Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

The first person who greeted him was Vendra, her peaceful smile seeming to soothe the roaring waves that was his mind.

"Good morning, Ren. I pray you had a good rest?"

Soren nodded dazedly, moving over to a seat that had been pulled out by the young necromancer when he entered the room. Alvara beamed at him, her hair still ruffled from having awoken.

"Morning Soren!"

A plate clattered on the table in front of him, and his eyes trailed up to meet a steady emerald gaze that calmly nodded at him. "Good morning."

On the plate was an egg, slightly crisp at the edges with the yolk slightly running. A little extra cooked, especially for Soren — though he didn't know when anybody would've had the time to notice that.

Damien looked at him and tilted his head. "Do you not like your eggs like this, master?"

Soren shook his head. "I like it."

When the fox glanced once more, as if observing the prince's expression before leaving, he licked his dry lips and silently stretched out to pick up a fork. He took a bite.

'It's good.'

Damien, a boy of many talents. Once again, Soren thought it was a pity that he was no longer his butler, although the recent events had kept that fox by his side regardless.

"How is it?" asked a low voice next to him, as another plate slid onto the table.

Another bite went into his mouth and he swallowed, honestly saying, "It's good."

"I made it."

Soren paused for a moment, long enough for Raphael to stare at him in false offense, before saying, "...thank you."

A laugh comes from the person beside, and Raphael raises his eyebrow. "Then, can I take it as a rare compliment from you, little prince?"

"I complimented the food, not you." replied the prince between mouthfuls.

His comment earned a laugh from the person next to him as everybody pulled out a chair to sit down. For a second, his icy eyes flickered to the warm chatter around him, before casting back down to silently eat.

"So. I was talking about the creation of bread, right? Yeast, and chemicals, but where do chemicals come from? How does the reaction work?" rambled Alvara on the side, eyes shimmering with interest.

Living in the slums didn't allow her for a proper education, her speech barely scrapped together from her own self learning and the conversations she heard in the alleyway. Not to mention, she wasn't sure how developed the time was, when she had lived at least a decade or more in the past.

Daily things were uncommon to her, and some knowledge that hadn't even existed back then was even stranger.

Damien's pushed his plate that was on the edge of the table further in and said calmly, "Do you want me to teach you?"

"Really? Will you?"

The fox nodded, chewing on his food with an odd sort of elegance before glancing up at her.

He nodded, taking a bite of his food as he glanced up at her. "I'll answer whatever you want to know.

Words like that were like a gift to Alvara. She beamed excitedly and exclaimed, "Awesome!"

Vendra curved her eyes, laughing lightly as they drifted from both teenagers. "If I may, I can also offer my assistance if you need it."

"Thanks Vendra!" said Alvara, returning the smile.

A yawn came at the side, and Celine leaned back, raising a brow. "What timeline did you even come from, necromancer?"

"I... I'm not quite sure. My memories are a bit muddled, but I think around... 30 years ago?"

The death saint whistled, chuckling softly. "That's a fair amount back. It's a wonder how you suddenly woke up, or how you even fell asleep to begin with. I'd have thought a God had something to do with it."

Alvara laughed. "Who knows, I guess."

"Anyway. What do we do now?" wondered Celine lazily, stretching her arms like a cat that had just woken. Her pink hair, already messy on a daily basis, was even messier after rolling out of bed.

Soren swallowed the last item of food on his plate.

Thinking to what Raphael said earlier about relying on them, and sharing, he slowly said, "Celine, I might have a method to waking Uriel up."

"What?"

"The God of Death described a possible method."

The amber eyes spun to Soren, struck by lighting as they refused to move away. Wide-eyed and surprised, it was almost as Celine would worship him at any moment. Not that the death saint would do such a thing, but the feeling of her stare was rather vivid.

Since the moment they found Uriel, she'd never stopped thinking about a method to waking her. It was impossible not to, when her sister had been her goal for so many years, regardless of sacrifice.

But there were no options.

She trusted Soren enough to believe that he couldn't find a method, and knew better than to lament and despair over what couldn't be done. Originally, she was going to keep looking for methods after discussing with the prince.

Now, however, there was an opportunity. A chance.

Celine swallowed, letting out a shaky breath. "What method?"

"The Soul Forest."

A clatter sounded as Damien placed his utensil on his plate, a hint of curious intrigue in his eyes, ears slightly perched from his interest. "Do you intend to fix Uriel's soul tree, master?"

The fox had quickly grasped the situation — as expected of this skilled teenager who could be given straws, and still discover a conspiracy behind it.

"How lovely." said Vendra with slight excitement at the idea of healing Uriel.

She was the one who knew best how desperately Celine wished to awaken her sister, and hearing of hope for Celine's wish was the best thing for Vendra.

"Well?" pressed the death saint impatiently. "What must I do?"

Last night, the location of the Soul Forest had been discovered unknowingly, and the God of Death also confirmed that the method they sought was there. However, the problem lied with the illusion room itself.

Could it be reverted back to the initial room — the room which only Soren's mother knew was real, and Soren had glimpsed for a moment when he first arrived?

Even if he used the illusion room and visualized the sight he'd seen — which wouldn't be hard considering the impression it left on his mind — would it be a simple illusion, or the real forest?

He wasn't sure.

"I need to speak to Deimos once more before I tell you."

Vendra gently tapped Celine on the arm, squeezing it and smiling comfortingly before nodding at Soren. "Don't overwork yourself. It may be desirable to wake Uriel up soon, but we can wait. Thank you, Ren."

The saint's curled fist slowly relaxed, and she nodded at Ren with a sigh. "I'm impatient, but I won't ask what you can't do. I'm counting on you, prince."

She stretched out a hand to Soren, staring at him with false confidence.

"I promised, Celine." said Soren, returning the handshake. "I'll find Deimos now."

He turned around, pulling the door open before it was tugged wide from the other side, revealing a tall figure that froze upon seeing him.

"Soren. Have you slept well?"

He nodded curtly. "Did you need something?"

"Yes," said Vincent, scanning the room briefly before turning his head back to the youngest prince. "Deimos announced that he has figured out a way to fix the illusion room for you, and has requested that you go there immediately."

Celine listened carefully, standing a little straighter while Soren blinked in surprise. While he considered that Deimos would try and repair the illusion room after hearing Soren's questions, he hadn't expected such a quick solution.

Suddenly, he thought of something. "How long has he worked on it for?"

The question surprised several people in the room. A typically indifferent person taking interest in others was a rare sigh. It wasn't to say they thought of Soren as terrible, but they knew he was cold to many things.

Only Raphael grinned.

Compared to the uncaring prince he'd met in the abandoned shack, this prince had learned to try and understand people a little more. It wasn't an extreme change, but change didn't have to be extreme. It had to exist, that was all.

Vincent frowned as he thought about it before reporting a number. "It is possible Deimos was working on it prior to my waking, but he was working on it four hours ago."

"Woah." muttered Alvara in surprise.

"Regardless, he is not certain how long the repair will work. It is necessary you go to him promptly."

Soren nodded and followed Vincent out of the room with a trailing protagonist walking behind him. He glanced back.

"What are you doing?"

A lazy grin. "Following you."

"...there's no need to."

"But I want to." said Raphael with a raise of his eyebrow, glancing over at Vincent. "I don't have anything to do, anyway."

Soren had nothing to say against that and continued to walk in silence. Raphael didn't mind, used to the other's natural quiet and followed without saying a work.

When they arrived, a familiar figure sat in front of a door with furrowed brows, a trickle of sweat trailing down his cheek as wisps of pale green swirls stirred in the air, enveloping him. An eye cracked open to peek at the source of new footsteps, and a tired smile stretches across Deimos' lips.

"You're here." breathed the prince as calmly as he could.

"What's happening?" said Soren as he walked forward, a subtle frown slowly spreading as he watched Deimos' chest heave.

There seemed to be the faint sound of gears turning in the door, or along the wall — Soren wasn't sure which.

"The system is complicated, and Anima designed is especially so that it couldn't be tampered with." explained Deimos through huffs. "I helped her with it, so I'm trying to pull back the memory to the initial room. If she left it as a clue, there will absolutely be a way to turn it back."

Complete, and utter faith was what Deimos had to Anima who slipped into his life like a summer's day breeze, before disappearing when winter fell. He remembered the wonder he felt when he watched her designing the room, the awe and admiration.

Had she lived longer, there were likely many more things she could've accomplished.

Deimos swallowed back the thought.

"However, I must use my own magic in order to tamper with the magic she cast long ago, so I'm not certain how long it'll last. I apologize, little brother, but you'll have to be quick."

Raphael observed the scene — the paling face of the second prince, and the sheen of sweat that grew by the minute. "How long can you last?"

"Two hours." said Deimos as calmly as he could. "Three if I push it."

"It'll take me an hour." said Soren, staring at the door with a frown. After all the effort he put to keep the princes alive, it wouldn't be any good if they were to die of exhaustion.

Deimos pursed his lips, flickering his gaze between the room and Soren. "Little brother, there may be secrets your mother left you. Don't rush—"

"One hour."

The second prince clamped his mouth shut, unable to insist any more.

"How many people can enter the room?" wondered Raphael.

Deimos sighed. "Only one. And only Soren. What Anima left behind for him, was for his eyes only."

"Hmm."

"Raphael, don't think of any strange ideas." warned Vincent, narrowing his eyes. He understood his friend well. "There are things you can't mess with."

Raphael offered a casual smile. "I wouldn't dare."

Then, he stared squarely at Deimos and said, "How long have you been awake?"

"...it isn't necessary to explain, is it?"

"How long?"

"...since before sunrise."

That was at least five or six hours ago. The question of why Deimos chose to suffer for the sake of tampering with this illusion room had a simple answer.

It was his way of redemption, of saying sorry for all those missed years. Soren could ask for the skies, and Deimos would give it.

In following Anima, he almost lost his little brother. No amount of years was enough to repay that.

That pressure, the deep and unforgiving hatred for himself, was constant. No matter what, he had to repay Soren.

Absolutely.

Raphael leaned over and whispered in Soren's ear. The prince seemed to understand something and nodded vaguely, making the other grin.

Before Deimos could question anything, Soren had already crouched down in front of him.

"...little brother?"

"I forgive you."

The one who had failed, yet still attempted to help him from the very beginning was always Deimos. There was no hatred for him, no fear or rejection.

It was true that Deimos neglected Soren, but it was also true that his intentions had never been terrible. Had the second prince not followed Anima's wishes, he would've regretted, and lost the key to many answers that helped them in the present.

Deimos' eyes widened, mint glazed with new tears as he swallowed. He tilted his head and warmly smiled, as if a burden had been lifted off of his shoulders.

"Thank you, Soren."

The corner of Soren's lip tugged faintly. Before Deimos could react, his smile fell away and he stepped up to the door.

"Then, I'm leaving now. I'll be back in one hour."

There was a struggle in the second prince's eyes before he said once more, "However Soren, if there is a need to stay longer do not be pressured to return."

"Mm." He pushed the door open, a brilliant white reflecting off his icy yes. "I know."

Before everyone, he stepped into that light and the door closed behind him. Whatever happened, only he would know when he returned. 

Soren walked for a while. 

The blinding light surrounded him as he continued, gradually fading into a warmer, comforting sight as trees begun to form around him, pale blue grass growing at his feet. The further he entered, the more scenery would bloom around him, as if awakening in his presence. 

Pure trunk of white and delicate handing leaves, gently swaying as they welcomed him to the forest. The world seemed to call for him, stalks of grass ticking his foot as he continued. 

For some reason, he had a feeling that wherever he wanted to do, he only needed to walk forward.

However, when he came to a stop, lips parting slightly in surprise, it wasn't Uriel's tree he saw. 

A pitch black tree, dyed in the most vivid of demise, towering over all others as its roots stretched fair and wide. Small roots that quietly snuck through the grass, and large roots that would pollute all it touched. 

There was a particular person who owned such a tragic tree. 

Raphael Han.

This was the sight Soren’s mother wanted to save.