CHAPTER 129: SUBJECT #009 NEXT MISSION 3

Subject #009 stood—barely, wings tattered, blood dripping from her brow.

But the wind responded to her once more.

It curled around her like a snake, whispering secrets only she could hear.

"Cyclone Rend!"

With a surge of strength, she leapt, her wind encasing her claws in slicing energy. She spiraled mid-air, descending like a comet of destruction. Her talons connected with the chimera’s spine—ripping through muscle and bone.

The beast howled. All four heads screamed in agony.

It tried to retaliate—too slow.

With one final cry, Subject #009 struck again—"Sky Fang!"

A scythe of wind sliced upward—cleaving through the wolf head and into the core.

The beast trembled.

Collapsed.

Dead.

Thud!

Then suddenly the chamber lights dimmed as Subject #009 collapsed to one knee, blood still seeping from the cuts over her scaled limbs, her blackened wings twitching behind her. The storm that surrounded her slowly faded, leaving behind only silence and exhaustion. She didn’t even look up as the mechanical hum of a descending platform echoed through the room.

From above, the ghost-like scientists of the Ourouboros organization observed with glinting eyes.

"She survived the Chimera-Class," one murmured, noting her vitals scrolling across a luminous screen. "Not through raw resilience alone, but through adapted spellcasting. She’s ready."

Another nodded. "No more tests. It’s time to temper her properly. Begin the baptism."

The floor beneath her split with a hiss, revealing a rising structure—an obsidian capsule wrapped in metallic roots, adorned with serpent engravings—Ouroboros’s mark. Crystalline tubes snaked around it, pulsing with glowing blue liquid, each tube containing fragments of ancient, powerful creatures.

Subject #009 didn’t flinch.

Her golden irises pulsed faintly—her demonic eyes still active—yet she stood, albeit barely, dragging one wing like a dead limb. She already knew. This was the next step. No one had to explain.

As the capsule opened, ghost-like attendants appeared, seemingly from thin air. Clad in sterile robes and silver masks, they moved like wisps, carefully lifting her frail body and guiding her into the chamber with eerie efficiency. She didn’t resist.

The capsule closed with a soft clang.

Then came the pain.

Needles too thin for the eye to see pierced into her flesh. Tubes injected dense, glowing fluids into her bloodstream—concentrated essence extracted from the harpy matriarch, a creature once worshipped by sky cults before it was slaughtered and dissected in this very lab.

Her body seized violently.

Inside the tube, her screams were silent, muffled by the thick fluid. Her limbs thrashed, bones snapping and reforming. Muscles twisted, stretching like they were being pulled by invisible claws. The dark crimson scales on her body began to recede, shrinking into her skin as her transformation entered a new phase—not monstrous, but refined.

From the control room, they watched.

"Her wings are regenerating differently. Thinner, more flexible... less dragonic, more avian. Adaptation based on the harpy’s DNA. Light-weight. Designed for speed and high-altitude combat."

Another scientist pointed at the neuro-data.

"The frontal lobe is glowing. Her magic synapse has expanded. She’ll be able to command wind not just around her, but far across battlefields. That’s no longer mere control—it’s domination."

Lightning suddenly surged through the pod. Not real lightning—but neural fire, meant to burn away weak thoughts, purge memories, and unlock latent potential by forcing the brain to evolve under extreme stress. Subject #009’s body spasmed again, her jaw clenched so tightly that her lips split, releasing trails of blood into the swirling fluid.

But she never blacked out.

She endured.

Time slipped away.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Twenty.

Then—

BOOM!

The capsule exploded in a burst of wind and steam.

A vortex filled the chamber. Every scientist instinctively shielded their faces as the air spiraled violently, wind howling like a wild beast. When the mist cleared, there she stood—kneeling, panting, drenched from head to toe.

Her body... human again.

Her skin was flawless, almost glowing with a faint golden hue. Her once-blood-matted hair now fell in straight, silk-like crimson waves down her back. The wings had receded—now tattoo-like glyphs along her shoulder blades, dormant until called upon. Her nails, no longer monstrous talons, gleamed like sharpened crystal tips.

But it was her eyes that had changed the most.

They were golden—liquid and bright. Like the eye of a hurricane.

She raised a hand.

Fwsshhh!

The wind swirled gently, obediently, wrapping around her palm like a tame falcon answering its master. No spell was invoked. No chant. No effort. The wind simply obeyed.

From the corner of the lab, a single robed figure stepped forward—an Elder of Ourouboros, marked by his platinum serpent medallion. His voice was cold. Elders are just below the second highest ranking members, the Apostles.

"Subject #009. Your transformation is complete."

She looked up, emotionless. Her expression returned to its usual resting neutrality—neither smiling nor grimacing. Simply... composed.

The Elder continued. "You are now ready for deployment. Your mission awaits. But first—"

He snapped his fingers.

A square of golden light opened in the air. A magical mirror, rippling with enchanted runes.

It showed her reflection.

She saw her face for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

She was no longer the frail girl who had been dragged into this dungeon, screaming, and begging to escape the nightmares. She was no longer the monster she had become to survive the first wave of trials.

She was... something else now.

A perfect fusion.

Human in form.

Monster in power.

Wind in essence.

The Storm Mage.

Her name wasn’t needed.

Her identity, rewritten.

She touched the mirror and whispered, almost too soft to hear:

"...It’s time."

The elder snapped his finger again and a photo fell on the ground, it was a young male with dark blue hair and ominous looking red eyes, it was Nero Adams in the photo.

’’Is he my next target?" Asked subject #009.

’’Yes! He is discarded son of the Raizen family. Someone who awakened recently. He is one of those responsibles for the failure of the infiltration mission. Observe for a moment before abducting him,in the worse case kill him and bring back his body, it would be valuable asset to us. We must understand why and how he was able awaken even past the normal age. They will be going on mission outside soon, you should get ready.’’

’’I understand, I will not fail you.’’ she bowed before turning into a wind vanishing.

’’I wonder why the leader is so interested in this young man? Maybe is simply a late bloomer.’’