Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

"Are you nervous, Celine?" wondered Vendra softly as they stood at the edge of a cliff, staring into the roaring murky waves below. The next curse was on another island of sin, according to the young fox who they all trusted with their lives.

To reach it, one had to take a dive into these violent waters and it would lead them to the island located far underneath. There, the fates of them all awaited.

Celine scoffed, rolling her shoulders as her fiery pink hair was tied back into a rough, messy ponytail. She'd ripped off her shirt sleeves after they'd gotten stuck in a crevice, adding to her ruggedness. "'Course not, Ven. I went into this knowing I could die at any point, I'm not scared."

Her words made a smile involuntarily fit onto Vendra's lips. "I admire you dearly, Celine. I would prefer it if you stayed alive to the very end."

A laugh erupted from the saint's chest and she pulled the lovely woman close, pressing her forehead against Vendra's. "I'll do just that. And you do so as well."

"It's a deal then, isn't it?"

Damien walked by in his tall, leisurely posture that radiated his dark intent as he peered down below. In contrast to his aloof, indifferent nature, there was a sharp cut of murder and rippling anger. He'd been more silent than before since the night he revealed Hazel's death.

Brioc skipped beside him, hands shoved in his loose pockets as he glanced over. "Woah~ terrifying."

It wasn't certain whether the magician was referring to the teenager's stormy expression, or the equally wild splashes that awaited them.

Alvara, too, had walked over, standing close to Damien as if her heat could provide any warmth or comfort. She said nothing to the boy, but remained close the entire time. "It does look terrifying."

"Haha, yeah~ are you trembling in your boots, Alvy?"

"I'm not wearing boots, Brioc."

Her feet were tightly bound in layers of bandage. Currently, her abilities were still weak and she hated it. However, the feel of the earth below her feet helped her have a better connection with the hidden deaths buried in the ground, and so, at the risk of scratching or injuring her tender skin, she decided to remove her shoes.

The magician looked now, stared a second too long, and then looked back up. "Oh. Right."

She laughed lightly. "But yes, I'm trembling like crazy."

He grinned, and she grinned back. Damien's downcast gaze flickered up for a moment, and he seemed to sigh. But with the breath he took, his shoulders relaxed slightly and his stiff tail hung loosely once more.

"Are you ready?" asked Damien cooly, his eyes reflecting the nodding heads full of trust and care.

"Always~!"

"I am!"

He leaned back, watchful at his back, where the others would soon come. Soren and Raphael, along with the four princes, remained behind, but it wouldn't be for much longer. Fluttering his eyes closed for a moment, relishing in the memories of two people that were long gone, one to betrayal and one to loyalty. The all-knowing green of clean-cut jewels snapped open again.

"Jump."

A one word command, and they all obeyed. Wind rushed past their faces in wild gusts, and their whole bodies felt weightless against the air before they tumbled into the sea.

They would either die together, or live together. There was no in between.

Soren watched from a distance, lingering around the area as he witnessed the several people, the companions of his, disappear beyond the cliff.

"We should get going soon too, little prince." said Raphael, crossing his arms as he leaned against a towering trunk, the bark leaving marks on his dark cloak. "Did you do everything you needed to?"

"Not yet."

The prince turned around to face the four pairs of eyes staring at him, staring at Soren, at Ren. If there was no other chance in the future, he would have to do it now. For the sake of the one who'd passed, merged with him but never quite there.

Deimos tilted his head, stepping forward carefully. "Little brother."

Soren breathed calmly. "I never blamed you, Deimos." And the second prince who destroyed himself in his despair in the original novel would never exist again. This man wouldn't fall to his own self-loathing. Deimos would live, and continue to travel the world. "Thank you for supporting my mother."

He heard a sucked in breath, a wince and turned away. It wasn't time to drag this out longer than necessary. He would say what needed to be said.

He stopped in front of Atlas, this socially-awkward prince who'd only come out of his shell after awkening from his coma. The prince who turned a blind eye to everything, but perhaps truly never noticed when lost in his own mind. "Thank you, Atlas. For helping us to this point."

The fourth prince hesitated, awkwardly grabbing his sleeve before a beautiful smile bloomed on his face. "Soren, thank you for saving me from that darkness."

"....." Soren paused, and nodded vaguely.

He moved to the next, a fiery-haired man who flinched at Soren's step. Soren arched a brow, and the other scowled as he turned his gaze away.

"There's nothing for you to thank me for, is there?" said Erlen hastily, fists curled into his cloth.

Soren agreed. "There isn't."

"...then, move along. Tsk." He stopped suddenly, amber eyes staring straight at Soren. "You're not so bad, Soren. Not at all. And it doesn't do a damn thing to change the past, but I'm sorry. I'm really... really sorry." His words were rushed, embarrassed, but he didn't move his gaze.

There was a flash of surprise in the fifth prince's icy eyes before he nodded again. Erlen's words had been the harshest to the original, but it was also the only attention he received. The relationship was warped and messy, and may never change. There was nothing more to say.

He finally stopped in front of Vincent, who stared calmly at him.

"Be careful, little brother. Do not underestimate the enemy."

Soren's head lowered slightly. "You too."

Raphael crossed his arms, chuckling softly to himself as he watched before he gestured to the skies, stretching out beyong their eyes. "Let's go, little prince."

Soren walked over, past him, grazing his arm. "Move, hippo."

And as they peered down into the waves, where Damien and the others had long disappeared, swept away to the island of sin, they jumped. 

The wind roared in their ears, cold prickling and piercing before they slammed into the water, the impact painful against their skin. Water greedily filled their lungs, blinded their eyes.

Soren gasped as the water yanked him underneath. Corals and plants tangled with his legs, threatening to drag him under. Something knocked against his leg, and he felt a large pair of hands tug at his arm.

Another gulp of water burned in his throat. 

And then the waves yanked him completely under.

Black spots danced across his eyes as the unconscious wrapped around his head. When the prince snapped open his eyes again, he was lying on the sandy ocean floors. At the end of his feet, a large chasm spread across like a deep crack on the world. It was pitch, bottomless.

"Your highness."

Soren slowly blinked, twisting his body around. Damien stood calmly, staring at something far away. "Above the cliff, my tribe and your soldiers should arrive soon. It's unlikely they'll be able to prevent all the Third Religion people from finding this place, so we must hurry."

"Yeah. Got it." Dazed, he pushed himself off the ground and glanced around. "Where are the others?"

"They went ahead first."

The prince nodded, stretching his arms around before he bent his neck. Suddenly, without warning, his arm lunged forward stabbing into the air as the sound of metal clicked, long chains snapping. The tip of the blade drove right through the teenager's arm, grazing past as the other dodged.

Soren lifted his chin, asking quietly. "And, who are you?"

The fake Damien gritted his teeth, clutching the arm that now blossomed in deep crimson. He staggered back, glaring. He said nothing, and rushed to attack, metal appearing in his palms as he swiped down.

Soren was calm, using the chains to wrap around their legs and pulled them around, slamming them to the ground violently and without mercy.

"He underestimated me." said Soren, driving the blade into the man's hand. "I won't fall for such petty illusions." He drove the second blade into the other hand. The man screamed, flailing in panic as he tried to escape.

"If you kill, expect to be killed in return."

He pulled out the blades before driving them through the man's chest. The body spasmed, and then stilled, limp. The twisted white vines crawled along his skin, embedded into the tender flesh. He was dead.

Soren took a single glance, bowing his head slightly in some sort of prayer — as he'd seen a certain man do in the past — before running off, along the edge of the stretching chasm beside him. 

It was too wide, impossible to cross. Currently, he seemed to be in a large air pocket at the bottom of the sea, and he wasn't sure how far it extended.

The others wouldn't leave him alone, it was likely they all landed in different areas. He spun around, noticing that the ground begun to steadily decline, sinking around in a concave shape. That meant there was a center, a middle point where the ground sunk the deepest.

He'd head over there. Walking on the sand was unsteady, and it took him a moment to adjust to the uneven texture, the slide of the shuffling dust under his feet.

The Third Religion had arrived first. Here, waiting for Soren to come. It was impossible to predict what sort of tricks and illusions had already been weaved into the scene. He stumbled forward with those thoughts racing in his mind, the suddenly reality of death falling over him in a crashing storm.

Hazel was dead. Who else would die? In the next minute, the next hour, who else would he lose? How many would fall?

Suddenly, Soren was scared again. Of losing what he'd only just found.

The sound of clattering metal filled his ears as he approached the center, seeing several figures crashing against each other in brutal blows. He rushed to join in, but as he neared the dent in the sand, walls suddenly shot up in front of him to block out all the sights.

It warped, forming twists and turns before shaping into a towering collection of buildings, only inches away from his face. That was right. There was a sin that lied here, slumbering under the ocean.

Leviathan, the demon of envy. The sin he would've committed must've been charity, then. It was ridiculous, thought Soren as he turned on his heels to sprint up the spiralling stairs that appeared around an arched doorway beside.

To go against their nature was a sin, regardless of reason. But since when was anything living one-dimensional, able to be slotted into a specific group and remain in it?

He skidded to a stop as a wall suddenly moved before him, rushing the opposite way instead. It was another maze in this sand building, with trembling floors that shifted in his every step. What he needed to do was to find everyone. To find the location of the sin.

And then, he needed to make the decision that would determine the ending of this cursed story.

He felt the heaviness of the vials pocketed away in the cloth, curling his fingers in as he took a steady breath. One thing at a time. Focus on the present.

After making another turn, the wall before him crumbled into dust, splattering on the ground and he lifted his gaze to meet a pair of cautious emeralds. "Master." said Damien with furrowed eyebrows before snapping his head back to the chaos before him.

"Do not retreat! You represent our name, and we will fight to the end!" ordered the teenager, spreading his fingers in the air as a flurry of tails flew, lunging and attacking the white-robed members of the Third Religion.

He kept a careful eye out, throwing an unwavering blade out when one of his members were almost hit with trouble. Blood spilled, and screams vibrated across the watery depths.

A true leader. This was Damien Black, and he would see the end of the days.

The unease in Soren's heart settled slightly, taking in the fox's tall stance and calm gaze. Losing wasn't something that crossed the boy's mind, not even for a second.

He glanced back at Soren. "Master. I believe this is most of the members of the Third Religion, while the soldiers from your kingdom should be dealing with the others."

"Got it." nodded the prince, narrowing his eyes. "Anything else?"

For a second, the boy's stare wavered into the distance where a certain teenager stood, eyes closed as lashes framed the devastating calm, arms stretched out to either side of her. Dark tendrils of wisp floated from her fingers, seeming to dig into the ground.

Underneath the sea, where the bones remained buried. It was the perfect experimenting ground for the necromancer to toy with. A few of the enemy attempted to approach her, only to break out into shivers as they neared her while the darkness snapped at them threateningly.

It was uncertain if she was the one in control, or the darkness was controlling her. Most likely, out of desperation in the unexpected turn of events, she'd decided to stake her life on this ability of hers, one that was yet to be mastered.

Soren didn't hesitate. "She will succeed."

"She will." agreed Damien, tearing his sight away. "Have you made your choice?"

The prince didn't answer, and the boy didn't ask again. Instead, he pointed up to an area that had just formed, solidifying into detailed designs that ran along the sand structure, making it stand out from everything else.

"What you're looking for is likely to be there."

Soren nodded, moving to break through one of the newly created doors before it closed when a voice called out behind him.

"Thank you, master."

It was almost as if it were a goodbye. The prince lowered his head and smiled faintly. "Thank you, Damien."

The fox who would stir up trouble across the continent, the very one Soren once sought to avoid. The one that had been there from the beginning, to the end. It was funny how life turned out in unexpected ways, directly against whatever he once desired.

And thank goodness for it.

He left the colliding sounds behind him, turning a blind eye to the ugly red which seeped into the changing floors, running up another flight of stairs. 

Every time he ran into a member of the Third Religion, his eyes would burn a commanding red as he shouted, "Move!"

The metal chains swung high, delicate and merciless as they danced to the tune of the shuffling sand. Then, he crashed into something hard, faltering. Before he could regain his senses, somebody pulled him back up, dragging him back into a sprint.

Brioc grinned next to him. "Isn't this exciting, Renren?" There was blood running along his arms, smeared and not deep. It wasn't his. 

Soren shook his head with a sigh, as the hand didn't let go. 

Footsteps sounded behind him, and when he looked back, there were three or four attackers running behind him, murder blazing in their eyes.

The magician, too, noticed and something seemed to flash even brighter in those violet eyes that displayed vivid desire. "Do you trust me~?" wondered the man with a breathless laugh.

What other answer could he give? "I do."

"Good!" Brioc pulled Soren aggressively across the room to a space that was just about to close, the golden dust knitting together to create a barrier. A push, fingers almost lingering as they opened. "Stay alive, Renren! To the very end!"

And Soren found himself falling past the looming towers. Until he wasn't.