"F-rank! Did he just say F-rank?" Someone in the crowd burst into brazen laughter. Soon, all the others realized and they also burst into laughter.
"His fate in this life is no different from ours. No! its worse. At least we are protected by the Soul bound Knights and the Soul mecha's of the Empire. But that bottom trash is going to be canon fodder against the Eldritch." Another added.
"The son of the coward is trash like his 'Dungie' father."
Many people discussed it.
"Trash begets trash. I always knew he was weird. Always smiling and laughing like a fool. Who's smiling now?" Their grins so wide it displaced their faces. "Hahahaha!!!"
Pencil and Tommy were left shocked by the result, but more by the meaning. Soren did not make the most basic requirement to be a Soul Mecha Pilot.
Vass took a lazy look at Soren, "I always knew you were trash." He turned away cockily.
Commander Jared relaxed into his seat, "hmmm. False alarm then." his gaze focused on the crack in the glass. "We are done here. Make sure to mend the glass properly."
Boyed signaled with a hand and a knight rushed over, changing settings on the Glassbreaker in order to mend the glass.
"You all make sure to adapt to your new positions as Soulbound Warriors," he lectured. "We will be here again in two days time to take you to the Imperial Soulforge Academy, where you will learn to properly control..."
...
No one noticed two people. One was the knight staring at the Ranking Orb like he had just seen a ghost, and the other was Soren.
Beads of sweat fell from his head. He tried to rise to his feet, but found his body to be too heavy. At least the others could still move. It was like he was trying to lift a house on his lanky frame.
He felt his gaze wobble. His muscles screamed as his bones cracked. His lungs tightened—the bond—it was crushing him.
Right now, Soren could not even talk. He could tell. If he so much as tried, he would die.
His hand raised, pleading for help. Anyone. The knights. The people.
"Help..." he cried from his soul, but his mouth barely made the motion.
No one. Absolutely no one would help him. In their eyes, he was useless trash. The only thing worse than being a commoner, was being a useless Soulbound warrior.
To attempt touching the clouds of heaven, but to be dragged back to the depths of hell.
The dirt where he laid was his fated position for the rest of his miserable life.
In his hazy vision, he saw it all. The mocking smiles. These people that had been scared that he was going to leave them in the dirt and touch the sky.
They jubilated, happy he would forever remain beneath them.
Just when all hope seemed lost for Soren, the necklace around his neck gave a faint glow. A quick light surrounded his body.
Relief washed through him like cold water on a sunny day. It was so profound that his mind instantly gave up.
As he fell to the ground, all he could hear were the echoes of laughter all around him. Some praising Vass, and others mocking him...
—
[Hunger]
[Hunger]
[Hunger]
[Hunger
[HUNGER!!!]
It screamed in his mind.
Soren jolted awake. His breath heavy, and a banging headache assaulting his consciousness. Slowly, he looked around. He was in his room. Just above, smeared with oil were the words. "One Day, I'll Pilot the Stars."
He sat upright and his eyes met the old stitched wallpaper of Soul mechas staring back at him. There were all over his room. Some parts were a stitched mix of three or more types—along with broken Soul Mecha action figures he had worked hard to fix.
He had placed them in such a way that waking up was a reminder of his dream. Regardless of the manner the day was going to start or end, he would see these things, and his dream would put a smile on his face.
But now, their lifeless gazes on him looked more like a mockery than anything else. Like he had failed them.
F-rank! what a shame.
He could not take it anymore.
He stood to his feet, aggressively tearing the wallpapers down. "Stop looking at me! Stop looking at me!! Please...Stop." He smashed the action figures. These priced collection, accumulation of his dream and hopes, now vexed him.
By the time he was done, his room was a mess. He coiled up on his bed again, tears leaking from his eyes.
The memory of what had happened rushed through his mind. Tommy, Pencil, even Vass had been chosen by strong Souls. Their future was going to be bright and limitless. The opportunity to wield incredible power was just before them. This was power to shake mountains and split rivers. But the best part was that they would get the opportunity to become Soul mecha pilots. This was a privilege that would never reach him.
He could already see it. They would wear the same tunics like Commander Jared and the world would bow whenever they spoke.
And him?
Soren could not even imagine his fate. Those that were D rank had never been heard from. E and F were practically none existent. What difference was there in being a lowly commoner and an F-rank?
Ah... there was that. F-rank was worse. Canon fodder in the war against the Eldritch.
Instinctively, he hunched, elbows on knees, eyes red and damp. He felt like a fundamental part of him had been ripped out aggressively. Fate was mocking him.
Soren had never had the best life, but he had always tried to walk the world with a smile on his face. But now...
He remembered the laughter of the people, and the way they mocked him. The fall of his dreams was probably the best thing that ever happened to them. Before this, he would always say. 'I'm going to become a Soul Mecha Pilot.'
No matter the bullying or the insults, or the mocking from adults and children.
He was the dreamer born of a useless Dungie—at least—he used to be.
The tears fell one at a time, and then like rain. "I'm a loser. To think I wanted to be a Soul mecha pilot. Pilot the stars? What a stupid joke. I'm a loser."
The metal door to his room creaked open. A deep well aged voice, nearly as gritting as the door was heard, "And who said that?"
Soren instinctively raised his head to the old man that had taken him in—He was more of a father to him than his actual father.
Machos had a grey bearded face. The only visible skin was his temple that led to a bald head. But even that was mostly covered by soot or oil from his workshop. His bright eyes, small, sharp, and copper-colored—shone with the restless curiosity of one that had seen the inner workings of both machines and men.
Regardless of his one bad leg that had been engineered by his expertise in the workshop, he still walked into Soren's room with a tray of food in hand. The aroma of the hot spicy soup was strong, but Machos's oil smell easily blanketed everything he touched.
"Soup's hot. And No, I didn't add any rat this time."
Soren sniffled, trying to hide his tears as he looked away. "Not hungry."
"If only I had a nickel for every time you have said that." He set the tray down. He stood and watched the boy for a bit, his eyes looking at the torn posters and broken action figures around. He sighed and sat on a crate opposite Soren.
"If you keep crying like that, you are going to fill the fuel tank boy." His voice was surprisingly soft regardless of the edge in it.
"Everyone got such amazing souls. Even that idiot Vass. No! he got the best one. You should have seen it. It was shinning from the glass. They cheered for the jerk. But me..." he remembered their mocking faces, and then looked away, "its nothing."
"Nothing, hmm? Are you sure about that?"
"I heard them." Soren continued, "'The son of the coward is trash like his father.'" He clenched his fist.
Machos sighed loudly. "You know, I remember when I first found you. You were no bigger than me wrench. Were you five then?" He massaged his messy beard. "I remember you were sitting in the corner of that collapsed shaft ye, covered in soot and dried blood. You looked at me with those big brown eyes and a smile so wide it near broke me heart. You remember that, right?"
"No." Soren shook his head.
"Of course not. You were half-starved to death. But you still smiled. Hell, even when I dragged you through the rain and you coughed out black water, you were still smilin'. I remember thinkin'— what kind of fool smiles in a world that is trying to kill em?"
Machos leaned forward, grabbing Soren's hands in his own. "You've been doin' that same fool thing ever since..." his eyes darted to the action figures around, "Carrying a big dream with a smile regardless of the sadness around you." Machos picked one of the action figures, fixed the head, and placed it on the table.
Soren's lips trembled, however the corners refused to lift. "It's just... hard to smile now." He avoided Machos's gaze.
"Aye. Some days it will be like that. But don't let one damn ceremony decide who you are, boy. The Glass might decide the soul you bond with, but not what you do with it. You think all great souls start shinning right away? Nah. My dear boy, some are buried so deep, the world has to break a few times before they start glowing."
He gave Soren's shoulder a firm pat—the closest any of them had ever been to a hug. But it was enough.
"Tell you what. Take the day off. Besides, I was thinking of doing the same. You are about to go to the academy, and I heard the town's madman had issues with our earlier guests, and his leg is worse than ever. I'm going to deliver some first aid to him. It's the least I can do for the bastard."
He stood up to leave. "Eat your soup before it turns cold. Or the rats will for you."
Soren nodded as he watched the old man close the door behind.
Machos words were encouraging. But because the old man saw him in such a light did not mean that the rest of the world did too.
He would still have to go out there and face them.
He coiled up on the bed again. His eyes rested on the fixed action figure on the table. Soon, he had cried himself to sleep.
—
[Hungry]
[Hungry]
[Hungry!!!]
Soren woke up. That voice again. He felt it.
Drained.
A tiredness that seem to come from his very soul. He turned to the tray. The soup had turned cold. Even worse, there was now a rat swimming in it. That's what he got for not listening to Machos.
He needed to eat something. The hunger was strange. It was there, but wasn't at the same time. It was from him, but yet it wasn't.
Ignoring the rat enjoying itself, he reached for the door. However, he suddenly paused. His eyes catching the Glassheart in the corner. He did not want to. But he was quite familiar with the codes of soulbound knights—'One's Glassheart must be taken everywhere.'
He picked it up and proceeded out into the workshop.
"Machos!" He called out. But no one answered him. Then again, the old man did say he was taking the day off. Soren made his way to the food storage. Unfortunately, it was locked. That much was expected. Machos was one of the few that could call himself rich in this town. He had to keep his things safe from hungry thieves.
Soren thought of going back to his room to wait it out. But he shook his head. The hunger won't let him rest.
He walked outside the shed. It was getting dark. He had been in doors all day.
He really did not want to show his face to people, but he needed this walk to either clear his mind or the hunger. Luckily, it was quiet.
A little... too quiet.
[Hunger]
He paused. There it was again. That voice—in his head.
What was that?
And then—
SCREAMING.
He turned in that direction. 'There must still be celebrating'.
The Mayor did plan to have a celebration for those that bonded with a soul. Maybe he could find some food there. Even if it was rat meat. At least it was cooked—better than the one floating in his bowl back home.
Coincidentally, this was the direction to the town's center where the 'Trash Soul mecha' kneeled.
The first thing he noticed were people screaming as they rushed past him. He paused. 'is the party that intense?'
Someone slammed into him. But Soren barely moved. Instead, the grown man fell. No doubt the effect of an enhanced body because of his bond with his Shade.
But when he leaned in to help the man up, he froze. Half of the man's face had been torn away and so was his body. It was in a bloody mess. He had fear in his eyes. "HELP... Me." The words barely formed before he collapsed—Dead.
Soren Panicked, backing away.
WOOSHHHH!!!!
Soren turned in the direction of the golden flames. It was Vass. His body was covered in golden soul energy as he waved his hand, "Salvation, GO!!!" his Glassheart opened up, and a pure white streak creating flames large enough to consume the sky, launched out.
Only now did Soren behold the monstrosity before him.
It was a hulking nightmarish mass of flesh and limbs. It looked vaguely like a dog, yet twisted by cosmic mockery. Its body pulsed with glowing green veins that moved like tentacles, leaking mucus. It had what appeared to be three heads, having rows of teeth, not just in its mouth, but growing out of its sides. But what really drew attention were the hundreds of eyes that moved independently.
Eldritch... Soul!
Vass shouted. "Fall, you damned..." But a long tentacle from one of the heads launched. It pierced through his bounded soul—tearing it it two, and fixing itself in Vass's head.
His expression froze as a mix of blood and brain matter trickled down.
Soren was bathed in fear. He wanted to move. But to where? How? What was going on?
He looked far behind, he could see a half eaten torso. It was Pencil's. And not faraway was a cleanly cut head with a finger in the nose. "Tommy..." he muttered.
All around were corpses of the Town's people. They littered the streets like banana peels after a monkeys' feast.
And then Soren's Glassheart opened up, his Shade like a devious snake rushed to the half of Vass's soul on the ground. It lifted it up, and in one swallow, Chronovore devoured Salvation.
—That, he had never seen or heard of before.
But what really caught his attention was a Scream. "Soren run to the bunkers!"
Machos ran over with a wrench to hit the eldritch.
What a stupid move that was. The eldritch chomped down on him, leaving behind his prosthetic leg, blood raining from its jaws. A messy meal—limbs hanging limply.
"Machos...!!!" Soren whispered in a mix of shock, loss, and fear.
Did he want to move?
—Yes.
But his body just did not listen to him. His legs were frozen in place.
The eldritch chewed. Wet crunching noise of what was once Machos as it approached. It stopped before Soren, one of its tentacles slowly wrapping around the fear filled boy.
Soren couldn't even scream. The last thing he saw was the countless eyes as its jaw opened—a circular maw lined with teeth shaped like human hands.
It swallowed him whole.
The world shattered. Then silence.
[You Died]
(Author's note: Please add the Book to your Library. And support with powerstones. Thank you)