Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

To be so persistently bothered — even the indifferent Soren didn't have that sort of patience. He didn't enjoy involving himself with troublesome things since it often led to greater disasters, but it was a different story if trouble sought him out. 

As he dodged another one of the boy's swings, he frowned. 

'The attacks are getting faster.'

The shallow nicks on his arms were gradually becoming deeper, slowly weakening his body. However, any communication with the youth seemed to be pointless. It was like a person on drugs, unconsciously moving and attacking as if they were a madman, with no regard to their safety or those around them.

Before Soren died, this boy would likely go first.

He jumped back, body bending backward as he moved his eyes to Damien, who stood patiently at the corner. 

'I'll need to investigate this later.'

Somehow, Damien understood his meaning and turned around, disappearing in the next moment on the cobblestone streets. It was like he didn't even bother hiding his identity anymore, although Soren was certain that it wasn't out of trust. 

A few others had noticed the blood seeping into Soren's clothes, glancing at the monitor. Of course, if members of the crowd could realize it, then the monitor would be able to, as well. Despite that, he carefully watched the battle unfold with no movement.

Soren quickly concluded: the person backing the competition was related to the Third Religion.

The monitor's rule was absolute. There were cases of people having been thrown out for bringing small weapons to the competitions, ones that they didn't even end up using. 

This was different.

It was impossible for the monitor not to know, but it was very possible for the monitor to be quiet.

Regardless, that only made things more difficult. If possible, Soren preferred to have an idea of what was going to happen, and the increasing strength of the boy was anything but predictable. He didn't know if there was a bottleneck, or to what extent it could drive the child mad.

He really didn't intend to exert himself so early on, but it would be easiest to knock the child out. However, it was difficult to do so without injuring the boy. The problem wasn't Soren's lack of control, but the boy's wild movements.

A distraction was needed. 

Just as he thought that, he saw a familiar face appear in the crowd. Besides the teenager, a little girl stood, dirt-covered face warped with worry and horror and she shouted, "Brother, stop!"

For a second, the boy paused.

Soren immediately reacted, leaping forward and twisting the boy around before delivering a decisive blow to his neck. The child flinched and turned around before his eyes turned dark and body went slack. Even if one didn't feel pain, their body would still behave as a normal person would. 

The prince caught the boy before he crashed to the floor, and walked to the side of the stage, glancing at the monitor. "Watch properly." said Soren coldly, despite knowing that the circumstances may not allow the monitor to do so.

"Be careful who you mess with." warned the monitor simply, not even looking in his direction.

"....." Soren glanced at him and walked off the stage, delivering the unconscious boy to the foot of his sister. "This yours?"

"Brother!" sobbed the girl, rushing forward to hug the limp boy. She ignored everything else, and Soren allowed her to have her moment, instead observing their appearance.

Hair that was bristling and uneven, skin that was dry and covered in a mixture of dirt and cuts, while their clothes were falling apart at the seams, adding to the many holes in the old cloth. It was clear to anyone that they were likely children from the slums, living barely on scraps on the street. 

An example of those who entered this bloody competition out of desperation was this boy. 

Soren, after the girl had calmed down, asked, "Did you know about the competition?"

"No! B-brother... hic...! He said that we'd go somewhere nice, and l-l-later we could buy some bread. I just had to stay inside the room and not leave." said the girl as tears welled up in her eyes again. "Wuu... sniff... is he... d-d... dead?"

Her gaze turned a little angry at the thought, a mixture of despair and fury in her eyes as she glared at Soren. The prince tilted his head and shook his head calmly. "No."

"Then?"

"He's sleeping."

“...eh?” She looked back down at her sleeping brother with pursed lips, the glare in her eyes diminishing. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really, really?”

“Yes, yes.” Soren was the sort to indulge in children a little more. 

The girl hesitated then moved forward to tug on his shirt, darkening the delicate fabric with dirt.

Damien moved in to step forward, but Soren crouched down and held a hand to stop him, his eyes somewhat gentle on his indifferent face. He brought himself low enough so that he was on the same level as the girl.

“What is it?”

She pouted, a little nervous as she glanced at her brother beside her then back at Soren’s sky-blue eyes. Children were the easiest to influence and also remembered these small moments the longest.

But once somebody made them trust that person, they would keep believing.

That was the sweet naivety of youth.

She gripped tighter onto his shirt with her tiny hands and asked, “W-will you help us?”

It had taken a lot of will to ask this adult who helped her so graciously. Even as a child, she felt guilty asking for more when she was so used to the hard life on the streets. She was no fool — trusting others was a dangerous game out there.

Yet, for this strange man who hid his appearance, she felt he could help her. 

There was no other option. For her brother and her both. She was young, but she understood that her brother likely entered this dangerous place for her sake. This meant she also knew he would die if he continued.

Soren looked at her for a moment and asked, “Name?”

“Ah?”

“Your name, what is it?”

She blinked in surprise before answering loudly, “Kat.”

“Kat?”

She nodded happily. “Kat!”

“And your brother’s?”

“Lock!”

“I see.”

“Is it a nice name, mister?” asked Kat with excited eyes.

Soren tilted his head. “Yeah.”

Her smile spread even further as she giggled, tears long dry on her skinny face. Although Soren wasn’t the kindest, and seemed a little indifferent even to her, she felt this person was very, very nice.

“Your five minutes are over.” Called the monitor coldly, standing behind the prince.

Soren glanced back, any gentleness in his eyes gone. He said to Damien, “Look after her.” He ruffled the girl’s hair as she beamed up at him and walked back onto the stage.

“Begin.”

After seeing the boy’s poor state, Soren felt a little annoyed and thoroughly destroyed the first dozen opponents without revealing everything he had. Of course, by the twelfth person, he sweated profusely, huffing.

However, he stood tall on the stage, cold eyes gazing with an eerie calmness, even with his tasselled night hair. His chin slightly raised as he said once again, “Begin.”

It would be the last battle of the night, but in the short half-day, Soren’s reputation soared.

The next person, hidden behind an inconspicuous black cloth, stepped onto the stage, steps arrogant.

‘Where have I...’

Before Soren could finish his thought, the person flew at him. He didn’t look down on anybody, but after several relatively easy battles, it slightly caught him off guard.

The strong were not foolish enough to pick a fight so early on. 

They gave him no chance to breathe as the fists swung one after the other, brimming with a violent desire. It differed from Lock’s difficult but unskilled movements.

Soren could sense the years of skill behind every swing, from every turn and jump. It was rough, but elegant in a strange way.

He flipped backwards after narrowly avoiding a swing, pushing off the ground with a hand as he landed softly on his feet, crouching on the floor before a kick crashed down at where he was.

He rolled to the side, swinging his feet around at the same time, startling the other.

The opponent was alarmed, stumbling for a moment as Soren jumped forward, sending a wave of relentless attacks. His main focus was preserving energy, but he had to admit, this person was strong.

Another leg came flying at him as he reached out to grab it, spinning it around as the man pulled back, scraping against the floor as he fell. 

Then, as the man lifted his head, Soren saw a pair of brilliant amber, a furious gold that looked at him with such scorn.

“You are...” begun Soren.

“What the hell are you playing at, Soren?” growled the man, snapping back up to his feet as he continued his attacks.

Soren moved his head to avoid another punch. “If you want to kill me, you should’ve when I offered.”

“Shut up, you crazy bastard!”

“What are you doing,” Soren jabbed his elbow at the man’s body, taking the opportunity to strike when he dodged. Their eyes met for a moment. “Prince Erlen?”

“Tsk, you haven’t answered me yet!”

“I’m playing.” said Soren, repeating Erlen’s earlier words as he avoided another swing.

Erlen scowled, kicking his feet out. “Bullshit!”

“Wrong.”

"I've known you long enough not to fall for your stupid lies, Soren." snapped Erlen as he moved forward again, fighting while arguing. 

Soren avoided it again, looking at him expressionlessly. "You don't."

Whether it was the past Soren, or who he was now, Erlen really didn't know him well at all. The identity 'Soren' would always be seen as a hindrance, a useless person who was good at nothing and felt nothing at all. It was funny, how little people knew about each other despite being so quick to judge.

Most failed to understand that people just like themselves surrounded them. Your cheerful neighbor could harbour a dark secret, your best friend could really hate you, and your foolish little brother might've just been a little lonely.

Soren ignored him from then on, attempting to end the fight as early as possible.

He didn't understand why Erlen showed up at such a place, especially when the prince despised events like this which played with commoners' lives, but it didn't matter at the moment. Being around his brothers, or, Soren's brothers, made him unsettled and uncomfortable.

Erlen was of course, quite strong. He had undergone the best training as a royal, and also had a natural affinity for fighting. While Vincent's ability was unparalleled, Erlen was a close second. 

The difference between Erlen and Soren was that the former looked down on the latter.

What mattered was not Soren's current display of battle, but the name he held onto. Subconsciously, Erlen could never see Soren at the same level as him after all these years. A foolish display of arrogance, but one that was obvious. 

Erlen was no fool, but hate could make the smartest man blind.

Steadily, Soren's movements slowed and a few attacks connected, sending ugly bruises all over his body. However, to lose, you had to surrender or be knocked out. Soren did neither.

At the same time, Erlen's movements became more erratic, and careless. He firmly believed in that moment that his little brother's movements could not keep up with his own and that Soren would soon fall miserably. Indeed, Erlen didn't intend to kill his brother even if he sometimes thought of it, but in a fight, he would not hold back.

When Erlen's movements became careless, Soren's speed suddenly picked up. Catching the Third Prince off guard, he resolutely knocked the man to the ground, pressing against his back.

With some certainty, Soren said, "You don't want to win."

"Ha!" hissed Erlen angrily, kicking his legs out only to have Soren pin them down. "Who the hell enters a fight so they can lose?"

"You wanted to win against me. But not in this competition."

"What? That's the same thing, idiot."

"It's not." said Soren calmly. "Surrender, or I'll report you."

Erlen's glare darkened. "Go on, try it. See where that gets you, why don't you?"

"Ok, I will."

".....tsk!" Erlen squirmed for a bit more, brows furrowed angrily. However, Soren's words were true: he didn't intend to win the competition. Originally, he didn't intend to participate either, but after seeing a familiar face that he couldn't not recognize, even with the disguise, he had jumped onto the stage in anger. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, spitting out unwillingly, "I surrender."

Soren pressed more tightly against his back.

"Ow! Dammit, I said I surrender!"

"I know." said Soren calmly as he stood up, patting the dust off his pants.

"Then why the hell—"

"Felt like it."

"Ha...?!"

The monitor stood up at this moment, interrupting their happy reunion. "The competition is over for today, please return at the announcement tomorrow morning."

"Ok, bye." Soren waved carelessly, walking off the stage to where Kat almost jumped up and down with excitement, and Damien watched closely. Lock was still in a deep slumber, but after everything that happened, Soren didn't think he'd wake until the next day.

"Oi, wait!" called out Erlen, rubbing his temples. "You didn't tell me why you're here."

"I did." said Soren with a frown.

Erlen sighed deeply, scowling. "That answer's nonsense, and we both know that."

"I don't."

"....." Erlen opened his mouth as if he wanted to retort, but decided against it. After a while of this new 'Soren', he decided talking any more would only anger him to death. "Stay out of trouble, got it?"

"I only plan to win."

Soren said it in such a simple and obvious way that even Erlen was speechless. Winning this brutal competition? Was it really that easy?

Of course not!

"How about you, Prince Erlen? Why are you here?" Soren wasn't really curious, but the appearance of the prince rarely meant anything good. 

But Erlen wouldn't tell him. "It's none of your business." snapped the Third Prince as he yanked his hood further up and stalked off without another word.

'But you wanted me to explain my reasons?'

Attempting to understand them was a fool's errand. 

Instead, he turned away and looked down at the girl. "Ok. So, what do you want my help with?"

"Save my brother, please mister." said Kat without hesitation, traces of determination in her eyes. Soren had seen the same glare in the older boy, despite the haze that clouded his eyes.

"From what? Poverty, or...?"

Kat bit her lips and said, "No. I am ok being poor. I can live. B-but... I want to live with brother."

"What's stopping you?"

"Brother, he... he joined this bad place. He keeps going out, and I don't know why. But, then he took me here and told me to stay inside, and, um, he looked very strange. I don't know, but I think he will die. I don't want him to!" sobbed Kat through the broken mess of her words. Even now, she was using all her strength in that small body of hers to speak out. 

Her words weren't completely correct, and her voice was shaking, but she got her words across. Soren respected that.

"Do you know the name of the place?"

"Umm... no, brother didn't say. But, I followed him once, and it's a big, big building far away."

The Third Religion base. The book didn't completely delve into it, but Soren had a relative idea about where it might be. However, it was said to be a large place that rivaled the churches themselves, with the backing of a powerful person who could fund them. Although the information Kat gave was minimal, Lock's mark revealed enough. 

"Stay with me until the end of the competition," said Soren. "I'll deal with it then."

"Ok! Thank you, mister!"

Soren patted her on the head wordlessly. Then he turned to Damien. “I’m sleeping early."

"Yes, I'll prepare a simple meal for you before, master. Are you feeling tired?"

Soren regarded him, lowering his eyes tiredly. "I have a feeling tomorrow will take a lot of energy."

"Is that so?"

The day had already been so full of trouble. Who knew what the next would bring?