Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

A hand carefully traced along the dark lines of the tree, as if gingerly probing, coated with deep curiosity. The owner of the hand walked around, peeking left and right as he swung his legs over the protruding roots.

After spending ten minutes walking around, Soren stopped and took a step back, frowning.

In a forest of pure, snowy trees that was vibrant and brimming with life, this one cast a terrible energy as its shadow crept along the ground.

Much like the person it belonged to, it stood out in ways Soren couldn't ignore.

But in the end, there was nothing that could be done about Raphael's tree, polluted with catastrophe that only lead to tragedy. Anima had brought Soren into the world to create 'an existence that would defy fate', and directly alter at least one of the timelines.

For a single happy ending was better than none.

He sighed and decided to move away. Taking a look could wait for later, but if there was nothing to do, he was better off continuing to look for Uriel's tree.

Allowing the forest to guide him once again, he stepped away, growing more and more distant.

But when he turned around another particular corner, the pitch-black trunk entered his vision once again, like an irritating bug that wouldn't go away. Just like the person it belonged to, thought Soren, as he frowned.

Clearly, except one of two turns to avoid the larger roots that couldn't be crossed, he'd been walking straight the entire time.

He was well-aware of his lacking... directional skills, though he'd still insist that they weren't the worse. Yet, he wouldn't mistaken walking in a single direction.

Without another word, he turned around and walked away once again.

And again.

And again.

The fifth time he stopped in front of the tree, he felt tempted to give it a kick for his struggles. So, of course, he did.

'Annoying.'

However, it seemed that there was something for him to do with this tree for the forest to twist his path back to here every time.

Circling around the tree once more, slowly taking his time to observe every groove, he returned to the start with growing irritation. Even at such a times, that protagonist had to disrupt his tasks.

'Tch.'

Raphael, who was peacefully waiting outside the door, sneezed.

Vincent glanced at him. "Are you feeling ill, Raphael?"

"No," said Raphael with narrowing eyes as he stared a hole through the door. "That little prince is speaking ill of me."

"...Soren is?"

"I know it." nodded Raphael.

Vincent struggled and finally asked, "How?"

"Because he's the only person who'd insult me, even at such a time."

"...I see."

On the other hand, Soren continued to curse out the protagonist after every cycle around the tree.

There was nothing he could see within the tangles of roots, not underneath or around, not even when he lifted his chin to stare up at the leaves that hung mockingly high in the air. Scowling, he sat down on the cold roots and surveyed the area once more.

One of the roots stretched out the furthest into the forest, travelling so far that Soren couldn't make out the end. It was large, twisting around trees as it made a path of its own in haughty curves.

Soren's gaze lingered on it before he stood up and started to slowly follow its trail.

He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but not only did he trust his intuition that lead him through many situations, he was in no mood to circle around the tree for the tenth time, or try to walk away for the sixth.

And Soren had a vague feeling that the ghost of this forest was guiding him. Dancing in floating turns as they followed him behind.

Gently leading him through.

Of course, that may have been a simple illusion.

He stopped, pausing at the sight of many more roots branching away from the larger one. They tangled with other trees, dying a few in their murky colour.

But one particular root, so slender and faint that Soren almost didn't notice it, wasn't polluting any other tree. It was the opposite.

Soren's eyes followed its trail as it wrapped around another root, and was dyed in the colour of the most delicate white. His eyes continued to follow the owner of the tree that had changed Raphael's roots, and stiffened.

Grand and elegant, towering overs in the same manner that Raphael's did. Its roots stretched out far, though there were fewer compared to the other trees, and it seemed to pulse with a calm that he couldn't describe.

He hesitated, and walked over. Taking special care not to damage the ground, he stopped a few meters away.

A tree that seemed to have its own brilliance in this forest of identical colours.

The seed that Soren possessed likely came from this tree. Only, the original owner had passed, and it had become his because of the connection that he had.

Faintly, he wondered what Anima saw in this blinding world of white. Every day, did she sit in this world, alone and wander? Quietly protecting all these lives, all these timelines.

Risking her life to protect the one outlier in this forest of hers.

Light laughter seemed to twirl in the air with a gentle melody, blending in with the blowing wind. The leaves shook above him, and a single branch swayed, the bottoms grazing Soren's shoulder. He glanced back, and the leaves shook once again.

Stretching out a palm to touch it, something suddenly dropped from the clusters above and he hastily caught it.

In his palm was a large, pale blue apple.

He turned it around, and then around again. Did it... want him to eat?

Before he could indulge in that thought, the root under his feet shifted and he stumbled forward, quickly avoiding the other roots before straightening his posture.

In front of him was the slender night root that was slowly turning white.

The root was healing... because it was touching a part of the large tree. His tree, and his mother's. Then the apple in his hand was for the sake of healing Uriel, wherever she might be.

Soren's expression visibly relaxed, and he nodded at the tree. Even if it wasn't alive, it didn't matter.

'Come.'

A voice, similar to the airy laughter he had heard earlier, streamed into the air around him. He almost didn't hear it.

'Follow the root back.'

He glanced around, but only saw the dark root that he had followed to arrive to begin with. Nevertheless, he traced his hand along the edge and started to walk back. The voice didn't speak again, and he could only assume it was because he was right.

This time, when he reached Raphael's tree again, the hand which had been resting along the roots suddenly sunk in. He faltered in his step and yanked his hand back, alert.

'It's okay. Take a step forward.'

The voice was soothing as it washed over Soren's mind, and eased any worries he could have.

He pushed his hand through again, calmly watching as the darkness started to creep up his wrist and completely pushed his body through.

It was as if he was floating. Balanced in a weird space where he could only feel a faint warmth surrounding his body, but couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't move. Vaguely, he decided making the one hour timeline he set may not be possible after all.

How could he return quickly in a space where he didn't know how time ran?

But it gave him time to think.

It was strange, knowing that the God of Death was another him, from the timeline where Raphael most likely died, and 'he' became a God in order to find him again.

Soren tried to clear his mind of the negative emotions that so easily bubbled to surface and thought carefully. Right now, Raphael and he only had some of their memories, with much still a mystery burred under layers and layers of secrets.

Soren would regain the memories that were his, but not quite his. And Raphael would regain his own memories from lifetimes ago.

The person Raphael cared for now was the present Soren. Feelings couldn't be predicted after years and decades, for the future was ever changing. But the one thing can couldn't be denied was the present, the current time and what they felt.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

In fact, there was no need to go into a downhill spiral of depressive thoughts for this matter. At least, he didn't think so.

Because what was the point?

Forget time loops, timelines, time-whatevers. This world in which the two of them were alive, existing, was all he needed to remember.

The other memories would come with time, but they didn't need to be the main focus.

As he thought that, he felt a sliver of cool air sneak into the strange bubble that covered him, and flickers of light streamed through before flooding the space entirely. He squinted as a mirage floated before his eyes.

A familiar side-profile greeted him, strong brows drawn into a frown as they swung their sword around.

Soren paled as he watched the man, strong as he was, become overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, blood pooling onto the ground from his growing wounds.

What was this?

Where was he?

"Raphael!" His voice didn't reach across the image.

[He won't hear you.]

Soren froze, and gradually frowned. "How are you here?"

[I don't know. It looks like you've gone back in time to witness the beginning of Raphael's cycles.]

"This isn't a memory?"

[It is. But at the same time, you're seeing it in real life. I'm too lazy to explain, figure it out.]

"....."

Raphael's sword cut through another enemy as another blade stabbed through his chest. Soren's eyes remained glued, unwilling to turn away.

[He won't die.]

Soren hesitated. "He's weaker."

[Of course. The one you know now has experienced many, many battles. The one you see here doesn't even know where he is.]

"There's nothing I can do."

He watched Raphael collapse.

[There's nothing you can do.] agreed the Death God with eerie calm, as if nothing mattered anymore. [You won't get used to it, but you'll also learn that you can't do anything.]

The dust cleared in the image, and among the countless of corpses that remained, Raphael laid on the floor, breathing heavily with sweat covering his entire body, screaming of pain. He could be mistaken for a corpse too, if not for the shallow breathing and the small rises of his chest.

Soren closed his eyes, memorizing the scene as best he could before opening them again.

Now, Raphael was lying in a bed with his wounds dressed and cleaned, blinking at the ceiling with a groan as pain ran up his body. Most likely, somebody had saved him by some stroke of luck.

"Hold steady! A patient shouldn't be moving around like that!" shouted a young voice as a woman rushed into the room, quickly stopping him from making large movements.

Raphael's eyes dilated, and he grabbed her arm rudely as begged almost desperately, "Where's Ren? Where am I? Tell me!"

"Let go!"

He quickly released her, but there was a strange look in his eyes as he repeated, "Where am I?"

The woman introduced herself, and spoke the name of the world that he couldn't understand. A different, unknown language.

[She is the last to betray him in this world.] said the God of Death abruptly, traces of resentment in his tone.

"Why?"

[She wanted money to save her little brother who'd been taken away. The world hasn't ended yet, but Raphael was murdered and sent to the next.]

Soren fell silent, and continued watching the scenes play before his eyes.

For one entire lifetime, Raphael never forgot Ren.

And that fact was burned into Soren's mind as he watched every crooked smile, every hopeless night full of lonely thoughts. Raphael never stopped remembering, even as he experienced his first betrayal, and then his tenth.

At his dying bed, he stretched a hand to the starless night skies and smiled.

"If I die, I'll see you again. So I'm not scared of death, little fool."

The words were for a person he'd lost for already so many years. Even if nobody was there to hear them, Raphael closed his eyes calmly.

But Soren heard it.

He stared deeply, even as the mirage shifted and Raphael's second world begun.

[For as long as Raphael remembers, he will only suffer.]

There was a bitter edge to his words.

And it wasn't long before the Death God's words were proven true.

Raphael who got distracted by an illusion of Ren, almost dying as he forced himself to break away by stabbing himself in his leg.

Raphael, who would mutter his name at night, and wake up pale and sweating, nightmares following him in every world.

He ignored everything, only wanting to find a way to return. But Ren Suzuki became an unimaginable thing he craved, and a distraction that prevented him from pushing forward.

In the fifth life, after decades of death and betrayal, Raphael had gone down to his knees and pleaded with a saint in the world.

'Let me go back.'

'End this repeating hell of destruction.'

'Please.'

However, as the saint painted a pretty smile on his lips and promised, he later turned around and abandoned Raphael, as the latter hung at the edge of a cliff after a battle that ended in many deaths. 

The saint had sneered and simply said, "You were an idiot to believe me, sir Raphael. Whatever misfortune you have, isn't it up to fate?"

Raphael had fallen with those words.

And when he woke up once again, he curled up in pain from the broken bones across his body in despair. He would never see Ren again, the indifferent fool who was likely secretly despairing over his death. But in this way, he thought he could understand that reaper who eagerly sought death. 

He was... a little tired.

Yet when somebody came to save him, he offered a lighthearted smile and returned back to battle months later, slaughtering the saint and the army that opposed him with indifference in his eyes. 

Raphael was sinking into depravity in his own twisted way.

[I erased his memory after the tenth life.]

The seventh life when the strong, unyielding protagonist had stared at the roaring seas that beckoned him below and almost jumped. 

Yet he fell back and sighed, promising to see Ren again as he laughed at the sky. 

He was a little bit crazy, sure.

But for Raphael, remembering Ren was the only way that he was certain that he existed. That he was real, and that fate wasn't predestined. Because he'd found Ren out of his own obligation, and Ren had chosen him because of his own choice.

That couldn't be denied.

However, in the tenth life, when his longing for Ren once again almost killed him, making him suffer more than before as the painful desire became almost biting, the God of Death couldn't handle it. 

And just like that, Raphael forgot Ren.

Soren trembled as he watched the eleventh life, as Raphael, now unburdened with any regrets in his path could only move forward. He had a new purpose, instead of dwelling in the past, and instead chose to run to the future where he prayed something would exist. 

The God of Death also dulled his memories from before, so that the ten lifetimes and memories of the original world wouldn't be so vibrant in his mind.

"I... need to return." said Soren suddenly.

[The time in the memory differs from the soul world. It’s as if one minute has passed.]

"I need to return."

[Ren. What you'll witness from now on is worse than watching Raphael die from afar.]

"I know." said Soren calmly, though his eyes had a sheen of confusion and loss. "He's been alone for so long that I don't want him to be alone again."

Rare words of affection from this seemingly cold-hearted man.

There was a pause, and then a light laugh that seemed dull but relaxed.

[It's strange watching you, but I can see that you've changed. Good job, Ren Suzuki. In finding an ending that I never could.]

It took a hundred lifetimes, and more than one thousand years. The tragic reaper of the apocalypse, Ren Suzuki, and the unfortunate protagonist of many lives had finally scripted a new ending. 

The one white root that promised Raphael's sole happiness.