Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[9 - death; a strange being]

The God of Death.

They were an existence revered by many, but also feared. With the option of worshipping life, there were few who prayed for the dead. However, it was still one of the reigning religions alongside the Life God, also known as the Light God.

For some, the bitter truth of death was much more sensible than the merry delusions of life.

When the Death Saint was revealed to be Celine Isda, a fight loving, wild priest, the religion only got stranger.

She was free and unrestrained, unshackled by the bounds of the 'Saint' title, to the point the title seemed odd to begin with. She was indeed a 'holy person' and the one chosen by the Death God, with powerful abilities that far surpassed her peers.

Soren had actually found it interesting, after only seeing the title 'Saint' bestowed upon the Light God priests or people, when in fact, the Death God had done no wrong other than exist with its ominous name.

It was a common thing in stories, for the definition of a saint was indeed ill-suited for a worshipper of Death, yet suited all the same.

There was some prejudice, but the worshippers of the Death God were much freer than the rest.

Admirable, really.

Now, standing before the large, luxurious temple of the Death God, Soren felt the deep pressure stemming from the inside of the building. It was unlike that of the clean, elegant yet simple Light God temple, holding the same luxury, but also giving off a less restrained feeling.

There was no judgement for your every move, your every word; there was no right or wrong.

Soren preferred such a place.

He had dressed in a tidy, simple outfit, followed by Damien, who wore a similar style, though less luxurious. There were still some manners to be kept, even in this relaxed place.

"Good morning, sir." greeted a priest, clad in black, as he walked through the doors. "Is there something you're looking to do today?"

Soren nodded. "I intend to pray."

"Pray? Then please follow me."

The priest turned around and entered the building, maneuvering through a few hallways and archways before entering an expansive room. Before him, in its full glory, stood an overwhelming statue made of the murkiest stone.

Damien looked up curiously and asked, "Is this a statue of the Death God?"

The priest nodded. "Several years ago, we were blessed with the opportunity to communicate with our Lord. Some glimpsed his noble jet robes, and magnificent figure, which allowed us to have a statue built after him."

Several offerings were stacked on a silver platter by the statue's feet, disorganized but bountiful.

Soren, too, looked up at the statue, which towered over him.

A cloak hid most of the God, the carving thin over his face as if representing a fine piece of cloth. Long strands gently rested on their chest, each fine piece placed in an organized manner, while they spread their hands wide in greeting, or welcoming.

They seemed to have long hair, peeking from the hood as it rested on their chest in perfect strands, while they spread out their hands in greeting.

The priest left the room, and Soren moved forward to kneel respectfully. He wasn't sure of the proper methods of praying, but it would have to work.

His prayers, while genuine, were not out of faith.

While on his knees, he casually thought, 'I pray that hippo can leave my life and remain in their own swamp. And that Soren's stupid brothers will stop dying, so I will not have to save them.'