Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

Brioc peeked at the mirage after seeing the others' expression and blinked curiously.

"Wow~ she looks pretty cool. Familiar too, what was her name again...?"

His voice was louder in the atmosphere, which had been stilled in heavy surprise, but there was no reply.

Asmodeus was still trembling in dismay, and Vendra stared blankly in disbelief. Neither heard him, and even if they did, they didn't want to admit it.

The fact that somebody they loved dearly would cause such havoc.

Soren watched calmly.

"Celine Isda..." started the prince, his low and melancholic voice like a beating drum. "The Death Saint."

The confirmation hung in the air as an unwanted guest.

The Necromancer Queen had no reason to lie, and if this couldn't be a lie, then only one answer remained. Celine had turned her back on the world.

Long ago.

Somewhere nobody existed. Somewhere she was all alone.

"It can't possibly be..." gasped Vendra eventually, eyes unmoving from the scene before her.

Soren thought over it and felt as if he understood. The second leader of the Third Religion had the power to heal almost anything — as Celine did.

Brioc had said that compatible mana was rare, but Celine's had coincidentally been a perfect match for Deimos' injuries that had been inflicted by the Third Religion.

And under the crazy facade of wild instincts, she was somebody abandoned by the heavens and left alone.

This was the woman, the Death Saint, Celine Isda.

One of the traitors that turned their back on Raphael in those missing pages.

The Queen surveyed them cooly, her slender and delicate hands still in the air as the scene played out before them.

"It seems that you are all somewhat familiar with this woman. Then it's all the more necessary that you return, is it not? I'm unsure of the details other than this."

Vendra's lip trembled, but she stood resolutely.

The determination — her desperation to save the world wouldn't crumble in the face of an old friend. However, her elegant voice was unstable, and there was a hint of chaos in her sea-blue eyes.

"I will return, immediately." She turned to the others. "And what will you all do?"

"I still have to tell the young prince of the secret he so desperately wishes to hear." smiled the Queen. "Perhaps his answer may change."

"I don't wish to force him again." said Vendra, reflecting on her past actions with hesitation.

Unknowingly, in her strong will, she had pushed her opinion onto Soren during their first meeting. But saving the world was every person's choice, and not an obligation that one was forced to meet.

Thus, she did not want to pressure the prince again, even if she knew he would decline so long as he disliked the idea.

"I will decide." interrupted Soren, raising his chin lightly as his icy eyes gleamed. "My decision will always be my own."

The selkie glanced at him and nodded slowly, stepping back. "Yes, of course."

"Speak, Necromancer Queen."

There was a mysterious gleam at the edge of her cunning smile, carrying secrets of death and life only she could know. Time seemed to slow on the dark, barren lands as Soren waited for the answer.

"It's rather amusing, really." remarked the Queen lightly. "That the secret you so desire is one that could only be answered in this world... this world that you reject."

Soren narrowed his eyes.

This reincarnation, unlike the bother he had thought of it to be, was it actually a blessing?

"Perhaps, you've heard of Soul Trees?"

"Briefly."

"Then I'll explain them in more depth. Every person is tied to a Soul Tree, one irreplaceable and unique to themselves. I'm certain you've heard of that much."

Soren organized his thoughts quietly. "Yes."

"A Soul Tree can be connected to many worlds, though not every world is aware of the existence of the Soul Trees. It's roots represent the many possibilities stretching out limitlessly, while it's center represents the person themselves. It is an existence that defines life itself."

"And the relation?"

"I am able to sense and understand Soul Trees more than the typical being due to my identity."

The Queen glanced at him, pausing in her words as she raised a single finger to point at his chest. Her obsidian nails seemed so much darker, and the ripples stretched across the lake seemed to whisper.

"You," said the Necromancer Queen with absolute certainty. "possess a fragment. A single, separate seed of a Soul Tree."

Alvara had asked the question before Soren could process everything. "Sorry to interrupt, but what does that mean?"

"It means, my dear, that while everybody is bound to their own Soul Tree, the person you know as Soren Rosenbaum is not only bound, but a being created from a real Soul Tree itself. Typically, a person and a Soul Tree is connected, but they are two different things. For Soren, it is one and the same."

The empty wind whistled in their ears, the words slowly digesting, sinking into their minds.

The concept was both simple, and difficult to understand.

A Soul Tree was a physical manifestation of something that represented a person's life, in all universes, and all worlds. But Soren, or Ren Suzuki, did not possess a Soul Tree. He was, in a sense, his very own Soul Tree.

"I'm not human?" asked Soren finally, gazing at the Queen with unnerving calmness.

She shook her head, smiling. "No, you're as close to human as it gets. However, the inhumane thing about you is that instead of a beating, living heart, a single seed replaces it."

"...why does it exist in me?"

This time, even the Queen looked confused. "That's an answer I've yet to find. No living being should possess a seed of a Soul Tree, yet you do."

One answer only brought a dozen more questions.

"The area where the Soul Trees of all living creatures gather is a place where none have been. However, the only place where you can find the owner of the seed that rests in your heart, is in that strange land which nobody knows."

"What do I do?"

"Now here, it is your turn to make a choice." said the Queen mysteriously. "The energy, or mana as you may call it, that is given off by the real Soul Trees is undeniable. Anthing or anybody carrying traces of that have undoubtedly been near something that came from those lands themselves."

"You have found somebody."

His words were a statement. And a statement that was very true.

"I have."

"Where?"

The Queen's next words came slowly. "In the very castle you ran away from."

Soren froze, then asked, "Who?"

"Unfortunately, it is beyond my capabilities to pinpoint a singular person. So, Prince Soren, what will your choice be?"

There was an entire history to be uncovered, thought Soren. Beyond the simplistic answers he hoped to find was a complicated story that could lead to the very thing he wished to avoid — trouble.

However, Soren was a little curious.

If he uncovered everything, would he finally feel satisfied? Would this strange, bothersome emptiness that heavily hung in his mind finally disappear?

To begin with, he had been curious about something else entirely. Curious to see that if watching Raphael's selfless protection or Vendra's determined justice would help him understand anything in the slightest.

At this moment, something tugged at his shirt and his eyes flickered to his side.

Alvara stared at him, her crimson eyes deep and observant.

"Are you conflicted?"

"What?"

His voice was cold — as it always was — and Alvara quickly dropped her hold on his shirt. "Sorry. You were distracted, and I didn't know how else to get your attention. And I'm sorry to interrupt your thoughts, but, you don't know what to do, do you?"

Soren blinked at her.

This teenager, so similar to Damien in their observant stares, that seemed so piercing and uncomfortable, as if they were reading your soul, word for word.

Soren decided, after his experience with Damien, that listening to their words surprisingly proved to be helpful at times.

So, in this rare case of thoughtfulness — brought upon by his confliction or his confusion — he said, "I don't."

"Is it alright is I voice out my thoughts?"

The black-haired girl was awkward and much suited her age, yet carried thoughts behind that quiet facade that went beyond normal comprehension.

"Speak."

"I think you should go back."

"Why?"

"Because, from what I gathered, you were determined on staying away, right? But if this curiosity is enough to break that determination of yours, wouldn't you rather regret going than not going?"

Before Soren could reply, Brioc laughed loudly. "You're quite the thinker, Alvy."

She frowned, shuffling in her spot. "Well, I just thought I might as well say it. I can't help it, I've always been one to observe."

Observe.

Observe and see the little actions people did, the subtle intentions in the words they spoke. Observe and gain an understanding that went beyond simple, and at the edge of complex.

Soren repeated the word in his mind. Observe, and learn to comprehend what others felt.

And this time, if he went back, it would not be because of a hopeless fate that thrust him into this unknowing world. He wouldn't be walking to a place he hardly knew and dreaded, because he had nowhere else to go.

This time, it was his own choice to make.

The thing which so many took for granted was the exhilarating freedom found in a sole choice.

Brioc laughed again, and Alvara rolled her eyes before turning to stare Soren directly in the eyes. "No matter what, it is your choice to make. I don't really get it, but, even if you go back, you are not, what's the word, expected to do anything but find your own answers."

In response, Soren asked a question he would not have considered before. "In observing others, will I understand them?"

He was not one to hide his thoughts, but he also didn't wonder them for too long. But now, with all these new truths and questions added to his already moving thoughts, an unspoken question was exposed.

Soren was a selfish person. There were many wants he wanted.

He wanted to die.

He wanted to live a life that was satisfying.

He wanted to avoid people.

He wanted to understand the emotions which made little sense to him.

There was a question he asked himself several times during the apocalypse, where time seemed to run so slowly, yet memories blurred so quickly.

'Why am I still alive?'

He wanted to find a reason to keep living.

Alvara's crimson eyes had seen a lot in her short years. Her voice lost it's awkward tinge, filled with a complete seriousness that was almost commanding.

"Yes. At the very least, if you want to understand others, you will get nothing by hiding."

Soren stared back.

"Okay."

HIs eyes dragged across the skies and met the Queen's steadily. "I will return."

"Is that your final decision?"

"Yes."

"Very well." She waved a slender hand in the air, the mirage dispersing as particles of darkness gathered in her hand to form a spinning vortex.

It grew larger and larger as they watched, eventually reaching a size large enough for a person to leave from.

"It will take you back to the castle faster than the forest would. Take care, and I pray you never return." said the Queen, standing elegantly besides the portal as her fingers quietly danced at her sides, black threads keeping the vortex open.

Asmodeus stepped forward, his young, fierce eyes direct and honest. "Keep your promise, Prince Soren."

"Can't leave?"

"I can't. As long as Uriel remained asleep under her curse, I cannot find a way out and El will never find her salvation. Help them, I implore you." begged Asmodeus vaguely as he thought back to the horrors he had witnessed through the mirage.

Dear, sweet little El.

What had the cruelty of fate changed her to?

"I will keep my promise." said Soren, nodding lightly. The promise did not guarantee the safety of El and Uriel, but it guaranteed information.

The unfair deal was something only Asmodeus would find fair.

Vendra had been the first to step through, her moods so messy that she simply nodded gently at the Queen in thanks before walking through, her waves of ocean hair tumbling as she walked with the same anxiousness.

Brioc had been the second, waving lightly as he walked through with his hands in his pockets. Beyond what could be seen, was a curled fist, gripping into his skin and a dark, bothered glance at the portal.

For whatever awaited him, was likely the very past he'd escaped from. 

Alvara begun to walk through before pausing for a moment. She looked at the Queen with nervous curiosity.

"Is it possible that I might be sent back to my time?"

"It's impossible." was the reassuring reply that made Alvara visibly relax.

"Perfect." smiled Alvara, still confused about everything in general. She stepped through the portal.

Left behind were Asmodeus, the Queen and Soren.

"You will stay here, too?" asked Soren to the Queen, more out of courtesy than genuine curiosity.

She nodded. "This is my Kingdom, and I won't leave it behind. Even if it truly becomes what its name foretells, one day."

Soren said nothing, only gave a silent nod of respect before he walked through the portal. When he turned his head, he saw the two silhouettes at the edge.

One waved their elegant hand, and the other nodded quietly. Then, the darkness swallowed everything whole, devouring the sight in its mist. Soren stepped back, and the portal disappeared.

He turned around.

Bright ceilings, elegant and fragile decorations. A stifling atmosphere that directly contradicted the luxury appearance. And a faint, pulsing loneliness at the bottom of his mind, from the original who left behind his feelings.

"How do you feel, Renren? Finally home." drawled Brioc as he directly sat on the ground, sprawling his legs out.

"Nothing."

"How boring~ You know, I didn't even say I'd come. You should've asked."

Soren lowered his eyes. "You chose to follow, so sit still and be quiet."

"Bossy." said Brioc, but he said nothing else after that.

Soren examined the room -- simple, compared to the rest of the castle, and tidy. It was likely to be a guest room, considering the maintained bed in the center.

"For now, stay here."

Vendra looked around carefully and then rested her eyes on Soren. "Where are you going?"

"My room."

"Have you forgotten something?"

"No." Soren looked at her in confusion, as if her words made no sense and an answer should've been obvious. "I'm going to sleep."

"Ah?"

Brioc laughed like a maniac, rolling to his side in an overdramatic act. "Leave it to you, Renren. Always making serious situations into comedies."

Then he asked, "Do you know the way to your room?"

"......"

"Well, I don't either. Good luck."

Soren blinked at him, seeming to say disappointedly, 'useless'. Brioc stopped smiling and looked up at Alvara who was still reeling in the usage of magic. "Am I useless?"

Alvara turned her head away.

Brioc blinked. "......"

During their strange argument, Soren had already closed the doors behind them. After wandering aimlessly for a while — which Raphael would've asked why he even bothered to try — he approached a servant.

The enemies in this castle were no longer something he could predict. It was better to not exist, to be invisible and have nobody know. It just so happened there was a simple method in doing so, now. 

His eyes flashed, delicate white butterflies embedded in his eyes. The crimson had a unique chilling blue hue to it, from Soren's natural colour.

"Excuse me..."

A servant walked by and looked back in confusion.

Before they could shout, Soren held a delicate, pale finger to his lips as he lowered his eyelashes in a bewitching stare.

"Shh. Show me to my room, and forget you ever saw me."

The hypnotism would occasionally run out suddenly, leaving an even more confused servant who would then be sent off as Soren practiced his new ability on somebody else. A perfect time to practice, this new ability of his.

When he finally reached his room, his instincts flooded into him.

The door was slightly ajar.

And trickles of foul blood dripped at the bottom edges, coating the door in omnious death.

Soren pushed the door open to reveal the dark, empty room.

In the corner, a shadowy figure sat with their backs pressed up against the wall, eyes dark and brooding. Almost as if the world was ending — which it was. And there was no other more aware of that than the owner of that murderous gaze.

The man lifted his head slowly and grinned lopsidedly.

"Welcome back, little prince."