Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

"He'll follow you to the next location." stated Atlas with a sigh. "I do not know how he is aware of where we'll go, but it is likely."

Raphael shrugged, his voice a low threat. "If he does, we'll put an end to this game."

Soren was quiet, still thinking about what had happened. He'd lied, when he said he wasn't a murderer, but in a sense it was true. The original hadn't murdered anybody, and couldn't be blamed for Anima's death. To accuse him for such was unfair.

"Wow~ I thought my father was absolute trash, but yours is worse." said Brioc with a drawn out whistle, earning the surprised look from the other princes who hadn't seen the face underneath the mask.

Vincent swallowed. "...What?"

Erlen too stared, amber eyes wide and blazing. "Say that one more time, Haze Prince?"

Brioc glanced at the third prince and smiled, unamused. "Yeah, no. You heard me the first time." Then, he turned to the first prince, ignoring the other. "But if you want me to repeat myself, I will~"

"...you're as irritating as always." muttered Erlen with a scowl, though his mind was still reeling from the shock. 

Atlas closed his eyes, exhaling. None of them were close to the king, who treated his own children with the same indifference. Despite that, the man's blood ran through their veins. However, "I predicted that may have been the case."

"You guessed it, and didn't think to share?" said Erlen with irritation, though Atlas shook his head helplessly. The anger could be understood, when such a great secret was something nobody wanted kept from them. Yet the smart prince who'd only just awoken from his slumber didn't want to believe in such a truth.

For the first time, even when he predicted it, he chose to ignore the possibility. 

Erlen recognized the look on his brother's face and turned away, fists clenched and eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "Tsk. Sorry, Atlas. The whole situation is ridiculously idiotic, but I didn't mean to blame you."

"It's fine, Erlen."

"....."

Damien crouched down on one of the steps leading up the island, Alvara sitting next to him with a complicated expression. "I can immobalize my forces," offered the teenager, emerald eyes blinking. "And I reccomend you do the same. The attack today was likely simple to scope out our strength, killing master would've been a lucky attempt. The King wouldn't be so foolish to thing he could easily win."

"You're right." agreed Deimos, pressing his lips together in a taut line. "Fathe— the King, if he has chosen to do this, would have planned everything out. His strength is not inferior to our eldest brother."

A respond was given by a tense nod from Vincent. "He may have used our Kingdom's own soldiers as part of his scheme. I will contact my private knights as soon as I am able to."

"That would be ideal. Thank you, brother."

Raphael, carrying the lazy weight over his broad shoulders, glanced around at the island's rocky floors. Some had disappeared alongside the King, while the ones that remained lifelessly slumped against the floor, twisted white thorns blooming out of their skin as they morphed into nature. 

He didn't think that Soren had killed them — they were probably abandoned by their own God. The King used them as pawns, discarding them when they weren't useful anymore. 

Because that was what humans were to that man. Replacable. Useless. Tools.

A shift on his back, and an unconscious nuzzle on his neck by Soren's shuffling snapped him out of his anger that was simmering in his mind. His fists, once curled, slowly came apart and relaxed. He despised injustice, but it wasn't the time to lose his head over it.

Even if this was the man who harmed the one person he'd protect at the cost of the world. 

You see, for the sake of the world, Raphael was willing to be a hero. But for the sake of this fool, he was willing to watch it all burn.

"Raphael." A low mutter reached his ears. "What stupid things are you thinking?"

The protagonist laughed. "Insulting the person carrying you? You sure have guts, little prince."

"Will you drop me?"

Another shake of the head, and a deep, adoring chuckle. "Not now. I can't say about later."

The man was absentminded after that, even as everybody split up, eventually discovering a way out of the cave that was much easier than the traps that were above. He followed along the twisting steps, the walls concaved over as his vision remained pitch black, unable to see what was in front of him.

Damien, with his feline sight and natural ability to navigate in the darkness, took the lead. The fox would ocassionally glance around, keeping a special eye on a paticular girl who was the most likely to get lost, and a certain man carrying a baggage that was especially bad at directions. 

Who knew if that baggage would curse his carrier with the same terrible skill?

When they made it out, they wasted no time before heading straight to the location of the other curse Damien had located, a curse that the boy had once unknowingly discovered in the original novel. 

Actually, was that the reason why Damien knew where it was now, much earlier than originally? Whatever the case, the boy would've figured it out eventually anyway. 

The journey was silent, quieter than usual. The forbodding of chaos all the more prominent, growing with each heavy step they took. On the second day, only three days away from the location, tragedy struck.

A shadow had called for Damien. Nobody questioned it, but when the boy came back with a dark overhang over his pale expression, emerald eyes complex and terrifying, they all had to wonder. His tail hung low and he didn't make a single sound.

"Damien?" Soren was the first to speak, loud in the small cottage they'd been resting in, located in a small, nearby town

"...in critical condition." muttered the youth so softly, only Alvara who'd been standing nearby could hear him. It lacked the confident inquisitive nature that it usually contained.

The girl frowned. "Critical condition? Damien, who is in critical condition?

It was easy to forget that underneath the mask of a leader was a teenage boy who prefered travelling around the world and observing human behaviour. One that if not for his responsibilities would've likely been an intelligent child that was popular with his peers.

His eyebrows bunched together, creases along his forehead as if he wanted to repress the news, erase it from his mind. "She's in critical condition. And there is nothing I can do."

Alvara attempted to ask him again, but the fox didn't speak again for the rest of the day. She didn't try to pry either, only sitting underneath the towering branches outside where he couched, staring mindlessly at the sky. 

The day before they arrived, camping outside among the trees as they often did when finding a shelter wasn't possible, Damien approached the fireplace where everybody gathered. There was a sheet of paper in his hand, creased and wrinkled, yet smoothened out as if it had been read a dozen times.

Once again, Soren glanced up. "Are you ready to talk?" 

The boy's gloomy expression flickered under the glow of the fireplace, almost forbodding. A chill spread across the air, washing away the warmth that lapped at their skin.

"Do you know what it's like to lose somebody?" muttered the soft, whispering voice to nobody in paticular. "It's more painful to lose somebody who trusted you, then to lose one that betrayed. I'd rather face betrayal a hundred times over."

He stretched out a slender arm, the flames licking the edges hungrily. "Was this the King's vengeance? Were we pulled along for a tragedy, and was this his first move?"

His fingers opened, and the paper drifted into the blazing red.

"And did he think that I was a child that wouldn't seek revenge? Make him pay his dues?" It was more of a faint murmur now, layered in gentle, calm killing intent that bubbled under the surface.

"Hey, Miemie..." started Brioc uncertainly, standing up from where he was laying earlier, violet eyes confused. 

"Hazel is dead."

And then, only the whistling wind could be heard.

Soren's head snapped to the fire, to the paper that was now scraps of ashes at the bottom, barely readable. Vaguely, he saw a single line messily scribbled with a fading pen, carrying echoes of her voice.

We're on our way, Leader! Just you wait! — Hazel

Damien's last family. 

"The letter arrived at noon." reported Damien with a turn of his head, dull forest gaze and lips still, unsmiling. "Uriel is safe, and while there are some casualties, there is enough that are still on their way, thanks to Hazel."

What was the point? Why did she die now, and what purpose was it for? But the truth was, her death had come like a passing day because that was how life was. Spontaneous and terrible. Fleeting. And it made one wonder, what was the point of living? 

If the end was so inevitable.

"Kid." Raphael stared straight into his unmoving eyes, understanding every bit of what this youth felt. "You don't have to act like a leader right now."

"And what," His voice cracked, raising slightly into a passing hiss. "Should I do instead?"

"If it's that much, you already know." This teenager whose understanding of emotions far exceeded any other in this room, rivalling Raphael's unshakable empathy. But knowing something, what you should do and how to act was different from understanding.

Advice could be given to anybody, flowing smoothly out of one's mouth. Taking advice, especially your own, was the most difficult thing of all.

He turned away, tail hanging low as Alvara waited nearby, watching. "If you fail to kill him, then I will have his head." It was not a threat, but a promise. 

The heaviness of this finale they were trying to create final hit, crashing against their confidence and smashing it to the cold, empty void ahead. It would not only end in one death. Hazel's was just the beginning.

The news had run everyone over like a tidal wave, surprising and suffocating as it bubbled in their chest, the sheer weight pressing their hearts to the sandy grounds. She didn't die a glorious death in battle, not before their eyes as witness, not anywhere near.

If they hadn't known, they could imagine that she was just a long while away, and it'd be a little more time before they saw her. 

But she was gone. 

Faded with a click of a finger, with no word or reason. Soren pressed against the ground, flimsy blankets bundled high as he peered into the darkness. Perhaps, it was staring right back at him. At his thoughts, at his feelings.

Hazel was dead. Gone. The sweet, beautiful smile that carelessly fell upon her lips at every waking moment would never see light again.

And without a doubt, more would die. He wasn't sure what was better, witnessing the terrible sight before his eyes or hearing about it as if it were another story he read in a book, a tragic fantasy.

Raphael pulled him in closer, burying his face in the crook of Soren’s pale neck. He closed his eyes, rough hands wrapping around and refusing to let go.

The prince was silent for a while, pretending to be a doll until finally he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Holding you.” said Raphael calmly, voice muffled. In the edges of his mind, he still saw the flashes of red and the streaming tears, the consequences and the accusations, his mistakes and failures. It made the hair stand on his arms, and a suffocating ball lodge in his throat. 

It was hard to breathe, sometimes. Even if he knew well that the outcome of the previous worlds were not his fault, he couldn’t help but blame himself. Because blame was an excuse to hate himself, to probe and poke and everything he disliked.

Hazel's death too, had been a heavy blow slammed against his chest. Raphael had been naive enough to forget the endings that trailed behind his every movement, the fleeting smiles and fading warmth.

Soren resigned himself to his fate of being trapped in the other’s embrace, body completely relaxing. “You’re too hot. Don’t hold me for too long.”

“Isn’t that perfect?” chuckled Raphael tiredly. “You’re too cold, we’ll balance each other out.”

“What’re you thinking of?” Even Soren noticed something strange in Raphael’s behaviour, or rather, it was because it was Raphael that Soren noticed.

“Want to make a guess?”

“No.”

Another laugh slipped from the man’s lips, vibrating against Soren’s neck as the latter tensed slightly. “My family died when I was young, but they were good parents,” said the man suddenly. “My mother would always tell me to keep living, to take one step at a time. I was devastated when they died, but I took a step forward. Then another, and another.”

Soren lowered his eyes, resting his chin on the top of the collection of raven hair. “And then?”

“I survived. I figured out who I was, what I wanted to be. My morals, my values, I’ll live by them even if the world disagrees. I couldn’t watch the world collapse, not when people pleaded, not when they cried and despaired.”

This was a story Soren knew. He swallowed, the words drumming against his listening ears as he pulled Raphael in closer. The protagonist blinked in surprise at the sudden affection, but smiled and continued.

“I was scared, Ren. Terrified that I’d fail again, that there was no hope. But more importantly, I was scared of losing my morals. Scared of losing my will. Once, I didn’t do anything and watched the world fall on its own, with or without my involvement. I felt terrible. For watching and doing nothing like a bystander that wasn’t part of it, because I wasn’t a bystander. The moment I stepped foot into that world and decided to watch the end, I became a part of it.”

“You had no obligation to save them. You weren’t in the wrong.”

“You’re right.” Raphael sighed, relishing in the warmth of the cold body before him. “But it went against what I stood for. And if I wasn’t going to live the life that I believed in, what was the point of living at all? I am truly tired of death.”

Soren was silent, pursing his lips as the gears in his brain turned and clicked. Raphael was losing confidence, of all the people. Putting himself down and believing that he was less than all the good that he was.

'Ridiculous.' thought the prince to himself, narrowing his eyes. 

He wasn’t good at comforting people, and right now he wished he was. But he wasn’t, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. All he could do was make promises he knew he’d keep, even if he had to place his life on the line to achieve it. 

“This time, do whatever you want. Anything. I’ll deal with the consequences.” insisted Soren which only made the other laugh again. The same repeated promise, with a certainty that never faltered. 

“So domineering, little prince. Should I place my life in your hands?”

“You will see the end of this world. Not in flames, not covered in blood, but you’ll see the end that’ll become a beginning.” said Soren solemnly, opening his eyes as Raphael jerked his head up. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’re confident.”

“Of course.”

Raphael stared before he blinked a slow, steady blink and his lips twitched into a grin. Full of amusement and laughter, as it always should be. A hint of helpless desperation. “You remind me of something I lost a long time ago.”

Soren frowned, arching an eyebrow in confusion. “What?”

“Home,” breathed Raphael as he closed his eyes again, allowing the comfort to penetrate his bones while his smile remained unmoving. “You remind me of home, Ren.”