The Ihara–Grams Protocol is the foundation that allowed cyberspace to evolve at high speed.
It's a genius-level algorithm that converts electronic data into signals the human brain can process—routing information through the five senses so data can be perceived and manipulated like one's own limbs.
Auditory layer:
Meaningful data streams manifest as tonal structures aligned with human hearing. Not music—but distinguishable pitch. A higher pitch reflects priority and urgency. Overlapping, chaotic frequency bands indicate density and complexity.
Tactile layer:
Data with "temperature" indicates relevance. Higher heat equals higher density. Surface roughness represents structural integrity and encryption stability. Vibration amplitude sometimes encodes data type—text, image, or video.
Olfactory layer:
Rarely used. Scent modulation requires expensive cyber-olfactory suites. But when implemented, hackers bind frequent data types to familiar smells—smoke, alcohol, perfume.
Gustatory layer:
High-end only. Sweet, sour, bitter, and salty are mapped to predefined categories. Intensity reflects density.
When hostile data surges—
Voltage spikes.
Signal density peaks.
All five senses collapse into one:
Pain.
Hackers who master this protocol can construct custom cyberspace avatars—manipulating data as naturally as physical limbs. In cyberspace, your body is whatever your imagination and coding skill allow.
In the real world you might be a muscle-wasting nobody.
In the Net—
With intact cognition and superior code—
You can become a titan.
A single punch can detonate nuclear-scale digital payloads.
The only limits are hardware, skill, and imagination.
But all of that still adheres to Ihara–Grams structure.
All encoded signals ultimately trace back to human logic.
When data originates from something built on a fundamentally different substrate—
Everything changes.
The color shifts.
Deep crimson.
Blackened red.
Audio becomes a shrieking frequency no human cognition can parse.
Touch modules simultaneously transmit ultrasonic and infrasonic tremors.
Eardrums fail.
Capillaries rupture.
Temperature oscillates violently.
Taste and scent distort into indescribable chemical hallucinations.
Memory buffers flood.
ICE fails.
Cybernetic systems overheat.
Then—
Control layers sever.
Cyberware begins operating independently.
Human-made tools awaken.
Speaking languages no human can interpret.
That is what it feels like when a rogue AI manifests physically.
The most dangerous rogue AIs aren't confined to the Net—
They operate in the real world.
But first, Leo had to deal with Muramasa's network intrusion.
All surrounding wireless frequencies had been hijacked.
In the blended physical-digital overlay, Leo saw red phantom edges slicing through their systems—
Burning toward their hardware.
Zzzzt—
Virtual octopus limbs manifested in hardened red armor, colliding with invasive signal vectors.
Less than a millisecond later—
Leo physically burned out his wireless cyber-modulator.
Jackie and V's cyberware automatically ejected receiver modules.
Muramasa was a true rogue AI—long-active, deeply embedded.
Even if network warfare wasn't its primary function, sustained attack pressure would eventually breach them.
Rogue AI doesn't "hack" in the human sense.
It spreads.
If you don't want your cyberware gaining its own "machine spirit" and killing you—
You disconnect.
Data blades are tools for Leo.
For Muramasa—
They are instinct.
Without preparation, direct rogue-AI contact can brick full-body cyberware—reducing advanced systems to dead metal.
Leo had an AI too.
He opened his eyes.
The red-hot blade was flung skyward—
Spinning like a missile and embedding into the pavement ahead.
Bang.
The Mackinaw swerved cleanly around it.
"What the hell?!" V slapped the interior panel.
Her Sandevistan had shut down.
Jackie's optics went dark too.
Their optical scan overlays required local network sync to function.
Without isolation, they would've seen the red ghost trails crawling across power lines—
And that would have been catastrophic.
Octo plunged a tentacle directly into V's neural link.
In networked mode, Octo could regulate multiple biological control loops simultaneously.
Offline—
It couldn't.
From a cognitive-architecture perspective, this was instinct.
From a code-level standpoint—
Leo believed Octo's core had low coupling. Splitting sub-processes risked creating independent consciousness forks.
Octo clung nervously to Leo's skull.
[Little Octopus: Big bro, you sure? If Mackinaw drives, she won't manage you.]
[Leo: I'm sure. Move.]
[Hardware reboot: Sandevistan "Reality Distortion"]
[Override control enabled: Sandevistan "Reality Distortion"]
Octo blinked into V's field of vision, perched on her shoulder.
From V's perspective—
Leo inside the cabin was rigid, surrounded by fully extended heat-dissipation fins, steam venting violently.
His body hung suspended in semi-seizure posture.
Three octopus arms moved stiffly.
Even Octo gaped.
Human brains aren't built for true multi-thread control.
Octo was designed to assist precisely because the mechanical structure was too complex.
Leo locked two arms.
A third connected into Jackie's nervous system, isolating and rebooting corrupted cyberware.
Ten seconds since Muramasa's intrusion.
Leo had shifted the team to contingency mode.
He had planned for this.
The enemy closed in.
Jackie blinked as error panels cleared from his vision.
Valentinos were falling behind.
The remaining opponents were fewer—
But fully unhinged.
The Mackinaw was still a fortress—
But no system is limitless.
Hammer-30 ammo depleted.
Electromagnetic lock disabled.
Mag-suspension offline.
Static adhesion reduced by 80%.
Wheel micro-control was downgraded to pure mechanical drive.
Armor compromised.
Active defense charges exhausted.
Fuel sufficient.
Remaining weapons:
Jackie's thermal fists.
Nekomata.
Yinglong SMG.
"Mano…"
"We still have support."
The Mackinaw roared down the elevated highway.
Ahead—
A neon arch flickered with electric static.
Tyger Claws' iconic gate:
"Peerless Under Heaven."
Muramasa-controlled Centaur units vented flames from their exhaust ports, converting urban mech frames into battlefield jump rigs.
One mech tore its blade from the pavement, accelerating.
As the cyberpsycho vanguard passed beneath the gate—
A massive silhouette dropped from above.
The figure landed blade-first into a vehicle roof, driving steel through the driver's neck.
Electric current surged, frying every cyber-implant instantly.
It was a familiar face.
Tyger Claws boss—
Maekawa Takenori.
Fluorescent paint burned across his cybernetic back.
"Peerless Under Heaven."