Soren stood before the door.
Instructor V. Ivory.
The na felt heavier now.
Ivory.
The Imperial Soulforge Academy was directly tied to the Empire’s military.
As such, people were referred to using their surnas. It was seen as regard and honor to one’s bloodline, and in turn the empire.
Only commoners had one na.
So what happened when mlre than one petson from that sa house hold joined the military?
The answer was simple. They would add their first na as an initial. Placing it just in front the surna.
For soren, Ivory was not just a Surna.
A noble house.
That... noble house.
The one that wanted him dead.
A bloodline tied to power, influence—
And to the woman he had killed.
His fingers hovered inches from the door panel.
If she was related—
Sister? Cousin? Aunt?
Then she definitely knew. It might also explain why she had been stern to him in class the other day.
Maybe she looked at him and thought of a thousand ways to chop him into little bits.
Then again, would an instructor do sothing like that... quietly?
Or publicly?
His chest throbbed sharply, as if reminding him that this was not the mont to hesitate.
He exhaled slowly.
Then knocked.
A pause.
Footsteps ca from within.
A woman’s voice answered from inside, calm and low.
"Enter."
The door slid open with a muted chanical hum.
Soren stepped in carefully, his posture still curved slightly forward to protect the wound in his chest. Every step reminded him that stitches and pride were fragile allies.
Behind him, Cynthia and Bloodshine remained outside without complaint. The door closed softly, sealing him inside.
The air in this room felt different.
Denser.
Cooler.
—but only because of how he perceived his relationship to be with the Ivory family.
He felt as if he had willingly entered the Lion’s den.
Then again, it was a summon. It would appear on the public ledger that he ca here.
Instructor V. Ivory’s office was dimly lit—not dark, but intentionally subdued. Tall black shelves lined the walls, carved from what looked like obsidian-veined wood. Books bound in deep crimson, charcoal, and dark violet leather filled them in tight, immaculate rows.
Heavy black drapes frad the narrow windows, allowing only thin slits of winter light to pierce the room.
Candles—real ones, not artificial aether light—burned in wrought iron holders shaped like twisted branches.
She wore the academy’s instructor compulsory red tunic, but everything else about her was dark. Black gloves. Black stockings. Of course, her signature Black veil layered in subtle lace patterns over her face.
Even the jewelry at her throat was a thin chain of dark tal.
For so reason, she seed even darker here than when he had t her in class.
Or maybe the room just enunciated her pesona a bit too much.
Then Soren noticed the walls.
Ornants hung between the shelves.
These were not paintings.
Not trophies.
But rather... Fragnts.
Preserved pieces of Eldritch souls.
At least that was the imdiate feeling Siren got from them.
A twisted horn suspended in a transparent cube, faint purple energy still crawling along its ridges.
A floating shard of crystallized void matter that pulsed slowly like a heartbeat.
A dried, translucent mbrane pinned like a macabre butterfly specin.
They radiated.
Not visibly.
But spiritually—more to the soul.
His Blackfield reacted subtly, brushing against them and recoiling.
Then—
Soren saw it.
A green surface mounted on the far wall.
Circular.
Smooth.
Like a mirror made of polished jade.
It shimred faintly, its depths swirling like slow-moving smoke trapped beneath glass.
Sothing about it tugged at him.
It was violently.
But rather... a quiet pull.
Like recognition.
He found himself staring.
Drawn half a step closer before he realized it.
"Be careful."
Her voice cut cleanly through the room.
Soren blinked.
Instructor Ivory sat behind her desk, fingers laced together.
"That," she said evenly, "is a Grade 5 Eldritch soul core."
Grade 5? Eldritch souls have grades?
Soren thought yo himself.
He straightened instinctively.
And then he saluted.
The movent pulled at the stitches across his chest and pain flared sharply, but he masked it.
She observed the strain.
Her dark eyes were strange.
Beautiful.
But wrong.
There was sothing deliberate in their focus, as if they were lenses rather than organs.
Forced eyes.
She gestured lightly toward the chair opposite her desk.
"Sit."
He obeyed carefully.
The chair was dark wood, cushioned in black fabric that felt softer than it looked.
"You sent for ," Soren said once seated.
She nodded slightly.
"Over a week ago... after class, yes i rember."
Soren rembered too. But that was when that attack happened in the Science research institute.
—the one with the Shades taking over cadet’s bodies.
Still.
He frowned faintly.
"Not just now?" he asked, raising his wrist slightly to show the glowing summons on his watch.
Her expression did not change.
"You should not be so trusting."
She leaned back slightly.
"This academy contains many abilities. Finding soone with a specialty in electronics would not be difficult."
Soren’s brow furrowed.
She continued calmly.
"The giveaway is the lack of na attached to it. Falsely using an Instructor’s na carries severe consequences. Even talented hackers do not dare attach ours to their mischief."
That made sense.
If soone had intercepted the system, they would avoid implicating a staff mber directly.
Soren nodded slowly.
Understood.
But that raised a more pressing question.
If she had summoned him over a week ago—
Then who had sent him the ssage that led to his ambush in the previous loop?
Why did they do it?
But even more pressing was another realization. One that had bugged his mind for a long ti.
The Shade Stealer.
The first ti it attacked Soren, when Instructor Hector had brought up the CCTV footage, the person did not show.
Shit!
He cursed in his head. A realization settled within him.
A possibility that might be true.
From the very beginning his enemy had been Toying with him.
(Author’s note: Just A random Suggestion. Send Powerstones. They help too guys. Thanks.)
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