Chapter 97. Jael
The lab was bathed in a cold, sterile light, the glow bouncing off sleek metal surfaces and glass containers filled with swirling, iridescent liquids. The air carried a faint metallic tang mixed with a burnt chemical stench. A man in a white lab coat stood near a table cluttered with test tubes, syringes, and charts covered in incomprehensible formulas. His back was to the room’s entrance, shoulders stiff as though he were waiting for something—or someone.
Jael Yilin stepped into the room, his every movement taut with restrained fury. His coat billowed behind him, and his usually composed face was a storm of anger and frustration. In his hand, a shattered test tube dripped viscous red fluid onto the white-tiled floor, leaving streaks that looked like trails of blood.
"Another failure," Jael muttered, the broken glass crunching in his grip as he approached the man in the lab coat. His voice was low and sharp, edged with venom. "Every experiment. Every calculated step. All of it for what? A string of meaningless failures!"
The man in the lab coat finally turned around, his face partially obscured by reflective glasses perched on his nose. A smirk danced across his thin lips, as if Jael’s anger was a mere inconvenience, a child throwing a tantrum in the presence of his superior. His hands, clad in pristine white gloves, held a clipboard with neat columns of data. He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by Jael’s towering rage.
"You still don’t understand what’s important, Jael." The man’s voice was smooth, almost melodic, but it carried a sinister undertone that made the hair on Jael’s neck rise. "All your failures are irrelevant. You’re focusing on the wrong target."
Jael slammed the remains of the test tube onto the table, splinters of glass scattering across the surface. His dark eyes bore into the man in the lab coat, who remained unflinching, calm in the face of Jael’s outburst.
"Ethan is in a coma," Jael hissed, his voice now colder, quieter, and deadlier. "He’s the key to this entire operation. Without access to his body, without understanding the state of his brain, we can’t—"
"Stop." The man’s sharp interruption sliced through Jael’s words like a knife. He placed the clipboard down on the table and crossed his arms, leaning against the edge as though amused by the conversation. "You’re so blinded by your preconceived notions, Jael. Ethan Hudel is not the key. He was never the key. He’s just... what’s the word? Ah, yes—a stimulator. A tool. Nothing more."
Jael froze, confusion flickering across his features before giving way to suspicion. His hands clenched at his sides as he took a step closer. "What are you saying?"
The man in the lab coat chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Jael’s spine. He pushed off the table and began pacing the room, his gloved hands gesturing dramatically as he spoke.
"Ethan Levistis was useful for one thing, and one thing only: his lineage. The offspring of an experimentally created human and a spiritually enhanced individual? That, my dear Jael, is the treasure we’ve been seeking. Ethan himself is disposable. A byproduct. But his children..." The man’s voice dipped into something darker, more sinister. "Now they are the real experimental bodies."
Jael’s breath caught, his mind reeling at the implications of the words. "His... children?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re saying this was never about Ethan at all?"