John's fingers moved through the grain with mechanical precision, separating wheat from chaff in rhythm that had become automatic over ninety-seven days of repetition. His awareness, however, operated on entirely different plane than the mundane task his hands performed.
The barn existed in his perception as collection of spatial relationships constructed from acoustic reflections, temperature gradients, and air movement patterns. Marcus sat fourteen feet to his left—identified not through vision but through the specific frequency of his breathing, the particular way his body displaced air, the faint smell of sweat that carried traces of the morning's field work. The barn door was twenty-three feet ahead, currently closed, indicated by how sound from outside reached him muffled through the wood rather than direct. Three other slaves worked in the barn's far section, approximately forty feet away, their positions mapped through the sounds of their labor and the way their presence created dead zones in the acoustic environment.
The overseer—not Garrett today, but one of the four regular humans named Willem—stood near the door. John tracked him through multiple sensory channels simultaneously: the slight creak of leather as Willem shifted weight between feet, the sound of him breathing through his mouth rather than nose suggesting recent physical exertion, the smell of cheap tobacco that clung to his clothes.
Three months of nightly ki cultivation had transformed John's sensory processing from crude approximation to something approaching functional spatial awareness. Not vision—the resolution remained too low, the information too fragmentary for that comparison. But sufficient. Sufficient to navigate. Sufficient to plan. Sufficient to execute what needed executing.
The progression had been methodical. Week one: basic auditory mapping, learning to distinguish between different types of sounds and what they indicated about spatial relationships. Week two: integrating tactile information, using air pressure and temperature to supplement acoustic data. Week three: olfactory processing, cataloguing the distinct scents of different individuals and materials to create additional identification vectors. Week four through present: systematic integration of all sensory streams into unified perceptual framework that allowed real-time environmental modeling.
His previous existence as god-challenger had accelerated the process significantly. Kami Van Hellsin had possessed sight for six centuries, had trained his visual cortex to process spatial information with efficiency that most humans never developed. That neural architecture remained intact despite the blindness of his current body—the processing pathways existed, they simply lacked visual input. By feeding them acoustic and tactile data instead, John had essentially repurposed existing cognitive structures for different sensory modalities.
The result was perception that functioned similarly to echolocation but more sophisticated. He didn't just hear sounds and infer distances. He constructed three-dimensional environmental models updated in real-time as new sensory information arrived, maintaining awareness of everything within approximately fifty-meter radius with reasonable accuracy.
Beyond fifty meters, the information degraded rapidly. Sounds became fragmented, like audio transmission breaking up due to insufficient signal strength. He could detect that something existed in those distant regions—voices, movement, activities—but couldn't parse specifics. The acoustic equivalent of knowing a conversation was happening without being able to distinguish individual words.
Still. Fifty meters of reliable awareness was substantial advantage over the complete blindness everyone assumed he possessed.
John's fingers found a stone in the grain, irregular shape approximately two centimeters across. He set it aside in the debris bucket without conscious attention, his hands operating independently while his mind continued environmental modeling.
The curse mark on his chest had remained inactive for seventy-three days. Not dormant—John could feel it, a subtle pressure against his sternum that intensified whenever he consciously thought about mana manipulation. But inactive as long as he avoided actually attempting to channel mana.
Which meant the mark's sensory mechanism was specific. It detected mana flow, not other forms of energy cultivation. Ki operated through entirely different principles—enhancing existing biological processes rather than channeling external power—and the curse mark treated it as beneath notice.
The mark's other function—paralysis when attempting to cross the estate boundary—remained untested. John had no intention of testing it until he had comprehensive escape plan that accounted for that constraint.
On day forty-three, John had made his first attempt to assess his body's Uncos potential. Not through mana channeling, which would trigger the mark, but through the older technique of emotional resonance testing. He'd spent an evening after everyone slept deliberately cycling through intense emotional states—rage at his situation, grief for his lost power, fear of remaining trapped—while monitoring for any physiological response that suggested latent Uncos activation.
The result had been disappointingly minimal. A faint tingling in his fingertips when experiencing peak rage, a slight temperature increase in his core during grief, a momentary clarity of perception during fear that exceeded his normal ki-enhanced awareness. The signs suggested potential for Uncos manifestation, but the strength was negligible. If he managed to activate whatever Uncos this body possessed, it would be weak—the kind of minor ability that provided marginal utility rather than combat advantage.
The realization had provoked anger sharp enough that his hands had clenched involuntarily, crushing several wheat seeds between his fingers. Not just anger at having weak Uncos, but anger at needing Uncos at all. In his previous existence, Kami Van Hellsin had developed power through six centuries of dedicated cultivation. He hadn't relied on divine gifts or emotional shortcuts. He'd built his strength through discipline and obsessive practice.
This body would follow the same path. Weak Uncos was irrelevant when ki cultivation and tactical intelligence could accomplish what raw power couldn't.
The escape plan had begun forming on day fifty-six, after John had achieved sufficient sensory range to map the estate's complete layout.
The Brennick estate occupied approximately eighty hectares of agricultural land in the western territories, three days' travel from any major settlement. The main house was two-story construction located on a hill overlooking the fields, positioning that gave the Brennick family literal elevated perspective over their property and everyone on it. The slave quarters—three separate structures housing different worker categories—were positioned east of the main house, close enough for convenient access but distant enough that noise and smell didn't affect the family's comfort.
Fields occupied the majority of the estate, arranged in systematic rotation for crop management. Grain in the southern fields, vegetables in the east, livestock grazing in the north. Support structures—storage barns, equipment sheds, the granary where John worked—clustered between the residential areas and the active fields.
The estate boundary was marked not by physical fence but by stone markers placed at regular intervals, each inscribed with symbols that presumably interfaced with the curse marks all slaves carried. Cross the boundary without authorization, the mark activated. Simple, effective, and difficult to circumvent through conventional means.
But John's planning had never been conventional.
The first component of the escape plan was information gathering. John spent weeks cataloguing patterns: guard rotation schedules, overseer movement habits, when supplies were delivered and by whom, what times the main house conducted its daily business, where the Brennick family members spent their time. He collected this information through careful listening, through questions asked to Marcus and other slaves that seemed innocent but accumulated into comprehensive intelligence picture.
Marcus had been invaluable for this phase, though he didn't know he was contributing to escape planning. John had simply asked questions framed as curiosity about how the estate functioned, and Marcus had answered willingly, happy to have someone to talk to during the long hours of grain sorting.
From those conversations, John learned: Supply deliveries occurred every twelve days, arriving mid-morning via cart from the nearest town. The overseer Garrett possessed strength Uncos but rarely used it except for demonstration purposes. Brennick himself spent most afternoons in his study on the second floor of the main house, conducting whatever administrative work was required to manage the estate. The curse marks were maintained by a Rune-Crafter who visited quarterly to refresh the symbols and ensure they remained active. His next visit was scheduled for approximately six weeks from present.
The second component was physical preparation. John had begun supplemental training beyond his nightly ki cultivation—bodyweight exercises performed in the hours between when Marcus fell asleep and when morning work began. Push-ups, squats, core strengthening, anything that could be done quietly without equipment. The work was limited by his body's malnourishment and existing damage, but incremental improvement was measurable.
On day sixty-two, John could do fifteen push-ups before muscle failure. On day seventy, twenty-three. On day eighty-one, thirty-two. His core strength had improved enough that his back injury no longer caused constant pain, just dull ache during exertion. His legs had developed enough endurance that he could maintain walking pace for extended periods without the trembling weakness that had characterized his first weeks.
The physical training served dual purpose: preparing his body for the demands of escape, and demonstrating to overseers that he remained appropriately weak. John was careful to appear exhausted during work hours, to move slowly and cautiously, to give every indication that his physical capacity was minimal. The actual strength he'd developed remained concealed, visible only in private exercises when no one observed.
His perceived weakness had made him target. On day forty-seven, the overseer Willem had used John as chair—literally sat on him while supervising other slaves' work, grinding John's face into the dirt while his weight compressed John's spine. The experience had been humiliating by design, meant to reinforce the power dynamic, to make clear that John existed as object rather than person.
John had endured it without resistance, had played the role of helpless victim perfectly. And when Willem finally stood and walked away, John had remained prone for additional thirty seconds, cementing the impression of complete subjugation.
But internally, John had been cataloguing data. Willem's weight—approximately ninety-five kilograms. The pressure points where his sitting position had created maximum discomfort. The specific way he'd positioned himself, leaving his lower back vulnerable to upward strike if someone had been capable and willing to deliver it. The fact that he'd felt comfortable enough to use a slave as furniture indicated perception of absolute safety, which meant he didn't consider slaves potential threats.
Useful information. All of it useful.
On day seventy-one, Garrett had used John as punching bag—five strikes to the torso delivered with casual brutality while explaining to another overseer about proper discipline techniques. The blows had cracked two ribs, sent John to the ground gasping, left him unable to work for remainder of that day.
John had absorbed the punishment without attempting defense, had whimpered appropriately, had reinforced the perception that he was completely incapable of protecting himself.
And while his ribs healed over the following week—slower than they should have due to malnutrition, but healing nonetheless—John had refined his understanding of Garrett's combat patterns. The overseer telegraphed his strikes, pulled his shoulder back before committing to forward motion. His preferred target was solar plexus, aiming to cause maximum pain while minimizing risk of killing valuable property. His stance was wide and stable, difficult to unbalance but exposing his knees to low attacks.
Information. Everything was information, and information was the currency John traded in while building toward freedom.
The third component of the escape plan was resource acquisition. John needed specific materials for what he was planning, and obtaining them required careful maneuvering.
Rope was the first requirement. He'd begun stealing small sections during supply deliveries, cutting finger-length pieces from the bindings on grain sacks when no one was watching, hiding the fragments in the straw of his sleeping mat. By day eighty-three, he'd accumulated approximately three meters of usable cordage—enough for what he needed.
The second requirement was a blade. Not weapon—that would be too obvious, too dangerous if discovered. But something sharp enough to cut efficiently. He'd found it on day sixty-seven when a plow broke during field work and the repair process left a metal fragment on the ground. The fragment was maybe four centimeters long, triangular, sharp along one edge from the shearing that had created it. John had concealed it in his mouth while picking it up, transferred it to his waistband during a moment when overseers were focused elsewhere, and hidden it with the rope segments.
The third requirement was timing. John needed to escape during window when multiple factors aligned: good weather for travel, recent supply delivery so his absence wouldn't be immediately noticed during inventory, and specific overseer rotation that put the least competent guards on duty.
The supply delivery schedule was predictable—every twelve days. Weather was less controllable but observable through humidity changes and air pressure that John could detect through his enhanced sensory awareness. The overseer rotation followed seven-day pattern, with Willem and another regular human taking the least desirable night shifts on days one and five.
Day ninety-six had been day five in the rotation. Day ninety-seven—today—was day six, which meant tonight would be day seven, and tomorrow would reset to day one with Willem on night duty again.
The next supply delivery was scheduled for day one hundred one, four days from now.
Perfect alignment would be day one hundred eight—supply delivery the previous day, Willem on night shift, weather forecast indicating clear conditions based on the pressure patterns John had been tracking.
Eleven days. That was his window.
The fourth component was the actual escape mechanism, and this was where John's planning became less conventional.
The curse mark prevented him from crossing the estate boundary. But the curse mark's activation range was tied to those stone markers, which meant it used them as reference points. The marks detected proximity to the stones and activated when certain threshold was exceeded.
John had spent significant time near the northern boundary, carefully mapping the exact positioning of the boundary stones through acoustic reflection and air displacement. They were placed every twenty meters, creating continuous perimeter. The curse mark presumably triangulated position relative to multiple stones to determine whether someone was inside or outside the boundary.
But triangulation required line of sight—or in this case, line of effect. The curse mark needed to detect its position relative to the stones to know whether to activate.
What if the detection was blocked?
On day seventy-nine, John had tested a hypothesis. He'd gotten permission to help with repairs on the northern storage shed, which put him within fifteen meters of the boundary line. While working, he'd deliberately positioned himself behind a large equipment cart, putting solid metal mass between himself and the nearest boundary stone.
Then he'd taken three steps toward the boundary. Not crossing it—he wasn't suicidal—but moving closer than he normally would have dared.
The curse mark had remained inactive.
He'd taken two more steps. Still within the boundary, but close enough that he should have felt warning activation if the mark was functioning normally.
Nothing.
The metal cart had blocked the mark's detection. Not completely—if he'd actually crossed the boundary, proximity to other stones would have triggered it—but enough to reduce its sensitivity.
Which meant sufficient metal mass between John and the boundary stones would create blind spot in the detection field.
The estate's eastern section included a metal-working forge where basic equipment repair occurred. The forge used iron in significant quantities, maintained stock of metal plates and structural components. If John could get to the forge, could surround himself with enough iron mass, he might be able to approach the eastern boundary without triggering the mark.
And if he could get close enough to the boundary, he could use the rope he'd accumulated to create a crossing mechanism that didn't require him to walk through the detection field.
The forge was forty meters from his sleeping quarters. The eastern boundary was seventy meters beyond that. Total distance: one hundred ten meters, navigable in darkness using his ki-enhanced perception.
But there were complications. The forge area was patrolled by overseers during night hours—not constantly, but irregularly enough that predicting gaps in coverage was impossible. And creating sufficient metal mass to block the curse mark detection meant moving heavy materials, which created noise that would attract attention.
John needed a distraction. Something that would occupy the overseers' attention for the critical ten minutes he'd need to reach the forge, gather metal, and approach the boundary.
Fire would work. Controlled fire in location distant from his actual escape route, creating emergency situation that would pull all available personnel toward it while he moved in opposite direction.
The granary where he worked stored enormous quantities of dried grain in conditions optimized for long-term preservation—which meant very dry conditions. A single spark in the right location would create fire that spread rapidly, consuming grain stores and threatening the entire structure.
Brennick would mobilize every available person to contain that fire before it destroyed valuable property. The overseers, the family, even the slaves would be pressed into fire-fighting efforts.
And while everyone focused on saving the granary, John would be moving east, using chaos as cover.
On day ninety-one, John had begun final preparations. He'd identified the optimal location in the granary for fire initiation—northeast corner, where grain storage was densest and where structural supports would allow fire to spread into the roof before being visible from outside. He'd located materials for creating delayed ignition—oil-soaked cloth concealed in grain dust, positioned where morning sun through the eastern window would heat it past combustion threshold approximately ninety minutes after dawn.
The timing was critical. Fire needed to start after morning work assignments had dispersed the slave population across the estate, but before mid-morning when overseer attention was at its peak. The ninety-minute delay put ignition at approximately one hour after dawn—optimal window.
On day ninety-four, John had conducted a test. He'd deliberately knocked over a grain bucket during afternoon work, creating loud crash that brought Willem running to investigate. John had been "clumsy" and "apologetic," playing the blind slave who couldn't coordinate his movements properly.
But what John had actually been testing was response time. From the moment of the crash to Willem's arrival: forty-seven seconds. That was how long John had before any unusual sound would bring investigation.
His entire escape sequence needed to occur within timeframes shorter than that.
On day ninety-six, John had tested his physical capabilities. After Marcus had fallen asleep, John had performed his full exercise routine, then had attempted to move through the sleeping quarters in complete silence while maintaining his fastest sustainable pace.
He'd covered the forty meters to the quarters' exit in thirty-one seconds. Added the seventy meters to the eastern boundary, estimated at ninety seconds with the additional challenge of carrying metal mass. Total time: two minutes one second.
Plus approximately forty seconds to arrange the metal for curse mark shielding and another thirty seconds to deploy the rope crossing mechanism.
Total operation time: three minutes eleven seconds, assuming no complications.
Three times his available window before investigation.
Which meant he needed that distraction. Needed the fire to be consuming enough that every available person would be engaged with it rather than patrolling their normal routes.
Today was day ninety-seven. In eleven days, all components would align. Clear weather, fresh supplies reducing the likelihood of inventory checks, Willem on duty which meant the least competent observation.
John's hands continued sorting grain while his mind finalized the sequence: Place the ignition materials tonight during the confusion of evening meal, when overseer attention was divided. Return to normal routine for the following ten days, giving no indication of changed behavior. On the morning of day one hundred eight, wake before dawn as usual, but delay reporting to work by seven minutes—enough time for the ignition materials to reach combustion. When fire was detected and alarm raised, move immediately to the forge area while everyone else moved toward the granary. Gather the necessary metal mass, approach the eastern boundary, deploy the rope to create crossing mechanism that kept his body physically on the estate side of the boundary line while his weight was supported by a tree branch on the opposite side. Swing across the boundary without technically walking through it, betting that the curse mark's activation was tied to ground contact rather than spatial position.
It was a insane plan built on multiple untested assumptions. The curse mark might detect boundary crossing regardless of how it was accomplished. The metal shielding might not provide sufficient interference. The fire might be contained too quickly. The overseers might notice his absence before he reached the boundary. A hundred different failure points, any one of which would result in capture, punishment, and probably death given the severity of attempted escape.
But John had spent five hundred years drowning in darkness, and he had no intention of spending another day as property. The plan's risk factors were acceptable compared to the alternative of remaining.
His fingers found another stone in the grain. He set it aside and continued working.
Eleven days.
Then freedom or death.