The clattering sounds of cutlery kissing plate in the habitual motion of eating, mixed with gossiping murmurs, reached Soren's ears—but it all faded like background music to him.
Instead, his eyes peeped through the square-shaped window that gave a peek into the outside world.
The train had made a temporary stop.
Instructor Marcus did say there would be stops from time to time.
Soren did not mind it. It allowed him a brief but treasured look at the world.
It was the first time he was leaving his small town. Therefore, the scenery was supposed to be captivating for him.
Unfortunately. It was not.
This was probably the second city they were passing that had been destroyed.
The buildings were ruined, tilting on their sides, like a giant toddler pushed them aside to make room to pass.
Some structures even had giant bite marks, and electric poles tilted on crushed vehicles.
Soren had heard of them before. In the old magazines Machos would bring back home.
He believed they were called cars. He also remembered that these wheeled structures had been the major source of locomotion in the Old World.
And of course, ectoplasm, green and slimy, travelled in small streams through the city.
They were far from the railway, but Soren could swear he saw movement—people.
This place looked worse than his isolated town, and people still lived here.
Truly, humans had a tenacious nature.
Still, his eyes dropped. "What a terrible sight." He muttered. Genuine pity bursting from his heart.
This broken world. This was the reason for Soul Mechas.
The more he looked, the sadder he became. However, he did not look away.
Why?
Because it served as an escape.
From whom?
Him—
"Hey, commoner. If you are not going to eat your carrot, hand it over." Polystar interrupted his train of thought.
Soren's eye twitched as he turned to the bespectacled noble sitting across from him.
Why is the jerk who tried to kill me five minutes ago sitting here? Even worse, he is requesting my food, as if it's his right.
"Firstly, my name is Soren, not Commoner." Soren corrected. "Secondly, why should I do that?" He asked, trying his best to present a measured, controlled tone.
"Your food..." Polystar chewed a lettuce as he pointed to Soren's plate, "...you haven't touched it at all. Seems like you lost your appetite. If you are not going to eat it, give me your carrot."
"—and whose fault is that, huh?" Soren snapped at him. "Who sits and eats with the asshole who nearly killed him minutes ago, like there's nothing wrong?
Can't you just go and sit with some of your noble buddies or something? What will they say, seeing you sit with a commoner and eating from his plate, huh?"
Polystar paused. "Well, the cook said they were already out of carrots for the day. Also, I don't have any noble human buddies. Besides, we were the last to enter the cafeteria. There was no other place to sit." He chewed unhurriedly.
"You could have managed the floor. I don't mind." Soren waved his hand dismissively.
"Of course, you won't." Polystar's eyes gleamed. "I will be sending you there indefinitely."
Indefinitely?
Soren was about to snap back when a figure, accompanied by two others, walked to their table—
"Would you look at that? Trash collector making friends with... trash." Goldsworth's eyes moved in theatrical grace from Polystar to Soren.
Soren raised his head to the uninvited guest and then back to Polystar. "Extra eyes, your girlfriend is here."
"How dare you! I am not his girlfriend. We are enemies." Goldsworth slammed the table.
"Well, you could have fooled me," Soren added, knowing fully well that he was pissing off both nobles.
If this were the old Soren, he might have folded to the pressure of bullying. But over eight hundred deaths had let loose whatever bridle still held his tongue.
Besides, he was starting to realize that the issue of piloting a soul mecha was bigger than he thought it was.
After all, it was the only reason he could think of that pulled all this unwanted attention to him.
Goldsworth's next words proved this point.
"Just because you managed to pilot an old, worthless Soul mecha, you think that trash like you is deserving?"
Okay—that was it. Soren had had it. The murmurs, talking behind his back, trying to prick at him, like some docile rabbit in a hole.
"Deserving?" He poked Goldsworth in the chest. "Do you think 'deserving' matters when an Eldritch rips apart your home? Tears through people you love? Opens a hole in your father?"
"Where was your 'deserving' then?" His eyes turned to the rest of the cafeteria. "Just because you are nobles does not mean that the rest of us are not human."
—silence.
Soren sat down, eyes back to his meal.
Goldsworth paused. He wanted to say something.
No, he wanted to do something—soul energy gathering in his palm.
However, everyone was looking his way. This included the few Soulbound Knights having their meal.
While fighting between cadets was permitted, there were rules in place. One of them being that it could only happen in the academy.
"I'll make you pay for this, F-rank." Goldsworth spat venomously. He turned dramatically, his posse following behind.
Soren did not even look his way.
Soon, everyone had gone back to their meal. The clattering continued.
However, Soren found himself unable to eat.
With all that had happened today, he had nearly forgotten.
But his confrontation with Goldsworth had brought back the memories.
His hands were stained with blood.
Even as his fingers rubbed against each other.
He could almost still feel it. Wet and Stinky
Soren had not even been given the chance to bury the man.
That thought really bugged him. He could only hope the townspeople had given Machos a befitting burial.
He sighed.
Again, his train of thought was interrupted.
"I think you're ugly. I hate you. Marry me."