Soren kicked hard against the ground, eyes blindfolded, the wind in his hair as he spread his arms, tapping each and every ore stone he could reach.

Behind him, there were already at least twenty antibodies chasing after him.

These immortal creatures that fired off acid spits from their mouths like bullets from a machine gun were relentless.

Soren was not even allowed the fraction of a second to pause and catch his breath.

If not for Chronovore's arrival the other day—contributing greatly to his body healing—he would have died after he touched the second ore stone.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.

Again, just like the first time. He felt their attacks enter his sphere.

In his mind's eye, he could already observe the swift approaching attack.

All of his senses could.

That 3D image of his environment. It was clear as day. Too clear, in fact.

He spat at the corner in disgust as he easily dodged their attacks.

Since his tongue was now awakened, he could even taste the attacks before they reached him.

Once again, another ore stone in his running path.

He patted it.

But the moment he did, he suddenly stumbled.

His mind became hazy, and at a bad time too, as an attack came from behind.

Whoosh...

Luckily, Handler screamed.

"Switch Whale!"

Vinegar dove to get him, pulling him close before another hole would appear on his body.

Her grappling rig pulled them up.

Even as she did, Soren felt his head pounding hard.

The moment they got to the next whale, he had to sit and catch his breath—nurse the ache.

Slacker immediately approached him. Taking a knee before Soren, he removed the blindfold.

"Soren. Hey Soren." He patted his cheeks, but no response.

–Slap.

"Get it together."

"What... I'm here. I'm awake." He responded, obviously drowsy.

"It seems you finally experienced it." Handler added from the side.

He walked over, handing Soren a prison-issued bottle of water.

Soren took large gulps. They were refreshing. He instantly felt better, his mind relaxing.

"Blackfield is like a muscle." Slacker began, taking the water bottle from him and enjoying a sip.

"You only just began using it. When strained for too long, it shuts down your entire system."

Soren wiped his mouth. "But you all can use it for longer. Is it because of my low rank?"

"Didn't you hear anything he said, amigo?" Handler walked over to take back his water bottle.

"It's like a muscle. And like any other muscle of the body, the only way it functions better is if you exercise it.

Basically, the longer you use it, the better and stronger it becomes.

I heard there are some people that can even use it in their sleep. And some that have a Black field range as wide as a mountain."

Slacker pulled Soren back to his feet. "Come on, the antibodies are climbing up."

However, it was at such a time that Sausage Neck sighted Soren.

"WHITEY!" That same fervent scream.

Soren looked his way, and then he rolled his eyes.

"Don't you worry, Sausage Roll; this daddy will come for you when he is ready."

He suddenly whipped out his Soul-steel dagger.

Before the baffled gaze of everyone present, he brought it to his neck.

~Slash

[You died]

...

Soren woke up, repeating the day again.

[You died]

...

And again.

[You died]

.....

And again.

This time around, without the blindfolds. Having trained his other senses continually, it allowed them to catch up with the natural perception of his eyes.

Also, the addition of his eyes allowed him the opportunity to expand the range of his sphere. It was no longer three meters but five meters.

But training all of them together was no easy task...

[You died]

.....

(65 deaths later...)

On this particular day, Soren woke up and stretched lazily on the bed.

He waited, pretending to go back to sleep.

As expected, Cynthia lifted him onto her shoulder.

A free ride.

... And once again, after meeting up with Vinegar and her three daddies.

Sausage Neck threatened him again—a hand to the throat in a slicing motion, but Soren winked back at him—stunning the prisoner's bully.

..... Once again, they switched Whales.

Soren did not wait for Sausage Neck to see him.

"SAUSAGE ROLL!!!" Soren grinned happily. "Daddy is home."

While everyone stared at him speechless, Soren was already on the move.

He did not touch any ore stones coming up. Nothing was going to interrupt him from the satisfaction of this moment.

"So whities are now this foolish." Sausage Neck spat to the side. "I'm going to beat sense into you. And your organs, out you damn whitey."

That same attack. Sausage Neck's fist came like a meteor.

It looked like it would crush anything in its path.

But Soren—this Soren was not the same person he used to be.

Having learned Blackfield, his field of vision had expanded.

Before, he would not see any openings on Sausage Neck's body to attack.

But now?

His eyes sparkled with the knowledge of finding gaps in his opponent's stance and movement.

Even his posture as he exerted force to throw that punch.

Soren saw it all.

He moved slightly to the left, dodging an attack that should have turned him into meat paste—like it was a casual stroll in the park.

Sausage Neck was shocked by this. But dodging his attacks only fueled his anger more.

Again and again.

His attacks landed on thin air.

"Stay, let me smash you..." Sausage Neck raged. "...to paste."

However, he quickly came to a realization.

'I can't hit him. But...'

He moved again, at exactly the time the antibodies attacked with their acid spit.

Unexpectedly, Soren even dodged that.

But even better, Soren smirked, using Sausage Neck's momentum against him as he gave a counterattack.

Right in the middle of the brute's chest.

CLAP.

The attack had a clear hit.

However.

-A pause.

The result was not what Soren expected.

No damage.

Soren froze.

Baffled.

But Sausage Neck chuckled. "Do you know how much kinetic energy my body has to absorb every time I attack?

Do you think a mere slap like that would do anything to me?"

The brute stood upright, his pecs and beefy muscles in full view.

Shit!

Soren cursed in his mind.

How could he have forgotten? Back during the cafeteria incident, Sausage Neck had taken a full smack from Cynthia and survived.

That was an attack; he clearly saw smashed a guard on the wall like an insect.

How would the mere clap hand-to-hand combat technique be enough?

(Author's note: The last day of the year. A gift would go a really long way. We have not even gotten one.)

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