Chloe insisted they test one more possibility.
“Weapon reflex.”
Adrian looked wary.
“No.”
“Not on him,” Ethan said.
He picked up a foam training baton from the recreation rack.
The prison allowed harmless exercise tools.
He held it loosely.
Chloe moved into a stance only he could see.
“Imagine I’m attacking.”
“Easy.
You usually are.”
She cut toward his shoulder with a phantom sword.
Ethan reacted.
Block.
No chip response.
“Again.”
She attacked his knee.
He moved.
Still nothing.
Adrian watched Ethan parry empty air.
“This is useful and deeply unsettling.”
“Story of my week.”
Chloe accelerated.
Ethan followed.
Borrowed experience guided him.
Then she shouted, “Counter.” He swung the foam baton at empty space.
Nothing.
No paralysis.
Ethan stopped.
Adrian’s eyes sharpened.
“Because no target.”
Chloe pointed at a hanging padded bag.
“Hit that.”
Ethan did.
No restriction.
“Now imagine the bag is Adrian.”
Ethan swung.
No restriction.
Adrian stepped behind the bag.
Ethan’s next strike froze before contact.
All three went silent.
Adrian smiled slowly.
“Target recognition.”
“Or human proximity,” Ethan said.
“Test.”
They moved the bag.
Different angles.
Different distances.
Every time Adrian’s body entered the probable impact line, the chip interfered.
Chloe paced.
“It models projected outcome.”
“Seems so.”
“Then simple misdirection won’t beat it.”
Adrian nodded.
“That took the research group three months to establish.”
“Former members?” Ethan asked.
“Transfers, release, and one failed experiment.”
Ethan lowered the baton.
Chloe looked at him.
“Still joining?”
“Yes.”
There was nothing funny about the reason.
The experiment ended when a guard opened the door and asked why Ethan had spent twenty minutes attacking exercise equipment while talking to himself.
Ethan answered, “Physical therapy.” The guard looked at Adrian.
Adrian nodded solemnly.
The guard left.
Chloe stared.
“That worked?”
Adrian smiled.
“People prefer explanations that let them stop asking questions.”
They spent twenty minutes experimenting with the chip.
Adrian objected only when Ethan asked to use him as a repeated target.
“One demonstration was enough.”
Ethan nodded and moved the test back to harmless boundaries.
He imagined attacking Adrian.
Nothing.
He formed the decision.
Nothing.
He raised his hand casually.
Nothing.
He clenched the fist.
Tingle.
He stepped with the intent to strike.
Paralysis.
The timing fascinated Chloe.
“The chip isn’t detecting movement.”
“Intent plus movement.”
“Then disguise intent.”
Adrian smiled.
“I like her.”
“Stop.”
Ethan tried turning the punch into a shoulder tap at the last instant.
The chip released.
His hand landed gently.
Adrian looked thoughtful.
“Interesting.”
Ethan tried the opposite.
Begin as a friendly tap.
Change to punch late.
His muscles seized before acceleration.
“Very interesting.”
Chloe paced.
“It predicts commitment.”
“Yes.”
“What if you hit without deciding?”
Ethan stared.
“How do I do that?”
“Reflex.”
Adrian’s smile vanished.
“Do not test that on me.”
Chloe continued.
“If someone attacks you and you counter before conscious decision, what does the chip do?”
Adrian said, “Self-defense exemptions exist.” Ethan looked over.
“You forgot to mention that.”
“I was waiting until the experiment became useful.”
“So I can fight if attacked?”
“Limited proportional response.”
“Who decides proportion?”
Adrian tapped his neck.
Ethan sighed.
“Robot spinal cord.”
“Miracle Chip.”
“Same emotional category.”
Chloe’s eyes sharpened.
“Then the chip has rules.”
Adrian looked toward where Ethan seemed to listen.
“Everything does.”
She could not hear him directly, but Ethan repeated it.
Chloe smiled.
“Rules can be trained around.”
“That is exactly what the jailbreak group researches.”
Ethan stopped.
For the first time, Adrian and Chloe had independently arrived at the same idea.
That concerned him more than either one alone.
Adrian did not leave after Ethan accepted the invitation.
That would have been normal.
Instead he sat beside Ethan and began asking questions.
“What do you remember about prison architecture?”
“Nothing.”
“Four Pillars logistics?”
“Nothing.”
“Hidden transport routes?”
“Nothing.”
“Spirit suppression systems?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you know any useful information?”
Ethan considered.
“I know how to improve seven-day retention in a free-to-play mobile game.”
Adrian paused.
“Can that help us escape?”
“If the prison offers daily login rewards.”
Chloe snorted.
Adrian rubbed his chin.
“It was a joke.”
“You did the face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you turn nonsense into a business model.”
Adrian smiled.
“Occupational habit.”
Ethan realized with discomfort that he understood Adrian a little.
Not morally.
Professionally.
Both had spent careers studying how people responded to systems.
Ethan had optimized attention.
Adrian had optimized trust.
One was legal.
One had gone to prison.
The distance between them felt less flattering than Ethan preferred.
Adrian stood.
“We meet after evening meal.”
“Who is we?”
“Research group.”
“How many?”
“Currently two.”
Ethan stared.
“You and who?”
“Now you.”
“That’s not a group.”
“It’s early stage.”
Chloe laughed again.
Ethan pointed at Adrian.
“If your jailbreak startup asks for seed funding, I’m leaving.”
Adrian looked genuinely delighted.
“I knew recruiting you was correct.”
Chloe also gave Ethan a brutally simple training plan.
“Until you get a weapon, stop pretending you’re a swordsman.”
“I have sword experience.”
“You have sword habits.”
“Habits get you punched when you don’t have a sword.”
She made him practice open-hand versions of familiar motions.
A parry became forearm redirection.
A draw became a straight palm.
A slip became an angle change followed by shoulder pressure.
Ethan looked ridiculous shadowboxing beside a vending machine.
Adrian watched with professional interest.
“Who taught you that?”
“My imaginary friend.”
“Useful delusion.”
“Real person.”
“Even better.”
Chloe corrected Ethan’s stance.
“Lower.”
He lowered.
“Not that low.”
“You have no body here.
Your coaching lacks empathy.”
“My body trained until my hands split.”
“Point taken.”
By the end, Ethan understood what she meant.
Technique was not shape.
Shape changed with tools.
Principle survived.
Distance.
Timing.
Balance.
Intent.
Those could transfer.
That idea felt bigger than fighting.
It was how Ethan had survived changing industries, teams, even worlds.
Tools changed.
Principles traveled.
Adrian’s first jailbreak lesson was disappointing.
“Punch me.”
Ethan stared at him.
They stood in one of Lakeview’s recreation rooms.
No guards inside.
Two cameras.
A reinforced wall.
A rack of foam exercise equipment that looked designed for people with unresolved aggression and very weak imaginations.
Chloe’s projection sat cross-legged on top of a vending machine.
Only Ethan could see her.
“This is either flirting or a trap,” she said.
“Can you stop narrating?”
Adrian looked around.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Not you.”
Adrian accepted this with concerning ease.
“Imaginary friend?”
“Something like that.”
“Helpful?”
“Debatable.”
Chloe gave Ethan a rude gesture.
Adrian opened his arms.
“Punch me.”
Ethan did not move.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to understand the primary obstacle to escape.”
“The walls.”
“No.”
“Guards.”
“No.”
“Magic.”
“No.”
“The fact that I’m being executed before we finish orientation?”
“Related.”
Adrian tapped the back of his neck.
“Miracle Chip.”
Ethan touched his own.
He still could not feel it.
The implant sat beneath skin and bone at the top of the spine.
“What does it do exactly?”
“Punch me.”
“You explain like the Observer.”
Chloe looked delighted.
“Good.
Suffer.”
Ethan sighed.
Then raised his fist.
He had never been much of a fighter on Earth.
He had avoided gym class with creativity that later served him well in corporate environments.
Now Chloe’s shared experience changed everything.
He could see Adrian’s balance.
Open chest.
Weight neutral.
No guard.
Easy target.
Ethan stepped.
Hip.
Shoulder.
Fist.
The punch should have landed.
Instead his arm stopped.
Not because Adrian blocked.
Ethan’s body simply refused.
His fist froze three inches from Adrian’s face.
His muscles locked.
A spark of electric pain ran down his spine.
Then his arm dropped.
“What the hell?”
Adrian smiled.
“Again.”
Ethan tried.
Same result.
This time his knee softened too.
He nearly fell.
Chloe jumped down from the vending machine.
“What happened?”
“Chip.”
Adrian nodded.
“Your Miracle Chip detected an attempt to assault another prisoner.
It issued neural interference and temporarily seized motor control.”
Ethan rubbed his arm.
“That’s legal?”
“It can control my body?”
“Limited control.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It also prevents prohibited arcane output, unauthorized gate access, certain tools, coordinated violence, self-harm in restricted cases, and escape behaviors.”
Ethan stared.
“Escape behaviors?”
“The definition is classified.”
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
Chloe leaned closer to Ethan’s neck.
She could not touch him.
“Can it read thoughts?”
“Ask him.”
Ethan did.
Adrian shrugged.
“Officially, no.”
“Unofficially?”
“Officially no.”
“That’s worse.”
“The chip detects precursor activity.
Muscle preparation.
Arcane pattern formation.
Stress signatures.
Intent signals associated with prohibited actions.”
Ethan looked at his hands.
“If I think about punching you—”
“Nothing.”
“If I decide to—”
“Still nothing.”
“If I move—”
“Depends on how committed the motion becomes.”
“So it waits until I’m about to succeed.”
Ethan laughed once.
“That is evil.”
“Efficient.”
He glanced toward the camera.
“So jailbreak research means defeating the chip first.”
“Or convincing it not to object.”
“How?”
Adrian smiled.
“Research.”
Chloe groaned.
“He’s useless.”
“You’re welcome to solve it.”
She blinked.
Then remembered Adrian could not hear her.
“I hate projection rules.”
Ethan walked to a bench.
“All right.
Let’s assume the chip blocks violence and escape.
How do prisoners fight?”
Adrian’s smile returned.
“Now you’re asking useful questions.”
He sat across from Ethan.
“Lakeview is not merely a prison.”
“Every prison says that before showing you a brochure.”
“It is an economic system.”
“Of course it is.”
“Contribution credits determine privileges.”
Ethan had seen the term.
“Food upgrades, entertainment, private rooms.”
“Also legal services.
Information access.
medical enhancement.
training materials.
sentence review priority.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“Legal services.”
“Yes.”
“Can contribution credits affect Blood Moon selection?”
“Not directly.”
“Indirectly?”
Adrian paused. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“Everything affects everything indirectly.”
Chloe said, “He would have been successful in politics.”
“He was successful in fraud.”
Adrian tilted his head.
“You know more about me than I told you.”
Ethan went still.
Chloe smiled.
“Oops.”
“Public rumor,” Ethan said.
Adrian watched him.
Then let it go.
“There are sanctioned activities where chip restrictions are modified.”
“Work?”
“Some.”
“Combat.”
Adrian smiled.
“Exactly.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“Where?”
“Deathmatch Club.”
Chloe stood.
“No.”
Ethan looked at her.
Adrian looked behind himself.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“Your imaginary friend objects?”
“Strongly.”
Chloe pointed at Ethan.
“You have four days before execution and your plan is prison cage fighting?”
“My plan is learn enough to not die.”
“You don’t know how to fight.”
“I know thirty-two percent of how you fight.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I know.”
Adrian asked, “Should I leave?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Chloe said.
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
Adrian waited patiently.
Chloe stepped in front of Ethan.
“You asked me to help you escape.”
“I haven’t yet.”
“You were about to.”
“I was considering.”
“I can see your face.”
“Apparently everyone can.”
She folded her arms.
“No.”
Ethan stared.
“No what?”
“No escape.”
“You don’t want to help.”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“Blood Moon Judgment.”
Ethan waited.
Chloe’s eyes brightened.
“I want to see it.”
He stared.
“You want to see my public execution.”
“I want to see what your insane society calls civic judgment.”
“I will be the civic judgment.”
“Probably.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You kidnapped me into a death trial.”
“Accidentally.”
“And I am refusing to jailbreak you intentionally.
This feels balanced.”
Adrian watched Ethan argue with empty air.
“You know, in other circumstances I’d charge for this experience.”
Ethan ignored him.
“Chloe.”
She smiled sweetly.
“Yes?”
“I could die.”
“Then don’t.”
“Useful.”
“You need strength anyway.”
She pointed toward Adrian.
“He said sanctioned fights disable the restriction.”
Ethan followed.
Adrian lifted one hand.
“I did.”
Chloe continued.
“Go fight.”
Ethan looked back at her.
“What?”
“Fight people.”
“That is your plan.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because experience sync isn’t a memory download.”
Ethan frowned.
“It felt like one.”
“You know techniques because my experience gave your body a map.
You still haven’t used them under pressure.”
She stepped closer.
“There’s a difference between knowing how a fight works and having someone try to break your nose.”
Adrian said, “Your imaginary friend is correct.”
“Stop encouraging her.”
Chloe smiled.
“Go find someone who wants to hurt you.”
“This prison contains many.”
“Perfect.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll transmit experience while you’re fighting.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“Live?”
“I don’t know.”
“You suggested it.”
“It makes sense.”
“That is not science.”
“It’s more science than your game kidnapping system.”
Adrian looked fascinated.
“Is your imaginary friend also a researcher?”
“No.”
“Better swordsman than you?”
“By a humiliating amount.”
Chloe nodded.
Ethan looked at his hands.
If the chip restrictions were lifted in sanctioned combat, he could test the sync.
More importantly, he could gain combat experience before Blood Moon.
He hated that it made sense.
Adrian saw the decision happen.
“Deathmatch Club meets tonight.”
“Of course it does.”
“Would you like an introduction?”
“Yes.”
Chloe raised a finger.
“One more thing.”
Ethan waited.
“If someone breaks your face, I want details.”
“Why?”
“Training data.”
He stared at her.
“You’ve become the Observer.”
Chloe’s smile died.
“Take that back.”
“Immediately.”
Adrian stood.
“Eight o’clock.”
At the exit desk, Ethan received his updated medical record.
INJURIES RESTORED.
COMBAT CLEARANCE: CONDITIONAL.
RECOMMENDED REST: 24 HOURS.
He laughed.
Chloe read it.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
“My face is innocent.”
“Your face registered for prison Deathmatch after being told public execution was approaching.”
“Context.”
“Rest.”
Ethan pocketed the banana peel.
Chloe stared.
“You’re lying.”
“Technically I intend to rest until Adrian explains the jailbreak.”
“That is not rest.”
“It’s seated crime research.”
She groaned.
Ethan smiled.
Somehow, having someone complain about his bad decisions made prison feel marginally less empty.
He walked toward the door.
Then glanced back.
“One warning.”
Ethan looked up.
“Deathmatch isn’t sparring.”
“How serious?”
Adrian’s smile contained no humor now.
“The chip restriction is not partially lifted.”
He tapped his neck.
“It is removed.”
Ethan stopped.
Adrian opened the door.
“And Lakeview considers death a medically reversible condition.”
The door closed.
Ethan looked at Chloe.
She looked at him.
“Still want me to fight?”
Chloe considered.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re going to stand in front of a city trying to kill you…”
Wave Blade circled her wrist.
“…your first real fight shouldn’t happen on camera.”