Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

The words Soren focused on was not the braveness of 'the last necromancer' nor the curiousness of 'the Barren Kingdom', but the 'Darkness Mountain'.

It was simply impossible. 

After ten hours of trying to leave Damien's secret village and many struggles, which included respectfully requesting... help, he'd have to return to somewhere he had just been?

Couldn't they have informed him earlier, so he could've gone looking for that necromancer when he was already there?

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.

Thus, he felt no shame when he said, "You go and come back."

Vendra looked at him, her gentle ocean eyes now laced with confusion. "What?"

"I'll wait here."

"Is there something there you must avoid, Soren?"

"No," said the prince calmly. It wasn't a big deal if he ran into people again, as long as they weren't the ones who wanted to kill him, or trouble him. But, "I'm lazy."

Honesty was a policy. Or it was, when it benefitted him.

Brioc burst out laughed beside him, loud chortles filling the serene air as he clutched his stomach. Soren was the sort that looked dignified yet impassive, but the words that occasionally left his mouth were anything but.

A striking and fascinating combination.

"Hahahaha...! Gosh, Renren, you're so cute~!"

Soren felt as if his understanding of this psychopath diminished by every passing day. The magician was incomprehensible, completely and utterly.

"Anyway~ no can do. I don't really feel like coming back, y'know?"

"Then don't."

"We're going on an adventure, remember! Can't leave you behind, we'll go somewhere else instead~ or we can aimlessly wander together and have some bonding tim—"

The prince stood up and patted his clothing, glancing at them lightly. "Ok, let's go."

"Where?" asked Vendra with a tilt of her head.

"The Darkness Mountain."

"I thought you didn't wish to—"

"Let's go."

The idea of wandering across the continent with no destination, at the side of a psychopathic magician that didn't know the word 'quiet' was rather alarming, and even terrifying. 

It was better to go somewhere with an obvious goal, where socializing wasn't necessary.

Brioc blinked innocently with a wide grin, jumping to his feet as Vendra gracefully stood up, her curly waves tumbling over narrow shoulders.

"Hey, aren't you putting on shoes?" asked Brioc, eyes planted on her bare feet.

She shook her head. "No, I am used to walking without shoes. None of the members of my tribe use shoes."

"That's kinda weird."

Vendra simply smiled. 

Soren felt like there must've been several moments when that genuine, pure-looking smile was anything except those things, plastered on for basic politeness, but he didn't question it either.

The journey back was far less troublesome than Soren's perilous time to leave the place alone, with Vendra's knowledge of faster routes and Brioc's common sense when it came to traveling.

The area was the Princess' home, and Brioc had been wandering the continent for years already.

It was, in a strange, unexplainable way, peaceful. 

Different from the first time Soren went to the Darkness Mountain, for the sake of speeding the plot along and preparing for his escape.

There was still a prominent goal, as there always was, but no absolute mission that had to be carried out in order to not face the disastrous consequences if they didn't carry it out. If they pleased, they could turn around in the very moment and choose a different destination.

That was freedom.

Something he so dearly desired for many, many years.

Although Soren wouldn't dare turning around knowing that the other options would be having, as Brioc quoted, 'bonding time' with the magician.

"Actually, there's something I'm curious about." said Brioc suddenly, lazily stretching his arms behind his back as they walked. "Can you really simply stand up and leave, being the Princess and all?"

Vendra's ocean gaze flickered to him lightly. "Yes, I can. Our system runs on a monarchy, and I can't say they would be surprised. I've left a note for them, but they wouldn't fall apart without me."

"My tribe and family are well aware of my aspirations, however, they do not believe in the collapse of this world. In order to prove me wrong, they will allow me to roam freely."

A strange woman, or man, entered their tribe and told them of information that one could understand.

Jones spoke of things in the far future, and of Soren, who hadn't existed in the same way he did now, back then. Such a thing was difficult to understand, and even harder to believe.

Yet Vendra trusted those words. 

Those strange, unrealistic words that foretold of the world's greatest tragedy. Then she alone waited, quietly in that beautiful land of hers, for the person who was destined to come.

Not knowing when or where, or if it was a lie or a truth. 

One could deem it foolish, but Vendra was determined to live everything out. The world was her own, and at the possibility of catastrophic destruction, she would take no risks.

Perhaps that was the reason Jones had chosen the Seal Tribe to share the information with. Because they knew that at least one person, naïve and determined, would trust their words.

"Admirable." muttered Soren quietly, as Vendra smiled at him tenderly.

To do such a thing where no foreseen resolution was certain, he wouldn't do it. He couldn't, not when he didn't understand why anyone could. 

But those brilliant heroes from all those books he read, they did it.

Maybe that was the reason he kept on reading, despite being tired of living and moving. For those characters who possessed everything he didn't.

"It is selfish, in a way." continued Vendra gently. "The truth is, everything could be fine and it may have been a scam by a stranger, playing me as a fool. There was no wrong choice, I simply made a different one compared to my family."

Brioc's eyes gleamed darkly at her words. "Following your family's choice isn't always a right one, either, y'know?"

"It depends on the situation, and on the perspective of the one making the choice."

"Can't say you're wrong." He laughed, though it seemed tender, like a string pulled taut. Soren was oblivious to emotions, but even he understood a single fact.

A prince who had run away from his life of luxury and responsibility did not escape out of impulse, for the simple sake of escaping. Most likely, there was a reason. 

Both Vendra and Brioc were two more people he couldn't understand. Living, breathing humans.

Soren lowered his head, lost in his thoughts.

Loneliness was common in the apocalypse, and he was no stranger to it. Presently, constantly standing alongside people that varied in personality and morals, he understood them even less. 

Who they were and what they felt; he couldn't comprehend it.

It was difficult to realize how lacking something you didn't know existed was until it fell before your eyes. The feelings he couldn't understand felt more colorful with every person he met.

"We're here." said Vendra suddenly, straightening her back that had already been tall and perfect. "The Darkness Mountain."

It was the feet of the mountain, at the edge where black wisps trailed out, reaching to swallow any passing prey. 

This too, Soren decided, was rather surreal. He'd easily overlooked it when his main focus was rescuing the children, but this mountain was anything but normal.

Ominous, yet alluring. 

The stench of death lingered in the air, washing the entire area in its enormous weight. It wasn't that Soren didn't notice the suffocating air when he'd entered — it was far too intense for him to be blind to it — but there was something more.

Then, he understood. Not only had he overlooked it slightly, but now it carried a different aura. The mingling air of dozens of the dead corpses he'd personally witnessed.

It was that knowledge of the tragedy that seemed to make the air drag even more.

He was used to death, but the air seemed to be bundled and compacted, sending waves of rolling heat in rhythmic patterns.

Brioc immediately stopped and looked around before flashing a grin. "I don't think I can go in."

Soren turned. "Why?"

"Well, you see, every person's mana is slightly unique and mine — well, it isn't really compatible with death mana."

"Is compatibility rare?"

"Hmm~" Brioc nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty rare. They usually clash and it doesn't matter, but with death mana, this especially, mine would go crazy."

Vendra nodded in understanding and said, "That's alright, we'll find the necromancer and return promptly. If you may, please wait here."

"Okay~ see you soon."

There were some benefits to Soren's lacking mana, also caused by his unexpected entry into this world. Death mana could affect many people, Brioc being one of them with his constant, volatile mana, but neither could affect Soren.

Vendra too, wasn't a magician, or one who used much magic, easily navigating through the ground without such a thing.

"Where are we going?" asked Soren as they quickly sped through the forest with practiced ease.

"I am not certain... I was simply told that they were inhabiting the deepest area on the forest."

"The top?"

"Yes, where the mana is concentrated the heaviest. I have reason to believe that they're existence in the center of this death mana cloud."

"Is a person capable of that?"

Vendra paused, then nodded a little unsurely. "Nothing is impossible, but it is extremely rare. A person who can do such a thing must have lived for a very, very long time."

"Oh."

He ducked under another branch before his intuition kicked in and he dropped down to the ground softly. Vendra's reactions were fast and she quickly hid as well, covered by the dead plants that surrounded.

She scanned the area to search for the reason of Soren's actions before her eyes finally narrowed on a dark figure standing in front of a crumbling building. His back was broad, yet she sensed a burden that made his figure seem sorrowful.

The person was alone, sinking into the abyss of his own thoughts.

"May I ask, Soren, who is that?" whispered Vendra softly.

The person ahead didn't even flinch, standing silently. Soren stared ahead and said, "The hero you're looking for."

Her expression slowly changed, and she swung her head again, inquisitively and hopeful. Even under her elegant mask, the traces of hope couldn't be hidden.

Soren had assumed Raphael had already left, and if he did, that would mean he returned. For this task that many wouldn't consider, and even more wouldn't do. Calling it a task wasn't right either, but a choice made of selfless motive, of pure and overwhelming emotions.

The crumbling building which stood before Raphael was also the one that housed many fallen children.

The children had long been buried under the soft earth, in a place where the sun would smile upon them. 

But in this abandoned building of tragedy, they breathed their last breath, made their last wish. It was here, their hopeless desires for salvation were forcefully snuffed.

Raphael stood, eyes lowered and quiet, a bouquet of common flowers in his hand, wrapped in a neat bow.

Damien pitied the tribe members who never reached adulthood, but there was a limit to his sympathy. Raphael didn't just understand them, as Damien could, but he felt their souls down to the very depth of his own. 

He felt so deeply and immensely, the boring weight of all these lives lost.

Blackened or not, he could not deny nor destroy this quality of him.

He even couldn't help but wonder, was it his existence that brought upon the collapse of every world? If so... then these deaths were another sin he'd atone for.

Vendra glanced at Soren from within the trees and gently asked, "Do you need to have a moment with him, Soren?"

"No," Soren glanced at the silent figure, so lonely in this swirling darkness, and looked away. "It's unnecessary."

"Are you certain? Because if not now, you don't intend to see him again, do you?"

"Yes. It's fine."

For that protagonist, no matter how intensely his emotions threatened to consume, was still a paranoid hero who survived many ordeals.

Raphael already knew that they were there, and Soren knew he knew.

.Only, if the other party decided to remain quiet, Soren would do the same.

Regardless, sometimes comfort wasn't what a person needed, but the wordless solace of their own thoughts.

Soren continued into the forest and Vendra cast one last look before following behind. When they left, Raphael's eyes flickered to where they had been and then to the building. He closed his eyes, lowering himself to the ground as he gently placed the flowers down.

"May you," murmured the man lowly, "somehow find your solace."

In the next life, and the next, let this tragedy never be repeated. Idealistic was his wish, yet it was truer and kinder than what anyone could imagine.

He lifted his eyes after a moment, caught in the memory of the sight, of this abandoned building which stood so tall before him. If a catastrophe was to come as they always did, many ordeals such as this would come in the future.

Raphael knew that, but he still did these things, these simple things.

He turned his head slowly, dark eyes staring into the endless forest, at nothing in particular. Perhaps, just maybe...

...this time wouldn't end in destruction.

The end of this world was something many didn't wish for, if not most of the inhabitants of this reality. Including Vendra, who ran along the dirt floors in contemplation.

"That man is the one who will save this world?" asked Vendra absentmindedly.

Soren said without hesitation, "Yes."

First and foremost, Soren was somebody who read the story. He was normal in the sense of a reader — he wouldn't wish for the failure of the main character. 

That's why, despite knowing of the many, many failures that came beforehand, Soren's answer was steady and resolute.

"From what I saw, that man seems to be a lonely person. Do you know the reason?"

"It's his story to tell."

Vendra nodded with a smile. "You're quite right. I suppose, I'll understand him more over time."

After being rejected by Soren, Raphael seemed like a holy light. 

Vendra's vague doubts of her choices had dispersed when Soren arrived, but she had no clear path before her. That person she had just seen would be the key to rescuing this world.

"Do you know what he was doing?"

Soren stepped over a tree root and nodded calmly. "Being himself."

"What do you mean?"

"Emotional. Respectful." said Soren casually. Admirable was another word he could've added but left out. "He was... praying for the dead."

Vendra hadn't gotten the details of the incident, although she was aware of the trouble brewing in the land. Damien had likely kept most of the matters a secret, at least until he pinpointed the main culprit.

However, Vendra didn't ask any further. "I see, thank you for telling me."

What should've be questioned and what shouldn't were two things Vendra knew well. This, clearly, was something that weighed heavily on them both.

She recognized both their reactions. 

The lonely, heavy back of that man who she'd follow in the future as he said his last farewells to the dead, and the darkening light in the prince's icy eyes at the mention of the dead.

If she hadn't noticed those different similarities towards the scene, she wouldn't have asked Soren if he had any words to say.

What she couldn't understand was the relationship between the two men.

Less than friends, more than acquaintances. An odd pairing that surprisingly worked the more she thought about it.

Regardless of these thoughts, she kept them to herself and focused on the main task at hand. They were nearing the top of the mountain, rushing up the steep incline. The air grew noticeably heavier, and Vendra who rarely left her land coughed loudly and slowed.

Willpower could only do so much. She coughed heavily into her hands, furrowing her brows as she tried to steady her breath.

Not only was the concentration incredibly intense, Vendra wasn't used to this feeling. For Soren, who was so used to the choking feeling of death grasping apart his throat, it wasn't something he couldn't tolerate.

Vendra calmed down slightly and smile at him wryly. "I apologize, I think, this is as far as I can go. I will wait for you here, when you return,"

Soren had stopped upon hearing the coughing that echoed more loudly in the silent air. After hearing that she wouldn't continue, he nodded and continued forward to the top.

It was quiet, emptier than before. He was both used to, and starting to not be used to it, this overwhelming silence.

Then, as he was lost in his thoughts, a wave of mana charged toward him, wrapping around violently. Soren stepped back, squinting with a scowl. At least, he was very certain.

He'd finally reached the center of this storm — where the necromancer stayed.