F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 158: Instructor V. Ivory Wants A Deal.

To think that even the cameras in this place was not reliable.

Soren was starting to doubt the so called security capability of the academy.

Was it all a hoax?

Or was security the illusion thag kept things in order.

However, as his thought process spiralled out of control, he did noy notice that Instructor stared at him with a certain look in her dark eyes.

As if hoping that he figured something out.

However, Soren pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

And the hope in her eyes died temporarily.

’So close to figuring it out. Maybe i should have pushed his mind a little bit more in the right direction.’

Soren’s gaze drifted.

It was subtle.

Almost accidental.

But it landed on the small plaque resting at the edge of her desk.

Instructor V. IVORY

His eyes lingered for half a second too long before deliberately sliding away.

He tried to make it look natural.

It wasn’t.

She caught it.

Of course she did.

Instructor V. Ivory rolled her eyes lightly, leaning back in her chair.

"I had hoped you would come when I first requested your presence," she said evenly. "It would have been... beneficial."

Her fingers tapped once against the desk.

"Especially before your little battle with the Goldsworth child."

Soren’s head tilted slightly.

"How?" he asked.

His posture shifted almost unconsciously. His arms rested along the sides of the chair, fingers slightly flexed against the wood as if ready to push off—ready to move if something in the room turned hostile.

Soren didn’t relax.

He never fully relaxed around nobles anymore.

An Ivory... hell no.

Her gaze flickered to his hands, noting the readiness.

"The reason I summoned you," she said calmly, "is because I intend to become your Primary Instructor."

Silence stretched.

Soren raised a brow.

Of all the things he expected—

That was not one of them.

She continued before he could respond.

"You have only recently resumed full activity. You have also not been conscious within this academy for long." Her eyes flicked briefly to the bandaged area of his chest. "Obviously."

A thin pause.

"Instructors are assigned curriculum classes. However, students may take on instructors for specialized training."

She folded her hands.

"Provided they can afford the points."

There it was.

Soren did not hesitate.

"I don’t have the points for additional classes," he said smoothly.

A lie.

Delivered cleanly.

Then again, lying should come naturally from a person that grew up struggling like he did.

She was not surprised.

In fact, a bit impressed. After all, one should be capable of surviving to matter the means.

The fact that he had not even brought up her family name, and sat in her chair like the two of them were not almost connected by a much bigger blood fiend was impressive.

Her lips curved faintly.

"I will pretend," she said dryly, "that I am unaware you walked away with at least twenty thousand points after the Goldsworth incident."

Soren’s face did not change.

Not a flicker.

Not a twitch.

If he blinked, it was controlled.

She studied him for a long moment.

He was stubborn.

Guarded.

Wary.

She sighed softly. Even if soren was from the slums, he should not be this uptight.

In a way, she felt as if she was not talking to a 16 year old. But some one much older.

The assumption hovered somewhere at the back of her mind.

If only she knew tge lind of life experiences he had, she would understand both his bravery, and wariness.

"No doubt," she added, "this resistance you display is because of my surname."

His silence was answer enough.

Without breaking eye contact, she reached up and lowered the thin black veil that partially obscured the upper half of her face.

"Tell me," she said quietly. "What do you see?"

He frowned slightly.

"I don’t understand, instructor."

She tilted her head.

"Part of being born into the Ivory family," she said, "is the blond hair. It’s a bloodline trait marking the main family andd heirs to the patriarch position."

Her gaze sharpened.

"Do you see blond hair?"

Soren’s eyes moved over her carefully.

Dark.

Her hair was black as ink, cascading over her shoulders in waves that caught the dim candlelight.

He shook his head slowly.

"No."

"Correct."

She let the veil rest lower.

"Though I bear the Ivory name, I am not an Ivory."

Her voice remained level.

"My mother’s life depended on that surname."

A beat.

"I did not have a choice."

The room felt heavier.

Soren’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She continued.

"And I am aware of your... situation with the Ivory noble family."

A cold current slid down his spine.

"I know," she said plainly, "that they want you dead."

Soren shifted back slightly in his seat before he could stop himself.

Instinct.

His Blackfield stirred faintly.

Of course, he couldn’t push it too much because of his injury.

Still better safe than sorry.

But her next words froze him in place.

"I am not as weak as the Ivory you killed."

Her forced eyes held his steadily.

"If I wanted you dead," she said calmly, "you would have been dead the moment you walked into this office."

The statement wasn’t loud.

Wasn’t aggressive.

It was factual.

A bead of sweat slid slowly down Soren’s side beneath his shirt.

And for the first time since entering—

He believed her.

Not just because of how the threat oozed through her lips. But because of the condition the previous Ivory had been when he fought her.

Her Shade had been terribly fed upon. It was a miracle she had actually held on that long, maybe because of her power level.

This one was an instructor, with all the experience, and none of the Shade fault.

Soren was no fool to think that she would not fold him like a pancake in a few seconds.

And he did not even know her Shade ability.

Instructor Ivory suddenly leaned back into her chair, the tension in the room easing as if she had deliberately turned down the pressure.

Her posture relaxed.

One leg crossed over the other.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the armrest.

"Let us speak plainly," she said.

"You are a commoner."

No insult in her tone.

Just fact.

"But you are not a commoner with promise in the way the system defines it."

Soren’s jaw tightened slightly.

She continued.

"You do not possess an A-rank Shade. Not a B-rank. Not even something unstable and extraordinary."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Vass, for instance."

A faint pause.

"An SS-rank from commoner blood. That has never happened before."

She let the implication sit.

"You," she said calmly, "are F-rank."

The word landed flat.

Unadorned.

"While it is true that you have achieved... impressive outcomes," she went on, "those achievements are not enough to change how the system works."

Her voice remained measured.

"F-rank will always come behind the higher ranks. It lacks the raw ceiling. The natural output. The accepted capability for destruction."

A slight tilt of her head.

"And adding the fact that you are a commoner..."

A faint shrug.

"That is simply a double kill."

Soren’s expression hardened.

"What point are you trying to make?" he asked evenly.

She leaned forward slightly now, resting her elbows on the desk.

"It is simple," she said.

"You will not reach the Third Form."

The air shifted.

The words landed more like judgement than a suggestion.

Soren’s eyes sharpened instantly.

Focused.

Dangerous.

She saw it.

And she knew she had him.

"The Academy," she continued calmly, "is responsible for guiding cadets into the First Form. That is the foundation. The skeleton upon which everything else is built."

Her fingers traced a small invisible structure in the air.

"After that, the fortress is your responsibility."

Her gaze held his.

"And that is where a Primary Instructor becomes necessary."

Silence lingered.

"You have angered too many noble families," she said. "You killed an Ivory. A very important one at that. If the walls of this academy did not protect you, you would be dead by now."

Her voice did not waver.

But Soren rolled his eyes in his head. For all he knew, the latest assassination attempt on his life might have been from them.

"...Also, you forced a Goldsworth to kowtow."

A faint, almost amused breath escaped her.

"Do you believe any noble instructor will risk becoming your Primary Instructor after that?"

Soren said nothing.

She answered for him.

"They will not."

Her tone hardened slightly.

"From the Second Form upward, the techniques become trade secrets. Guarded within noble houses. They are refined over generations."

Her fingers tapped once against the desk.

"No family shares those secrets freely."

Soren frowned. The first form was unique to the Soulbound warrior that unlocked it. Was she saying that the second form and above was not unique?

Also...

"But commoners have become knights," he countered. "Even Soul Mecha pilots."

She nodded.

"Yes."

A small pause.

"And almost all of them are affiliated with the noble family of the Primary Instructor who trained them."

The implication settled slowly.

Soren’s eyes flickered.

Then brightened slightly with understanding.

She gave a faint nod.

"Yes," she said.

"The Academy is a marketplace."

Her voice was calm.

"A shopping ground where noble families evaluate talent."

A thin smile curved her lips.

"They pick those worth investing in."

"And those chosen," she added softly, "serve the family that supported them."