Chapter 1: The Dreamer

—"Machos...!" Soren’s voice broke, trembling in a mix of shock, loss, and fear.

Did he want to move?

Yes. But Soren’s body did not listen. His legs were frozen in place.

The Eldritch Soul chewed without hurry—a wet crunching noise of what was once Soren’s only guardian. It approached. Stopped before him. One of its tentacles slowly wrapped around the frozen boy’s body.

Soren couldn’t even scream. The last thing he saw was the creature’s many eyes as its jaw opened—a circular maw lined with teeth shaped like human hands.

They reached for him, and it swallowed him whole.

The world shattered. Then silence.

[You Died]

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{Barely 48hours ago...}

"...How can you see this and not be so hyped!?" The teenage boy with black hair, simple facial features and oil smeared across his cheeks and down his clothes, spoke with enthusiasm.

His hands flared dramatically. "This is the V-03 Valkyrion Class Soul Mecha of the Third Generation. Also known by its flag name. The Bulb. A peak engineering marvel of its time. It has hydraulic piston arrays fused with carbon fiber to simulate human muscles.

A sweet combined set of soul-reactive alloys that harden under emotional pressure from the pilot and the soul bond with its Shade." His brown eyes brightened the more he spoke.

"In full functionality, it has a height of 53.2 meters, can you believe it? That’s as high as 30 of me, stacked on top of each other." He demonstrated with his hands.

"Can you imagine how sweet the view from that high would be? None of the townhouses are that high. I bet that’s the view the emperor enjoys every day. And that’s not even the best part. Its Type-IV Soulsteel armor can withstand three direct anti-artillery shots. Can you just imagine that? Old Man Machos said that one of those shots can destroy our small town and two other towns all at once. Poooshhhhh!!!" He added sound effects with his mouth.

And then his eyes dropped to his audience. There were two boys around his age.

His gaze was expectant and excited. However, the most interesting thing amongst the listeners was how deep the skinny one with slightly torn leather pants could dig his nose.

"Really, Soren? You said that you had something really cool to show us. And you have been disturbing us all week since the Qualification Tests." The rounder one rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I did. "It’s this!" Soren pointed excitedly to the out-of-duty Soul Mecha half covered with moss and rust, climbing its body like a shroud, kneeling in a silent, reverent position.

Its half-buried humanoid frame was bathed in a mix of decades of rain, sunshine, and neglect.

Even its war badges were mostly worn out, and instead of a banner of the empire held firmly in its only good arm, vines had taken over the honor, managing to coil up the empty rod, swaying in the wind like some forgotten glory.

No doubt, it was once a weapon used to challenge the Eldritch souls that tried to break into this world through the passage simply known as ’The Glass’. But now, it was just Scrap metal.

"I only came here because you promised sweets. But one half-eaten Soul Breaker candy bar does not serve as good payment for this torment." The Skinny one commented, and then flicked the booger with a finger before digging it back in, ever in search of more disposable gold.

This was not the first time Soren had forced them to listen to his Soul-mecha-induced rants for hours.

"Tommy is right. I’m getting hungry." The rounder one with a bad bow hair-cut massaged his sagging tummy. "That piece of candy is not worth all this torture."

"Torture!?" Soren pretended to have been struck by lightning with those words. He grabbed his chest and fell on one knee. "How can you say that, Pencil!? Soul Mechas are the greatest, most awesome things in the world."

"Yes. And that is why we are excited about the Awakening ceremony by noon. They are finally going to let us ’Touch the Glass’ and become Soulbound warriors. Can we go? I am tired of seeing this... This trash." He gave a disgusted look at the only Soul Mecha, which they were all too familiar with in their small town.

It had been here long before any of them were born. They had played in and around it more times than they could remember. But now, it had lost its appeal—to all except Soren.

While Soren was weirdly always bright, smile wide, in a bleak town where people lived their lives like every day was a funeral, he was a little more jolly than usual.

For him, a teenage boy who had lived his entire life with and for machines, even a bent spoon was interesting.

Then again, Soren knew that the only reason they now treated this once-beloved rusted old bucket like this was because of the hype for piloting those shining Soul Mechas that had been bathing their minds for the last week since their Qualification tests.

"Yes. Yes, I know." Soren waved his hands dismissively. "But that was before I discovered that it could withstand three direct anti-artillery shots. Guys, that’s THREE WHOLE SHOTS. Poooshhhh!!!" He added sound effects with his mouth again. But neither boy saw the appeal.

Pencil sighed again, face-palming. "Why did the god of the Neural link let us suffer so much at your hands? I don’t know."

"It’s because we are too unfortunate to be his friends. That’s why. We probably stole a sacred treasure in our past lives, and now, we are receiving divine punishment. At this point, dying by an Eldritch Soul does not sound so bad." Tommy shook his head, finally tired of searching for gold.

"You know," he suddenly sat on the muddy ground. "I can literally do anything to get away from all this boring talk. I’d rather listen to the town madman’s rants about Soul energy conspiracies of the various empires, while scrubbing his stinky, bad toe with my tongue than suffer anymore."

Pencil visibly cringed at the thought, but could still relate.

"Why are you guys behaving like this?" Soren jumped down the raised ground, carrying a dignified look on his face. " We are finally about to live our dream." His eyes shone brilliantly, "We are supposed to be passionate warriors. Appreciate the sacrifices of the old, embrace the possibilities of tomorrow. After all, we are Knights of the Empire’s Grand Order of Soul..."

Woosh Posssh!

A wet flying piece of shit from seemingly nowhere slapped across his face. "Grand Knights? More like Grand Shitface."

Laughter erupted from the distance—a group of children, six in number. The one leading them with the excellent ’shit throw,’ having red hair and a slightly bigger build, was the living nightmare of Soren and his friends: Vass, son of the town’s mayor.

"Look what we have here," he swaggered as he approached with his goons. "Just because you dim-witted turd faces barely managed to meet the criteria for the ’Touching Glass’ ceremony, you suddenly think you’re all that, huh!?"

The ’Touching Glass’ Ceremony was the most distinguished event such a dim, run-down rural town would ever experience. It usually happened yearly. Allowing the Empire’s elite to choose the next generation of Soulbound warriors or possible Soul Mecha pilots.

These were people with not only the strongest soul bonds, but also the bravest hearts.

Unfortunately, because of the escalation of Eldritch souls emerging from beyond the Glass in the past year, an entire year was skipped in the selection of this whole region.

People called them the league of nameless towns. The name stuck because the towns were scattered across an area most would not consider hospitable, each separated by ectoplasmic waste, yet they survived.

While many had been devastated by this, the empire had decided to make its normally rigid selection process a bit more lenient this year to ’appease the people.’

Before this, the selection rate was around 2% of the teenage population of the accepted age range. But this time around, it had been increased to 5%. And only Last week, the Mayor had gathered all the teenagers in the town for the qualification tests. Luckily, a big part of the town was filled with children who had lost their parents to all sorts of conditions, such as Faming, Ectoplasmic poison, and so on. All of which was a result of the constant fighting humanity must endure to survive.

Meaning that out of the 220 children who went in for the Qualifications test, only 11 of them passed. Soren and his two best friends had been lucky enough to share such a fate. Unknown to them, it would be the last time.

While the number picked was still minimal, it was best to note that not everyone was born with the gift to bond with a Soul from beyond the Glass, and even fewer with the ability to share that bond with a Soul Mecha. If one did not meet specific qualifications, they might get swallowed by the Soul and die. Or in worse situations, become an Eldritch. A being of pure, unbalanced malice and hunger.

Soren wiped the cow dung off his face in disgust. "It’s nice to see you too, Vass." He turned his head to the side. "To think even the stupid-faced one got picked."

"What!? What was that you just said, turd face?" Vass was sharp to respond, hands molding to form a fist.

The PUNCH landed in the gut faster than Soren could process.

"Uhhhhh!" Soren coughed up some spittle to the side as his mind processed the pain. But it was not enough to remove that annoying smile from his face, pissing off Vass some more.

Another PUNCH landed in the same spot. Soren folded some more.

"Do you think I’m stupid like your Dungie-dead father? Didn’t he offer himself up like Candy for an eldritch horror?" Vass had a menacing look, no doubt nursing the thought of hitting Soren some more.

Soren was forced to look away instinctively. But his gaze still carried faint rebellion.

Tommy and Pencil, not wanting to share in their friend’s pain, instinctively took steps back. No one was stupid enough to go against Vass. At least none except Soren. He always had a mouth that was ever hungry to piss Vass off.

And this was regardless of the numerous times Vass had given him a pounding.

Vass’s words hurt even more than the punches. Prompting Soren to instinctively grab the triangular crystal pendant around his neck—the only memento he had from his late parents.

Last week’s beating was still fresh in Soren’s mind and body. With the additional punches, he knew better than to vex Vass any more than he already did. At least not today. Today was special.

Soren, like many others, was an orphan.

Worse, he never met his parents, but he did hear their stories. His father had been a Soul Mecha pilot—a position with the highest regard and honor in the empire.

An honorable man who gave his life to save his comrades while fighting one of the most horrific Eldritch entities to ever appear in history. At least that was what old man Machos told him.

But the rest of the public had a different story. One that was not only embarrassing but also very shameful. Shameful enough that Soren, at the age of ten, had gotten lost in an underground cavern at the edge of town for an entire week because the kids in school bullied him.

They called him ’Dungie.’

This was the name popularly given to those who abandon their Soul Mecha in the middle of a battle to save their lives.

This was considered a great shame. Soul Mechas were considered the sweat and blood of the citizens. It was a representation of their will, their hearts, and their indomitable spirit against the Eldritch souls that invaded this world. Abandoning one was abandoning one’s people.

Just as Glory was inherited, so was Shame.

That face—still smiling. Vass frowned. He adjusted his red hair behind his ear. He approached, tightening his fist for another round. No doubt a bigger boy about to teach small Soren a lesson.

And then a loud trumpet sounded.

OOOOOUUUUUUU.

Everyone paused, their heads all jerking towards its source. And then a shout. "They are here! The Empire’s Grand Knights of Soulbound Warriors are here!!"

Breaths literally seized at the announcement.

Vass looked back at Soren. "You are so lucky, Turd-face." Without wasting time, he turned in the direction of the trumpet and rushed there. The other children followed along, the same with Soren, trying hard to wipe his face of shit with mud as fast as he could.

There was the shit smell diving into his nose. But he did not care. After all, they were here. They were finally here to let him ’Touch the Glass’, pick a Soul, and allow him to become a Soul Mecha Pilot. With this, he would finally have his fate in his own hands and erase the disgraceful name he had inherited from his father. Also, he would show Vass what he was capable of.

He would show them all.

[Author’s Note: Please add the Book to your Library. The inspiration for such a world has been in my subconscious for a very long time. So, I am submitting this book to Rising Star. Let’s see if I surprise you guys with this one. Thank you.]

F-Rank Soul Eater — Chapter 1

F-Rank Soul Eater Chapter 1 — Chapter 1: The Dreamer

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