CHAPTER 17: AN ANCHOR IN THE STORM

The training grounds were a cage for a beast he could no longer control.

The student pinned against the wall was a blur of terror. His panicked heartbeat was a drum calling him to strike.

A low, guttural snarl rumbled in Edward’s chest. A sound that wasn’t his own.

The changes rippled across his skin. Patches of his flesh hardened into small, black scales.

The nails on his right hand elongated into curved claws. They dug deep into the stone wall, inches from the student’s throat.

This was the Soul Corruption the system had warned him about. Not just a number on a screen. A physical invasion. The hunger he felt after every assimilation, the cold predatory logic—it was all culminating in this moment.

He had pushed himself too hard. He had devoured the souls of the training beasts.

The student, a boy named Paul, was whimpering. "Please," he choked out. "I....I didn’t see anything. I swear." He stammered.

The beast that was Edward didn’t care. It didn’t understand words like "please." It only understood the racing pulse of a frightened prey. The crunch of bone. The rush of a new soul.

The claws on Edward’s hand twitched. Preparing for the final, brutal slash.

The logical part of his mind, the part corrupted by the Core, whispered that this was necessary. Witnesses were a liability. Fear was a weakness to be erased.

He fought it. With every fiber of his being. He tried to pull his arm back. To unclench his claws. But the monstrous strength was not his to command. He was losing. The snarl deepened. His muscles tensed for the kill. It was over. He was going to murder an innocent boy.

And there was nothing he could do.

"Edward?"

The voice was soft. Not a shout. Not a scream of terror. A simple question. Spoken with a quiet clarity that cut through the roaring bloodlust in his ears.

A voice he knew. The girl he had saved. The catalyst for his own damnation and rebirth.

It was Sarah.

The effect was instantaneous. Absolute. The feral rage, an unstoppable inferno a second ago, was doused with ice-cold shock. The red haze in his vision flickered. He saw the scene through his own eyes again. The terrified boy. The claws near his throat. And standing a dozen feet away, was Sarah.

She was surprised. Her hand was pressed to her mouth. Her eyes were wide. But not with revulsion or terror. It was a look of profound shock and worry. She was looking not at the monster, but at him. As if she could see the man struggling underneath.

That single, quiet word, his name spoken by her, was the anchor his drowning mind needed.

He found a sliver of control. With a surge of willpower, he ripped his clawed hand away from the wall. The sound of stone scraping against his hardened nails was loud and jarring.

The physical mutations receded. Not smoothly. It felt like his skin was crawling. The black scales melted back into flesh. The claws shrank back into his fingertips with a dull, aching pain. The feral glow in his eyes faded. Leaving behind a deep, throbbing exhaustion.

He stumbled back. His body trembled with the aftershocks of the internal war.

The student, Leo, didn’t wait. The moment Edward’s claws left the wall, the boy crumpled, scrambled backward, and then bolted. He disappeared into the night without a backward glance.

Edward was left alone in the training yard. Panting heavily. He stared at his hands. Expecting to see them covered in blood. They were clean. But he felt filthy. A murderer stopped at the last second. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Sarah. He was too ashamed. Too horrified.

He expected to hear her footsteps running away.

But the footsteps he heard were soft. Hesitant. And they were coming closer.

He finally forced his head up. Sarah was approaching him. Cautiously. Like someone approaching a wounded, cornered animal. She had every reason to be afraid. To believe the dark rumors.

He was the Rankless trash who defeated a Behemoth. The cheater who humiliated Chris. The demon who grew claws and terrorized students.

She stopped a few feet away. Her gaze searched his face. He saw the fear in her eyes. But underneath it, he saw something else. Pity. Concern. And an impossible flicker of trust.

"Edward," she said again. Her voice was still soft, but firmer.

"Are you okay?"

The question was so absurd, he couldn’t form a reply.

’Okay?’ He had just almost ripped a boy’s throat out. He was fighting a daily battle against a cosmic parasite.

He simply shook his head.

"I saw what happened," she said. "The rumors... they’ve been saying terrible things. That you’re a monster. That you use some kind of forbidden demonic art."

Edward braced himself for the accusation.

"I don’t believe them," she stated simply.

His head snapped up. His eyes met hers. He was stunned.

"I was there, in the alley," she continued. "You saved my life. You took that spear. A monster wouldn’t do that. And in the arena... you fought that huge beast to protect us. To protect me." Her eyes were clear and honest. "Whatever that was just now... it wasn’t you. I could see it in your eyes. You were fighting it."

Someone saw. Someone actually saw the fight.

For the first time since he had woken up with the system branded onto his soul, he felt a crack in the suffocating wall of his isolation. He wasn’t just a monster hiding in human skin. Someone could see the man inside.

Sarah took a final step. Closing the distance. She looked at his hand. A thin flow of blood ran down his knuckles.

"You’re hurt," she said.

Without waiting for permission, she reached out and took his hand. Her touch was warm and soft. A shocking contrast to the cold, violent power that coursed through him.

He flinched. Instinctively wanting to pull away. To not let her touch something so tainted. But she held on.

Her grip was gentle but firm.

She pulled out a clean handkerchief from her pocket and carefully pressed it to the cut. Her actions were so simple. An act of quiet care in the face of monstrous horror. It was an anchor. Holding him steady in the storm.

He watched her.

"I owe you my life, Edward," she whispered. Her focus was on cleaning the small wound. "The least I can do is make sure you don’t get an infection."

A strange warmth spread from his hand up his arm. It was connection. It was acceptance.

For a brief, shining moment, he wasn’t the Soul Devourer. He wasn’t the Rankless outcast. He was just Edward.

And then, as always, the system intruded. A cold, blue screen flickered to life. The notification was unlike any he had ever received.

`[Affinity with Sarah has reached ’Trust.’]`

`[A ’Soul Bond’ has been partially formed.]`

His blood ran cold. A Soul Bond? What did that even mean? He felt a new connection snap into place.

A faint, shimmering thread that only he could see, linking his corrupted soul to her pure one.

Then, a second notification appeared. This one glowed with a bright red light.

`[Warning: Non-combatants linked to your soul may become targets of the Hades Core.]`

The warmth vanished. A dread so deep it took his breath. He glanced from the scary warning on his screen to the girl gently tying a handkerchief around his knuckles.

He had found his anchor in the storm.

And in doing so, he had just painted a target on her back for the cruelest god in existence.