F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 159: Everyone With Their Own Agenda

Soren frowned.

The silence between them thickened.

There was just one question left and it was the most important one.

He looked at her steadily.

"What’s in it for you?"

She did not answer immediately.

Instead, her gaze shifted slightly to the side, toward the wall lined with preserved fragments of dead eldritch parts.

"Personal reasons," she said at last.

That was all.

Soren raised a brow.

"That’s not a good reason."

He leaned back slowly into the chair, careful of the tight pull in his chest. The stitches protested faintly, but he masked it.

"If I’m binding myself to a Primary Instructor," he continued evenly, "I need more than ’personal reasons.’"

For a brief second—

She smiled. It was not too much.

Just faintly.

Then she stood.

The movement was smooth, deliberate. Her tunic pants shifted softly around her legs as she stepped around the desk.

"It is not as though you have much of a choice," she said lightly.

Soren’s eyes narrowed.

She stopped a few steps from him.

"If you decline," she continued, "you will never touch the Graveyard grounds of the Waterfell family."

His breath stilled.

"And if I recall correctly," she added casually, "you require mastery of the Third Form before you are even permitted to touch it."

That hit cleanly.

Soren’s jaw tightened. Devon had told him that the only way to prove his birthright was ti reach the Third form and visit the Graveyard of the waterfell family.

While no one had brought up the matter since then, Soren coukd tell that there was this invisible weight on his shoulders.

Like the noblds that wanted to bounce on him were eagerly waiting.

Maybe it was for him to fail, or for his heritage to be proven false.

But an invisible knife stood at his neck.

Also, he was smart enough to note that if he was found not to be a waterfell, then the verdict of his Trial for the murder of a noble would be changed.

"How do I know," he asked quietly, "that you’re not simply waiting for me to lower my guard?"

His eyes were sharp again.

"An opportunity," he added, "...to hurt me."

She did not bristle.

Did not deny it defensively.

"You don’t," she replied. Eyes looking towards the door, as if to remind him of her earlier threat of killing him the moment he stepped into her office.

The honesty was disarming.

"And I have no interest in the Ivory family," she continued evenly. "In fact, I would prefer you call me Instructor V."

A pause.

"Not Instructor Ivory."

That hung in the air.

Soren studied her for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

"I’ll think about it."

He rose slowly to his feet, suppressing the flare of pain in his chest. The room felt smaller now. He did not salute this time.

It was not out of disrespect, but Soren prided himself in the fact that he was a good judge of character.

And right now, he could tell. Instructor V. needed him.

Even though she had said that she wanted to be his primary instructor, and he would be needing her guidance.

Soren knew the true dynamic of their relationship.

First it was Dr Kaya, and now Instructor V. Was everybody only interested in using his for their own selfish gain?

What Soren did not know was that even others like Commander Jared, or Boyed were no exception.

He had been plunged in a world far scary than he would have ever imagined.

He turned.

Walked to the door.

Opened it.

She watched him the entire way.

Her forced eyes did not blink.

The door slid shut behind him with a soft mechanical click.

The moment it sealed—

Instructor V moved.

She crossed the room toward the grade 5 green Eldritch core mounted on the wall.

The one Soren had felt a pull from.

Up close, its surface shimmered faintly, depths swirling like liquid jade.

The same pull.

The same quiet call.

She lifted her hand.

Placed her palm gently against its cool surface.

The green light flickered faintly beneath her touch.

Her voice lowered to a whisper.

"Soon, mother."

"Soon."

Outside—

Soren exhaled slowly.

Relief seeped into his limbs the moment the door shut behind him.

It felt as if he had stepped out from beneath crushing pressure.

Like leaving deep water and finally breathing air again.

But the relief was incomplete.

Because something else lingered.

A sense that pieces were moving.

Plans were forming.

And he was not the one pulling the strings.

He did not like that feeling. The feeling of moving with the wind and tides. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Not at all.

He needed control.

There was still that assassination attempt that still hung over him like a blade.

He had not reported it to instructor V. Even though as a student, he probably should.

That would have only given the woman more advantage over him.

Clearly, her personal interest outward her duty as an instructor.

She might not be the only one.

Also, Soren was of the notion that even if he reported, some of not most instructors, would not care.

Flicking nobles.

He cursed in his head.

Still, like Instructor V. had said, if someone had hacked the system—

If someone was tracking his movements—

Then waiting passively was stupidity.

He looked at Cynthia.

Then at Bloodshine.

"Guys," he said quietly, "I need your help."

....

Soren walked alone.

Snow crunched beneath his boots, each step was measured and controlled. Not hurried, and not careless.

Slow.

His breath fogged faintly in the winter air, dissolving into the pale sky above.

Bloodshine and Cynthia were nowhere to be seen.

That, too, was intentional.

From the Admin Block to the dormitory sector was not a short walk. The academy spanned acres—training fields, the research institutes, residential towers, combat arenas—each separated by long, winding paths carved through carefully maintained woodland.

Tall trees lined the walkway, their branches heavy with snow. The white had built up high along both sides of the cleared path, forming thick embankments that could easily conceal a grown man.

There were cameras.

Quite enough of them.

Small black domes mounted along lampposts and building corners.

Soren noticed each one.

And deliberately walked close to the trees instead.

Staying just at the edge of their coverage.

Hovering near blind spots—too tempting an opportunity for certain people to refuse.

His pace never changed.

At first—

Nothing.

Only wind brushing through bare branches.

The soft hiss of snow shifting.

Then—

It happened. The snow to his left exploded upward.

Three figures burst from a drift in perfect synchronization.

Black clothing.

Masked faces.

Their cadet issued daggers already in motion.

There was no hesitation.

There was no warning.

Professional.

Soren’s eyes widened—

Too late.

Steel flashed.

One blade plunged into his torso.

Another drove beneath his ribs.

The third slashed across his neck.

The attack was swift.

Precise.

Clean.

They moved like men who had done this before.

The impact should have sent warmth red spilling into the snow.

It should have also brought the resistance of muscle and bone.

But—

Something was wrong.

The attackers froze for a fraction of a second.

There was no weight, and no resistance.

No tearing sensation of flesh giving way.

Their daggers met... nothing. The figure they had struck did not convulse.

Did not bleed or fall.

Instead—

Soren smiled.

Calmly and coldly. "Got you," he said. His eyes locked onto each of them in turn.

"All three of you."

And then—

He vanished.

This was not a flash.

No explosion.

Just absence.

In his place, something dropped into the snow.

A wristwatch.

It hit the ground with a soft thud.

The masked attackers stared.

The three masked figures hesitated only a fraction too long.

And in that fraction—

They felt it.

Something behind them.

Not a sound.

Not a footstep.

A presence.

Heavy.

Breathing.

They turned—

—and their eyes widened behind their masks.

Cynthia stood a few steps away. Her reaction was calm.

Too calm.

And then mist hissed from her helmet.

These people had tried to touch her beloved Soren.

She was angry.

She lifted her hand.

It wasn’t dramatic.

Just a simple, almost lazy motion of her heavy tree root veined arm.

Boom.

The impact hit like a collapsing wall.

All three attackers were ripped off their feet and hurled backwards at once.

Their bodies smashed into the trunk of a thick tree with a sickening thud. The bark cracked. Snow poured down over them in a heavy cascade. One of them coughed violently as they crumpled to the ground.

Another spitting blood.

For a second, there was only the sound of falling snow.

Then—

From between the trees to the right, another figure stepped out.

It was Soren. The real Soren.

He walked slowly, one arm supported by Bloodshine at his side. Even moving carefully, there was strain in his posture.

Bloodshine released him once they reached the path. Her dagger rested loosely in her hand, its edge glowing faintly in the muted green of her soul energy. The glow was low, steady—controlled.

Soren bent carefully and picked up the wristwatch lying in the snow—the one that had fallen when his illusion disappeared.

He brushed it off.

"They took the bait faster than I expected," he said, almost thoughtful. "Guess I should be flattered."

Even though he said this, it was actually worrying why these people wanted to kill him in such a hurry.

He turned the device in his hand.

He had been right.

They were tracking him through his cadet wristwatch. Probably pinging its signal and watching his movements since they hacked it. Waiting for him to walk into a blind spot.

It would have worked. Rather, it did work.

However, Bloodshine’s illusion had been flawless.

They never questioned it.

The three masked cadets groaned, trying to push themselves up—

Cynthia didn’t let them.

She walked forward and grabbed the first by the back of his coat, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

The second tried to crawl away.

She caught him by the collar without even looking.

The third attempted to scramble to his feet.

She hooked her fingers into his jacket and hauled him up as well.

Now all three dangled awkwardly in her grip, boots kicking uselessly over the snow.

She held them like misbehaving children.

Cynthia looked back at Soren, waiting for his order.