The Useless Prince Is A Gangster

Ashtarya stood frozen, her grip on Rin's throat loosened slightly. Her green eyes narrowed in primal, instinctual fear.

The little girl did not move. Her silver hair was flowing in a wind that did not exist, and her red eyes held a cold disgust and rage.

"How… how are you here?" Ashtera stammered. The ancient self-proclaimed goddess trembled at the sight of Erin's true form.

Erin tilted her head by a fraction. Her eyes drifted from Ashtarya's face to the hand still clamped around Rin's neck.

"I said," Erin repeated in a chillingly calm tone, "don't touch my mother."

She flicked her hand casually, and Rin fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air, wrapping her hand on her bruised neck.

Ashtarya's eyes widened as she saw her forearm separate from her elbow. There was no blood; the flesh and bone were instantly vaporized, the stump glowing with a faint, holy light. The severed hand fell to the dust, crumbling into ash before it hit the ground.

A choked gasp of shock and pain was all Ashtarya could manage before an unseen force grabbed her and lifted her from the ground like an insect.

She looked down to see Erin with one small hand raised, mana swirling around it.

"I will deal with you later, you fucking witch."

Then, Erin flicked her arm, and Ashtarya was ripped from her suspended position and thrown backward as if fired from a divine cannon.

Her body tore through the air in a blur of green that shattered the sound barrier. She carved a trench through the burning forest, flattening trees and pulverizing stone for miles around.

"Mother…" she whispered in concern, and she ran to Rin's side.

Rin struggled to breathe, her vision blurry, her mind a mess of pain and shock. After a moment, her sight swam back into focus, and her eyes widened as she looked at the little girl kneeling before her.

Visions flashed in her mind. A newborn with her white hair and her father's blood-red eyes. The daughter she once named Aria—one lifetime ago.

"Aria…?" Her hands, trembling, grabbed the little girl's shoulders, as if to make sure she was real. "My Aria?"

"What are you doing in this place?" she demanded, her voice cracking as she shook her, not in anger, but in sheer panic. Her eyes darted across the burning forest. "This is a slaughterhouse! You shouldn't be here! You should be safe!"

Her gaze snapped back to her daughter's impossibly calm face, a fresh wave of terror seizing her. "Where is Celestia? Why did your aunt let you come here?" The questions tumbled out, laced with a betrayal only a sister could feel. "Did she not protect you? Did she send you into this?"

She pulled Aria closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, her forehead nearly touching her daughter's.

"Tell me you're not here alone."

The little girl Erin—I mean, Aria—did not flinch. She simply looked up at her mother calmly.

Her small, pale hand gently brushing a tear from Rin's cheek. The touch was infinitely tender.

"It is better… safer… if you stay as just Rin for a little while longer."

Before Rin could process the meaning of her words, Aria pressed a single, gentle finger to her mother's forehead.

A warm light emanated from the point of contact. Rin's eyes fluttered into sudden, overwhelming exhaustion, and she slumped forward into her daughter's arms.

"Sleep," Aria whispered, holding her mother's unconscious form with a strength that belied her childlike appearance. "I will keep you safe."

She then turned to the broken body of Leonhardt a few feet away. She moved to him, placing Rin gently beside him, so they lay together—the two people she risked everything to protect.

She looked toward the place she had thrown Ashtarya, watching a silhouette walk through the smoke. The ancient witch would never truly die.

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

Everything around is pitch white, like the place is nonexistent. There was no land, no sky, no air or water, and no light or shadow. Everything was blank.

Reo stood in the middle of nothingness. He blinked, looking around, and felt deja vu.

I'm back here again?

He looked down at his hands. These weren't the soft hands of Leonhardt, the nineteen-year-old noble. They were the worn, familiar hands of his original self—middle-aged Reo Carter.

He flexed his body a little, missing the feel of his old body—the body that had survived countless cuts and bullets.

He turned around, and a faint light caught his eyes in the distance.

"Here we go again," he whispered under his breath and started moving towards the light. With every step, the void grew brighter and sharper until it began to ripple.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the emptiness vanished. Reo staggered, frozen in place. A lush, beautiful garden lay before him.

Flowers of every color bloomed, their petals shining softly. The scenery was calmer and more relaxed than last time.

"Reo! Over here." A smooth, melodic voice called him, and he didn't need to guess who.

He turned around, and his eyes landed on a woman seated at a tea table beneath a graceful pavilion in the garden's center.

She waved her hand excitedly like she just saw her long-lost best friend.

Of course, his long-lost best friend. The Goddess of living and the one who brought him to this world, Goddess Celestia.

She's beautiful as always, but more excited. He remembered being calm, graceful, and intimidating last time.

What happened to her? He thought, staring at her from there.

"Come on, Reo, let's have tea again!" She called him, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

Reo frowned, walking to her and sitting across at the table. She gracefully poured him tea, the steam rising in curls, but he ignored it, his eyes fixed on her.

"Why am I here again?" Reo asked sharply.

Celestia lowered her teacup, a warm, teasing glint in her eyes. "Ah, must we skip the pleasantries? No 'Hello, Celestia, nice to see you again'?"

Reo didn't budge, his red eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms.

She sighed dramatically. "So stubborn. And here I thought you might offer some gratitude." She took a slow sip of her tea, her gaze knowing over the rim of the cup. "You did find your girl, after all."

Reo's jaw tightened. He finally reached for his own cup.

"Oh, I'm brimming with thanks," he said, his voice dripping with a frustrated sarcasm. "Thank you for reuniting us so I could lead every freak in a cult and an obsessive ghost straight to her. I really have to thank you for the rest of my very, very stressful life."

A genuine, bubbling laugh escaped Celestia. She tried to hide it behind her hand, her shoulders shaking. "There's the charming Reo I remember."

Hiding her face, she tries to control her giggle. He took a slow sip with a deadpan expression.

"You two are exactly the same," he grumbled. "Always showing up to annoy me at the worst possible moments."

Celestia finally contained her laughter, her blue eyes softening with what looked like pride. "Isn't she wonderful? Though that girl rebels against me constantly." She let out another dramatic, parental sigh. "She gets that stubbornness entirely from her father. Kids, I tell you."

"Kid?" Reo's head tilted, his brow furrowing. "I thought she was an adult. Or at least a teenager."

"An adult?" Celestia waved a dismissive hand. "In divine years, she's barely eighty."

"That's still a lot," he remarked, taking another nonchalant sip.

"Oh, by human standards, of course, she's only about ten years old," she added, as if sharing a fun piece of trivia.

Reo choked. He sputtered, tea nearly shooting from his nose as he coughed violently.

"Ten?" he demanded, his voice shaking with disbelief. "She's a child?!"

Celestia made another teasing smile. "Of course. She can't very well roam the world in her divine form for a long time. The 'Erin' vessel is just… convenient." She rested her chin on her hand, her grin widening. "So, yes. You've been trading barbs with a kid this whole time."