With tears streaming down her eyes, she asked. "Is it true?"

Slacker froze.

Handler was no different.

One look at both of them, and Soren could tell how they wanted this to play out.

She was not supposed to know.

A swift work.

Vinegar walks into the corner, no remorse, no holding back.

They were going to get it done once and for all.

They had steeled their hearts. But now, seeing her tears.

Soren could tell. It was not easy to declare love for another person for years and not actually slip into it.

Yes. They loved her.

This witty orange-haired kid they had unwillingly taken in and protected from the harshness of the world.

This kid that would wake up every day and rush to embrace them.

This kid that had been broken by an unfair life, But found hope in them.

They would stroke her hair and whisper words of comfort when her tears fell.

And when she would fall or get wounds, they would nurse her back to health.

When other prisoners attempted to bully her, they would stand up for her.

It was no exaggeration to say that they were truly her fathers.

Or was it not the duty of a father to care for, love, and protect their little one?

And now, the truth, like opening a door, had been revealed.

Her tears broke their heart. Their spirit.

Handler subconsciously wanted to reach for her, but his stretched hand slowly molded into a tight fist—veins popping on his knuckles.

He gritted his teeth.

Soren turned to Slacker. It was the same thing. His eyes were harsh with regret, but no doubt, he had similarly made up his mind.

Soren could not believe it. "You'll still do it. Even though you know she knows. Even though she is right before your eyes—you'll still do it."

Soren frowned, fist similarly fighting hard.

Silence.

And then, from the shadows, a figure materialized.

Ratler.

He was fast.

This was an attack that Vinegar could have dodged on a regular day.

But not today. Not when she was this broken.

Ratler grabbed Vinegar by the shoulder with his left hand—a blade in his right hand.

However, just as he was about to cut her carotid artery, his hand froze in place.

Inches away from her neck.

Ratler had not stopped willingly.

His hand shook, unable to proceed with the attack.

This was Soren's doing.

A hand stretched out towards Ratler.

Soren was using gravity.

Three pairs of eyes all turned to him.

Shocked.

This boy was clearly supposed to be an F-rank trash.

No worthy ability to speak of.

But here he was, actively obstructing the actions of a B-rank Soulbound warrior.

Immediately, Handler moved. The blade in his hand went for Soren's throat.

But Soren went low to dodge.

He waved his hand—using gravity to smack Ratler into the cave wall behind.

While it would have been wise to take advantage of the situation and attack Handler first, Ratler would have proceeded to kill Vinegar.

Soren could not let that happen. But by the time he turned to attack Handler, he had disappeared, slipping into the shadows.

Soren frowned. He knew this would happen.

Still, Soren did not mind, turning to attack Slacker instead. But he had also been pulled into the shadows.

As if on command, the little light coming in from the campfire outside was extinguished.

All that was left was Soren and Vinegar, who had broken down in tears.

She dug her hands into her hair, muttering, "Please... stop fighting... stop fighting."

However, Soren did not panic. He had blackfield.

Even though the range had been shortened because of his inability to use his eyes, he was still very capable of battle.

"I can tell you are a really capable lad, amigo." Handler's voice echoed in the cave.

"To think an F-rank Soulbound warrior has such strength. How have you been hiding it?"

A blade came from Soren's side. He moved, using the clap technique to block the attack from the wrist.

Another attack.

Six hands this time around.

But Soren moved again, blocking them.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

A seventh.

He missed.

Slash.

A cut on his thigh.

And then his ears rang.

Pressure at different parts of his skin, even though attacks were clearly not coming.

"Your Blackfield is good. But it can be overloaded. Clearly, you have not used it long enough to know this."

That voice. It was Slacker's.

Overloading Blackfield? I have never heard of that before.

Soren thought to himself.

Slacker was the best at using Blackfield. It was no surprise that he would understand maneuvering it.

Again, the attacks came. He blocked some, but a shadow made another cut on his other leg.

Soren frowned. The places the cuts had landed were clearly strategic.

The veins that help with supporting his balance or ensure speed when it is time to move.

They were slowly crippling him.

Soren had a sharp battle sense.

He could tell. If he continued the fight like this—on their terms—he was going to lose.

And so he waved his hands, and flames instantly ignited on his body.

This allowed him to spot them. Within the shadows, they were not three but six people.

Ratler had divided himself. But these extras. They were not like the regular clones.

They were those things that tried to kill Soren and Cynthia that night.

Soren frowned. He should have thought about this too.

Just like he was able to combine different shade abilities to produce unique attacks, others with compatible abilities could join their powers together to produce incredible things.

It was no wonder Slacker was confident of overloading his Blackfield.

Soren's sudden flame attack shocked his opponents.

"He has another ability!?" Handler screamed.

But before he could react, Soren waved his hands.

Whoosh...

Flames spread in waves around him.

The attack was a large-scale one. But Soren had focused a big part of the attack on the one target that was a major threat.

His legs tightened—using the frog's ability.

Fvoom...

He was like a speeding bullet.

Immediately grabbing Handler by the neck.

The moment he did, the shadows in the cave narrowed, attempting to strike Soren.

But because of the flames around his body, they could not reach him.

Light was Handler's bane.

Just as Soren was to deliver the next attack—one to end it all—a sobbing voice was heard.

"NO! Soren, please... don't kill him."

Soren paused. He turned to Vinegar.

"But he wants to kill you?"

Silence.

Then she spoke again.

"I... know," she sobbed. "I..." Her lips hesitated. "I'll... I'll do it. I'll give them my life."

Soren froze.

Shocked.

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