F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 133: "First Form: Carrot Man."

Soren turned to Vass.

A swift understanding settled in his mind. Even when he had used Vass’s ability, the flames were not this hot, or this wild.

Did Vass get stronger?

But it had only been 3 weeks.

Of course, Soren knew that the Shades Chronovore consumed were in their injured state, and therefore produced only half the power—still, this was incredible to see.

The flames Vass produced when the Eldritch soul attacked their town was like a drop of water compared to this jug.

Shades were ranked majorly because of the amount of destruction they were capable of— which of course, expressed itself in the color of the Shade.

A–ranks have been said to level towns.

SS–rank would definitely do more damage.

This was what being SS-rank truly looked like.

And this was even before he had used the first form.

Soren looked at his watch. The chats were going crazy.

The Sponsors were excited.

[Shoe on a rack: A commoner with an SS-RANK is exactly what this nation needs for Morale]

[Table climbs ceiling: such fire power. I cant wait for him to finish and join my division. +5 points]

[On top the world: How dare you try to eat swine meat, you commoner trash. This SS-RANK is coming to my division. +20]

Some of them were already fighting for who would take Vass once he graduated in 5 years, and were very generous with the points.

Then again, Vass was a monster.

Soren could not just understand how he had not finished the Orientation garden as first place instead of the annoyingly pompous Goldsworth.

Vass moved again.

This time, he didn’t hold back.

He thrust both hands forward—

—and the world tore.

A blast of fire erupted from him like a collapsing sun, slamming into the wall behind the ice-wielding cadet and obliterating it.

Stone, steel, insulation—everything vanished in a roar of incandescent force.

Doctor Kaya cheered happily, stuffing her face full of more candy.

A lick of flame landed on her arm, burning her, but she barely gazed at it, before looking away.

The explosion carved a hole nearly ten meters wide and tall, opening the lab to raw sunlight air beyond. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Superheated debris rained outward, glowing fragments screaming as they cooled mid-flight.

When the smoke thinned—

The ice cadet was still standing.

Barely.

The left side of his body was gone.

It had not been ripped apart like the wall. It was burned.

His arm had melted into a charred stump, flesh sloughing off in glossy strands where muscle had liquefied and bone peeked through, blackened and cracked.

The left side of his torso was a ruin of blistered meat and exposed ribs, frozen jaggedly in places where ice had desperately formed to keep him intact.

The only reason half of him still existed was because of his ice ability.

Layer upon layer of dense frost clung to his ruined side, locking what remained together, and effectively sealing wounds that should have bled out instantly.

By all logic—

He should not have been breathing.

He tilted his head.

And smiled.

The expression stretched unnaturally across the half of his face that still worked, skin sagging and peeling like wax left too close to a flame. What remained of his lips trembled—

—but not in pain.

In ecstasy.

"Aaah..." he exhaled, voice ragged and blissed. "So this... is freedom." He licked his charred lips. "So much pain. Delicious buffet."

Those words.

Soren caught them. He suddenly remembered the pale skinned cadet he had stabbed in class.

That time he had thought it weird that even after a sudden stab to the thigh, he had not moved.

—and had quickly come to the conclusion that the cadet was possessed by an Eldritch.

However, Soren’s mind was stating to reach a frightening conclusion.

After all, that stab in the thigh was pain.

Pain was a negative feeling, and Eldritch souls were not the only creatures that fed off them.

Vass stared at his opponent.

"...You’ve got to be kidding me."

Suddenly.

Behind Vass—

The air shifted.

There was no sound, and no warning of the attack.

A figure appeared.

The second rune-laced cadet emerged from nothingness, hand already outstretched toward Vass’s back—fingers glowing faintly as neuralink runes surged.

If that hand touched him—

Vass would die. After all, Vass had no Blackfield.

And no other method to cover his back.

This sneak attack had no escape whatsoever.

This was a perfect blindspot.

Soren moved.

But he was already too late.

—or so he thought.

Three leaf-shaped blades materialized in midair.

They moved without sound.

The first punched cleanly through the attacker’s wrist.

The second and third streaked straight for his throat.

The rune-laced cadet twisted midair with inhuman precision, abandoning the strike. His free hand snapped up just in time—

—and caught the blades.

The moment his palm touched them—

BOOM.

The leaves detonated in a violent green flash, shredding the air and throwing him backward in a spiral of broken momentum.

That was when Vass turned.

Flames flared instinctively—but he stopped short as a figure landed between him and the attacker.

Polystar.

He hit the ground lightly, his black hair fluttering. He adjusyed his glasses, eyes locked onto the rune-laced cadet with a kind of cold, aristocratic focus.

"Concentrate on your target." Polystar said calmly, not looking back.

"Leave this one to me."

Vass smirked. "...Gladly."

Soren landed beside them, his dagger already raised—

—but Polystar glanced his way.

The look was one of annoyance. Like the one a dig would give if a person was trying to steal bone from its mouth.

"Do not dishonor me," Polystar said quietly. "F–rank commoner."

Soren did not exactly know how to feel about those words. But he did not push it.

He understood.

This was Polystar’s fight.

Nobles and their stupid pride.

Soren thought to himself.

They was no doubt that the two of them attacking together would do better against the enemy.

But Soren was clearly not needed.

Soren stepped back.

And Polystar advanced for the attack.

At such a time—

The doors burst open.

Red Sword Inquisitors poured in first, blades already drawn, crimson light humming instinctively around their bodies. Behind them came the instructors—faces tight as they took in the sight of the carnage.

For a heartbeat, it looked like the room would explode into chaos.

But it didn’t.

Two inquisitors rushed to Hale immediately, hauling him back as medics knelt to seal the wounds he got from frostbite.

Another team moved to the fallen body of the other Red Sword that had been frozen solid, encased in jagged ice like a grotesque monument.

The rest... stopped.

They just stood there.

Watching.

Not because they didn’t want to help.

But because they couldn’t.

This was already a battle between cadets.

And the academy’s rules were absolute.

Even instructors were bound by them.

Interference now would be a violation far greater than letting the fight continue. Besides, the Sponsors were interested.

So they watched as the battlefield split naturally in two.

Vass turned fully toward the ice-wielding cadet, flames boiling off his body in rolling waves that turned the air hazy and distorted.

Polystar faced the other one.

The one whose touch meant exploding.

Somehow, in this entire thing, Soren found that he had been relegated to a dide character.

The rune-laced cadet moved first.

He was fast.

He dropped from above in a blur, leg snapping down in a vicious arc aimed straight for Polystar’s skull.

Polystar didn’t look up.

He merely flicked two fingers.

A massive leaf construct bloomed into existence above him—thick-veined, radiant green, dense enough to look almost metallic.

The kick landed.

BOOM.

The leaf detonated.

The shockwave tore outward, shredding air and blasting fragments across the room. Polystar slid back a step, boots grinding against scorched tile.

He frowned slightly.

"...I see."

His gaze sharpened, as interest ignited behind his calm expression.

"So it’s not just the palms," he murmured. "You can detonate any point of contact."

The rune-laced cadet straightened, shoulders rolling, runes pulsing brighter across his skin.

It did not seem to mind that Polystar had discovered how its ability worked.

As if to say that it did not matter.

The cadet opened its mouth to talk.

"Vael’thra kor ēsh-na ✶ sen’kai ul-mirath.

Zhaen-or keth’ral—𐌔𐌉𐌏—ul vae’thren."

Maybe because he was more observant, Soren understood the difference.

Yet, he still understood the meaning.

"You have the eyes to see.

All my brothers crave freedom.

And I will begin with you."

Polystar raised a brow. "I don’t speak Babarian."

Regardless, having figured out his opponent’s ability made him smile.

Battles were mostly won on the knowledge of the opponents strength and weaknesses.

Polystar was an observant person. He knew what to do.

He stepped forward, relaxed, almost casual.

"You know," he said lightly, "you’re quite lucky I haven’t had enough sunlight because of winter."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a carrot, biting into it with a crisp crunch as he walked.

"But you’re also very unlucky."

He chewed once, thoughtfully.

"The cafeteria stocked carrots for winter."

Then his voice dropped.

A whisper meant only for the battlefield.

"First Form: Carrot Man."

"Huh!" Soren’s brightened and he burst into laughter.

(Author’s note: Do you guys like the Chapters longer like this? If yes, send a super gift 😑)