Clap.
The sound cracked through the air like a whip.
The other cadets paused. All eyes had been pulled to Soren and Polystar's confrontation.
Zingggggg!
Soren's right ear rang.
Polystar adjusted his glasses with two fingers, smiling with disturbing calm. "To have actually dodged my Polystar family's hand-to-hand combat. Not bad." He complimented, but behind the lenses, his eyes gleamed. It was not with praise. It was the thrill of hunting prey.
Meanwhile, Soren felt a sting on his neck.
The attack had brushed past him by just a hair.
Shit! Is he trying to kill me? I only dodged that attack because my instincts, trained by experiencing death multiple times, kicked in. Not skill. Not luck. Survival.
Soren was no longer afraid of death. He had died too many times. But he was shocked by Polystar's desire to ensure it.
Besides, wasn't the goal of the exercise to take back the Glassheart?
"Dude, are you trying to kill me?"
Soren's eyes widened as he instinctively jumped back.
"This is not a fight to the death. We are only supposed to—"
Whoosh
Another attack. This time around, it aimed for his chest.
Soren's instincts screamed at him, and he backed off again, creating more distance.
Clap
The attack had no contact with his body, but that deafening clapping sound was heard again.
"Twice, huh!? Very impressive. It would seem like even commoner trash like you has sharp senses. I almost want to believe the rumour that you piloted a Soul Mecha." Polystar took a stance, palms spread, legs in a horse stance.
"Hold on! Hold on! The goal is to get the Glassheart. The Glassheart!" Soren waved the round object in his hand. "And the rule says no killing, you bastard."
"No, the rules say no killing using soul energy." Polystar corrected, tone smooth. "No one said anything about bare hands."
He tilted his head.
"And besides… even an F-rank soul deserves…" His eyes gave a sliver of softness, "...Liberation."
DUM.
Polystar's right foot slammed into the floor with such power that Soren could've sworn the floorboards dipped under the momentum.
—right before Polystar launched forward like a bullet.
"STOP!"
The single word echoed through the training hall like thunder.
Polystar's palm halted a hair's breadth from Soren's face.
The air between them sizzled.
Soren felt a sharp vibrating heat blow his hair straight back.
He could feel the pressure of the strike. The intention behind it was clear. The promise of death would've become reality if Instructor Ivory hadn't spoken.
Polystar clicked his tongue in irritation.
"What a pity. I was just about to free another one."
Another one?
Soren thought to himself.
Polystar withdrew his hand with aristocratic grace. He took two unhurried steps back, as if the entire attempt on Soren's life was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
Soren didn't move.
He couldn't.
His limbs felt carved from stone. His heart pounded.
He had felt killing intent from an Eldritch monster.
But that had been wild, chaotic, instinctual destruction.
But this…
This was different.
If Eldritch killing intent was a storm, then Polystar's was a scalpel.
It was focused. Tailored. Invisible—until it wasn't. Then, it was aimed with perfect, merciless precision.
For the first time, Soren truly understood that a commoner and a noble were raised differently.
He swallowed, throat tight.
"Now that was interesting," Ivory commented, purposely ignoring the fact that Polystar had attempted murder before her eyes.
"While the warden can always steal from their prisoner." She pointed at the Glassheart. "Some prisoners are strong-willed enough to still require remuneration. And you all know what shades require for payment."
As if enlightened by those words, a few cadets turned to their soul-steel daggers. They tried again.
Whoosh.
Soul energy ignited daggers across the room.
On seeing this, Soren instantly understood.
Instructor Marcus had taught them to steal from the Shade.
But Instructor Ivory was telling them something else.
The goal of the exercise was not even to battle. Instead, it was to excite negative emotions—to make you feel loss when something precious is taken and to force you to fight to get it back.
It might have seemed small, but the most important thing to any Soulbound warrior was their Glassheart, which carried their Shade.
Just handing over their Glassheart must have caused anxiety for some people.
It was the reason the town's madman had made the decision to save his 'Bulb' instead of sticking to duty.
In turn, all that emotion and desire is fed back to their Shade. Naturally, the Shade would respond.
Soul-steel daggers ignited with soul energy instantly, and many of the cadets rejoiced, some of them running up to instructor Ivory to show gratitude.
However, Soren could not help but pause. Maybe it was because of the kind of life he had lived until now, but his mind worked differently from the others.
If giving and taking still work, why teach us to steal from our Shade?
Something didn't feel right here. Subconsciously, he raised his head to instructor Ivory.
She had a calm expression, but eyes enthusiastic, one lip slightly raised, and a finger, gliding across her lips, as if to hide—
Her eyes turned sharply to Soren.
He staggered a bit, breaking eye contact.
Soren turned to Polystar. He had also achieved the basis of the first form. Blue soul energy filled up his dagger like dancing mist.
However, even though Polystar had achieved this, he turned to Soren, his eyes showing his pity. "What a disappointment."
He turned and walked away.
A disappointment? Does he mean not killing me?
"Oh, Soren. It seems you are the only one left out." Ivory spoke up, pulling all attention in the room to him. "Pitiful." She shook her head regretfully.
Soren looked at his hands. His dagger was as plain as he had received it.
Amongst everyone gathered here, he was the only one who hadn't achieved the First Form.
All eyes stared at him. As expected, many snorted. Their eyes carried their disdain. They believed he was lower than them.
"So, he is Trash after all." The whispers filled the room.