"If you've suffered enough, use a single hand, cut cleanly away the curse of yesterday..."
With the familiar wake-up song blaring, the prison entered its free activity hours. The locks on all dormitory doors turned from red to green.
Ash made his way to the central hall, just as the holographic display broadcasted the weather:
"The meteorologists predict April 21st will be partly cloudy, clearing later. Notably, goblin conception rates are expected to spike today..."
The dining hall buzzed with inmates coming and going. As Ash walked in, many greeted him respectfully—a show of deference earned through back-to-back deathmatch victories and surviving the Blood Moon Trials. Among prisoners, the "Demon Ash" was now seen as a rising force, someone likely to outlast the confines of this fortress.
Ash grabbed his breakfast and found a seat. Moments later, Igula joined him, settling down without a word. The two ate in silence before heading to the observation deck on the top floor.
There, Ronna and Ronald awaited them, staring out at the deceptively serene lake surrounding the prison.
"Is the miracle ready?" Igula asked directly.
Ash clenched his fists, closing his eyes to channel the sensation of resonance with his soulbound miracles. Exhaling slowly, he replied, "I'll give it my best shot."
He had honed his 'Sever Me' miracle in the Void Realm and even succeeded in casting it at no cost. But there was no guarantee the techniques he mastered in the Void would seamlessly translate to reality.
"Good enough," Igula said, then turned to the others. "You two—can you still remember how to fight like sorcerers? If things go wrong, it's up to you to handle anyone who comes for us."
"I've been here less than a month. No problem."
Ronald looked gaunt, his vitality visibly drained. Though not physically thinner, his presence was shadowed, his demeanor that of a man walking a razor's edge. Yet, his voice carried a deep conviction, and his eyes burned with a strange light.
To Ash, this wasn't rejuvenation—it was a death rattle.
No matter, Ash thought coldly. He only needed Ronald to hold out for today.
Ronna, on the other hand, smirked, his tone casual. "I've been locked up for years, so who knows if I'm still at my peak. But as a claw-and-fist sorcerer, I haven't let my skills rot away. Even without miracles, my soulbound techniques should give me 70% of my old strength."
Among physical sorcerers, claw-and-fist practitioners like Ronna often had soulbound miracles that enhanced their bodies. After all, real combat didn't follow rules, and barehanded warriors needed to counter the advantage weapons provided.
For Ronna, being a Moonshadow Lycan meant his base physical abilities were already monstrous. When combined with his soulbound powers, he was arguably the strongest fighter in their small group.
"The transport ship usually arrives mid-morning," Igula explained. "After delivering supplies and prisoners, it departs back to Kaimon City's lake port. During the stop, the crew and the Bloodfrenzy Hunters aboard the ship split into two groups to eat."
"The hunters' training mandates their meal breaks cannot exceed five minutes. Factoring in the time it takes to travel back and forth, we can safely assume there are no more than ten minutes remaining before departure when the second batch of hunters enters the dining hall."
"That's our signal to act. We'll have ten minutes to cleanse our chips, take the Raven uniforms from the medical staff, and board the ship using their credentials."
"Understood?"
The plan was fragile, hinging on luck at every turn. One misstep could unravel everything. Yet, within the confines of this nigh-inescapable prison, Igula had devised something that was, at least theoretically feasible.
The others nodded, impressed by his ingenuity.
"Then let's make our final preparations. Meet in the dining hall early for lunch."
Before they parted, Igula turned to Ash.
"This is your last chance to back out. Unlike the others, you have the skills to survive here. You could choose a safer path."
Ronna and Ronald both turned their gazes toward Ash, curiosity mingling with caution. Even they knew Igula didn't have a burning desire to escape. How had Ash managed to drag him into this?
"I can't go gently into that good night," Ash replied.
Igula raised an eyebrow. "So your dignity won't let you eke out a quiet existence?"
"No, it's just that if I stay here, I'll keep getting thrown into the Blood Moon Trials until I'm dead."
"Have you ever thought about reflecting on why so many people want you dead?"
Ash's determination was clear. Sighing, Igula dropped the topic and walked off, muttering about needing a bath to cool his head.
With hours left until their escape attempt, Ash wandered aimlessly, unsure how to spend the time. He'd already mastered his soulbound miracles, Substitute, Heartsword, and Flow. Practicing his 'Sever Me' miracle was too risky—it required a target, and any mishap could tip off the prison's systems.
Eventually, his wandering feet brought him to the Deathmatch Arena. But rather than entering, he veered toward a shadowy entrance behind it.
Here lay the treatment ward, its heavy, pitch-black iron doors radiating an aura of foreboding.
The receptionist behind the counter, face hidden by a raven mask, glanced up as he entered. "Room 1. Your assigned medical officer will meet you there."
Ash hadn't even shown his number, #222. How did they already know his assigned doctor? Suspicious, but he shrugged it off and followed the instructions.
The raven-masked figure chuckled softly as he disappeared down the hall. "May your future be… eventful."
Inside Treatment Room 1, Ash didn't wait long before Medical Officer #222 entered, tossing him an apple.
"What's the injury?" she asked.
Ash bit into the apple without hesitation. "Not injured."
"Then why are you here? I'd hope you're here for some cosmetic surgery, but given your cowardly taste, you probably wouldn't dare. So…" She crossed her arms. "Bio-modifications?"
Ash rolled his eyes. "Do I seem that reckless to you?"
"Bio-mods don't take courage—it's trendy now! Swapping out a hand, an eye, even your intestines—perfectly normal!" She raised an eyebrow. "What are you, a body-purist traditionalist?"
"What's wrong with staying natural?"
"Everything! Don't you want to be faster, stronger, sharper? Enhance your stamina and sensory range?"
Ash shook his head. "I'm fine as I am—"
"We can even enhance your, ah… reproductive endurance and pleasure thresholds."
Ash's eyes gleamed. "I'll… consider discussing the wonders of bio-mods with you in the future."
Their banter continued, lighthearted yet sharp, as Ash probed for information. Eventually, he said with a grin:
"You know, #222, you're really good-looking."
Caught off guard, she blinked behind her mask. "Huh? Uh… thanks, I guess? Where'd that come from?"
"Your outfit's great," Ash replied smoothly. "Mind giving it to me?"
Her hand stilled mid-motion.
Five seconds later, she turned to her toolkit, silently selecting a scalpel.
"Wait, wait!" Ash panicked, realizing his misstep. "#222, I'm running out of time!"