Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

"Your Highness."

A low voice called out, tone impassive and uncaring, irritated even. The boy's dense eyelashes quivered, but he did not open his eyes.

He felt like he had just awoken from a long nightmare, the stench of death, and the fallen bodies so vivid in his mind. It made his mind throb and his throat feel dry.

His body was sore and battered, like he had run a twenty kilometre run, which to be fair, he had done before — though he couldn't say he enjoyed it.

He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the rays of sun brush against his eyelids as the youthful voice near him urged him to wake up.

Slowly, the pair of chilling blue eyes opened, revealing a dazed look.

The boy had assumed he was dreaming and stared blankly at the scene in front of him.

A charming face greeted him, with the type of appearance that would have a horde of girls screaming. Deep, fathomless emerald eyes and loose black strands of hair framing the defined face. Two spots at the corner of his feline eyes seemed dramatic, but also blended in with his beauty.

The youth's face was almost deathly pale, though that added to his mysterious, unearthly aura, while his lips were a deep red, formed in a permanent frown.

Well, the handsomeness factor wasn't the focal point at the moment.

"Your Highness, Soren?" called the handsome teenager, frowning.

Soren blinked in a daze. He was still a little tired, swaying to the side as he questioned his hearing. Everything seemed to swirl, blurring in his sights.

"What?"

He widened his eyes in surprise, eyes trembling slightly.

The youthful, arrogant, but hoarse voice did not belong to him.

While the possibility of his throat being dry, as if often was during these times, was a rather real possibility, it was unlikely. A voice could not change this greatly, regardless of any reason.

"...are you alright?"

He stared at the youth in front of him, knitting his brows together as he felt a faint throb at the back of his head. It was like a hangover, but that was impossible — he hadn't drunk in years.

It was impossible... right?

"What is my name?"

The teenager in front of him frowned. A strange question, but his master had always been strange, especially after a drunken awakening.  The boy looked at him strangely before  answering in a polite tone,

"Soren Rosenbaum."

Soren Rosenbaum... the name sounded vaguely familiar, but it was hard to say from where. Likely buried under the mountains of memories shuffled around in his mind.

"Mm..." he lowered his eyes, glancing at the pale, slender fingers free of any callouses. They clearly belonged to somebody sheltered and comfortable — two things he was anything but.

Come to think of it, the teenager had said 'Your Highness.'

If the name wasn't enough confirmation, that title certainly was. No matter how far he went back in his family tree, he doubted there were any of royal blood. Though nobility was something long gone in the broken world.

More importantly, where was he?

He had already come to terms that he wasn't in his own body — he vividly recalled the tiresome sensation of death, after all. There was much of a choice but to accept the current predicament.

He tried not to think about his original world at the moment; there was much to sort out first.

The issue was, if he was a prince, why was he sitting on the cold, dusty oaken floor of a broken house littered with holes?

And why was this teenager speaking so calmly despite this situation?

Soren Rosenbaum...

Soren...

Rosenbaum...

A lightbulb suddenly turned on in his mind.

Wasn't that the same of the foolish fifth prince of that novel his acquaintance had forced him to read?

He never minded reading much, especially since there wasn't much else to do during the time, and it had been an especially interesting novel. The story had a simple and amusing summary, but the story itself was much more complex.

[The Transmigrator's Last World]

It portrayed the tragic tale of Raphael Han, a person who was forced to live multiple lifetimes and watch the world collapse. In the novel, he had fallen into another world, tired and irritated by the repeating reality.

At this point, he was blackened. Lost in the wanderings of his despair, the hopeful protagonist had fallen into the dragging darkness.

The things the protagonist went through, if you combined all the tragedies from twenty different novels, it still wouldn't be enough to describe what he had been through.

He was a hero who could save no one.

Soren's eyes dimmed for a moment before he continued to think.

Raphael had given up and had a sort of depression that normal means couldn't cure. From betrayal, or watching his comrades die, he was used to it all. So numb that he stopped looking for friendship, believing they would either betray him, or be too weak to survive.

However, in this novel, things had started to lookup for him. Or at least, compared to watching the world end a hundred times over.

Until someone betrayed him again.

Followed by the death of several of his comrades.

The novel was missing a fair amount of pages, so Soren didn't know the ending. Considering that it was his last world, yet tragedy kept following him, he could alone assume the ending would conclude with everyone dead.

Honestly, the sudden negative turn should've been enough to make him stop reading — he was never much of a fan of bad endings. But the way the sudden betrayals occurred, the details in the world and the description of emotions that made it ever so vivid; Soren relished in those words.

During the apocalypse, when one's mind grew numb and weary, it was these thrills from stories that could keep you alive.

Thus, he remembered the passages well.

Raphael had awoken in a forest in the middle of nowhere. However, after walking for an endless amount of time and seeing no end, he realized something was amiss. There was no exit from this forest.

Later on, he would learn that it was 'The Forest of Beginning and Endings'.

It was said that the forest connected to everywhere, and nowhere at the same time.

One could only leave if they had a vivid and clear location in their mind. Now, that may have sounded simple, but it wasn't at all.

Most of the time, people could conjure a vague image in their head, but the forest required details and clarity. Because of the complications, a warning was sent out, and it became a forbidden land.

Unless one had a death wish, that was.

Raphael eventually found a way out with the help of a young teenager—

—How did he find his way out?

Soren licked his lips in thought. This scene happened at the very beginning and also introduced the protagonist's explosive strength and low tolerance for humans. It would've been strange if he had forgotten.

[Raphael's fathomless gaze swept across the endless forest, resting on a weary, abandoned house which looked rather odd in the middle of nowhere.

Seeing as there was no other place to go, he walked to the door, feeling the presence of two people — no, one living and one dead. His dark eyes narrowed cautiously, though there was a hint of carelessness in his expression.

The man strolled in, slamming the door open.]

Yes, strolled.

Soren had re-read the sentence several times, looking back and forth at the striking contrast between 'strolled' then 'slamming'.

It could be said the protagonist was a rather contradictory character.

His manner was violent and rough, leaving no room for excuses, but they were also careless and indifferent towards danger. He was not foolish — it was just that his strength could rival most threats without the need to play tricks.

When he entered, he found a corpse and an indifferent teenager standing beside the corpse.

Curious, he had walked in before immediately being attacked by the teenager. The battle was described in half a chapter, proving the protagonist's strength and the teenager's hidden abilities.

After the fight concluded, Raphael had asked the teenager, "Is that corpse your family?"

"No." said the teenager expressionlessly, a tinge of disdain in his eyes. "It is a foolish bastard whose best off dead. It's merely a pity that he passed so swiftly."

The words were dripping with annoyance and disgust, a sharp murderous intent coming from the seemingly simple teenager.

Raphael cared little about the manner, and used the corpse to teach the teenager some ways to 'relieve his anger', which included peeling the skin off the corpse, cutting it up and...

Soren didn't want to keep thinking about it.

It wasn't as if he had a weak stomach, but that corpse belonged to the fifth prince of the kingdom, Soren Rosenbaum.

Also, the owner of the body he currently inhabited.

'Will I die?'

In his past, he had been one of the strongest, but now he inhabited the body of a spoiled, weak and hated prince that could be called worthless. Soren preferred to get to know somebody before judging, but this prince really wasn't any good.

Spending money from the royal treasury without thinking, picking fights with citizens, abusing his power to flirt with girls even if they hadn't been interested... there was an entire list of things.

However, none of those crimes belonged to the current Soren. Clearly, it was quite unfair.

'Why did I have to reborn? I had already died, now what's this sort of nonesense?' he complained in his heart, slumping against the tattered wood wall.

He sighed and looked up at the teenager who stared at him with no emotion.

Soren wasn't quite pleased with the turn of events, recalling that the owner of the body had been drinking last night, drugged, then murdered in this abandoned house where nobody could enter.

He couldn't quite remember who the culprit was, or how they had entered the forest with confidence they could escape.

Regardless, this teenager had followed him the entire time without interfering, silently watching from the shadows.

'Pretty creepy.'

At least, he finally recalled who this stone-faced teenager was.

Damien Black, the leader of the fox tribe.

The tribe specialized in assassination and stealth. He would become a key member of Raphael's journey, although he wouldn't always accept the protagonist's requests.

He would respect somebody, but couldn't be controlled.

Damien was the sort nobody could manage, living life to the beat of his own drum. He had mingled with the humans from curiosity and was disgusted by the sort of life Soren lived.

To be fair, it couldn't be said that Soren made it into his top ten of most hatred;it was just that his killing intent towards those he harboured the slightest negative feelings for was quite intense.

Soren wanted to kick himself back into unconsciousness.

He would've done it too, if not for the fact that the two devils may collude and attempt to mess around with his living body, just as they had done with his corpse in the novel.

"Damien." Soren said slowly, adjusting to the voice.

The teenager looked over at him gloomily. "Yes, your highness?"

Ten out of ten acting skills.

As expected of the leader of a group who excelled at gathering intel.

Had Soren not read the story, he would've only assumed that this indifferent kid harboured little feelings towards him, and certainly not murder.

Soren said, "Help me go back to the castle."

Damien questioned, "Are you unable to stand up yourself?"

"No. But I can't leave this place without help... so I'm counting on you. Otherwise, nice to meet you forever roommate."

The teenager's eyes contracted, his gaze turning sharp for a moment before returning to their typical indifference.

"Why can't you get out of this place?"

"Don't you know?" Soren smiled a drifting smile, bracing himself against the wall as he sluggishly stood up. "This is the Forest of Beginning and Endings."

How could the teenager not know?

His knowledge of the world far exceeded most existences, information wise. There was not a place on the planet that the fox tribe couldn't reach, especially for their leader.

But could Soren, this useless prince, know such a thing?

Not when he skipped his lessons to play with woman and certainly not when he avoided learning about the citizens because he thought of them as lesser.

So how did he know?

Soren watched the teenager tense ever-so-slightly, gaze darkening. If he hadn't been watching carefully, the micro-expressions would've been near impossible to notice.

Damien Black had a crucial weakness.

His curiosity was larger than the typical creature, which was also why he admired powerful people. Once he wanted to know something, he would figure it out as long as there would be no negative repercussions.

Of course, he always thought it through. He was not the youngest leader of the fox tribe for no reason, after all.

But as long as Soren surprised him, slowly revealing other sides that the original owner did not have, Damien would be curious.

Curious how scum like him could possibly have any secrets.

There wasn't much time before the protagonist arrived. With the Damien issue temporarily settled, he needed to think about what he'd do with Raphael.

There was no way of escaping from that man, so that wasn't an option. To reason with him would be quite the ridiculous thought as well.

"Your Highness."

A steady voice broken Soren out of his thoughts. He looked up, tilting his head.

"What?"

"We will leave now."

"Oh." Soren blinked, looked around, and nodded. "Let's go then."

Whatever.

Damien could handle Raphael, for the most part. They would fight, he would find a place to cower, then Damien would start to hopelessly admire Raphael's strength and help him out of the forest.

Soren just had to pretend to be air.

It was as simple as that.

So when the door slammed open before Damien could turn the handle, Soren rushed to the corner of the room, far away from the door, and crouched down.

'I'm air, I'm air, I'm air.'

"What's this?" an arrogant, magnetic voice asked, his each step seeming to hold the weight of the world as the wood creaked. "It seems there are people here?"

Damien had jumped back before the door slammed open, the edge skimming past his eyes just barely.

The man's figure was illuminated by the blinding light behind, cleverly outlining his already defined features. His posture was lazy, night black hair swaying with the blowing wind, wisps covering his sculptured face.

His eyes were deep and dangerous, carved in a deadly slant that was both cold and unforgiving. If anything, the careless curve of his lips only added to the murderous intent, looking as if it weren't two humans in front of him, but ants. His many scars were a dramatic portrayal of all the battles lost and won.

The protagonist who had lived a hundred bloody lives, Raphael Han.

Soren looked on impassively, thinking back on his life in the past. Just like Damien, Raphael's appearance was enough to have a person slap themselves on the face several times out of sheer jealousy.

As expected of a novel where all characters seemed to be muscular and handsome, or curvy and gorgeous.

It was quite unrealistic, but then again, Raphael and Damien were fighters, so it would've been even less realistic if they didn't have any muscle.

He quietly peered down and felt his arms squishing the tender flesh silently.

Then, as he blinked, Raphael lunged. Damien avoided the attack by the skin of his teeth, narrowly dodging and returning the blows as he gritted his teeth, a slight fire burning in his emerald gaze.

However, Soren could tell that Raphael wasn't exerting all his strength while Damien was.

The protagonist's movements were skilled and natural, but also carried a laziness that couldn't be hidden. It was as if this deadly series of attacks were nothing but a game.

Blow after blow, Damien ruthlessly laid his strength on the other, sweat dripping on the side of his face. He was rather expressionless, but even Soren could see his lively look as he continued to move.

The house trembled under their body, cracks running along the walls with every movement.

Soren considered escaping for a moment, lest the house collapse and bury him underneath — but after thinking about it, it was really impossible to slip through the door at this time.

He simply curled in his legs more, resting his head on his knees tiredly.

Occasionally, a splinter of wood would fly by his face, narrowly missing. He wasn't sure if it was purposeful or not, since they never directly harmed him but succeeded in startling him.

Hopefully, the fight wouldn't last too long; the affects from the alcohol the prior night were still in his system, making him exhausted.

It was actually quite straining on the eye to stare, thought Soren, as he felt a throb in his mind, directly giving up on watching the battle.

It was already a miracle he watched up to this point.

Of course, Raphael's abilities were limited after entering each world. It would be too much of a cheat otherwise.

The most valuable thing he carried from one world to the other was his experience and his knowledge, although that alone could also be considered a cheat.

A hundred lifetimes weren't just for show.

As Soren thought that, the entire house shook violently as Damien crashed into a wall, flying through it while debris tossed into the trembling air.

He could vaguely see the teenager cough up a mouthful of blood, clutching his stomach in pain, though he showed no signs of surrender.

Stubborn idiot.

"There's one more." remarked Raphael, his dark gaze flittering over to land on Soren's artic eyes.

Soren raised his eyes, then said calmly, "As much as I'd love to fight, I'm too weak."

Raphael laughed. "Scared?"

"Not scared, smart."

After the many years of facing gruesome monsters, walking at the edge of death, a person like Raphael was quite normal. Excluding the several hundred lifetimes part, it wasn't enough to make Soren fear him.

Although he admitted it would only take a moment for this man to kill him.

Which, of course, wasn't very ideal; Soren was not suicidal. To survive another day meant another opportunity, so such things as pride mattered little.

Well, that wasn't quite true.

But Soren wanted to think things over before dying so hastily.

The man looked at the crouching boy deeply, long, messy strands of whitish-blue hair in a tousled mess, while his clothes were in a dismay. At a glance, one would assume he was a drunken man.

Yet his eyes said otherwise.

A lukewarm, frosty gaze that seemed both nonchalant and lazy, tinged with a hint of melancholy that couldn't be deciphered.

Raphael looked away. Whatever, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen dozens, if not hundreds, of beautiful or handsome people before, though the youth was a combination of the two.

He asked, "Do you know the way out of the forest?"

"No." said Soren honestly, glancing at the coughing teenager outside the broken wall. "But he does."

"It's our bad luck to run into you, so I'll make up for my karma. You can follow us."

Raphael paused, eye twitching before his lips curved into a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

".....alright, lead the way."