Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[77 - monochrome; lost reason]

The rest of the memories blur together into a disoriented video of images playing on repeat in his mind. There are vague memories of laughter, of gentle conversations under the starry skies, and of everyday life simplicity far too beautiful in a time of anything but.

It was as if there was a track record in his mind, fast-forwarding through everything pleasant and joyous.

Then, through the haze of spinning colours, everything suddenly settled.

And the mist faded into peaceful sorrow.

Most of the buildings had long been destroyed in wake of recent battles that shook the city to the core. The end was coming — that was a fact all survivors understood.

Yet humans, to the pitiful end, could only hopelessly struggle.

However, a single creature had risen from the corpses of its siblings, more dangerous than any before. In a moment, it swept its tangled inky limbs and crushed anybody who was misfortunate enough to be watching.

As red dripped from the hidden eyes, it almost looked as if it were crying. Weeping while it bestowed salvation on the world.

Struggle?

They could only wait for death before such an entity.

But because they were humans, they would resort to even the cruelest methods to live, even if it meant throwing aside morals and pride, and dragging others into hell with them.

It had started with Raphael stepping back and stating that it was best to clear the area. It was a loss of the few resources they had, since the area consisted of many buildings and crumbles of stores that hid secret treasures within.

The people pleaded with this all-mighty hero.

"Please, we're hardly surviving, anyway! That... that monster has taken up a damn amount of space! If we abandon it, what left is there for us?!"

Countless pleas.

"You're powerful! Why are you backing out like a coward?"

Provoking insults.

Standing in the center of the piercing words, the man didn't flinch as he gazed at each person through careful raven eyes. His sword gleamed at his side threateningly, but he made no movement to attack.

It was as if he were unshakable, glued to the position and firm to his thoughts.

And perhaps that was what made him so admirable.

But Raphael was not a God, nor was he especially unique and powerful. His abilities, though strong, did not make him a hero. It was his willingness to help that did, his natural instinct to offer a hand to the despairing souls that crossed his path.

Even now, he still wished to find a method to solve the issue. If his power alone couldn't defeat the monster, how could he recklessly rush in only to die a painful death? That act would only demoralize the crowd and produce absolutely no results.

Therefore, he had taken a step back to observe from a distance.

To them, the watching spectators who could only grasp onto his clothes and beg as their fear of fighting and selfish desires blended together, Raphael was selfish. Cowardly. Running away, after all this time.

How could he?

How dare he?

It was an act of utter betrayal.

The crowd roared, but he continued to ignore them, quietly figuring out his own means of defeating the creature. Yet they couldn't wait, and the humans struck first.