"S-rank," the old soul said simply. "I reached S a hundred and twenty years ago. I have not pushed for SS. I do not need to. S is enough for what I do."
The kitchen was quiet for a moment.
Bruce had thought of the old soul as deep, as patient, as skilled. He had not specifically thought of them as strong. S-rank in the soul realm was very strong. S-rank was an Elder of Xiltra, by the city's official hierarchy. S-rank was the tier just below the Nonagon. And the old soul was running a three-table eatery in the food district, cooking flame-mane flank for hunters who brought it to them, with no apparent interest in any of the privileges their rank would have entitled them to.
He understood, suddenly, why the older awakened soul at the table outside had been sitting there alone with a small bowl. Not a customer. Probably a friend. Probably a peer of some kind. The old soul's regulars were probably not all what they looked like.
"Why are you telling us this?" Bruce asked.
