The Extra's Rise

Alyssara's surprising interference had done more than just throw me off balance—it had fundamentally transformed my entire infiltration strategy in ways I was still processing.

My original plan had been methodical, cautious, designed around the assumption that I'd be starting from the bottom of their hierarchy. I'd intended to spend weeks carefully avoiding the attention of Cardinals and other high-ranking officials, using Lucent Harmony not just on myself but on Reika as well to ensure neither of us fell prey to vampiric corruption. The plan had been to slowly work our way up through the ranks, gathering intelligence piece by piece while maintaining the most minimal possible profile.

Instead, I now found myself wearing the crimson robes of a Cardinal, second in authority only to the Deputy Pope himself, with power equivalent to the dozen or so other Cardinals who formed the cult's inner circle. The irony wasn't lost on me—in trying to infiltrate their organization, I'd been handed more influence than some members achieved after decades of service.

'And all because she wanted to make things interesting.'

The administrative chambers where I'd been brought after the contract ceremony buzzed with activity. Clerks in lesser robes hurried back and forth with documents, while lower-ranking officials bowed deferentially whenever they caught sight of my new insignia. The speed with which news of my promotion had spread through the Vatican Sanctum was remarkable—and slightly unnerving.

"Cardinal Matthias," a nervous-looking administrator approached, clutching a stack of papers against his chest. "Your companion, Miss Cordelia—we've prepared the documentation for her honorary Bishop rank, as you requested."

Honorary Bishop. It was a perfect solution, really. High enough rank to grant her significant access and protection, but not requiring the full vampiric contract that would have complicated everything. Reika would have authority over entire regional branches while remaining technically unbound to any vampire patron—a status that raised some eyebrows but wasn't unprecedented for trusted associates of Cardinals.

"Excellent," I replied, maintaining the authoritative tone expected of my new position. "Has she been briefed on her new responsibilities?"

"Yes, Your Eminence. She's currently reviewing the operational structure of our various branches." The administrator's hands trembled slightly as he spoke. "Will there be anything else you require?"

"Actually, yes." I fixed him with a steady gaze, letting just enough command presence leak into my voice to ensure compliance. "I want detailed intelligence reports on all active branches, particularly those handling... specialized projects. And I want them within the hour."

"Of course, Your Eminence. Immediately."

As he scurried away, I reflected on how dramatically Alyssara had altered the playing field. What should have been a dangerous, months-long infiltration had become a matter of simply exercising legitimate authority. The woman was either playing a game so complex I couldn't comprehend it, or she was genuinely confident that seeing her operation up close would somehow convert me to her cause.

'Neither possibility is particularly comforting.'

Reika appeared in the doorway a few minutes later, now wearing the deep purple robes of her new rank. The color suited her, and I could see in her posture that she was adapting quickly to the role. Her expression was carefully neutral, but I caught the slight questioning tilt of her eyebrow that asked 'what the hell is happening here?'

"Dear," I said formally, aware that others might be listening. "I trust your orientation has been satisfactory?"

"Quite informative," she replied smoothly. "Though I confess, the scope of the organization's operations is... impressive."

'That's one way to put it.' From the brief glimpses I'd caught of the intelligence reports, the Red Chalice Cult's reach extended across multiple continents and dimensions. They had branches in major cities, hidden enclaves in remote locations, and what appeared to be several off-world operations that defied easy categorization.

The administrator returned with remarkable speed, presenting me with a leather portfolio thick with documents. "The intelligence summaries you requested, Your Eminence. Organized by region and operational priority."

I opened the portfolio, scanning the contents quickly. Branch locations, personnel rosters, ongoing projects—and there, marked with the highest classification levels, references to something called the Slatemark Initiative.

'Perfect.'

"The Slatemark Empire branch," I said, looking up at the administrator. "I want full details on their current operations."

The man's face went pale. "Your Eminence, that's... that facility is under Cardinal Akasha's direct jurisdiction. Any requests for information would need to go through—"

"I'm not making a request," I interrupted, letting ice creep into my voice. "I'm giving an order. As a Cardinal of equal standing, I have the authority to review any operational data relevant to cult interests."

Cardinal Akasha. The name alone was almost insulting in its presumption. Akasha—the same name as the closest thing to a true deity, the Librarian of the Akashic Records. For someone to take that name as their own title spoke to either breathtaking arrogance or dangerous delusion.

'Probably both,' I decided. 'The kind of ego that chooses to name itself after God doesn't tend toward humility.'

"Of course, Your Eminence," the administrator stammered. "I'll have the files prepared immediately. Though I should mention—Cardinal Akasha has been... territorial about the Slatemark operations. He may not appreciate external oversight."

"Then perhaps it's time Cardinal Akasha learned that territorial behavior doesn't supersede cult hierarchy," I replied coldly. "Bishop Reika and I will be conducting a personal inspection of the Slatemark branch. Make the arrangements."

The poor man looked like he wanted to object further, but the weight of my newly acquired authority was apparently sufficient to overcome his reservations. "Yes, Your Eminence. I'll contact the branch immediately."

Within two hours, we were aboard a luxurious transport that made private jets look modest by comparison. The Red Chalice Cult spared no expense when it came to moving their leadership around, and I found myself in a flying palace complete with conference rooms, sleeping quarters, and what appeared to be a small library stocked with texts on supernatural theology.

"This is surreal," Reika murmured once we were airborne and safely behind privacy wards. "Are we really just... walking into their most sensitive facility?"

"Apparently." I settled into one of the plush chairs, still trying to process the rapid turn of events. "Though I suspect this ease of access comes with a price we haven't discovered yet."

The flight to the Slatemark Empire took several hours, giving me time to review the intelligence files in detail. What I found was both fascinating and deeply disturbing. The Slatemark branch wasn't just a regional headquarters—it was a research facility focused on what the documents euphemistically called "essence cultivation and modification."

As we approached our destination, I received a priority communication from the branch facility. The message was brief and carried undertones of barely concealed relief: "Cardinal Akasha has been called away on urgent business. Branch operations proceeding under Deputy authority. Arrival preparations complete."

'How convenient.' Either Akasha had genuinely been summoned elsewhere, or someone wanted her out of the way for our visit. Given everything else that had happened today, I suspected the latter.

The Slatemark branch was housed in what appeared to be a converted cathedral, though the architecture had been extensively modified with additions that definitely weren't part of the original design. Spires twisted in directions that hurt to look at, and the stained glass windows depicted scenes that no traditional religion would have endorsed.

Deputy Branch Commander Sereth met us at the entrance—a gaunt man whose pale complexion and elongated canine teeth marked him as a turned vampire rather than a pure-blood. His nervousness was palpable as he bowed deeply.

"Cardinal Matthias, Bishop cordelia, welcome to the Slatemark Research Facility. I... I must apologize for Cardinal Akasha's absence. She was recalled to handle a situation in the outer territories."

"No need for apologies," I replied smoothly. "In fact, her absence may allow for a more thorough inspection without territorial complications."

The relief on Sereth's face was obvious. "Of course, Your Eminence. We are at your complete disposal. Is there any particular aspect of our operations you'd like to review first?"

"The essence cultivation project. I want to see the primary subject."

"The... the Heavenly Demon clone?" Sereth's voice dropped to a whisper. "Your Eminence, that project is classified at the highest levels. Even Cardinal Akasha requires special authorization to—"

"Deputy Commander," I said quietly, letting just enough menace creep into my tone to convey the consequences of continued objection. "Are you suggesting that a Cardinal of the Red Chalice lacks sufficient clearance to review cult operations?"

"No! No, of course not, Your Eminence. Please, follow me."

The deeper we went into the facility, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The walls were lined with containment chambers, most of them empty but a few holding specimens that I tried not to examine too closely. The air itself felt thick with supernatural energy, as if reality was being constantly bent and reshaped by whatever experiments were taking place here.

Finally, we reached a heavily secured corridor that required multiple biometric scans and magical verification to access. At the end of this corridor was a single door, marked only with symbols that seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them.

"The primary cultivation chamber," Sereth announced, his voice barely steady. "Your Eminence, I should warn you—the subject is... not what most people expect."

He opened the door, and I stepped through into a room that was part laboratory, part nursery, part prison cell. Monitoring equipment lined the walls, recording every conceivable form of data, while comfortable furnishings tried to disguise the clinical nature of the space.

And in the center of it all, sitting cross-legged on a small bed while reading what appeared to be a children's book, was a little girl who couldn't have been more than eight years old.

She looked up when we entered, and I felt my world tilt on its axis. This was supposed to be the Heavenly Demon clone—the ultimate weapon that the Red Chalice Cult was developing, the existential threat that had to be stopped at all costs.

She had dark hair tied back in simple pigtails, large eyes that held far too much intelligence for her apparent age, and was wearing a dress that looked like it had been picked out by someone trying very hard to make a laboratory subject look like a normal child.

"Oh," she said, her voice carrying the sweet clarity of childhood. "More visitors. Are you here to run tests too?"

I stared at her, my carefully prepared strategies and contingencies crumbling to dust in my mind.

She's just a child.