Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

The next thing the lonely, worried-to-death protagonist did was give a hard flick to the pale, confused forehead of the prince. Soren covered his head with a glare, still breathless from their earlier kiss before slapping Raphael back on the forehead. Petty vengeance.

"...you can't even deny that you deserved that flick, but did I?" complained the man with an exasperated sigh, rubbing his head forehead. Then, his eyes softened as he continued. "They all came with me to find you, Ren. They walked until they couldn't anymore. They were willing to do that for you, so you can't go dying anymore."

"....." Soren stared silently. "They did?"

"Should I flick you again for you to understand? We'll find another method, another way. Not a single one of us wanted you to die! Even if it was to save this foolish world!"

"It was the most reas—"

"We're not having this conversation again. You're going to stay alive, and we're going to see how vast this world is, and that's it. You won't revive again, little fool. This life is the only one you've got."

Soren found it foreign to think about, that his life was fixated and death would truly be the end. He'd lived for so long wandering between the borders of life and death, that it was strange when he was pulled into one side.

Reaching over with grabby fingers, he messed up Raphael's already tangled hair and patted his cheeks, his eyes, his lips. Alive. Soren couldn't deny feeling that anymore. The hero chuckled, laughing loudly as the hands roamed over every crook of his face, and he reached out to cup Soren's head within his hands.

"You're here, I've got you. I'm here. And I don't plan to let you run off again."

Of course, the prince chose to reply in the most unromantic manner. "I'm yours? Don't be full of yourself, hippo."

Raphael gave him a lopsided smile and a look of 'really?' "We're having a moment, fool."

"Doesn't mean you can speak nonsense."

"I think it does, actually. Haven't you read any romance novels in that odd range of books you read back then?"

"You're admitting it's nonsense." A statement rather than a question, and a somewhat sly gleam in those indifferent frosty eyes.

"Infuriating as always. That never changed, back then and now." remarked Raphael, but his lips couldn't stop curving up in a permanent joy, like childish excitement that couldn't help but showing.

He dominated fate. They'd rewritten the future, shaped the present. Whatever awaited ahead wasn't a path decided by the gods, but something they carved with their very own hands. This transmigrator had finally settled in a single world, and the reaper had finally learned to live.

They'd found a home in each other.

Honestly, their emotions were still a jumbled mess of disorganized memories that had hurriedly rushed back to their heads, knotted and confused. But that didn't matter. There was no need to worry about running out of time—time was a thing they had plenty of.

An entire lifetime worth. And while that would never be enough for the amount they spent separated, it was more than they needed. Wanted.

"And now what?" muttered Soren solemnly, gazing into the abyss.

"We jump." joked Raphael, earning a glare from the other, before the prince actually took a step torwards the darkness in such seriousness, the protagonist rushed to pull him back. "I'm joking, I'm joking!"

He sucked in a breath and waved his arms out at the continuing path. "Now we walk. Until we reach whatever end."

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know."

"Will we reach it?"

"I don't know."

Soren stared at him before he took a step forward. "Okay. Let's go."

— — —

Alvara kicked her legs, swinging them back and forth from where she sat on the wooden table, yawning loudly. There was a loud knock on the door that was more like banging than knocking, before it burst open without her reply.

She tilted her head at the brown-haired man, his violet eyes bright with nothing but trouble. "...what's going on?"

Brioc's grin stretched from ear to ear. "I have the most wonderful~ feeling, Alvy!"

"I already know it's going to be bad."

"Rude." But the magician didn't stop smiling, stepping to the side as a tall man walked in, glasses perched on his nose and his ears drooped back, a stack of papers under one arm while the other hand was casually shoved in his pocket.

"Alvara."

She tilted her head. "Damien."

"Okay~ okay~ no flirting in front of me!" complained Brioc loudly, his voice spreading through the wooden building. It was always a wonder for those in the Fox tribe how their leader acquainted himself with such an energetic character.

The necromancer's hair was long, messily tied over her shoulder where it rested. There were dark circles from dozens of sleepless nights. Ever since she'd stumbled out into a clearing—the gates to the Qazia Kingdom, in fact—everything had changed.

Everybody returned, but two people remained missing. She was the last to come back.

Damien had offered his hand to her after she waited for a few weeks in the palace with Vincent's suggestion. They all waited, but no news came. Yet nothing changed, and the world progressed as if it never was going to end.

The fox had asked, "Do you want to come back with me?"

"Where to?" wondered Alvara, uncertain of what to do.

"A home. Mine, as it has always been. And yours, if you make it."

Home. It had been such a foreign concept to her for so long, spending most nights in her past roaming the streets for boxes or alleys where nobody would bother her. She never had a place to return to.

She'd accepted his offer immediately, through stutters and tears, which made the slight of a smile play on his lips.

It had been three years since then.

Unknowingly, there was a large mess left with the King's death—his life later ended by his own hands—and there were several hidden deals that man had made which Vincent was left to clean up. It wasn't surprise that Vincent stepped up to the throne, taking charge and fixing everything that had been made wrong.

Erlen too provided to be useful, advocating for the citizen's and making certain that they didn't face any injustice. He seemed to be more satisfied with his noble title, less rebellious against it. Atlas stood by Vincent's side as his most trusted aide, and Deimos continued to travel.

The reason why, they all knew. The second prince was still searching. And perhaps, even while going on with their own lives, none of them ever stopped.

The last heard from Celine was that she was visiting the Selkie territory with Vendra, and that'd been a few months prior. Brioc was the only one who wandered, keeping in touch with everybody mostly to bother them, floating between the Qazia Kingdom, the Fox tribe and wherever he felt like being.

Sometimes, despite this being their new normal, they'd stop and remember. In reality, nothing changed too much after that day. People had died, but life moved on. Continuously.

Damien walked to the table and spread out the papers from under his arm, words scratched all over in a strangely organized manner. He pulled out a seat beside her, slipping off his glasses—which Alvara found out he wore only after watching him deal with mountains of paperwork—and looked up at her.

"I've received a letter from Vendra." said the man slowly, his tail curling with intrigue. "The seasons are changing, and there's been a shift in nature. There's a disorder; a warp."

Excitement bubbled in her chest, and she wasn't sure why. "And?"

Brioc sighed dramatically, shaking his head though a smile still formed at his lips. "Do you have to word it in such a roundabout way, Miemie?"

As always, Damien ignored the magician. Tugging forth a large paper from the pile of papers, he spread it out to reveal a map. Marked with red, aggressive circles and crosses all over. Alvara rested a hand on the table and leaned in closer.

A few notes were clipped to the map in elegant, smooth handwriting.

'I believe I've sensed the disturbance in this general area, Damien. When you have time, please check it out.'

Vendra.

'It's not there either? Perhaps I've been searching in the wrong way. Celine's told me you've left a letter in all the areas in case, thank you.'

'Here. Please check it out immediately.'

The note was clipped in a particular corner. It was the only circle on the map without a cross scratched over it. In small letters beneath, she recognized the familiar handwriting of the fox. 'Found it.'

She snapped her head up, unshed tears glistening and she choked. "Are you serious?"

"Do you believe me?" He glanced back down at the map calmly. "Are you still eager to find them?"

"Of course!"

The leader of the Fox tribe stood up, his features sharpened over the years and his deep emerald gaze piercing with its gaze. Raven hair hung loosely over the front of his face, a cloak draped over his shoulders lazily, held together by silver chains that had been a gift from the princes.

Brioc tilted his chin back, grinning. Alvara laughed through her tears.

Damien smiled.

"Are you ready to start another journey?"

— — —

"A door?" Soren frowned, staring at the solid material that was in front of them. There was no handle, but he had a feeling it wasn't a dead end either. If it was, then there was nowhere else to do and they were undoubtedly lost.

Raphael rapped his knuckles on it, the sound echoing around them. "It looks like one. You weren't leading the way, so I don't think we're lost."

"....."

Raphael only flashed a lazy smile before turning his attention back. The path broke off at the sides, which would mean the only other option would be to go back. That didn't seem right, however. He did consider jumping and letting fate deal with their lives in whatever mysteries slept below, but he had a feeling that wasn't the right answer either.

Answers. They always seemed to be looking for answers, 'right' or 'wrong'. It was annoying, really. If only they didn't need to keep searching, and just knock down whatever was before them. Screw answers, screw right or wrong. What did it matter anymore?

Something glistened in those raven eyes, and Soren turned to stare at him suspiciously, his instinct ringing bells in his head.

Raphael nodded to the door. "Trust me?"

Soren had a bad feeling, and he was all for it. "Yeah."

The man raised his heavy sword high into the air before the pair of icy blue, before smashing it down. The door thudded, and cracks ran along the center, stretching into the corners as it pitifully stood its ground.

Just knock it down.

Soren's whip manifested in his hands and he struck, slamming the whips against the loud material, over and over, not holding anything back.

Easy as that.

More and more cracks spread along, like tiny branches breaking off and growing endlessly. It was splintering now, small pieces of who knew what fracturing, turning into dust as it bounced off with every crack of the whip, or strike of the sword.

And when their weapons didn't work, they slammed their feet against the door, feeling vibrations run up their bones and fuel their body. Alternating between legs and weapons, they rained down strikes endlessly on the weary material.

It was exhilarating. As if every hit also destroyed the bit of doubt and negativity in their minds, releasing their burdens carried for so many years.

The door was breaking. Emotions were spilling. Seeping through the holes that were forming, fading into nothing.

Finally, with an exhausted breath and midnight hair plastered to his determined face, Raphael slammed the sword down.

Everything collapsed in an instant. Broke to pieces, into a million little particles, shattering before their eyes. The darkness seemed to crumble away with everything else, until white filled their vision.

They both squinted, their eyes burning.

The sky was blinding. The world was still beautiful. And they were here, present in this reality that would continue to exist even after they died. Neither were sure what time it was, or how long it'd been during their time in that space.

Time was strange to them, it always had been. Yet in the past, present and future, they'd found each other.

Soren didn't recognize the rows of buildings below of a town he'd never seen before, the bustling crowds of people decorated in a variety of colours as they danced and sung. There seemed to be a festival of some sorts going on, a celebration of something new.

A beginning.

There was a rustle of noise, and a little boy ran up to them from within the bushes. He beamed eagerly at the surprised and confused expressions, cheeks flushed red from running, and thrusted out his hands. "For you!"

Soren tilted his head. "From?"

"Don't know! This big~ mister told me to give it to a white-haired pretty person if I ever saw them while playing out here!"

"...when?"

"Um... a few months ago, maybe! He said you'd show up soon!"

The prince stared for a few moments longer and accepted the crumpled paper, thanking the child who waved and scampered off, giggling. Far away, the boy joined up with a few friends and they chased each other further and further away.

Raphael peeked over Soren's shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of the prince's neck, curious. "Well, open it up."

"I'm taking my time." said Soren, purposely moving slower.

"Sure." The man wasn't fazed, only quirking a brow in response. "I don't mind staying like this, for you." As he spoke, a hand slid around Soren's waist sneakily, full of playful teasing. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and all the caution or worries had dissolved.

Soren snapped the paper open, leaning back lazily without a care. He also relaxed into the man's embrace, feeling as if the chains that'd been weighing him down fell to the ground, and he was lighter, freer.

Their eyes both widened at the contents, and Raphael burst out laughing, tugging the body in his arms back as they fell into the grass. Soren scowled, shoving the man further away as he nestled comfortably in his own space on the soft grass, sighing.

"So, little fool?" wondered Raphael, crossing his arms as he stared off into the distance. The dark raven eyes reflected the warm scenery below, itching to join in the festive fun. "Would you say you've found your salvation?"

An airy, melancholic laugh escaped the prince's lips. It was quiet, yet loud. "I don't know. Have you?"

Raphael tossed his head back, grinning. The tension that had followed the curve of his shoulders since day one finally relaxed. "I'd say we have a whole lifetime to find out."

The letter beside them unfolded with the wind, tossing in the air. There were two, simple words written on it, and no address. There was another messy scribble below, carrying cheerful traces of a bright voice.

The sender always had a way of predicting things, even where they'd arrive after escaping that darkness. One day, that boy would find them again. And another journey would begin.

'Congratulations, master.'

'See you soon, Soren and Raphael!'

The storm had cleared, the broken rubbles were nothing but a past. Death was inevitable, but the memories of life would be everlasting. And the names, all of them, would be engraved into the twisting history that had been rewritten.

Their salvation had been found.