Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[52 - judgement; perpetual partner]

In a game, the final boss would be the last hurdle to overcome, lurking in the darkness as they waited to prey upon poor, tired heroes.

Standing with her raven clothing that outlined every curve and a crazed glint in her eyes that would've set her apart alone; Celine was anything but subtle.

The true chaos had begun, with the soldiers from the Qazia Kingdom mixing in with the crowd and striking back.

The woman seemed to take pleasure in its rivaling madness, teeth bared to flash its wicked sharpness as she lunged.

She was approaching Soren.

Raphael drew his sword. "Hey little prince, I'll handle her. I know how she fights, how she moves. You can focus on finding the King, alright?

Or so said the protagonist in his arrogant tone, yet his eyes darted to the crowd below every few moments. At the screaming chaos as the fighting and horrible reveal swept over them in a violent storm. Few injured, bleeding after being caught in the aftermath. 

Of course Raphael wanted to save them, wished for it in his very bone. 

And Soren wouldn't stop him. 

"No." said Soren, materializing his whip as it swung around him, flowing out of the ink on his skin. "I'll deal with Celine, and I'll find the King after. Clean up the mess below." 

"It's dangerous." 

"Don't trust me?" 

"That's not what I meant." said Raphael with a frustrated sigh, watching as the mess of cherry hair drew closer. "I trust your skills, Ren, of course I do. But that weman is strong, and even I can't guarentee that I'd win. But I can buy you enough time." 

"We don't need to win." replied Soren simply, icy eyes gazing down as if he were a God staring at the crumbling world. As if he wasn't there, present. "We need to bait her." 

"...you believe your butler has found the saint's sister?" He was fast to catch onto things, eyes widening slightly in recognition. 

Soren nodded. "Yes."

"It doesn't matter. The bait can be temporary."

His words were aruel, itching at a person's weakness to rip off their protection and make them vulnerable. Celine wished to save her sister more than anything, and that weakness, which Soren admired nonethless, was also something that could be taken advantage of.

In a battlefield, there was little room for sympathy. Life was harsh and unforgiving — that was inevitable. 

"Alright" said Raphael finally, moving closer to the railings an the stage, glancing back through his midnight gaze. "I'll leave it to you, Ren. See you later."

Soren paused. "...see you."

Then, Raphael jumped. As if wings sprouted from his back, wide and beautiful with everlasting freedom that allowed him to soar the endless skies. There was a faint itch in Soren's mind, scratching and probing 

"Are you distracted, prince? It's our long awaited fight, isn't it?" A rich, laughing tone cut through his thoughts. 

Celine grinned, black gloves lined with jagged silver points, dripping with blood from her brutal fights as she pushed her way through the crowd. The number of people who she'd killed, unknown and unpredictible. 

She had slaughtered many innocent lives, but in retrospect, she had done it for the sake of her role in the Third Religion, for the sake of finding her sister who was the only light in her life.