F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 45: Prison: Blackspire Bastion.

Chapter 45: Prison: Blackspire Bastion.
By the time Soren managed to pull himself together from the relief of Chronovore being cut from him, the world was already moving without him.
Rough hands shoved him forward.
The way they did it made his already arching body hurt even more.
But apparently no one cared that his body was mostly filled with bandages.
The back of a horse-drawn carriage yawned open like a waiting mouth.
He stumbled inside, collapsing onto the bench opposite two other prisoners.
These ones, they looked... seasoned.
One was broad-shouldered and scarred, his face dominated by a crude tattoo of a tiger—its jaws stretched wide across his cheek and temple, one eye inked directly over his own.
The second prisoner was smaller and wiry, with sharp features and darting eyes, hunched in on himself like something that had learned early how to survive by being overlooked.
The carriage began, lurching forward.
The smaller man stared at Soren openly, brow furrowing. His accent was rough and provincial.
"Oi," he said slowly, like he was testing the words. "That uniform... ain’t that the cadet whitezz from the Imperial Soulforge Academy?"
Soren didn’t answer.
His head was still swarming with thoughts, most of which he had not yet come to terms with.
And the smell of iron and old leather, mixed with crude body odor filling the cramped space, did not help either.
The smaller man elbowed his tiger-looking companion, grinning wide. "Well, I’ll be damned, mate. Looks like we got ourselves one that fell from grace."
The smaller man snorted, eyes flicking over Soren with renewed interest.
Soren swallowed. His tongue felt thick. He should have drunk some water when he woke up. "...What’s going on?" he asked, voice hoarse. "Where are you taking us?"
The smaller man leaned back, chains clinking softly. "Where do you think, whitey? To hell," he said easily. "Or the Empire’s version of it."
Then his eyes dropped to Soren’s necklace. A quick greedy gleam in his gaze.
"Hey, whitey. Since we be meeting under such... erm good faith. How about I do ya a small favor?"
Soren traced his eyes. He frowned at the thought.
"No, no, you misunderstand; see where we’re going, they gonna take your pretty pearly from ya. I’m just lending a hand."
The man reached into his mouth. And with a
click
, his upper jaw seemed to dislocate like a socket. He revealed his dentures. There were a few trinkets hidden within.
Soren felt his triangular pendant. Right now, this was the only thing he had of either his origins or to remember Machos by.
He treasured it a lot. He took another look at the unsavory figure encouraging him to hand it over with that squeezed-lemon-jawless smile.
His finger squeezed the pendant tighter, having a bad feeling about this. Regardless, if they were going where he believed they were, then he would need to hide it in order to keep it close.
And it was not like he could stuff it up his crack.
Hours passed in a haze of rattling wheels and aching silence.
When the carriage finally screeched to a halt, the doors were thrown open violently. Cold air rushed in, sharp and biting.
"Out!" a Red Sword barked.
They were dragged down, boots hitting stone, chains pulled tight.
Soren looked up—
—and felt his stomach drop. It was just as he thought.
Before them loomed
Blackspire Bastion
.
Which citizen of the empire had not heard of Blackspire Bastion?
It was a fortress-prison of black iron and dark stone.
Its walls were raised unnaturally high, with jagged towers stabbing into the sky like broken blades.
But what caught his attention was not its scary walls but what stood before them.
Not one, but two Soul Mechas, huge, twice the size of the trash mecha back home—shiny and monstrous.
They looked like they would kiss the sun.
He wanted to admire them, subconsciously taking a step in that direction, but was forced to move in the right direction by a Red Sword.
Still, his eyes lingered.
"What? You’ve never seen one before? Are you not a cadet?" The Red Sword mocked.
How was Soren going to explain that he had not even stepped a foot into the academy?
But that did not matter to anyone. All they saw was his uniform.
Along the outer gate, pulsing in slow, deliberate rhythms were wards, runes meant to keep people in.
It reminded him of the runes he had seen on the Glassbreaker the day he became a soulbound warrior.
Except these ones were red and gave off a kind of aura—a warning.
The main gates groaned open, revealing rows of guards—not Red Swords, but regular enforcers, armored and alert.
Each carried a long, unfamiliar weapon: thick-barreled rifles humming faintly with contained energy.
Guns.
Soren had never seen one in person. Only the schematics. Then again, as long as it was machinery, Old Machos had some knowledge about it to pass to his son.
Soren knew that these guns fired compressed Aether. It was far more effective than metal rounds against bodies already changed by Soulbounding.
In simple terms, this place wasn’t built for ordinary thieves or murderers.
It was built for
Soulbound criminals.
A sense of dread crawled up his spine as they were shoved inside.
The yard fell quiet when they entered.
Eyes turned.
Whispers spread.
"A cadet?"
"No way..."
"From the Academy?"
"They finally start eating their own?"
Some laughed. Others sneered.
There was one man that acted a bit differently.
He was massive, with muscles layered thick like coiled rope and a head covered with a huge helmet—save for space to breathe and see. The helmet was locked in multiple places around his neck.
His gaze on Soren was... personal.
Soren frowned faintly; he felt uneasy.
Why is he looking at me like I’m a snack?
They were herded into a cleansing chamber—bare stone, grated floors.
"Strip," a guard ordered.
High-pressure water erupted without warning.
Soren gasped as the force slammed into him, tearing at his clothes and hammering directly into the bandages wrapped around his ribs and arm.
"Wait—!" Soren coughed. "I’m injured—!"
The guard overseeing the wash stepped closer, a smug curl to his lips. He was lean and sharp-faced, with eyes too calculating. Definitely someone who enjoyed small power a little too much.
"Should’ve thought about that before becoming a criminal," he said, turning the valve higher.
Pain exploded across Soren’s body. He clenched his teeth, refusing to scream.
When it was over, they were dragged dripping into the processing hall.
Trays were laid out.
"Valuables. Jewelry. Anything of worth."
It seems like having the small man hide his pendant was the right move.
Surprisingly, they let him keep the journal ’Discipline of Sorrow.’
Books were allowed, encouraged even. It kept the inmates from causing trouble.
Just then more guards arrived—from behind.
One tray was carried forward.
Soren’s breath hitched.
Inside it lay his
Glassheart
, and beside it—his
soul-steel dagger
.
It was an arm’s length away, but he couldn’t reach for either.
It was good to note that while these things were issued to him only a few days ago, they had been with him for many ’
years
’ now.
The same guard from before leaned close, voice low and amused. "So you are the little brat that punctured a hole in a Soul Mecha pilot." He hissed, looking at Soren’s Glassheart and Dagger.
"A piece of advice: don’t bother thinking about your little crystal ball ever again... cadet. Your Shade? Your power?" He chuckled. "Those days are over. With what you did to the Ivory family, you’d be lucky to see the day of your trial."
For some weird reason, Soren did not think he was lying.
The tray was lifted and taken away.
And with that, orange uniforms were issued to them.
Another guard, a nicer-looking one, advised that Soren could visit the infirmary later to get new bandages for his wounds.
Then they put them through a metal detector.
Naturally, it gave alarms when it came to the smaller prisoner, but the cunning fellow revealed that he had a knee with a metal implant and was allowed to pass.
In this way, they were allowed into the yard where the other prisoners were.
And this was where Soren had his first taste of prison problems.
After all, no one in this place liked Soulbound knights.
(Author’s note: Please leave a review of the book. It helps the algorithm push the book, and serves as encouragement to me. Thanks and bless your Shade.)