"Good." Marcus turned around, and Polystar had to pick himself up, wiping away the blood on his face.
"By the end of tomorrow, all of you should have learned the 'First Form.' How proficiently you present the skill will determine the points you shall receive. Unfortunately for you all, talent will definitely be the judge of that. If you don't learn the technique, you fail. Trust me."
He gave a side chuckle. "You do not want to begin your life in the academy as a failure." He waved his hand, and his Glassheart as if having a life of its own returned to his waist, hooking against his side.
"This train is fully equipped with training facilities, a cafeteria, and even a place to sleep. You may use the facilities as you—"
Whoosh!
All attention was immediately drawn to a person.
Vass.
His Golden soul energy burned through the soul steel dagger in a long, fiery arch to the ceiling.
Everyone paused. Shocked.
The instructor was similarly surprised by this.
While the technique wasn't so hard to perform, he did not expect significant result until at least tomorrow.
After all, these cadets were fresh to soul energy.
"It would seem Talent has already began picking her favorites." He commented, eyes leaving Vass, and falling on the supposedly least talented in the room, Soren.
As if to say, 'So what if you managed to pilot an Old Soul Mecha, you will still be left behind.'
In this manner, the day continued.
.....
The training area was just what Soren expected it to be, an open space without any chairs.
However, it was longer than expected. Most likely made of two conjoined couches.
The cadets gathered in their own little groups here and there, focusing on their first graded assignment.
Soren knew that being a Soulbound Warrior was going to force him into a competitive environment but he had not expected it to be this competitive.
Apparently the idea that Vass, a Commoner, had managed to use the 'First Form' five minutes after seeing it was a huge blow to the egos of the noble children.
Even worse, the news had reached the Soulbound knights and many of them confirmed that this was a new record.
Most admitted that they had not been able to achieve the technique until the next day. Those with even less talent stated that it took them a week.
A Commoner with an SS-RANK soul. Vass was already showing that he was creme of the crop.
The desire to not be left behind was not only implanted in the noble children, as blow to their egos, but also as hope to the Commoner children.
After all, all that mattered now, was talent.
Like the others, Soren had been trying the technique again and again.
But no matter how his gaze threatened to pierce through the dagger, he just could not feed it his soul energy.
In truth, Soren surprisingly could not even feel soul energy.
Even though he was able to produce flames, it was just him mimicking what Vass had done days ago, which he had now painful confirmed did not equate to what Vass was capable of doing now.
If Soren could put a finger on it, then what it meant was this.
He was simply and only capable of a skill if a soulbound warrior was already capable of it, before Chronovore devoured their Shade.
This meant that for the assignment, Vass's ability he had consumed would not help him.
In truth, he could have just used the Bulb's from the Town's madman.
However, that also came with a problem.
When Soulbound warriors released soul energy, it glowed and moved like gas in the color of their rank.
Just like Vass, when instructor Marcus used his soul energy, it was red.
When Tommy used his, it was purple.
The 'Bulb' also glowed in the color of its rank when it released its soul energy. Which was purple. A 'B–rank'.
If Soren used it, it would mean that he was having a B–rank soul and this would draw attention and possibly investigation to him.
Soren did not want to guess how intense such a situation would be, but as a die hard fan of Soul Mechas and the job they performed, he had already knew certain things.
The only creatures known to eat other Souls were Eldritch.
And every Eldritch had to be put down.
It was easy to imagine what would happen to him if word got out that his soul could consume other souls to take on their abilities.
Soren wanted to be a Soul Mecha Pilot. Not just for himself, but now, he also carried that dream for the only father he ever knew—Machos.
He had to do this.
But no matter how he tried, he just could not feel it—No, it was not there.
While instructors would come and peak in on the cadets from time to time—give pointers, and Soren would listen, it still did not help.
Why?
It stemmed from the foundation of the technique itself.
It involved taking without giving. But would Chronovore allow that?
At such a time, a cadet shouted in joy—
"Wow, i did it. I actually did it." Everyone turned to him.
His Purple soul energy like smoke, danced around the soulsteel blade like the teeth of a chainsaw.
"Now, if I can only smoothen the edges." The boy commented as he focused hard.
Puffffff—
The soul energy was extinguished. He had a sad look on his face, eyes on the disappointing result of his effort.
"Don't worry," a girl at his side comforted. "Even the SS-RANK was not able to smoothen the edges. I heard even the best cadets at the academy need at least a month to figure how to do it. And some don't get it for almost a year."
"Really?" The boy asked hopefully.
She nodded, as if all knowing of all knowledge. "Besides, it's already a pass mark to perform the soul transference.
Soren heard their conversation and sighed hopelessly.
"Hey... don't worry man," Tommy jabbed him lightly with a shoulder, "you will get it too—like me, your Elder." A smug look on his face one hand holding his dagger, coated roughly with his purple soul energy, obviously flexing, and the other hand digging his nose.
Soren turned to his friend. Even with Tommy having no brows or head of hair because of his Shade's curse, that smug look excited the urge in him to smack his face.
However, he held back, sighing again.
It had already been twelve hours since the lecture.
And more than half of the cadets had already learnt the technique.
By now, certain cadets had began to throw glances his way.
Some whispered.
The F-rank that managed to pilot a Soul mecha, was he actually talented, or was it all a fluke?
Some even sneered—no, most did—including the commoners.
Tommy also saw this. He frowned and little.
—an idea bloomed in his head.
"You know what," Tommy stood before Soren, obstructing his view of the other cadet— chest puffed out like a rooster on festival day, "how about I—your elder in the sacred arts of soul energy, wielder of techniques so advanced they make instructors weep—teach you how it's done?"
He finished with a smug grin, a little jet of vapor shooting from his nostrils like he was a kettle about to whistle.
Soren's eye twitched.
—That was it.
If he didn't smack that expression off this bald, overconfident, self-proclaimed soul-energy guru, he wasn't going to sleep well tonight.
Without hesitation, Soren pounced on him.
He tackled Tommy to the floor like a starving wolf claiming a chicken, hands around his neck as Tommy flailed dramatically.
"Stop... This cocky baldy Soul master—"
Tommy wheezed, "—has rights!"
Soren and Tommy rolled across the polished train aisle like two drunken rats fighting over a breadcrumb.
Tommy flailed helplessly, kicking his legs.
"Mercy! MERCY! My ancestors are watching!" he croaked, tapping out on the floorboards.
Some cadets looked their way, most choose to ignore them.
Pencil also turned their way. He gave a light smile, and for a moment, his body wanted to instinctively join them.
Then he remembered. He stopped himself, looking at the Soul-steel dagger he had filled with red Soul energy.
He sighed at himself, hugging his knees tight.
At such a time, heels clicked sharply into the room.
Everyone, including Soren and Tommy, paused.
Their eyes were drawn unconsciously to the instructor. It was Ivory.
Her gaze scanned the room like a hawk searching for its next meal, and then it fell on Soren.