Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

"I have a bad feeling." muttered Soren suddenly, as he walked circles around the towering island, occasionally touching the soft, violet petals. "That something annoying is coming."

'Perhaps it's your companions searching for you?'

The prince nodded absentmindedly, his mindset of 'annoying things' quickly being understood by the demon. "Yeah."

He brushed off his legs and walked to the edge, staring at the calm waters below that beckoned to him to dive in and forget everything.

Another trap of Gabriel's, most likely.

He hadn't noticed when he was swimming to the island, not bothering to pay attention to the cool sensation of liquid. But for a person who easily fell for the beauty in magic, this land would trap them, rendering them unable to leave.

A tearing in the ceiling suddenly filled his ears, and he snapped his head up, frowning. Had they found him so quickly? The rocky walls separated, crumbling away to reveal a sizeable gap as shadows dived into the water, one after the other.

There were many more than those he entered with. Soren's scowl continued to deepen as he stretched out his hands, calling for the whip to materialize within his grasp. He clasped it, waiting.

"...is it...?"

Then, a graceful figure landed on top of the water, his feet grazing the surface and sending ripples along the lake. A large man, covered in billowing white robes that held a single, blue flower that connected it at the top. Silver chains hung on his shoulders, displaying an arrogant sense of luxury as he raised his chin, staring at Soren through a white mask.

The colour of his eyes — Soren couldn't make it out, as the flickering gaze seemed to be made of all colours, and at the same time none. The man raised an arm, pointed straight at the prince before the ground rumbled.

'He has Lucifer's Curse!' snapped a voice in his head, roaring in his ears. 'It should be the ability to control nearby nature — move, prince!'

Before Soren could react, the peaceful vines around him suddenly lurched to life, grasping at his legs and wrapping around hid body in a painful grip. He cursed under his breath before slicing the roots away violently, running along the edge. The plants would follow his step, stabbing into the ground as if trying to pierce his ankles, narrowly missing.

Soren kept his eyes on the man who stood in the water, then at the shadows that were hastening on the first steps. Of course, Gabriel's odd trap would make them unable to reach the top, but it wouldn't matter if the vines knocked him off first!

"If you want me to come to you..." muttered Soren as his chains danced across the air in beautiful arcs, slicing through the snowy vines, "Then I will."

He flipped off the edge, his body plummeting to the ground. The shadows — the Third Religion followers — rushed towards him.

Immediately, his eyes glazed over in a bloody red as he commanded, "Do not move!"

The chilling butterfly reflected in their eyes as their movements halted, simply waiting for Soren to land before he swept the chain under their feet, bringing them all to the ground at once. The Third Religion followers weren't fighters, they were unfortunate victims who fell for the cause.

Then, one snapped out of the command and lunged for him. Soren's eyebrows furrowed as he slammed his leg against the ground, leaping back to avoid the blade that sliced through the air. It wasn't just the followers, but also the special fighters that Soren had seen in the last battle.

His eyes raced over to the figure still standing in the lake. The Third Religion Leader. Soren would have his head.

He snapped his arm out as the chains rushed forward relentlessly, the blade charging for its target. The other glanced down, jerking sideways as he slammed his arm down to stop the chains. However, behind the other chain, another dagger sneakily followed behind and broke through the cloth. The Leader grunted, his steps faltering.

At the same time, Soren felt something pierce his body from behind, the rush of pain running up his spine. He twisted his arms, recoiling the chains and striking it against the attacker, sending them flying back into the water.

He stared at the figure far ahead. "Who are you?"

Their voice was strangled, raspy and disguised. "It is not of your business to know, Soren Rosenbaum!"

"If you want to kill me, it is." He clutched his wound, sending another body flying against the wall as his jaw clenched, his clothes torn at the edges. "Who are you, Third Religion Leader?"

Blood seeped through, and he curled his fingers against his skin with narrowing eyes. Lydia had said that his ability was starting to wear out, but he probably had a few more uses. However, was it one or two? Three or ten? When would the blade finally pierce him, and he wouldn't be able to stand again?

It was dangerous. He needed to get his wounds tended to, in case he had no more lives to use up.

"Do you not already have a guess, Soren?"

"I want to hear it from you. Who you are, and what you're doing. The ridiculous reasons behind your even stupider actions."

The man stiffened, his voice coming in a low growl. "Ridiculous?"

"What else?" said Soren, indifferent to the rising anger as he exhaled deeply. The blade was still stuck in his body, but he couldn't remove it yet. Not until he knew he'd be able to wrap it right away.

"You dare call me actions ridiculous? I never understood why you didn't stay quiet like a dead dog, suddenly barking when it would have been easier for you to have died that day in the library! Why pretend to be a hero when you can not be anything more than a useless murderer?"

"And who exactly," Soren's words were a quiet whisper, cutting through the air with dangerous precision. "Did I murder?"

Irritation. Injustice. Anger at the hatred that he didn't deserve, of the judgement he couldn't understand. The original's simmering pain that had settled, merged with his own emotions, stirred once more.

The masked man scowled, swiping his hand across the air angrily. "You should know exactly who, Soren!"

"No. I don't!" snapped the prince back, taking a step towards the lake, surrounded by groaning bodies that were sprawled on the floor. If any dared to stretch their hands out to attack him, he'd slap his chain against their arm, leaving them withering on the ground. "Call me a thief, scum, a player, any of those things. I am not a murderer."

"Are you denying what you've done?"

"I'm standing up for your idiocy."

He threw the gleaming metal chains forward, and the masked figure didn't move as it pierced the top of his mask, sending a crack through the center. It stretched across the middle before half started to crumble away, leaving a familiar face staring back at him with burning despise.

The prince's expression tensed as he closed his eyes shakily. No matter what, the original had trusted and trusted his family. Stupidly, he prayed for something to change. He had loved when none loved him back, even if that emotion twisted inside him and made his mind fall to pieces.

He repeated, "I'm standing up for your idiocy, Your Majesty."

The King of Qazia — his, or the original's terrible, neglectful father who he'd believed in despite that — stood before him. The man who had thrust him into the palace, leaving him prey to the questioning glares and the hateful remarks.

It should've been obvious. The person that hated him the most in this world.

'You have heard of Anima. Deimos spoke to you of her, did he not?" started this horrible father.

The knife throbbed dully in Soren's chest. "He did."

"And yet—"

"I didn't kill Anima, Your Majesty." gritted out Soren as his fingers curled tighter around the chains, taking another step into the purple liquid. "A child who didn't know anything of the world, murdered nobody. My mother made her choice, and it was not so that the life she created would be called her killer."

The tender, warm voice that whispered to him in his memories. So pure and so lovely, sacrificing her life to save a boy whose roots were fated for destruction. He wouldn't allow her name to be used as an excuse for the atrocities the Third Religion committed.

"You speak nonsense, boy. She would not have died if it weren't for her actions in bringing you to the world." said the King in a low voice, wretched and choked at the memory. "Your mother was happy in life, wanting nothing more than to explore the world and see all that it had to offer."

"I was willing to show her in whatever time I had. I longed for warmth, and she was so free, so pure, I wanted to covet her. To possess that shining star which glittered far away. It was you,who dimmed her light, and she faded into the universe as if she never existed to begin with."

The man stepped across the surface in angry strides, the purple hue that roared in his eyes from the reflection making him seem to blaze with pain. The pair, father and son, stood only a meter away from each other.

Blood-related or not, this was his father. It was all the original had known growing up, and so it would remain.

Soren swallowed, feeling the metal move with his breath uncomfortably. "The reason you want to become a God..."

"It's to save her. To bring her back, because death took her away too soon."

"Everybody has to die eventually."

"But she didn't!" snapped the King. "She didn't, not then. Not yet. Don't you get that, you useless prince? It is you who caused her demise!"

"She chose it. If bringing me to this world cost her soul, then I'll live a long life." Vengeance for somebody's death did nothing except temporarily calm one's bloodlust. And sometimes, it was necessary, and other times it was unreasonable.

The King blamed an unborn infant for the death of his lover. Perhaps that was why he'd taken the child in, knowing the scorn and hateful stares the original would receive. A long elaborate plan that finally concluded in Soren's death, alone in that forest, forgotten.

The man barked out a laugh. "She always wished for you to have a long life, even as her face paled, and her body grew weaker. But Anima was naive, too kind to wish harm on anybody. If she had survived, she would have eventually blamed her weakened body on you as well!"

"Delusional. You loved her, but you're making a villain out of her?" said Soren darkly, tension running along his face as his grip around the chains turned painful. "You're delusional, Your Majesty."

"How dare you—"

"Renren~!" yelled a voice across the biting air as a brown haired ball propelled into the lake, causing a large splash. It even drenched the King's robes that had remained dry until that moment. Seconds later, a head popped out of the water, followed by an energetically waving hands.

Brioc glanced around and his eyes curved, violet gleaming with delight. "Oh~ is it time for a fight? Although it looks like you took care of most of them yourself."

Soren blinked once, then twice. He watched as Brioc swam over in lazy, wide strokes that continued to splatter water everywhere. It was definitely purposeful. His mouth opened slightly, and he laughed.

A faint, delicate laugh that was more like a breath of air than resounding joy.

As expected, the magician's entrance was dramatic and entirely inappropriate for the situation. Ridiculous, and completely perfect. This annoying man wasn't too irritating after all, decided Soren.

Brioc widened his eyes, dunking his head in the water from his lack of movement before he started to swim again, shouting. "Hey! Renren~ a laugh sounds really, really good from you! Very cute!"

The prince only shook his head, amusement still circling his face. Above the ceiling, at the once again opened hole, more balls broke through the surface of the lake. Damien had somehow aimed himself to land closer to the island, and reached it just as Brioc arrived.

He shook his clothes calmly, tail wagging off the droplets before he tilted his head. "Is that the enemy, master? Would you like me to deal with him?"

The King heard his careless remarks and laughed. "You're getting your butler, a boy who hasn't even reached adulthood, to fight for you? Come then, boy, and I'll make you regret following that fool!"

"....." Slowly, the teenager turned his head, a ferocious threat in his emerald gaze, eyes wide and staring as an animal would do its prey. His voice remained quiet and relaxed, yet all-commanding. "Dare to underestimate me, fool?"

He returned the insult back to the King, watching as the man's face grew lively with anger.

The man sneered. "Instead of bluffing, you should keep an eye on your 'masters' injuries."

"And what about your own?" said Damien, looking at the red that was spreading across the cloth. "Should I keep an eye on it too, Your Majesty?"

"You—!"

"Leave." growled Raphael as he stepped onto the island, immediately rushing to Soren's side. The latter finally allowed his body to relax and stumbled, landing in a pair of strong, comforting arms. "Your followers are down, and we outnumber you. If you still want to fight so badly, then I'll happily participate."

It was hard to estimate the level of strength the King had, or the tricks that were hidden under the flowing robes. A fight on water wasn't smart, when they couldn't reach him. However, the King also couldn't win against the many, all powerful and trained.

He gritted his teeth, casting one long, deadly stare at Soren before his body dropped straight into the water, sinking deep below. No bubbles rose to the surface. The King had escaped.

Soren winced as he shuffled his body. "Bandages... Give me bandages."

Raphael didn't even question it, despite knowing that the prince usually lived in a reckless way, uncaring to the condition of his body. "Damien."

The fox nodded, handing out a pack of bandages that he'd pulled from... where? Actually, it was probably better not to question it.

Large fingers rubbed circles on Soren's back, feeling at the handle with a growing frown. "It's going to hurt."

"Yeah."

"Alright. I'll pull it out on three. One, two," He tugged at the blade deeply lodged inside, yanking it out completely. Soren squeezed his eyes, but made no sound. Raphael lifted his shirt, revealing the pale skin that was soaked in crimson and hastily wrapped the bandage around. "There we go, I'm all done. Does it hurt?"

"No." grumbled the prince as he rolled over. After a moment of thought, he said, "Carry me."

Raphael laughed in surprise. "Seriously, Ren?"

"What?" said Soren drowsily, in an irritated tone. "I said before, pride doesn't matter for the sake of survival."

Raphael laughed again, pulling the boneless weight over his back as he tightened his hold. "You'll die if you have to walk?"

"I'll die."

"Aren't you great at saying nonsense?"

Soren scowled. "I learned it from somebody."

"Oh? Who?"

The man shifted his weight, breath scraping against Raphael's skin and said, "You."

Raphael laughed again. "Right, because I'm the lazy one."

"The idea is the same." said Soren sleepily, sinking his weight even further. "I'm just using all resources available to me."

Brioc chortled loudly at that, followed by light laughter from Alvara who had just made it to the island, dripping and cold. "Like I said, Renren, you're so cute~"

The comment earned him a sharp glare, which only made him laugh louder.

Vincent strolled forward, straightening his attire. "The next time we meet him, it won't be so simple, I assume. It will be a full out war against us, so we'd best be prepared."

On the other hand, Deimos, the only prince that had gotten a glimpse of the shadowed half uncovered by the mask, stood still. Then, he said painfully, "I am sorry, little brother. I-I should have known."

Soren rested his chin on Raphael's shoulder. Although Deimos may have been aware of the King's intentions, the man was still his father, somebody he once trusted at least to the point where he didn't think that his father would be a killer, a murderer. Somebody who manipulated even children, using them for his own selfish motive.

"It's fine."

"It isn't. I've already failed you so many times and yet—"

"It's fine." repeated Soren again, shaking his head. "Thank you, Deimos."

The second prince almost looked as if he was ready to cry right there, earning a helpless pat on the back from Atlas who smiled awkwardly. He cleared his throat, squeezing the remaining liquid from his clothes.

"So. Shall we prepare a strategy? The next time we see the Third Religion leader, should be the last." smiled Atlas cooly, a dozen plans and ideas already flickering through his mind.

Erlen eyed Soren, his scowl deepening when he saw the blood that stained his clothing before turning to Atlas.

"Well? Let's do it now, then. No way are we letting that idiot off so easily."