F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 171: Soren Vs... Ambush (4) Mohawk Party

Far away from where Soren and Cynthia were, a ridge overlooked the hunting grounds like a silent throne.

A group of students stood there.

Every single one of them wore the same haircut — a sharp, aggressive Mohawk that rose like a blade from their scalps.

The Mohawk Party.

At their center sat a young man.

Or rather, he lounged.

One unfortunate student was on all fours beneath him, serving as nothing more than a human seat while the others formed a loose semicircle around their leader.

The young man wore fingerless gloves that exposed long, pale fingers.

His jaw was straight and clean, his nose slightly pointed, giving his face a naturally sharp look.

A pair of black spectacles hid his eyes, but the faint smirk resting on his lips made it clear he was enjoying himself.

Praise poured toward him like a river.

"Boss Aegon is truly the smartest!"

"Yes! Making those low-life commoners go hunt the Waterfell just to lure him into the Hunting Grounds... only you could come up with such a brilliant plan!"

"Exactly! Now the brat has walked right into our trap!"

"Only you could know that sophia and her dumb brothers were never enough to hurt the Waterfell even though he was wounded, and instead, would be lured here."

Aegon chuckled lightly, clearly pleased.

"Yes," he said calmly, adjusting the gloves on his fingers. "But whether he is truly a Waterfell or not hasn’t been proven yet."

His smirk widened.

"But my Aegon noble family does not like the Waterfells regardless."

"And the Ivory family..." he added lazily, "...are paying my father quite generously to ensure that the Soren brat dies. There is also that bounty on the fools head." His eyes shone greedily.

The group erupted again in agreement.

One overeager lackey stepped forward.

"Yes, Boss Aegon! The Waterfells are the worst. I heard your family was embarrassed during the Third Generation War—"

Aegon turned his head.

Just slightly.

But the look he gave the speaker was venomous.

The boy instantly froze.

His face drained of color as he stepped back and bowed deeply.

"S-sorry, Boss Aegon! I misspoke!"

The ridge grew quiet.

Then Aegon spoke.

"The humiliation my family suffered at the hands of the Waterfells..."

His voice lowered.

"I will wash it away."

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked toward the fractured sky above the Hunting Grounds, as though staring at something far beyond the artificial world.

"And then..."

His fingers flexed slowly inside his gloves.

"Father will have no choice but to make me heir of the family again."

The Mohawk Party erupted in praise.

"Boss Aegon is destined to lead the Aegon family!"

"Of course! That’s why you rule all the second years in the academy!"

"No one compares to you!"

Aegon nodded at the compliments, accepting them with the ease of someone used to hearing them.

Yet behind those dark spectacles...

His expression remained strangely tight.

Something about this hunt worried him.

...

Meanwhile...

Soren’s arm tightened around the curved handle of the walking stick .

His knuckles turned pale against the polished wood as he steadied himself, his tired brown eyes narrowing toward the horizon.

The ground beneath his boots felt strangely firm, as though the artificial Glass itself understood what was about to happen and was bracing for impact.

Beside him, Cynthia stepped forward.

Each step she took landed with a heavy thud against the ground, the weight of it carrying the anticipation of violence. The air around her seemed to grow tense, as though even the wind knew better than to brush too closely against her skin.

She rolled her shoulders once.

Crack.

Then again.

Crack.

Her fists slowly clenched.

Soren followed her gaze.

And then they appeared.

At first they were only silhouettes on the horizon.

But the silhouettes multiplied.

Ten.

Twenty.

Fifty.

More.

Soon the distant ridge was crawling with cadets pouring over it like a living tide. Weapons glinted beneath the fractured sky—spears, blades, even rifles designed to channel soul energy.

Their eyes were fixed on him.

Even before they fully closed the distance, the attacks began.

The air shrieked.

Massive constructs of condensed soul energy tore through the sky toward soren and Cynthia.

Jagged spears of ice twisted unnaturally as they flew. Great boulders of compressed earth tumbled through the air like meteors. Blazing arcs of fire spiraled forward, their flames warped into unnatural shapes by Aether.

Some attacks were elegant.

Others were crude.

But all of them were lethal.

Hundreds of attacks.

All aimed at the same two people.

Soren felt his stomach drop.

This wasn’t some stupid Gauntlet challenge.

No. That was an excuse.

This here was an execution.

Such overwhelming force would crush almost anyone who dared stand against it.

But Cynthia...

Cynthia was not just anyone.

She tilted her head slightly and muttered in a strangely calm voice,

"Cooover... eeaaars."

Soren blinked.

He didn’t understand what she was planning.

But he obeyed anyway.

His hands rose to cover his ears as instructed.

After all—

This was the same girl who had fought off swarms of Eldritch antibodies in the Glass, back when they were in prison.

Compared to that nightmare...

This crowd was hardly intimidating.

In fact—

She looked excited.

A grin crept beneath the shadow of her helmet as she brought her fists together.

BOOM.

The collision of knuckles rang out like stone striking stone.

Then she leaned back.

Her entire body shifted as though being drawn into a massive bow.

Muscles tightened.

Strained.

The fabric of her black academy tunic stretched violently across her shoulders as the sheer density of her physique revealed itself.

Veins rose along her arms like living cables, pulsing with power as the muscles beneath them swelled.

Her spine arched.

Her legs rooted themselves into the ground.

The earth beneath her boots cracked.

For a moment she held that position—

Like a catapult pulled to its absolute limit.

Waiting for the right moment. Just when they were close enough.

Then—

She punched.

Not forward.

But Upward.

Her fist tore through the air with such violent speed that Soren couldn’t even see the motion itself.

He only heard it.

BOOOOOOOM

The sound exploded across the artificial glass like the detonation of a war cannon.

A sonic boom ripped outward from the point of her strike.

The shockwave surged through the sky like an invisible tidal wave, slamming into the incoming storm of attacks.

Flames shattered.

Ice exploded into glittering fragments.

Soul-energy boulders burst apart as though struck by a god’s hammer.

Even the sky seemed to recoil as the sonic blast devoured a massive section of the incoming bombardment.

Only a few attacks managed to slip through the devastated airspace.

Those that did screamed past them, slamming harmlessly into the distant ground.

Soren instinctively raised a hand in front of his face as the violent wind from the shockwave rushed past him.

Dust whipped through the air.

His hair fluttered wildly.

When the gale finally passed, his eyes slowly widened.

He turned to stare at Cynthia.

The horizon was now visible again, the storm of attacks largely erased from existence.

He could only shake his head in disbelief.

"You got even stronger?"

A faint smile crept onto his face.

"Incredible."

However, Soren’s smile suddenly froze.

Cynthia dropped to one knee.

The arm she had used to throw that monstrous punch trembled violently, the muscles along it spasming in erratic twitches.

The veins that had bulged with such terrifying power only seconds ago now quivered as if the strength had been violently ripped out of them.

Soren’s expression darkened immediately.

Of course.

She was still human.

Even someone like Cynthia could not unleash that level of force without consequences.

Thin streams of vapor hissed from the vents of her helmet as her breathing grew heavy—obviously struggling to regulate her breath.

Her shoulders rose and fell sharply.

Soren frowned.

Leaning harder onto his walking stick, he limped over to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you good?" he asked quietly.

Cynthia didn’t answer.

But as if in reply, the tremor in her arm continued, the muscles still trying to recover from the violent release of power.

But Soren understood.

She didn’t need to say anything.

His eyes shifted to his wristwatch, he checked the time.

And then he opened up a map. If there was any advantage in this place, then it would be that this artificial Glass had a map.

Unlike the real glass that was rumored to be unending.

He already had a destination in mind.

Now, they just had to reach it.

Soren looked back at Cynthia.

"Let’s go," he said firmly. "We need to hide before they recover... and come for us again."

For a moment she remained kneeling.

Then she slowly nodded.

With visible effort, Cynthia pushed herself back onto her feet. Her posture was steadier now, though the slight stiffness in her movements revealed just how much that single punch had cost her.

Without another word, the two of them moved.

Soren turned first, leaning heavily on his walking stick as he began heading toward the dense stretch of alien vegetation deeper within the artificial Glass.

Cynthia followed beside him.

Together, they disappeared into the strange fauna of the hunting grounds, vanishing from the open battlefield before the cadets on the horizon could regroup and begin the hunt again.