"A chip processor... is a corpse?"
Harvey suddenly tore off his prison uniform, the dried blood fusing the fabric to his wounds making a tearing sound as he pulled. Freshly healed gashes reopened, blood trickling from the finger-width wounds down his dark, scarred back. The rivulets of crimson gave the impression of countless weeping eyes.
"I have to admit," Harvey said, using a towel to wipe himself off, "I'm surprised you even know about the processor. It's not exactly public knowledge. Most inmates don't have a clue about what's controlling their chips—like ants unable to comprehend the person looming above them."
"We're not imprisoned by the facility," he continued, "we're imprisoned by the chips. Lakebreak? Just another room in the Blood Moon Kingdom's house."
Igula, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, frowned. "I pride myself on being well-informed. I've mingled with high society, even prepared contingency plans in case I ever got sent here. That's the only reason I even heard whispers of the processor. But you're just a janitor. How do you know something so classified?"
His tone struck the perfect balance of arrogance and skepticism, laced with a subtle hook. Quietly activating his resonance spell, Igula sought to stir Harvey's emotions, betting that if Harvey really held critical knowledge, he wouldn't resist the urge to brag.
But Harvey remained calm, glancing briefly at Igula through the mirror.
"You've been to hospitals, haven't you?" Harvey asked. "Ever noticed that in the Blood Moon Kingdom, there are no private hospitals? Only research institute-affiliated hospitals and maternity hospitals?"
"That's normal," Igula replied, puzzled. "Even if private hospitals existed, I wouldn't use them. Affiliated hospitals are cheap, reputable, and well-staffed. Private hospitals wouldn't stand a chance."
"And most medical practitioners," Harvey continued, "come from diverse species—humans, Snake-Lizards, elves, orcs, even ogres. But there's one department where every practitioner belongs to a single species. No exceptions."
Longard glanced at the bloody scars on Harvey's back. "If it's connected to the research institutes, then the species must be the Blood Saints. But which department are you referring to?"
"The Morgue."
Harvey pressed the towel harder against his wounds, his expression contorting with pain but remaining eerily composed. "What if I told you the research institutes established these hospitals solely to monopolize control over the Morgue? Would you believe me?"
Ash tilted his head, thoroughly lost. Building a hospital just for one department? Like buying a crab just to dip it in vinegar?
But Igula seemed to have an epiphany. "I remember your primary charge was 'illegal corpse handling.' If Blood Saint research institutes are hoarding corpses, does that mean they're a crucial resource for them?"
"Corpses are more than a resource," Harvey said with a faint smile. "They're a taboo. You were surprised when I said the chip processor was a corpse, but what if I told you… all Blood Saints are corpses?"
Ash's mind flashed to the arrogant, white-haired hunter Gerard. He couldn't reconcile that sharp, intelligent man—who was, admittedly, a terrible card player—with the idea of a corpse. Sure, he was bad at poker, but not lifeless-bad.
"It all makes sense!" Igula exclaimed, the pieces falling into place. "I've always wondered why Blood Saints don't age despite their long lifespans. Even elves show signs of aging eventually. I thought it was some miraculous spell. But if they're corpses, then their appearance must be frozen at the moment of death!"
"Now that you mention it," Ronald mused, stroking his chin, "I've never heard a Blood Saint's heartbeat before."
He glanced at Longard. "You're a Moonshadow. Shouldn't you know more about this?"
But Longard's expression had gone completely blank. His face was stiff, his gaze straight ahead, like a wax figure frozen in time.
"If he's a Moonshadow, he can't comment on this topic." Harvey's tone was matter-of-fact. "The Blood Moon and Moonshadow clans made an oath when they transitioned to their current states. They must protect each other's secrets."
Ash interjected, "So… you're saying the chip processor controlling all the inmates is a Blood Saint?"
"Not so fast," Harvey replied. "The Blood Saints have hidden their undead nature for centuries and control all corpse resources to prevent others from mastering necromancy—a discipline capable of controlling the dead."
"In other words," he added, his smile widening, "necromancers are the natural predators of the Blood Saints. While I can't control a living Blood Saint as easily as a corpse, if I faced one at my level, I could render them powerless, even destroy their soul, leaving them a true corpse."
Igula raised an eyebrow. Every mage thinks their discipline is the strongest, he mused. Harvey's claims about necromancy had to be heavily exaggerated.
"Fine, fine," Ash said enthusiastically, cutting through the skepticism. "If Hunter Captain Gerard comes after us during the breakout, we'll leave him to you!"
Harvey's face stiffened. "Just because I'm their 'natural predator' doesn't mean I can fight a three-wing Blood Saint as a one-wing necromancer!"
Well played. Igula shot Ash a glance, silently impressed. With a single line, Ash had managed to undercut Harvey's bravado while appearing supportive. Truly the manipulative genius of a cult leader.
"But," Harvey added, pivoting, "if the Blood Saint is in a dormant state—say, as a processor—then it's a different story."
Harvey's explanation painted a chilling picture.
The chip processors were actually the remains of Blood Saint mages, their bodies repurposed through necromancy, alchemy, and electromancy to become living conduits for the chips. These corpses weren't just lifeless—they retained fragments of their souls, making them capable of casting miracles.
This "bio-tech" hybrid wasn't just resourceful; it was horrifyingly innovative. The Blood Saints had effectively weaponized their dead, creating a macabre infrastructure to control Lakebreak's inmates.
Ash shuddered. "If they're just using corpses, why does it have to be Blood Saints specifically?"
Harvey explained, "My theory is this: while Blood Saints are corpses, their souls remain partially bound to their bodies—likely through their blood. Even if most of the soul dissipates after death, fragments linger.
"And if you consider the idea that the processor system is part of a resurrection ritual, it makes sense. Turning their dead into processors could be a privilege reserved for high-ranking Blood Saint mages—a step toward eventual revival."
Harvey added, "I've even tested it. When using a chip for complex tasks—streaming videos or playing virtual games—there's a detectable drain on soul energy. It's minor, and it replenishes quickly, but it's there. That energy could be running the chip—or nourishing the corpse."
Ash scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably, imagining a withered corpse at the other end of his chip's connection, feeding on his vitality.
"Gross!" Ronald bolted for a bathroom stall, retching audibly.
Harvey turned to the group. "So, will you let me join?"
Even Igula couldn't argue anymore. "Archibald, welcome aboard."
"Not so fast," Harvey said, raising a hand. "Before I join, I have one condition: prove you can remove the chips. Otherwise, this plan is just a bad joke."
Igula nodded. "We can."
"Good," Harvey said. "But even with that assurance, I'll need you to agree to one request before I commit."
Igula's tone turned icy. "You've brought us fascinating intel, but so far, that's all. I still don't see what you contribute to the escape."
Ronald, recovering from his nausea, chimed in. "If you can control the processors, can't you just modify our chip permissions?"
Harvey shook his head. "To change permissions, we'd need access to the Register of Sinners. Without erasing our entries, the chip restrictions stay in place."
"Then what good are you?" Igula's glare sharpened.
"I can't remove our shackles," Harvey admitted, a sly grin spreading across his face. "But I can add them to others.
"And the guards' chips? They're under the same processor as ours."