Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

There was, in fact, always a third option that existed.

Whether he should choose to forget everything that had happened in the past, and possibly the present, depending on how the situation turned out. Or if he should become a God and forgo all that he was.

Then, he could choose neither. For him, it would be the best option and the one he'd immediately agree to.

Lydia watched him and smiled politely, but there was a blur of emotions tangled in her eyes and she watched the prince's mind turn, creating puzzles that simply couldn't be solved. There was a reason why the third option wasn't stated, and even Soren was likely aware.

These two options meant only he had to abandon something. The third, unspoken choice would drag everybody down with him, and perhaps they'd all have their wings stripped and legs bound, chained to fate or destiny which they had no desire to follow.

"Before you decide, I believe it may be wise to gain two more of the cursed tattoo series. Although you, as always, have exceeded my expectations and gloriously claimed two of the most distinguished ones as your own--"

"Cut to the point, Lydia."

She paused and spread her arms wide helplessly. "You need more power, Soren Rosenbaum. Several months ago, you may have met the requirements of becoming a God with the exception of fame, because your abilities were still working at that time. Yet over time, the seed in your soul wears down, and it doesn't save you, it destroys you. With the loss of that power, you need to find something to replace it."

"And that power are the cursed tattoos?"

"Those are the easiest ways to gain power, though difficult nevertheless. Your highness, whatever you choose, only one ending remains for you."

The prince narrowed his eyes suspiciously, icy gaze probing as he tilted his chin in question. "Explain."

"The loss of the soul seed won't kill you so long as you find a way to restrain your memories. Yet, the issue is that there is no method that exists for your sake. And the consequences have already begun."

"Lydia."

"Your health, your highness. Were there not plenty of symptoms of your declining health?"

The words made Soren's heart plummet in his chest as his breathing stilled. He'd been sleeping longer recently, always exhausted. Chalking it up to his typical laziness, he hadn't payed attention, assuming that it was a result of the bothersome recent events.

The blood, and the dizziness he experienced. Was it truly a cause of the returning memories, or was it a result of his vitality being stripped away into vulnerability?

That thought made him feel strange, dazed. For several years, he'd never been truly sick because if the fever was too terrible, he'd restart his life and clear away the heavy pain. It had always been the easiest method, and the one he was the most accustomed with.

But he couldn't do that anymore, and...

And what?

Lydia sighed, turning around to pull out a dark blue vial, the liquid running along the glass. It seemed to sparkle brightly in the dimness of the room. She stretched her hand out, and Soren lowered his eyes to look at it.

"This is...?"

"If you decide to forget everything. I can't follow you around, most unfortunately, your highness. So when you're ready to make your choice, drink this."

She opened another palm, and there sat a similar vial, only the colour was a deadly red.

"And drink this, if you want to remember. The exact method of becoming a God that you once knew best."

Her body leaned forward as her warm brown eyes now stared with a complicated look. There was no tease or unnecessary flattery anymore, only the cold weight of the future. 

"You will be forced to make a choice, your highness. My friend sacrificed her life to make this world, and then she sacrificed what was left of her soul to remake it."

"You don't want her life to have ended pointlessly."

"You're getting rather brilliant at understanding others now, your highness. Quite impressive." She smiled and closed her eyes, nodding faintly. "She turned back time and lost herself in it. Even if she is alive, she wouldn't know who she is or where she was."

"But despite that," continued Lydia. "I want to keep this world alive, for her sake. For the story she had spent so long creating."

"By forcing me to become a hero?"

"No, this fate would belong to somebody in your group, regardless of your choice. You can reject me, your highness. It will only mean that another will have to take on the task, although in the end, you are most eligible."

Soren was silent for a while, and the quiet air was biting into the room that felt too small at this moment. The way to stop the Third Religion's leader from achieving his goal was to steal that very goal itself.

It made sense. 

But the methods of doing so were cruel and difficult. 

And yet, for the end they wished to accomplish that defied fate was not one that should've been simple. To expect everything to go smoothly was idealistic.

"Lydia, why are you asking me, of all people?"

There was no hesitation in her answer. "Because you are the one I trust in the most."

"What?"

"Your highness, you may have thought of yourself as the worst person in the world, but you are one that doesn't often lie, and will be honest. A hero will say yes to whatever I say, but you'll only agree after you thought more about it, right?"

Soren didn't respond, but he didn't deny it, either. 

"It's not that I don't trust in your brilliant hero, your highness, but the words of somebody who'd rather follow their own whims are more reliable than one who blindly agrees."

When the prince still didn't respond, she added with a soft, nostalgic smile, "And I knew your mother. While she wouldn't have wished for a tragedy to befall, she would've appreciated your change. Whatever choice you make, your highness, I will stand by it."

"But there are consequences if I reject your choices."

"There are always consequences, I'm afraid. I wouldn't mind taking them on myself, but my body is barely surviving, and little more than a shell of what it had once been."

The woman leaned back comfortably into the sofa, losing her professional air and the plastic smile that was always engraved on her skin. Her brown hair seemed to be sprouting several strands of grey, and her eyes were tired.

Soren asked, "What will happen to you once everything is over?"

Lydia tilted her head, relaxed. "I'll take a long, lovely nap."

Her palms had wrapped around the vials when she leaned back, holding them at her side as if it didn't matter if Soren didn't accept them.

Yet he stood up and stretched out his hand, staring at her calmly.

She swung her head up in surprise before her eyes curved, and she opened up her palms for him once again. They were small and delicate, unlike the knowledge she contained in her mind.

In the beginning, they were business partners. They made a transaction.

And this was their final deal.

"Your highness. I pray for you to find your happiness — happiness rivalling all worlds combined."

Her words that always contained one too many flattering adjectives. Soren looked away, walking back to his chair. Before he turned around to sit, he paused and said,

"Enjoy your nap, Lydia."

—-—xxx—-—

By the time Raphael had arrived at the room, Lydia was already standing and on her way out. She flashed a quick, sweet smile at the protagonist and raised her chin slightly as he stopped, his foot still raised in the air as the floorboards creaked.

He jerked his head around as she continued to walk away, carelessly wriggling her fingers in the air in farewell. 

When he turned back around and entered, his expression was fuming. Brimming with dripping anger at Soren, at Lydia, and seemingly at the entire world itself. But there were also delicate swirls of confusion and horror.

His eyebrows knitted together, narrowing his eyes darkly as he observed the quiet, watching prince who tilted their head to look over. A self-sacrificial idiot. But it just so happened that Raphael rather liked this idiot.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as he walked over and glanced at the opposing seat where Lydia had sat, before turning around and sitting right beside Soren.

The prince had to move over slightly as the weight made the cushion sink down. However, there was still plenty of room.

"What did you speak to Lydia about?" asked Raphael through gritted teeth, waiting for an answer.

Soren blinked. "A method to save the world. There's only a little left that has to be done."

"And that little includes...?

"Nothing impossible. I was advised to seek out the cursed tattoo series," He lifted his arm to show the snaking tattoo that belonged to Uriel's chains, "To ready myself for the upcoming battle. "

"You have another one?"

Soren paused, and then slowly closed his eyes. When his breathing steadied, they snapped open again and seemed to be dripping with blood, dying the pure blue in its demise. Those dark and bloody eyes stared right at Raphael.

In the center of the chaos was a single, snowy butterfly with its wings spread out.

Honestly, it was a little scary. The small change in Soren's appearance made him more deadly, more vicious. As if there was no indifferent melancholy, but rather a burning flame of violence.

Raphael didn't look away, tilting Soren's chin to see the eyes better, and the latter allowed his body to be limp and malleable. 

"What's the ability?"

"Control. It's limited, and I don't have a full understanding of it, but I should be able to hypnotize people."

The rough hands tilted Soren's head as Raphael peered even closer. "Is it painful?"

It looked like it would be, inked in deep red.

A shake of the head, and then a pause. "It was. Not anymore."

"It was painful in the beginning, then? When you first got it."

"Yeah."

"And with the two abilities, and additional ones, what do you intend to do?" The voice was lurking with dangerous depth as Soren's eyes flickered back to normal, but Raphael's grip didn't move. "Is it just to get strong enough to fight, or is it for something else?"

"It's to get stronger."

"And?"

"It's a precaution for the future."

"A precaution in case what specifically happens?" Raphael jerked the prince's chin forward, and those dark eyes bore right into Soren's. They were unforgiving, ready to swallow him whole if the answer was wrong. 

Soren gazed back into the abyss calmly. "In case anything happens. There is no guarantee how the battle with turn out."

"We'll all survive."

"Even you know that's false, Raphael."

A scowl formed across those thin lips, and he dropped Soren's chin with vivid irritation. 

"How is it that you manage to be so irritating without even trying?" Raphael ran a hand through his inky locks in frustration, letting out a large sigh as he glared pointedly at Soren. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice your thoughts?"

The lingering words that left Lydia's painted lips were haunting. Raphael squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink away the memory.

"Remember to say everything you want to say before it's too late, hero."

A last piece of advice she had for Raphael. Advice that made nausea roll over Raphael's mind, and made his stomach churn with forbidden.

"Yeah." said Soren honestly, frowning slightly.

"I'm in love with you, fool. How the hell would I not notice? Especially when you're walking around with an aura of death!" continued Raphael in complaint as Soren carefully watched.

From the way his lips curled down in frustration, to how his eyebrows furrowed tightly, relaxed and then furrowed again. How he kept running his hand through his hair in his anger, yet wouldn't forget to make eye contact while speaking.

Soren drunk up every action, and every word. He was listening, always. Once, he would've ignored this unnecessary worry of this kind person, who sacrificed his life for others over and over again.

He couldn't do that anymore.

Raphael's eyes softened, and he sighed. "Stop risking your life so recklessly. You think everything will be solved that way? It won't."

"But fine, I won't stop you if it's your choice, little prince."

The abyssal eyes stared straight at Soren, piercing and all-knowing. "Tell me. Even now, can you say you want to die?"

In life, there were people one couldn't deny or lie to, weak and helpless under their gaze. For some it was their mother, for others it was their friends. Even if white lies were a norm, it was impossible to lie when it came to the largest truths.

To Soren, lover or stranger, Raphael had been that person.

"No." said Soren as he always did, and yet it echoed in Raphael's ears. The same word that the protagonist always heard, but it was completely different.

It carried notions of life that hadn't previously existed. Soren had denied Raphael's words.

He said no.

He said he wanted to live.

Live.

Raphael couldn't help it as his lips stretched out into a wide, unfaltering grin, looking ridiculously silly that even Soren frowned more deeply. But what did it matter? This suicidal fool he had fallen in love with finally wanted to survive. With him.

Together.

Well, Soren hadn't said that much, but Raphael was certain it meant the same thing. Soren would've called him delusional, but that wasn't the important point. Of course it wasn't. 

"Then live." said Raphael, smiling softly at Soren with those mature seeing eyes, and that charming, irritating face. "Because Ren, you deserve to live for many more decades to come."

Soren's lashes fluttered and he lowered his eyes, casting it to the ground in silence.

If his freedom was still his, and he could do anything he wanted at this moment, then living would be his choice. He recognized the change in himself, and wouldn't deny it. There was a moment that he stopped desiring death so dearly, and enjoyed the everyday warmth that was provided. 

There was a moment his will to die disappeared, replaced with a burning desire that contradicted it.

Yet as Raphael's arms wrapped around him warmly, radiating his all so comforting heat, Soren smiled.

The protagonist continued to mutter in his ears. "There's another method, I'm certain of it. One that won't require any of our sacrifices, one where we can see the ending together. Celine also mentioned discussing a plan for the Third Religion, and Damien, after speaking to her, said there was a chance of success."

It was pure speculation and hopeless prayers. Raphael's tone was reassuring, but it was almost as if that the strong, gentle man was trying to comfort himself rather than Soren.

"We have time. Time. We're going to see the ending of this story, just like you promised, yeah? And then we'll travel wherever you want to go. I'll follow you, so go crazy, Ren. Go absolutely crazy and drag me along.

A single choice had to be made. Soren always thought he'd never understand those who put their lives on the line for another person, foolish as it was. Because all along, he'd been silently admiring those who could burn with such fever.

"Okay."

But now, he supposed, he'd have to call himself the fool.

"I'll live."

The finale of this story was just around the corner.