F-Rank Soul Eater-Chapter 208: The Family of De los Elegidos.

...The carriage jolted over a deep rut, the wooden frame groaning as they descended further into the valley.

Sophia turned to the group, her face slightly shadowed by the flickering light of the purple-tinted dusk.

"Whatever you see in my hometown, Los Favorecidos, do not take it personally," she warned, her voice tight.

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the hem of her black tunic. "And... the people there. They don’t call me Sophia."

Soren leaned forward. "What do they call you, then?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the window, watching the twisted silhouettes of the mutated trees pass by. "When we arrive, you will find out."

Polystar merely looked at Sophia for a second then gave a mocking smirk.

Bloodshine was no different. Then again she already did not like sophia.

A few hours later, the rhythmic clopping of the donkeys slowed to a halt.

The air outside was filled with the smell of ozone and rotting vegetation.

As they dismounted, the driver—his three eyes blinking in unsynchronized patterns—held out a gnarled, grey hand, his mouths murmuring a request for payment.

Before Soren could reach for his wallet—as he already prepared for this, Sophia stepped forward.

Her expression was solemn, almost ritualistic.

"I accept the condition for the ride," she said clearly.

She reached up, her palm pressing firmly against the man’s deformed forehead. Her eyes drifted shut. Suddenly, a brilliant, glowing Neuralink symbol flared into existence on the man’s neck.

It didn’t just sit on the skin; it pulsed, sending out glowing white filaments that spread like a spider’s web across his entire body.

Soren watched, mesmerized, as the man’s flesh began to ripple and knit. The vertical mouths on his temples sealed shut, the skin smoothing over as if they had never existed.

The lidless eye in his temple retreated, replaced by a firm, healthy looking forehead.

His hunched spine straightened, and the grey, sickly hue of his skin flushed with the warmth of living blood.

Sophia stepped back, looking drained.

The man collapsed to his knees, staring at his hands in disbelief. He scrambled to his carriage, rummaging through a tattered sack until he produced a cracked hand-mirror.

He stared at his reflection—a face that was whole, symmetrical, and undeniably handsome.

Tears carved tracks through the dust on his cheeks.

He threw himself at Sophia’s feet, his voice trembling with a fervor that bordered on worship.

"¡La Santa! ¡La Santa ha vuelto!" he cried, his voice breaking. "¡Gracias, mi Santa!"

Without another word, and leaving his carriage and donkeys behind as if they were nothing more than discarded husks, the man turned and sprinted toward the town, shouting the news of the ’Saintess’ to anyone who could hear.

Ahead of them stood a set of massive, weathered gates. Iron letters, rusted but proud, spelled out the name of the settlement: LOS FAVORECIDOS.

Soren, Cynthia, Bloodshine, and Vass stood frozen.

The silence was absolute, broken only by the distant, echoing cries of the driver.

They stared at Sophia as if seeing her for the very first time— and it was not as a fellow cadet, but as a miracle.

Polystar was the first to move.

He leaned in close to Soren, his eyes fixed on Sophia’s retreating back as she began to walk toward the gate.

"I change my mind," Polystar whispered, his voice was empty of its usual noble arrogance. "I’ll join your party. I don’t care about your miserable payment. But she has to be in it."

Soren didn’t even look at him. He just nodded subconsciously, his mind racing.

He had known Sophia was special, but he hadn’t realized he was traveling with a living legend.

As they followed Sophia into the main thoroughfare, the driver’s frantic cries of "¡La Santa!" acted like a pebble dropped into a still pond.

Ripples of movement erupted from every doorway.

People poured into the streets—men with patchwork skin, women with iridescent scales along their jawlines, and children whose eyes glowed with a faint, sickly violet.

But the moment they saw Sophia, the desperation in their eyes turned to a terrifying, ecstatic devotion.

These people didn’t just approach; they collapsed before her.

Dozens fell to their knees, bowing so low their foreheads touched the earth before she even reached them.

"¡Bendita sea!" a woman sobbed, thrusting a basket of grey, fermented tubers toward Sophia.

Others brought out tattered silken shawls, carved bone charms, and even jugs of precious clean water.

It was a celebration that felt more like a funeral for grief itself.

Just then, Soren abd the others stepped past the inner threshold of the gate.

They froze.

A cold, oily pressure slammed into their senses—

’This is... Shit.’

Soren felt the distinct, jagged vibration of an Eldritch presence so powerful it felt like standing under a falling mountain.

Instinctively, his hand flew to the hilt of his dagger.

Beside him, Bloodshine’s Blackfield instantly spread wide as her soul energy activated.

Vass’s shoulders bunched like a predator’s.

Polystar and Cynthia also had similar reactions.

—getting ready for battle.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished.

The air became unnervingly still.

"Turdface," Vass growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you feel that?"

Soren nodded slowly, his heart still hammering against his ribs. "Yeah."

’Like a blade against my throat’

Soren added in his mind.

Polystar adjusted his glasses slowly.

His eyes darted frantically across the cheering crowds and the sturdy stone buildings. "I felt an Eldritch... a high grade one. But I don’t see a single shadow. My Blackfield is hitting a brick wall."

...

Soren and the others made it to an hotel room.

Sophia did not follow them.

The room was a relic of the Old World, or a terrifyingly perfect imitation of it. The walls were thick, reinforced concrete disguised by mahogany paneling.

Cynthia sat on one of the two beds—her massive frame caused the mattress to groan and curve deep toward the floorboards.

Bloodshine stood against a central pillar, her gaze remainef fixed on the door.

Vass leaned against the far wall, arms crossed.

While Polystar paced near the window, peeking through the heavy velvet curtains every few seconds.

The silence was heavy enough to choke on.

Finally, Bloodshine spoke. "I likê it here."

"That makes everybody," Polystar snapped, turning away from the window. "It’s obvious something is not right in this town, and it’s not just the ’welcome mat’ we felt at the gate."

"What do you think it is?" Soren asked, watching the noble boy’s agitation.

"Maybe we are being paranoid... but" Polystar pointed a sharp finger toward the glass.

"Look at the architecture, Soren. Most of the outside world is a shithole because of the Eldritch.

Many People, even in my family’s fiefdom have long adapted with paper and wood—

Basic disposable housing, like the Japanese during the Edo period.

That way if an Eldritch attacks, and it levels your house, you rebuild it in a day.

Only families with strong soul mecha defenders will dare this."

He gestured to the room around them.

"But here? These houses are sturdy. Stone. Steel. Most look brand new, others are renovated regularly. I can’t see a single run-down building in sight.

And yet, just outside those gates, the world is divinely fucked up. It’s like having cherry cake in the middle of a swamp. It’s unnatural."

Polystar’s words did make sense, but Soren also thought of other possibilities.

"Maybe they have Soulbound knights that keep the peace here," Soren chipped in, trying to find a logical thread.

Polystar nodded curtly. "Maybe. But that doesn’t explain the ’presence’ we felt. That was a monster."

These cadets had been training in the Hunting grounds for months. With all that exposure, They knew what an Eldritch felt like.

Polystar walked to the door, cracked it open just an inch, and peered out before clicking it shut. "There’s also the guy in white robes standing perfectly still in the hallway. And I spotted two more out back while we entered."

"We’re nøt being watched," Bloodshine added, her hand drifting to the dagger at her belt.

"I’m guessing it’s the noble family Sophia mentioned," Soren said.

His mind flashed back to the walk from the gate.

Even as the commoners worshipped Sophia, the men in the shadows had looked at the cadets with a cold, predatory challenge.

To sum it up, they didn’t fear Soulbound warriors; they looked like they were waiting for an excuse to dismantle them.

"We need to figure out what is happening in this—"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound was sharp, rhythmic, and echoing.

Everyone in the room tensed instantly, hands moving to weapons, feet shifting into combat stances.

A muffled voice came through the thick wood, polite but devoid of any real warmth.

"Seniór Whities... you have been invited to dine with the Familia De los Elegidos."

Soren shared a grim look with Polystar.

(Author’s note: So who can guess what’s happening in this town? Well, its definitely not what you think.)