Re:Cursed

Chapter 133 - 132: The Twenty Thousand Year Bomb

Nyxil's astral claws raked through the dam of curses like they were soapy bubbles. She hardly even felt them burst. For so long they had been denied their rightful punishment — suppressed whenever they would have expressed themselves — that they hardly even needed her touch to cascade.

She was the catalyst. As soon as the dam broke, there was no stopping the damage many thousand years of accumulated curses would do.

To Nyxil, the parasitic names burst easily. They slid around her fingers like a light breeze… But to Sekhhath'Ra, it was nothing less than a violent eruption.

The suns in his eyes burst. Miniature supernovas. His fractal lenses shattered like glass, blasting a hundred fragmented pieces across the hall. Many of which sliced into Nyxil's flesh. She couldn't complain though; the Pharaoh's bellow contained such unmitigated agony that what little pain she felt was suffocated by the harrowing sound alone.

Nyxil dropped to the ground; forgotten. Sekhhath'Ra clutched his head as the burning flares exploded outward. No longer contained within his head, the solar fire clung to his exoskeleton, rapidly expanding to engulf him in the same incinerating heat that had swallowed so many lives.

"What have you done!?" The clatter of his mandibles was erratic. Despite the Pharaoh's ferocious loss of composure, his voice remained heavy and powerful.

In his name, the tendrils that had once contained the ticking bomb now tried desperately to seal the punctures. At first, it might have worked, but Nyxil simply tore open another section of strained curse bundle.

A name able to suppress curses like this had to be a Feat. Or at least have originated as one. It was too similar to her own. Unlike her core name — which had begun as Zylth — his ability to touch his soul was not joined by sense. He was blind to her attacks.

The tendrils flailed, desperate to seal the leaks and knock away whatever was destroying their formerly well-maintained dam.

Nyxil didn't even try to decipher what each curse did. There were just far too many of them. The thick soup of corruption contained an endless number of curses. Both harmless, the type gained by a broken promise of low stakes, and the debilitating, from genocides of many powerful beings.

Either he'd had unwavering confidence in that Feat… or his goal to end all life was important enough to him that he would willingly allow these curses to fester rather than sacrifice even one of his names.

Now, he was facing the consequences for that decision.

Sekhhath'Ra stood, engulfed in an inferno that flicked through the cracks of his brittle, ageing chitin, and ate at his body. Within the pressurised dam, each curse, whether weak or strong, retained their strained form. Only now that there was an out — freedom to unleash their torment — did the manifested fury of billions consume the lesser curses to empower themselves.

Nyxil rose upon her tentacles. Her feet were now only a bubble of sludge where her ankles had been. They skimmed stone. A foreign tingling ran up her legs, distinct from the touch she felt through skin. She ignored her feet for now. No curiosity could distract her from the burning Pharaoh before her.

"You dare!" Sekhhath'Ra pulled his hands from his head, revealing two hollowed out holes in his head where fire continued to flicker. "I am the Conqueror of Lands. Nemesis to all." Even as the solar flare brutalised his body, seeming to rip through chitin like rolling currents rather than fire, he opened his hand and the golden sceptre flew into his grasp. "Through the ages, I have crushed uncountable warriors far stronger than yourself. Though you are their gift, it is not your place to interfere with that which is above the mortal plane. You interfere with my burden, ignorant to the consequences."

Raising an eyebrow, Nyxil raked her mental claws through another section of the dam. The ancient being chittered, agonised, as something exploded from its side. She needn't question what had happened, as it occurred again. Within his enveloping fire, a small section of his torso bubbled. The hard exoskeleton warped like rubber until it was nothing but a chitinous cyst. One that popped violently only a moment later.

These cysts appeared one after another all across the Pharaoh's body. Each time they exploded, they held enough force to knock the lumbering insectoid off balance. But not even that was the end of Sekhhath'Ra's problems. Each popped cyst left a hole in his exoskeleton. Holes that quickly gushed blood.

Now a bloody fountain shrouded in a burning flare, his former impervious poise was gone. Antennae flicked wildly, he spun on Nyxil.

"You cannot comprehend the being before which you stand. I am S̥e͔kh̃h̃a̱ͬtͣh'Rͦ̏҉̵͕ả, the Eternal Pharaoh. You, little thing, are nothing more than a golden apple served on a platter for my ascension."

He lifted his hand again, and Nyxil flew through the air. This time, she was ready. As her wings strained against his power, her claws dug through two heavily bleeding holes in his arm, and snapped. To her surprise, and Sekkhath'Ra's shock, his exoskeleton shattered. Where before, her strongest attack would have done nothing, she broke through.

In such close proximity, she could do nothing against the burning inferno she crashed through. As the momentum carried her into a roll across the floor, she expected to face severe burns — at the very least — but when she slid to a stop… Nyxil was unscathed.

The curse-borne flames slid off her body harmlessly. Each flicker avoided her skin as if it were toxic. She escaped without a burn. Well, no more than she already had.

The Eternal Pharaoh stood, staring at his broken arm. It wasn't severed, but it was about as close as it could be. Two rifts opened each side of the arm, and the brittle chitin crumbled around the wound even as Nyxil readied herself for her next attack.

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Sekhhath'Ra turned an eyeless glare at her. A horrific sound of clattering mandibles rang in the depths of her ears, lacking any echo or meaning. His alien tongue still sounded unnatural, but she could tell a wordless expression of rage.

Nyxil was terrified. She held his name in the palm of her hands, so she knew just how outmatched she was. Yet… she was excited.

Maybe in her current tense state with a heart-rate twenty times higher than what was safe for any other human, she was slightly off-kilter. Maybe it was just the thrill of the challenge. Whatever it was, her eyes followed the insectoid like a predator watched prey. Her teeth were bared. Half a grin. Half an instinctual snapping of her jaw, ready to bite and rend.

Sekhhath'Ra lifted his sceptre, and the darkness crept in.

Her posture changed. Less upright, as she would fight with a blade. Lower. Bestial. Inhuman. Blood raced through her mind, and it knocked down whatever barriers that kept her from embracing her mutations. She wouldn't survive otherwise.

The darkness reacted to the Pharaoh's sceptre long before it unleashed its light. It spread. Nyxil's third eye was scraping through so much air that a crimson-violet glow was already rushing through her veins… yet she could barely see them. Only the so-called eternal being shone through this dark, and even his form was obscured by shadow despite his intense light.

Nyxil's slimy, barely formed feet struck stone the instant before the solar flare ripped out from the staff. Through a combined effort of her tentacles, wings and her not yet grown in mutation, Nyxil skirted the inferno that raced past almost faster than her accelerated sight could witness. This flame burned. Unfortunately, the curse did not spread to the sceptre's solar flares.

Sekhhath'Ra whipped his sceptre down. Nyxil's body moved. Her spine seemed to warp out of existence momentarily as she dodged the second she didn't think could come so quick. As her body snapped back in place, the agony that ran down her spine was tremendous, but she didn't relent for a second.

Her line of spikes snapped flat, and suddenly the pain was gone. She felt flexible. Like she could twist a full three sixty with ease.

The Pharaoh was not happy to see his blaze dodged, and swung his sceptre like a club. The rippling air around it told her how important it was to avoid… even if she had to give up her attack.

But she wasn't willing to play to his game.

As she flew through the air, sceptre swinging for her head, Nyxil shoved her claws in her mouth and let her tongue coat the chitin with enough acid to melt a hole through the bottom of Coral. She paid no mind to how she sliced through her cheek. Simultaneously, Pushy tore off half her hair and slapped it over her claw as it pulled from her mouth.

Taking a risk, she raised her other claw to deflect the sceptre. Nyxil realised her mistake the moment it touched. There was so much force behind the swing that nothing she did could deviate his swing. In a split second, she made her mind and switched targets.

The sceptre not only knocked her away, but it melted through chitin. That same chitin which could handle molten steel. The powerful blow was strong enough to knock the rest of her body away before it could melt through her.

But not before she struck with her other pincer.

She snapped down on the arm holding the sceptre. The bleeding hole she'd been aiming for hadn't been struck — Sekhhath'Ra's reaction not lacking — so her claws stopped dead. But she hadn't been aiming for a dismembering strike. Her momentum carried her away all too quick, but she was surprised at just how easily the acid mixed mould slid off her claws. It was as if something just clicked in her mind, and the acid no longer clung to chitin.

Nyxil rebound off stone. A ricocheting projectile flung too fast for a single impact to slow. She struggled to reorient as she tumbled through the air, but the wall came to meet her far too quickly. Her tentacles tried their hardest to dull the blow, but she still struck hard enough she heard bones crack.

With a groan, she fell from the wall to her feet. As easy as it would be, losing her stance would be death; even with her tentacles.

"For a decrepit cockroach, you hit harder than you look." She made sure to scrape extra deep through his curses as she spoke, relishing her enemy's visceral glower. "But not nearly as hard as I'd expect from someone who supposedly killed all life. Against the true evils outside this tomb you would be squashed like the bug you are."

Nyxil did not understand why she was antagonising him. The last thing she wanted was for the old pharaoh to shift into an all out assault — one she knew would come — but she couldn't help herself. She was grinning and drooling like a feral beast.

"Cease this foolishness. The Eidolons will descend and I shall be there to meet them, as has been foretold. Fate has already decided your death. Accept inevitability and your soul shall not be receive eternal anguish."

Fate? Nyxil lowered herself for her next charge. When have I ever settled with what fate decides?

Her gaze hardened. Sekhhath'Ra's arm tore apart. As the Sceptre flew into her arms — grabbed by the severed hand in case it was too hot — Nyxil drove a spectral knife through a the thickest cluster of curses she'd found.

She'd had no way to know if her acidic mould could dig through his chitin or search for those bleeding holes itself, but clearly it had worked. It was a success. Even so, she had to hurry with the opening it had given her. Thankfully, the sceptre was not too hot to touch. One of her tentacles took another scoop of hair and pinned to her back.

Sekhhath'Ra raised his hand, and Nyxil flew through the air. She didn't fight it. Instead, she beat her wings and flung her tentacles to reach him faster than expected.

He'd only wanted his sceptre; not her.

Nyxil got so very close to clamping her claw around his neck… but the Pharaoh suspected something was off. Or maybe he simply didn't trust the brittle chitin at the base of his head. He leapt away. Not before Pushy and Curious could fill a couple of holes with her saliva.

Immediately, Sekhhath'Ra tried to shove her away with his telekinetic grip, but the mould coated tips of Shy and Cuddly pinned her in place.

All Nyxil needed to do was wait. She could barely comprehend the number of curses gushing out from his name, inflicting horror across the Eternal Pharaoh's body. Any of the inconvenient ones were quick to be consumed by the lethal curses. They racked every part of his form. Even the tendrils trying to hold everything in were faltering.

There were now enough curses running rampant across his body to kill thousands of high creeds, yet he persevered. Albeit debilitated. Air raced in to slice at his chitin. It slid inside, spreading Nyxil's acid further. The earth trembled. Stone fell wherever he stepped. And all the while, solar flares rushed through every fissure in the pyramid to add to the inferno around him.

It was as if the very world wanted him dead. An entire planet of victims wanted him to finally join them in death.

And Nyxil was happy to oblige.

"Ridiculous," Sekhhath'Ra sneered, agony awash through his expression. "I never wanted to do this, but you have given me no choice."

But first, the Eternal Pharaoh would have his last hurrah.

He raised both crippled arms wide and slowly floated off the stone. The curse-caused rumble in the earth momentarily ceased, only to be replaced with one a thousand more intense. Nyxil was flying in an instant, but she still felt the thumping through the air.

"Our tomb," his voice pounded through stone like a declaration to the world itself. "Our divine resting place shall be desecrated to achieve our destined future. The Colony's sacrifice will not go unrewarded."

And with that, the grand throne hall collapsed.