"I think you're ugly. I hate you. Marry me." Her tongue forked at the end—like a serpent testing the air.
Soren snapped to his right. A girl's face was two inches from him, with a snake-like tongue reaching out to lick his chin.
Soren jolted like someone had dunked ice water down his spine. At the same time, he rubbed against his face with his palm.
"Who... what the hell are you? And why are you tasting me?"
Before Soren stood a young girl in her teens. Her bloody red hair was like fine silk, dropping on her skin—pale enough to make any doctor question if she was still alive.
And then there were her bright yellow, snake-like pupils.
If not for these features, she would have been beautiful.
But the tongue, the eyes, and the proximity?
Yeah, no. She was terrifying.
She followed Soren as he leaned back, closing the gap again with a kind of unnatural ease.
"I was not curious about you when I first saw you." She said sweetly. "But now, I am not interested at all. Mother did not say I should find a good man who can stand for what he believes in. For this reason, marry me." She smiled, slit pupils widening slightly.
Soren blinked at her, perplexed. Not just her appearance, but even her words made no sense.
Firstly, who appears before a person for the first time in their life and asks for their hand in marriage? Secondly, requesting it while claiming not to like the person in question was just wild.
What the hell is happening?
Soren subconsciously looked to Polystar, expecting some explanation.
However, Polystar was not even interested in him.
Instead, the bespectacled noble was using the opportunity to steal his carrot.
Soren immediately stood. He fled the cafeteria and bolted to the upper deck, where their rooms were located.
Soren slammed the door shut behind him, as if the creepy girl might crawl through the keyhole.
Tommy was on the lower bunk, flipping through a magazine on Shades and Eldritchs.
He looked up, unimpressed. "Hey, are you good?"
"Good? GOOD!? Of course I'm not. I just got licked by a girl with a snake tongue, who makes no sense, while the guy that tried to kill me a few minutes ago was stealing my food."
Soren lamented as he sat beside Tommy.
"Damn, you have it rough. But I see you have met Lady Linda Bloodshine." Tommy nodded.
"'Bloodshine'. What kind of a weird name is that?"
"Hmmm, don't worry much. You will get used to it." Tommy dug a finger in his nose. "I was like you when we first came. But now, the weird is normal to me. Bonding with a Shade does things to you, you know. We have it lucky." He pointed to his empty head of hair.
I heard it's much worse at the academy. Regardless, Lady Bloodshine is a unique case, though. Her curse morphed her tongue and affected her personality. Aside from questions and statements that are neither true nor false, she can never tell the truth."
Soren raised a brow at those words. His mind flashed back to his encounter with her.
Wait, doesn't that mean she just confessed love to me?
It suddenly made sense that she would say 'marry me', right after saying 'I hate you.'
But still, he was not interested in a relationship, much less marriage.
Why are all the nobles in this place just strange?
"She is very away of her situation and doesn't talk much. She must REALLY like you." Tommy teased.
.....
~Tummy grumbled.
Soren opened his eyes. It was already the next day.
Surprisingly, there was a half-eaten chocolate cake before him.
Yesterday had weirded him out a little too much, and he had forgotten to eat.
Then again, since he had accepted Chronovore's hunger, he was always hungry, to the point that he always forgot to eat whenever he got hungry.
It seemed Tommy had been so thoughtful as to bring something from the cafeteria for him.
Back home, cake was a luxury. It was not a bad idea to enjoy some.
However, as he did so, an announcement came over the speakers.
~Ring~
"This is to inform all cadets to be in the lecture area by 18:00 this evening for evaluation of their First Form technique."
Soren paused, a piece of cake still in his mouth.
His eyes widened in realisation. "Shit. I have not yet gotten the First Form." He jumped down from the bed.
He hurried to the door, but then remembered he was forgetting something.
"The dagger! Where is the dagger!?"
His reflection on the window revealed the location of the dagger.
It was plastered on his face.
Soren had practised all night till he fell asleep on the soul-steel dagger.
Unfortunately, his previous night had yielded no fruit.
No matter how he tried, even going so far as to beg and kowtow to his Glassheart. He was still not able to get the first form.
He was not even able to feel soul energy. Soren was really getting frustrated with this.
But he still had to try.
As far as he knew, there was still the possibility that his dream of becoming a Soul Mecha Pilot could become a reality.
After all, he had piloted one himself. Even if it was scrap at best, it still counted.
This was besides the fact that he was F-rank, and D-rank and below were never given the opportunity to pilot a Soul Mecha.
But he still had to try.
He had lost too much. All he had now was this dream.
With conviction in mind, Soren hurried to the training room.
As he did, he saw Vass leaning against a compartment. He was surrounded by cadets, boys and girls alike.
Even though he obviously shunned them, they still smiled at him, hustling for his attention.
Soren could not help but sigh. What he got were weird people who either wanted to kill him or marry him.
It was like they were in two different worlds.
Soren shook his head. That was not what he was supposed to be doing right now.
Instead, he was supposed to concentrate on getting the 'First Form' technique.
He reached the training area. The doors opened automatically when he came close enough.
This was good. He was the only one in this place. He sat cross-legged.
He remembered the different methods that the instructors said they had used to achieve the first technique.
And so he began to experiment with them—one after the other.
Time trickled away.
Unfortunately, none helped. He lay on his back, helpless, breathing heavily. He was tired.
"What am I doing wrong?" He whispered.
"Maybe it's because you are just a commoner, F-rank Trash." A voice replied.
Soren looked up. There he was.
Goldsworth stood over him with his posse.
Soren got to his feet. "What do you want, princess?" He frowned.
"What do I want?" Goldsworth flickered his gold shining hair, his voice as sweet as it was poisonous. "Darling, the only thing I want that you can... AFFORD is for you to jump out of this train."
He chuckled lightly, a hand to his lips. The two cadets by his side chuckled with him.
Soren rolled his eyes. "Just to escape the sight of you? Believe me, I'm tempted."
"What do you want, Goldsworth? I'm far too busy to entertain spoiled brats right now."
Goldsworth stepped closer. "You and that barbaric tongue. I wonder what manner of begging you will spit out when you are kicked out of the academy." He brushed Soren's side as he passed.
However, his words made Soren pause. "What do you mean?" Soren turned to him.
Goldsworth stopped. "Oh, you haven't been made aware? There is a reason the First Form technique was taught to us even before we arrived at the academy. But I guess a commoner like you would never know."
"Know what?" Soren's curiosity arrested him.
"The war last year wasn't the only reason cadets were not admitted. There was a reform of the academy's rules and structure. Any cadet who is unable to execute the First Form technique will not set foot into the Imperial Soulforge Academy."
Goldsworth turned, hair swaying, just enough to see the look on Soren's face. He smiled. "An F-rank getting the First Form technique in a day? Not possible even in a month or several years. Hell, I'll kowtow to you three times before the entire academy if it ever happens."
Then he turned, flipping his hair dramatically as he walked away. No doubt satisfied with the existential crisis he had plunged into Soren's life.
After Goldsworth's departure, Soren managed to ask a few Soulbound Knights that he came across.
Goldsworth had not lied. Apparently, the First Form technique was one of the methods the academy used to kick out those it considered useless or a waste of resources.
Soren's stomach dropped so hard it felt like it fell out through the floor.
Was this really how it was going to end? He was no longer just carrying his dream; he was also carrying his late father's, Machos.
Was he going to disappoint the old man, even in his grave?
Was he going to go back to hustling rats for soup while Tommy, Pencil, and even Vass moved on to a much better life?
Was this really how his journey was going to end, after all he had been through?
Soren had moved from panic mode to depression. Yet, no matter what he did, he could not figure out the First Form technique.
He turned to his wristwatch; the time was 17:00.
Only an hour more till class time.
Soren sighed heavily, laying back, eyes on the ceiling.
He really did not know what to do. Even worse, he could feel a part of him urging him to give up.
Soren frowned. "No! Not yet." He stood to his feet. "I still have an hour left. Maybe an instructor would be willing to help me. Or Commander Jared. Yes!" Soren slammed his fist on his palm.
He remembered the commander had said he could meet him if he had a request.
What better time to use such a favour than right now?
Soren hurried out of the training room. He did not know where the Commander's room was. He would have to ask questions.
However, he quickly noticed something odd.
"Where is everybody?"
The train had been so packed that the only privacy one had was in the toilet. But now, it was just empty.
Soren headed to the cafeteria. From a distance, he could already see people gathered there.
Was the gathering location changed without me knowing?
He headed there. However, the moment the automatic doors opened.
~Slash~
The sound reached his ear as his head tumbled from his body to the ground.
"Pitiful."
[You died.]
[Author's Note: Please add the book to your library. Also, who do you think killed him?