Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

They had gravely underestimated the 'chaos' Lydia warned.

When they first strolled through the fog-covered, ghostly forest path, nothing seemed out of place. They kept walking, Alvara in the front following the image her instinct beckoned, but uncertain of the specific place. Perhaps it was because of the lack of clarity that the journey would be full of twisting turns.

And yet, without a glimpse of fear shadowed in their determined expressions, there had been absolutely hesitation.

The first peculiarity to have occurred was the ground disappearing from under their feet.

Vincent had fallen victim to this spectacle, his feet slipping on a crumbling away block of dirt, leading to an abyss down below. The forest faded, distorted, as his eyes widened in surprise and he lunged to grasp something—anything.

His gasp was loud, and all eyes turned to him in a panic as they could do nothing but watch helplessly. Collectively, everybody took a quick step back to prevent more casualties.

Ahead, there was only a single route they could take, the ground having fallen away at the edges, leaving little room for movement.

It was as if a puzzle had been torn apart, with the endless blue of the skies still looming high in the air, but only pitch colouring the floor they walked on. Chunks had fallen away into large, sunken holes that led to an unknown destination.

"Hey—" Raphael leaped forward as the prince fell, wrapping his hand around the man's arm successfully and groaning. "You're heavy."

Vincent stared at him steadily, shaking his head at his friend. "Hurry up and help me, Raphael."

"Yeah, yeah." The protagonist tugged harshly, yanking the eldest prince up and rolling him to the side. They both heaved, hearts beating out of their chests.

Damien watched quietly before stating, "I have a hypothesis."

Alvara looked over curiously, though there was still flickers of worry at the sudden scare of Vincent's fall. "What is it?"

"Guess?"

"We're not doing this now." complained the girl, only to receive a mysterious look from the boy who continued ahead. She assumed that he wouldn't say anything until it was confirmed, whatever strange thoughts lurked in his mind.

Brioc grinned, cheeky intent written across his face, printed in big words on his forehead. "I could give it a guess~"

Damien didn't turn back, deaf to the predicable shameless remarks of the magician. It was better not to give the man an opportunity to say such weirdness, decided the boy.

As they walked, the path continued to grow stranger. Odd screeches sounded, wrapping around their ears, and words too quiet to make out whispered.

And then people started to disappear.

At some point, Brioc had gotten bored and glanced to the side to find somebody to bicker with, only to realize his favourite hated person wasn't there. He froze, narrowing his eyes.

Erlen was the first they lost.

"Keep walking." ordered Damien, well aware of the tricks that any of the Forbidden Forests used. "He'll appear again, later."

Looking back wasn't an option. They could only keep going.

"Hey, what's that?" shouted Alvara, further off in the distance as she pointed at a metal trolley, resembling a shopping cart from the modern world. Only Raphael recognized what it was, while the others crowded around it curiously.

Celine crouched down, prodded at it and shrugged. "Anyone want to hop in? It has wheels, so I'm guessing you can sit in it."

Raphael coughed, suppressing a laugh. Brioc directly jumped in with no hesitation. "Let's go~ push me!"

"Are you a child?" wondered the saint.

"Are you boring?" retorted the magician.

She squinted at him before breaking out into a wide, sneaky grin. "Alright, you asked for it magician!" Running forward, they watched the shopping cart and a head of pink hair race into the distance.

When the pair had reached an unreasonable distance ahead, they stopped and waited for the others to catch up. Losing sight of one another would be stupid, when Erlen had already disappeared and the next person stolen away could be anybody.

The path started to curve in spirals and shapes as the group hurried to catch up. Upon arriving, Celine sought out a particular woman and failed to find her. The saint frowned uncomfortably, fear flashing in her eyes.

"Vendra." muttered the woman, before repeating it louder. "Vendra! Where are you? Hey!"

That was when they recognized the second disappearance of the selkie princess.

The third was the saint who'd been wandering further and further away in search of the missing woman, frustration glued to her every frenzied step.

Then the magician, rolling down a tunnel that closed up as he fell, the first prince alongside the second and fourth, and finally, the fox. The last were Raphael and Alvara—incredibly cautious and fearful at that point—before everything broke away like shattered glass, and they were tumbling into the darkness.

A toothy, white grin smiled. Purple and blue swirled. Flashes of light, and objects dancing across the air. They were standing. Then falling. Then up, and down and sideways.

The two had tumbled down a random set of stairs at some point which made them both groan in pain, and now the distortion in space had led their uncertain paths to a new destination. Raphael used the width of his body to shield her from the rough tumbles, soreness stretching his limbs as he unraveled.

The place was completely dark, and he seemed to hear the sound of old wood creaking. An old house, it seemed to be, lacking the feel of being 'lived in' from the first that lined the corners.

"He's a cursed child." came a hushed whisper of biting disdain.

"You can't say that about a boy, not even ten years old...!" hissed another, deeper.

"He sits and stares, doing nothing! No expression, no emotion!"

Raphael felt chills run up his arms, and he listened quietly as the pair continued to argue. One woman, one man. It was a familiar story, of a child that didn't fit in. Alvara groaned from where she was curled up, but Raphael didn't notice.

He couldn't, when there was something staring at him from the corner of the room.

The first instinct would normally be terror to see a pair of eyes peering in the darkness, but Raphael saw the faint glisten of tears before he saw the unfocused stare. There was a child sitting there. Curled up, shrinking into the wall as if it'd make him fade away.

It took less than another second for the protagonist to recognize the emotionless, small face.

"Ren." mused the man, following the little boy's arm down to a scrunched up, netted ball that seemed to have been clumsily rolled together and knotted. A makeshift toy being tightly held on to as if it were the only support the child had.

The harsh and cruel whispers continued, and the little boy remained still. It was polluting, and the only sign of life in the child was the tight hold he had onto his 'toy'.

Raphael walked over slowly, but the little Ren didn't even blink. The man swallowed, his arms shaking with both anger and sorrow before he pulled him into waiting arms.

"In at least one reality, know that you're loved." Raphael held the boy tightly, feeling the coldness of the frail, bony body. The wet tears that soaked into his shirt on a face that was probably blank, confused. Then, with a shuddering breath, the boy suddenly went steady.

Alvara, having just regained consciousness, rushed forward. "What happened? Why isn't he crying, why isn't he making any noise—? Please... is he okay?"

"He's alive." The man answered the unspoken question. "But it's likely he'll have to be sent for treatment. Malnourished, mentally and physically unwell in every way possible... this is our cue to leave."

"Leave? But—"

"Now, kid. This isn't the person we're looking for, it's a remnant of who he once was. Unless you wanted to stay here, we need to go."

Raphael's words were harsh and left no room for debate, but he walked up the stairs and placed the boy on the bed with extreme care, slowly prying tiny fingers off his cloak one by one. He muttered a silent apology before standing up, turning away.

The necromancer reluctantly trailed behind. "I always thought he was strong."

"He is, and he isn't." answered Raphael.

"The simple things in life that go so unappreciated, they're irreplaceable treasures to another." said Alvara slowly, audibly swallowing as tears tickled the rims of red eyes. "That's what Soren wanted. Maybe he found it in us, but he gave it all up to save everyone."

The lonely man had just wanted a family. That never changed, regardless of identity.

And she hated herself for allowing him to give it all up.

Travelling to this dangerous place to save him was just another form of denial. They didn't want to accept the man's death, and would hope until they couldn't anymore. But Raphael had seen that fool slip from his fingers, turning into nothing but pretty petals that soon also disappeared.

"At times I wonder whether our meeting was a misfortune or a blessing."

Had Ren Suzuki not met Raphael during those days of apocalypse, he wouldn't have lost the will to live and set the world ablaze, resulting in his lonely eternity that ended with death. Had Soren Rosenbaum not met Raphael, he wouldn't have chosen the exact same path again.

"You can't say that." frowned the girl, nibbling at her lip in frustration. And if he said it, what about her? Could she, a normal person with 'powers' and no actual ability to use them, save Soren?

"I won't deny the negativity, because not seeing doesn't mean it's not there. Are you frustrated that you couldn't protect him? I was there when he disappeared—I drove the blade through his chest."

A dragging, thoughtful sigh. He caught sight of Damien looking around with a vibrant desperation in his emerald gaze, panic clouding the calmness the boy so often portrayed. There seemed to have been another tear in the dimension, a path for them to escape to.

"What?"

"But even if I'm doubting, the idea of not finding Ren isn't a possibility that crossed my mind. Whether I regret it or not, it's a fact that he's irreplaceable. I can't live without him."

She paused, surprise flickering before she let out a breathy laugh. "You're a pretty sappy hero."

"Feelings aren't sappy, kid." Raphael nodded into the distance, as the clearing became easier to see and the necromancer could witness the chaos across the fox's expression. "And if I spent all my time trying to act cool, it'd be too late to regret it."

"You're a wise old man, then."

"....." The protagonist shook his head and chuckled. "Really, we don't know much about that fool at all. I'd like to spend the rest of my life learning him."

"I wish I'd asked him more." muttered the girl. "I worshipped him, but he was quiet and I never tried. I fell in love with the saviour who pulled me from that darkness, but I never understood him."

"There's a lot we can learn from each other. I think to start with," Raphael crossed his arms, staring ahead. "You should open your eyes to the kid in front of you."

The fox faltered, meeting the teary eyes of Alvara's, who'd been stricken with the young appearance of the man she so admired, skinny and ill. Raphael waved as they quickly made their way through the crack, the cold and empty house fading away behind them.

"Where were you?"

The girl blinked and gestured behind her at the now empty space. "I don't actually know, but we saw a mini Soren. But, with black hair and eyes. Actually, it didn't really look like him, but I just had a feeling that it was?" rambled Alvara before clamping her mouth shut and collecting herself.

"Injured?"

"No, I'm fine. Are you okay? Where'd you disappear to?"

Damien furrowed his brows. "I met a child similar to the one you are describing. He was walking outside a strange street, filled with peculiar buildings. Alone, dressed in nothing but a white shirt and shorts, trembling."

Raphael rapped his fingers against the hilt of his sword, thinking. "Have you seen the others yet?"

"Have you?" wondered the boy.

"How did you escape whatever place you were in?" He didn't say that the peculiar buildings Damien had seen were likely rather ordinary, modern-built homes from the world he once lived in.

"I helped him find his house. Could you leave somebody who reminds you of master alone in a pathetic state, such as that? I could not."

"No, no thanks kid. For helping him."

Damien nodded. They were back on the forest bath, though there were random drops and crevices, and the trees were long and slim, reaching to the darkening purple skies. There was nobody in sight, and no new rips in space appeared.

"I have reason to believe that we are searching for fragments of master." said the boy suddenly where they stood, uncertain what to do or where to go. "If time is fragmenting, then we must be getting closer to him."

"That's a pretty good theory." said Raphael, leaning against one of the frail trunks of a tree. "I'd say it's likely, and if the destination we're all trying to reach is him, then it makes sense that we're reaching the many different 'versions' of him."

Alvara felt nervous, her legs losing strength and she fell to her knees, sighing. "What do we do?"

"Keeping walking. There's no longer the option to turn back." said Damien calmly.

The protagonist laughed. "There was never the option of going back. He's waiting for us, wherever he is. And I'll keep going until I find him."

— — —

Something was coming. He felt it in his chilled bones as he walked on an empty darkness, destination unknown. His hair, now brushing the edges of his shoulder blades, swayed along with the starlight cloak he wore, dragging on the nothingness below.

The God of Death had spent a hundred lifetimes alone in this space. And now he would repeat that cycle, until his story faded and his existence too, became nothing but a memory.

He stopped, crouching down low to peer down at the colours that sometimes appeared far below him. Little windows of scenery, of a world he may or may not have known. He wasn't sure what timeline those little space pockets were from, but there were familiar sights.

Soren blinked sullenly, curling up against his knees.

'In at least one reality, know that you're loved.''

'Please... is he okay?'

He stood up suddenly, jerking his frail body with a frown as he wildly searched for the deep voice that rumbled in his mind.

'...master, that's you, isn't it? ....will you let me help you?''

He spun around again, confused.

'Hey, what's this? A little Renren~ no way, so cute!' Another voice, gruff and irritated followed. 'Tsk. What is going on here—you're telling me that's my little brother? Let's go find some food for him.'

Soren instinctively paused, deciding not to look for the source of those two voices, focusing on the other ones.

'Soren.' An extensively long breath, and then a shallow sigh. 'You must be Soren. It seems I have more to make up for than my sins in this life alone. It is a pleasure to meet you, my little brother from another world.'

A kinder, sweet woman's voice. 'Goodness, let's find you something warm to wear and food to eat, my dear. This won't do at all.'

'Hello.' A polite, uncertain voice. 'I am Princ—Atlas. Can... how can I help you? Let me help you.'

'Little brother.' A voice on the verge of tears. 'I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me for my lack of support.'

A rougher tone that was silent for a long time before speaking. '...what the hell, prince? So you had this sort of history.'

He curled up again, collapsing to the ground and rolling into a ball. The voices echoed in his head like a throbbing headache, and he saw images, flickers and memories. Warmth and adoration he definitely didn't know in his youth, rewriting the tragedy of his childhood.

Tentatively, as the sounds grew louder, he lifted his head and stared into the distance. His own voice was small, unheard and ignored. Yet,

"...hello?"