F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 124: Let’s Do Something Dumb

The instructor continued the class. However, Soren’s mind was not focused.

The whispers from his coursemates did not help his case.

He could not help it. A lot had happened this morning.

The attack in his room.

The Glassheart taken from him as punishment.

Of course, he did not care too much about that part.

But he could not shake the feeling that, for some reason, someone was trying to cripple him.

Like they were planning something big and wanted him out of the way.

To make matters worse, the information that Tommy was missing sat atop it all.

At such a time, Soren’s Blackfield reacted.

Whoosh...

Soren waved a hand—catching the projectile, mid-air.

It was a leaf.

How could a leaf move at such speed?

Then Soren remembered. He turned, looking far right.

Polystar.

He adjusted his glasses, signalling with a hand for Soren to flip the leaf.

Soren did.

"I have information about Tommy’s whereabouts. He is not missing."

Soren’s eyes widened.

"Cadet Soren! Cadet SOREN!"

"Yes..." Soren finally answered, standing up.

"You seem distracted. Am I boring you?" The instructor asked.

"Uh... no, ma’am."

"Hmmm... in that case, you don’t mind telling me the two types of Neuralinks?"

"Uh... uh..." he stammered.

"If you can’t answer, that will be minus 10 points."

A few students gasped.

That was expensive.

Soren could afford it, but he had a feeling showing off his wealth here would cause more harm than good with this instructor.

He had found himself in an awkward position.

—a whisper.

’Rune Neuralinks and Aether Neuralinks.’

"Rune Neuralinks and Aether Neuralinks." Soren echoed.

She paused.

"That’s correct."

Soren sat back down.

I actually got it!?

His eyes scanned the class, searching for where the information had come from.

And then, somewhere at the far left—in front—he saw the person.

That face was a familiar one.

Skinny, pale skin. White hair. Like an old person’s.

The same one he saw yesterday, just before Tommy’s battle with Rhea.

If he were in this class, he would be a year 1 cadet.

But Soren knew all the year one cadets. He had looped too many times in the train not to recognise them on sight.

His lawyer—Devon—had said that only those in his train had made it to the academy alive.

Was he repeating the class?

Soren thought to himself.

But then another thought came to his mind.

What if he was just seeing things, like when he chased that assassin this morning?

No!

He shook his head. That was real. He knew what he saw.

If he had not dodged those needles, he would have ended up like the cadet at his doorstep.

Soren observed closely.

The pale-skinned cadet was focused in class. He even took down notes.

Anyone would think he was paying sincere attention to the instructor.

But the muscles of his mouth moved with unimaginable control and silence.

’Your Blackfield must be very good. To think you can hear me clearly from this distance.

And they say you are F-rank. No wonder the Doctor is so interested in you.

Entertain us a bit more, okay!?

Waterfell.’

"Entertain!?" Soren was taken aback.

RING.

The bell rang.

"That will be all, class." The instructor said.

—interrupting the conversation between Soren and the pale-skinned cadet.

"Remember the winter games start at the beginning of next month, so make sure you are a part of a party to participate."

Cadets stood from their seats, leaving the class in low murmurs.

"Cadet Soren." The instructor called.

"Yes, ma’am." Soren stood.

"You are three weeks late for the semester. Meet me in my office later."

"Yes, ma’am."

"Do you know my office!?"

"Uh... no, ma’am."

"Staff room A6—admin building."

"Yes, ma’am."

However, when Soren looked again, the pale-skinned cadet was gone.

The next class was scheduled to begin in less than twenty minutes.

Combat training.

A notification pulsed on Soren’s wristwatch, instructing all cadets to change into appropriate combat wear and assemble at Field Seven.

He returned to his room, stripped out of his cadet whites, and slipped into the academy-issued combat suit—a tight, black spandex overall threaded with faint silver lines that pulsed softly with dormant aether neuralink circuits.

It clung to his body like a second skin.

Once changed, he stepped into the corridor.

But instead of heading toward the field with the rest of the cadets...

He turned the other way.

Behind the academy’s main structure, the air was quieter.

The noise of cadets gathering faded into distant echoes, replaced by the low hum of aether generators and the whisper of wind through metallic trees engineered to survive winter.

Polystar stood there.

Bathed in sunlight.

His tanned skin got greener unnaturally as the rays hit him—a result of his Shade’s curse.

His glasses were off, eyes half-lidded, and expression calm in that unsettling, detached way of his.

But it wasn’t Polystar that made Soren halt.

It was the person beside him.

Vass.

Arms folded. His posture was relaxed and arrogant, exactly the same as it had always been.

This was the first time Soren had seen him since the battle with Instructor Ivory.

Vass smirked first.

"Turd face."

Soren’s lips twitched.

"Plump ass."

The air snapped.

Heat rolled outward from Vass in a visible shimmer, frost evaporating off the ground around his boots.

Polystar sighed and stepped forward instinctively.

"Don’t—"

Vass chuckled, flames licking up his shoulders as he tilted his head.

"I see prison hasn’t dulled your edge," he said. "Want to go at it?"

Soren didn’t move an inch.

Didn’t blink.

"Anytime."

The temperature spiked.

Polystar pinched the bridge of his nose.

He already regretted this.

He stepped fully between them, spreading his arms.

"Enough."

Both of them glared past him.

"As much as I hate to admit it, you two are the only ones I trust for this," Polystar said flatly. "Which is already insane, by the way."

Soren frowned.

Vass’s flames dimmed slightly.

Polystar turned to Soren first.

"Tommy is missing."

Then to Vass.

"Your party member was a victim of the Shade Stealer."

Vass’s jaw tightened.

Then Polystar’s voice hardened.

"And I want to kill the bastard that dared lay their hands on Shades, since this darn academy is too slow to react."

Silence.

The flames died.

The tension eased.

Soren exhaled slowly.

Vass clicked his tongue and looked away.

"...Fine."

Soren turned back to Polystar.

"You said you knew where Tommy is."

Polystar nodded.

"We’re going to invade a very important place. The Science Research Institute."

Both of them stiffened.

Polystar adjusted his glasses.

"And before either of you says something stupid—yes. If we’re caught, we will definitely be expelled."

The three of them exchanged glances.

They’d already made up their minds.