F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 128: To Reveal Identity.

[Alarm; 5:00 AM]

Soren jolted awake. He waved a hand to turn off the alarm.

He stretched, his body feeling the echoes of the attack that led to his death.

Soren had gotten stronger. Strong enough to face those king eldritch creatures from the body of Big Mama, and yet, he had never received an attack so focused on causing him maximum damage.

With what he knew, attacks were like dropping a stone in a pond.

The water always rippled.

Even the clap hand-to-hand combat technique was no different.

This was the reason throwing a punch against a stone wall usually created webbed cracks outward.

But that attack.

The kick had been so focused that Soren felt like all its force had been contained within his body.

My opponent is an expert.

But that was not all. He remembered the thick drop of blood that fell when he attacked with his dagger.

That looked more like thick red paste.

How could a normal person survive with blood that is like paste?

Curses could be terrible. And there had indeed been cases where curses caused the death of the Soulbound warrior.

But if the curse was going to make the blood like paste, then the person could have died the moment they were bound with the Shade. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Nevertheless, this one. It was different.

If Soren did not know any better, he could have assumed—

He paused.

They are not human?

But that did not mean that they were Eldritch. Eldritch blood was ectoplasm.

Soren turned to his watch. He knew there were other species out there, like the elves, but did they have blood like paste?

He needed to know.

However, the search results came up negative on creatures with blood type that acted like paste.

For creatures to survive, circulation of blood as smooth as possible was necessary—it ensured the quick and easy transportation of nutrients around the body.

This was true even for eldritch creatures.

Soren frowned. His mind flashed back.

He remembered the exact spot that the dagger had stabbed.

On a human being, that should have been the heart.

No. On most creatures, that should have been the heart.

He sighed, laying back on the ground.

What was he missing?

After a few seconds, he sprang from the bed. The only way to know was to confront the person again.

...

...Soren shoved the cadet that delivered his clothes out of the way and gave chase to the Black-clad figure.

Like the last time, he used his first form.

The moment the dagger pierced into the figure’s chest, they grabbed Soren’s arm to give that same kick.

But Soren was expecting it.

He moved midair—dodging.

Then his hand stretched and grabbed the hoodie of the clad figure.

This was Soren’s plan. To unmask his opponent.

Soren had won a lot of his battles by having knowledge about his opponents.

Even if he was going to hurt himself while doing it, he had to unmask the black-clad figure.

However, the moment he grabbed the hoodie, they turned their head and chomped into his arm.

A barbaric meaty chunk was pulled out—like a wild cat tearing into an antelope’s flesh.

"AHHH!" Soren screamed.

Blood splashed everywhere.

The Black-clad figure landed, chewing a bit. Then they actually swallowed. "Waterfell..."

"Shit!" Soren cursed. Sweat trickled down his forehead.

What kind of animal?

His gaze was on his left arm.

It had been rendered inactive for this battle—blood trailing in silent streams to the ground.

He could not fight like this.

Trying again was the only choice.

Soren brought the dagger to his neck. "I’m coming back for you."

Slash...

[You died]

....

He tried again. This time around, he pretended to attack with the dagger, but when he got close enough to remove the hood, his arm was grabbed and crushed with pure grabbing force.

Now, Soren could tell that the clad figure had intentionally allowed him to make the stab.

It was as if they wanted to get close to Soren but wanted him to believe that it was by his own efforts.

This pissed soren off.

[You died]

....

This time around, Soren tried to attack from behind.

He also used other abilities like gravity, but the moment the pressure he exerted became too much, the Black Clad figure vanished.

[You died]

....

[You died]

....

[You died]

....

Soren was forced to a painful truth. The skill level between him and this clad figure was just too much.

Every effort was not only met with opposition but also cunning.

Soren absolutely hated the feeling that he was being pulled in whenever he fought—like he was not the one in control of the battle’s rhythm.

And when he used too much force, the opponent would run.

If he continued like this, it would take an extremely long time to achieve what he wanted.

While he did have the tenacity for it, he had become wiser than before.

He had friends.

How this confrontation would turn out depended on how he used the chess pieces in his arsenal.

Cynthia was strong, but her brute strength was not working.

Every time she entered the picture, the Black-clad figure would vanish. Almost as if they were scared of her.

While this was a good thing, it was not what Soren needed at the moment.

He needed another person.

By default Pencil was not going to be helpful.

Also, Soren had already given him the role of trying to call the porter, Hector, as soon as possible.

Then he thought of Polystar.

The noble was very capable. But Soren remembered the pressure problem.

The opponent would dodge the moment the pressure on them was too much.

He needed something softer.

A person, even a skilled fighter like his black-clad opponent, won’t see coming.

A smile formed at a corner of his lips.

Bloodshine.

.....

Again...

Soren moved first.

The dagger flashed out of his sleeve in a smooth, practiced motion, his body already twisting as he closed the distance.

There was no hesitation this time. No waiting. The blade drove forward, sinking cleanly into the black-clad figure’s side with a wet, satisfying resistance.

For a split second, it felt real.

Then the figure reacted.

A sharp kick lashed out, aimed straight for Soren’s ribs—fast, brutal, and trained.

Just like it had been the first time.

But the foot passed through empty air.

Soren was gone.

The kick struck nothing but cold space, and the figure stumbled half a step forward.

Before they could recover, a presence bloomed behind them.

"Got you!"

Soren’s voice came from their back, close—too close.

There was a smile on his face, wide and feral, the kind that only showed up when the hunt finally bit back.

Soren’s hand snapped up and yanked the hood down.

The black-clad figure hit the floor and rolled instinctively, coat flaring as they twisted away.

They came up in a crouch, ready to strike—

Too late. The face had been revealed.

Soren froze. Shocked beyond words.

Why?

What should have been a face wasn’t flesh.

It was a low humming light.

Silver runes pulsed where skin should have been, intricate neuralink symbols layered over one another, glowing softly as if etched directly into thought itself.

There were no eyes. No nose.

A mouth, yes.

But the remaining was just shifting line symbols that did not make sense.

Soren felt the air leave his lungs.

"...What?"

For the first time, genuine shock cracked through him.

Behind him, something shifted.

The black-clad figure turned its head slightly, attention sliding past Soren and toward the far corner of the hallway.

And there she was.

Bloodshine.

She leaned casually against the wall.

The air shimmered around her, then settled. Most of reality snapped back into place, as she too had also been shocked with what had been revealed.

When Soren had messaged her this morning with specific details of what he needed her to do, she did not think this would be the result of it.

Soren had told her that when he attacked with the dagger, that she should use the illusion to cover his actual intention, which was to unmask the attacker.

But no one was expecting to see this.

The black-clad figure straightened slowly, then let out a low chuckle.

It echoed oddly as if vibrating through the runes that made the face.

"Entertaining... Waterfell."

They took a step back, coat dragging along the floor.

Then another.

Soren frowned. They wanted to escape.

He lunged—

But the air folded.

The figure dissolved into nothing.

The coat collapsed where they’d stood, empty and lifeless.

Silence rushed in to fill the space they left behind.

And the confrontation ended there.

Thoughts filled Soren’s head.

And then his eyes snapped towards the CCTV camera in the corner.

....

Just like the previous time, Instructor Eagle-wing eyebrows and the Red Swords inquisitors asked questions.

Somehow, even though Soren had shoved the cadet that delivered the clothes out of the way, he still got caught by the needle.

However, as they were taking his body away, and he saw the fingers twitch, something came to his mind.

"Wait," He called. Stepping forward.

"Cadet Soren, what are you doing?" Instructor Eagle-wing eyebrows questioned.

Soren removed the cloth used to cover the body.

"Cadet Soren, that is disrespectful to the dead."

Soren did not stop. He ripped apart the cadets’ clothes.

He frowned.

It was just as he suspected. The cadet’s body was filled with low slowly forming silver neutralinks.