretched out bloodied fingers, before jerking it back and hastily wiping it on his rags, then grabbing it. He took a cautious lick at it, and after determining that nothing was in it, he swallowed it in large gulps. 

The rushing water caught in his throat, and he burst out in a fit of coughing again. It was a fairly amusing sight, and Damien watched on with curiosity. 

On the other hand, Soren stepped forward. "If you decided to keep living, don't kill yourself over water."

"....." Lock looked a little embarrassed as he finished his coughing fit, turned away, and slowly sipped the water. When he was halfway done, he handed the glass to Kat.

"Drink it all." said Soren firmly.

"But--"

"Drink it."

Lock frowned and shook his head. "I can't just drink it all when Kat--"

"Damien," said Soren simply, and a few seconds later, the pale teenager stepped forward with another glass of water and handed it to the little girl. "Drink it all and don't worry. I'm rich."

"...?" Lock tilted his head in confusion, messy curls falling to the side.

"It means, I can give you a lake worth of water to drink, so drink it all," explained Soren, unfazed. 

Damien turned his head to look at Soren with a slightly judging stare. Wasn't his master completely broke, after the auction? Although he had shamelessly asked for more money, his funds were still tight.

However, the indifferent prince ignored the piercing gaze. He was rich, it just wasn't his money. It was the same thing in the end. On the other hand, the two children looked at him with eyes full of wonder and amazement, even behind their careful gazes. 

An entire lake of water? Soren was similar to a God-like existence to them. They hardly managed to find a drop of water on most days, unless it was raining or they sneaked into a kitchen to steal water from the faucet. Incredible. This noble in front of them felt as rich as a King!

While they had no concept of wealth, and Soren was actually penniless, he accepted the worshipping stares. 

When the children were finished drinking the water, he asked, "So. What do you want to do?"

"Ah?"

"Your sister asked for help, and now I'm asking you. Do you want help?"

"....." Lock stared at the blankets, his arms lowered as his hands tightened around the covers. After living for many years all alone, it was difficult to rely on another for help. Especially after all the scheming adults he had seen, and the darkness that existed in his small world. 

Not to mention...

"...I don't want to say it."

"You don't want to, or you can't?" Soren wasn't sure, since the pride of surviving alone was something he could understand well. If the boy didn't want to talk, he could ask Damien if the boy's expression meant he couldn't say it, or that he didn't want to. 

However, Lock bit his lip. "Hey mister, are you really good?"

"No."

Lock's head jolted up in surprise. "What?"

Soren frowned. "If I say I'm good, does that mean I have to save the world or be a hero? No way."

"But--"

"Good or bad, I said I'd help you, so I will. That's all you need to know."

It was a strange way of comforting a cautious kid, not that Soren was really trying. However, this method made Lock more comfortable. It was more common to see a smiling adult who made sweet promises of all sorts, only to turn out to be evil and cruel. Suddenly, Lock's eyes showed a new determination as he said, "Please help me."

"Ok," said Soren casually, moving to sit by the end of the bed, crossing his legs. "So, what do you want help with?"

"I..."

By the time the full story was finished, a few hours had already passed. Lock's understanding of this world's language wasn't the best having lived in the slums his whole life, though it was slightly better than Kat. Most of his words were simple and pieced together, while some parts took him several tries to say. 

However, Soren understood that much and listened without saying anything. Damien too listened quietly. This silence, which would be uncomfortable for some, made Lock feel more at ease when speaking. 

For a child, many refused to listen or spoke over him when he tried to ask anything, while several times because of his appearance, he would directly be beaten to the ground before he could say anything. 

 As expected, he had been scouted by the Third Religion.

Lock and Kat were orphans for as long as they remembered, their mother having abandoned Lock at the slums at an early age, then two years later, left Kat behind. The boy had been lucky enough to get some help at the beginning, albeit a little, and managed to survive.

When he saw Kat, he had an instinct that she was his sister and took her in. From there, they struggled on a daily journey to find food, avoid trouble and stay warm. 

 Occasionally, Lock met people who tried to trick them into following, but he had a bad feeling and always ran away. There were some who caught him and had beaten him, and others that would report them as thieves, making them go into hiding for a while.

After a particular day, Kat had accidentally bumped into a woman and dirtied her skirt. In return, the woman screamed and shouted curses and the children, full of burning anger. Lock had stepped in, taking the beating until he was a bloody mess, lips bruised, body torn, and trembling.

That was how the Third Religion found him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a clean, luxurious room with Kat by his side. He was still weak, but just as he was with Soren, he remained cautious.

Only, after talking with a blurry figure he couldn’t remember no matter how hard he tried, there was a part of him that felt like it was roaring, full of vitality. He was told to win the competition and hadn’t remembered what happened after, only that he felt like a flame was running through his veins, giving him unparalleled strength.

It was a sweet, addicting sensation that made his mind hazy. All he knew was that Kat and he could have a better life after, that everything would be good as long as he won.

The conscious part of his mind made Kat stay away, but he wasn’t awake enough to take care of himself.

Thus, he lost control and then was knocked out by Soren, waking up soon after in a similar room from before, only with a clearer mind. Soren's forceful methods of knocking him out had somehow knocked the sense back into him as well.  

"You're awake now, so what do you want help with?"

Lock's gaze shifted. "I can't leave the religion."

"What?"

The boy gingerly stretched out a pale, bony arm and revealed a familiar tattoo on his wrist, inked and permanent. "I... I can't remember, but this... this means I can't leave. My mind feels dizzy when I think about leaving. It hurts." 

"...tsk." 

Soren's mood worsened. There was plenty scum in his life, but those who lured in children were the worst sort. Not to mention, the Third Religion kept leaving trickles of identity everywhere Soren went as if following him like a plague.

"I'll remove it."

"Ah?" The boy's eyes widened in surprise, a glimmer of excitement and confusion in his gaze. "Really?"

"Yes. But do you want me to?"

"Y— no?" Lock blinked several times, staring at his hands as his mind grew more and more muddled. “I—" The more he tried to talk, the paler his face grew before he swung his head up, staring at Soren with desperate prayer as he fell straight to the bed in a limp state.

Soren narrowed his gaze at the tattoo.

A quiet, pulsing darkness, vivid on the skin. It was almost as if it were alive, listening, breathing.