The Extra's Rise

Judgment.

The memory surfaced unbidden from the pages of the Saga of the Divine Swordsman—Lucifer's blade gleaming with white astral energy, his sword the very embodiment of divine justice. I could almost see it: his verdant eyes locked with his enemy, the unstoppable force of his judgment meeting an equally unstoppable fist. The woman with pitch-black hair and dark eyes who had destroyed an entire city, radiating power enough to send shivers down even Lucifer's spine despite being at the same mana rank.

A perfect match for him.

That was how the webnovel had described their battle. Lucifer at twenty-two, meaning this confrontation was still three years in the future. Since the clone would be an adult by then, I'd calculated she should be at least sixteen by now—old enough for complex reasoning, old enough to understand the gravity of her situation, old enough to make her own choices about escape and freedom.

So why the hell was she eight years old?

"What is this?" I demanded, forcing my voice into the cold, calculating tone expected of a Cardinal while my mind reeled from the implications. "Why is the subject so... underdeveloped?"

I chose my words carefully, making them sound like I was questioning her utility rather than expressing horror at her situation. Every instinct screamed at me to drop the act, to gather this child up and get her as far away from this place as possible. But revealing my true feelings would doom not just my mission, but potentially Reika and the girl herself.

Beside me, I felt Reika's hand tremble in mine. I squeezed gently, a subtle reminder that we needed to maintain our roles no matter how disturbing this became.

"Her development follows a unique timeline, Your Eminence," Sereth explained, his clinical tone making my skin crawl. "The demonic essence integrated into her cellular structure accelerates certain aspects of her growth while slowing others. Physically, she ages at roughly half the normal rate, but her power development is exponential. She will become an adult in two years from now."

'Two years.' The timeline would fit perfectly with the Saga's accounts. This child would become the monster capable of matching Lucifer blow for blow, of laying waste to entire cities without breaking stride.

"And her current capabilities?" I asked, though part of me dreaded the answer.

"Equivalent to a Bishop-rank combatant," Sereth said with unmistakable pride. "Perhaps you'd like a demonstration?"

No. Every fiber of my being rejected the idea of watching a child—any child—be forced to display powers that should never exist in someone so young. But refusing would raise suspicions, and maintaining my cover was essential to any hope of eventually helping her.

"Proceed," I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.

Sereth moved to a control panel embedded in the wall, his fingers dancing across symbols that pulsed with malevolent energy. "Subject Zero, we have visitors who would like to observe your capabilities. Please prepare for demonstration."

The little girl—Subject Zero, they don't even use her name—looked up from her book with an expression of resigned acceptance that broke my heart. She shouldn't know that look. No eight-year-old should carry that weight of expectation and inevitable compliance.

"Okay," she said simply, setting her book aside with careful precision. "What would you like me to show them?"

"Standard combat assessment. Level three intensity."

She nodded and moved to the center of the room, where hidden mechanisms revealed themselves as the floor opened to produce what appeared to be a training dummy crafted from some kind of supernatural metal. The construct was easily twice her size, designed to withstand attacks that could level buildings.

What happened next defied every natural law I understood.

The child raised her small hand, and darkness gathered around her fingers—not the absence of light, but something deeper and more fundamental.

Deepdark and miasma.

When she gestured toward the training dummy, that darkness lashed out like a living thing. The metal construct didn't just break—it dissolved, its molecular structure unraveling at the touch of whatever force she commanded. In seconds, tons of reinforced supernatural alloy had been reduced to scattered particles that glittered like black snow in the laboratory's harsh lighting.

"Excellent as always," Sereth commented, as if watching a child unmake matter itself was the most natural thing in the world. "Her control has improved significantly since the last assessment."

I felt Reika's grip on my hand tighten to the point of pain. When I glanced at her, I saw that her face had gone completely pale, and her breathing had become shallow and rapid. Her eyes were fixed on the little girl with an expression of barely contained terror that had nothing to do with the display of power we'd just witnessed.

'She's remembering her own experiences.' Reika had been subjected to supernatural experimentation when she was young—not to this extent, but enough to leave scars that never fully healed. Watching another child trapped in the same kind of clinical hell was triggering memories she'd spent years trying to suppress.

"Fascinating," I managed, keeping my voice level despite the rage building in my chest. "I think we've seen enough for now. Bishop Cordelia and I will need to review this information in detail before proceeding."

"Of course, Your Eminence. I'll have our staff prepare detailed reports on all aspects of the project. Will you be staying overnight?"

"Yes. Have quarters prepared for us."

The walk to our assigned rooms felt like an eternity. Reika moved like someone in a trance, her usual grace replaced by the mechanical movements of someone barely holding themselves together. The moment the door closed behind us and I activated the privacy wards, she collapsed into the nearest chair.

"I can't," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Arthur, I can't watch this. She's just... she's so small, and they're doing to her what they..." Her voice broke, and I could see her struggling against memories that threatened to overwhelm her completely.

I moved to kneel beside her chair, taking her hands in mine. "Hey. Look at me. You're safe. We're going to figure this out."

"But she's not safe," Reika said, tears starting to flow. "She's trapped in there, and they're turning her into a weapon, and she probably doesn't even understand what's happening to her." She met my eyes, and I saw my own anguish reflected back at me. "What are we going to do, Arthur? How do we save a child from this without destroying everything we've worked for?"

'That was the question, wasn't it?' My original plan had assumed I'd be dealing with a willing participant, someone old enough to understand the stakes and make informed decisions about their own fate. But this child—Subject Zero—was innocent in every way that mattered. She was a victim, not a villain, regardless of what kind of power she possessed.

This was going to much more difficult than I thought.