F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 173: Triplex Rot Hounds

As Soren and Cynthia pushed deeper into the artificial Glass, something strange began to happen.

The number of cadets chasing them started to decrease.

At first it was subtle.

The shouting behind them became more distant. Fewer footsteps crashed through the undergrowth. The bursts of soul energy that had been flying toward them gradually stopped.

Eventually—

Silence followed them.

Soren slowed slightly, glancing back through the twisted vegetation.

There were still a few pursuers in the distance, but far fewer than before.

It was as if the others had chosen to stop.

Chosen not to follow any further.

For Soren and Cynthia, this was both a good thing... and a very bad thing.

Good, because the chase had nearly ended.

Bad, because there was only one reason trained cadets—future knights of the empire—would stop pursuing prey they had nearly cornered.

Fear.

Which meant something ahead of them was worse than whatever reward they expected for killing Soren.

Soren exhaled slowly.

Still...

It confirmed something.

He was moving in the right direction. After all, hus goal was a certain territory.

Then—

They saw it.

Perched casually on a crooked tree branch ahead of them was a small creature.

It looked almost like a dog.

Its fur—or whatever passed for fur—was entirely green, glistening slightly like wet moss.

It had three heads.

But that wasn’t the disturbing part. A lot of Eldritch horrors had more than one head.

The disturbing part was that its rear was facing them.

The three heads were on the opposite side.

The creature’s backside stared directly at them.

Soren froze.

A bead of sweat slowly slid down his forehead.

"...Of course," he muttered under his breath.

Of all the creatures they could have encountered...

His luck had to bring them this one. When mapping out the direction for those escape, he knew he would enter their territory, but he had hoped that maybe they would be too busy with other prey.

Then again, the Hunting ground had been too busy these last few days because a lot of cadets were training for the Winter games.

These creatures had no choice but to have sentry protecting their territory.

Slowly, carefully, he turned toward Cynthia and raised a finger to his lips.

No noise.

Cynthia nodded immediately.

Both of them began moving slowly... carefully... trying to pass the creature without disturbing it.

One step.

Another.

The strange three-headed dog remained still on the branch.

They were almost past it.

Then—

Clink.

One of the blades lodged in Cynthia’s back slipped loose and fell onto the ground at the slight flex of her muscle.

The sound echoed loudly in the unnatural forest.

The dog reacted instantly.

Its three heads snapped upward.

Then—

It turned toward them.

But it didn’t move the way a normal creature would.

Its legs didn’t shift.

Its body didn’t rotate.

Instead...

Its flesh moved.

The creature’s entire torso twisted like soft clay being kneaded by invisible hands. The three heads slid grotesquely across its body, dragging through its green skin until they reached the side where its backside had been moments ago.

The legs never moved.

The heads simply relocated.

Now all three sets of eyes stared directly at Soren and Cynthia.

Its mouths slowly stretched open.

Rows of thin needle-like teeth glistened.

"Run," Soren whispered.

Then he shouted it.

"RUN!"

They both turned.

But Soren was too slow.

His injured chest and slow steps betrayed him.

The creature leapt from the tree.

It moved like a green blur through the air.

Straight toward Soren.

Cynthia reacted instantly.

Her massive arm swung out like a battering ram.

"Don’t—!" Soren shouted.

Too late.

CRACK

Her strike smashed the creature violently into a nearby tree.

The trunk splintered under the impact as the creature’s body burst apart against the bark. Thick green ectoplasm splattered across the tree like glowing blood.

Cynthia lowered her arm.

But Soren’s face had turned pale.

Pure dread filled his expression.

He stared at the remains of the creature.

"...Triplex Rot Hound," he muttered.

The name alone made his stomach drop.

It wasn’t the three heads that made them dangerous.

Anf it wasn’t the flesh-shifting body. All that —soren had seen when he encountered his first Eldritch horror.

It was something worse.

These things... they never hunted alone.

They always moved in packs.

As if summoned by fate itself—

A low growl echoed behind them.

Then another.

And another.

Soren slowly turned.

Behind them, several more green dogs emerged from the trees.

Three heads each.

Eyes glowing faintly.

Teeth bared.

More appeared beside them.

And behind those—

Even more.

Within seconds the forest behind them filled with the creatures.

Dozens.

Then hundreds.

Over a hundred Triplex Rot Hounds now stared at them with hungry eyes.

Soren’s voice cracked.

"Run!"

Cynthia didn’t hesitate.

She scooped him up instantly into a bridal carry and bolted forward.

Soren flushed in embarrassment for half a second—being carried like that was humiliating—but survival mattered far more.

Behind them—

The entire pack gave chase.

Over a hundred Eldritch hounds tearing through the forest after them.

They ran.

Cynthia tore through the forest like a charging beast, branches snapping and alien plants bending beneath the force of her movements. Even while carrying Soren in her arms, her speed was terrifying.

But the hounds were faster.

Behind them, the Triplex Rot Hounds flowed through the terrain like living shadows. Their movements were unnatural—almost weightless—as if their legs barely touched the ground at all.

They glided over rocks.

They slipped between trees.

They closed the distance.

Then suddenly—

Several hounds broke away from the main pack.

They darted to the sides.

Within seconds, more followed.

They began spreading outward, running along the flanks of the forest instead of directly behind.

Cynthia noticed and instinctively shifted direction, trying to outrun them.

But every time she turned—

More hounds appeared on that side.

Soren’s eyes widened.

His mind raced.

Then he understood.

"They’re herding us..." he muttered.

These creatures weren’t just hunting.

They were redirecting her.

Guiding her movements.

Cornering her.

Soren opened his mouth to warn Cynthia—

But the violent shaking from her sprint tore at the stitches across his chest.

Pain exploded through his body.

His breath caught in his throat.

Warm blood soaked through his tunic again.

Before he could force the words out—

Cynthia stopped.

Ahead of them—

Hounds.

Behind them—

More hounds.

To the left and right—

The pack closed in.

The Triplex Rot Hounds formed a tightening circle around them, their three heads swaying slowly as they bared rows of thin needle-like teeth.

Cynthia shifted her stance, setting Soren down gently while stepping slightly in front of him.

Fighting them wasn’t the problem.

Even exhausted, she could probably crush dozens of them.

The problem was him.

If she fought—

They would go for Soren.

Even the hounds seemed to understand that.

Their glowing eyes lingered on him.

The weak one.

The easy prey.

Soren’s fingers twitched.

Flames flickered faintly at the edge of his palm.

But he stopped himself.

He slowly lowered his hand.

Using his flames again would be dangerous.

He could feel the strain already building inside his soul.

If he pushed further...

He might lose Vass’s Shade the same way he had lost Rattler’s.

And losing an SS-Rank Shade would be a disaster.

The hounds drew closer.

Slowly.

Patiently.

Their teeth glistened.

Soren suddenly shouted.

"Really, Aegon?!"

His voice rang through the forest.

"After going through such an elaborate plan, won’t it be a shame to let your prey be taken by mere dogs?"

He smirked faintly despite the blood on his lips.

"Or is the honor of a noble from the Aegon family really just that shit?"

For a moment—

Nothing happened.

Then—

Branches snapped.

Footsteps echoed.

A hail of voices cut through the forest as several figures burst through the fauna surrounding them.

The Mohawk Party.

Dozens of them.

And at their center—

Aegon.

He walked forward calmly, both hands tucked casually inside his pockets.

The moment the new arrivals appeared, the hounds turned toward them as well, growling lowly.

Three heads each.

Hundreds of eyes staring.

But Aegon didn’t look concerned.

He sighed faintly.

Then slowly lifted one hand.

With two fingers, he lowered his black spectacles just enough to reveal his eyes.

They glowed.

A cold, unnatural light spilled from them.

The nearest hounds froze.

Their bodies stiffened instantly.

Stone crept across their flesh.

One after another—

The Triplex Rot Hounds turned into grey statues mid-snarl.

The forest fell silent.

Aegon stepped forward, sliding his glasses back into place.

Then he smirked.

"Relax, Waterfell scum..."

He brushed a speck of dust from his glove.

"Dogs should only bite when their master gives permission."

Cynthia slowly let Soren down as she took a ready fighting stance.

However, she breathed heavily. All the running and the fighting and the running.

The Mohawk Party could see that she was tired.

They smirked, and some even chuckled.

In their eyes Soren was prey waiting for the butcher’s knife.

But was he?