Re:Cursed

Chapter 136 - 135: Cleared

Nyxil sat at the edge of the arid mountain of crumbled black stone. A solar flare carved away at the former tomb, and she was left to wait.

Upon the pharaoh's death, the ocean of cursed blood sunk into the earth. Its task done, it no longer remained. The air was dry, and Nyxil's skin cracked with each inferno that washed over her. Maybe she should have found cover… but her exhaustion smothered any desire to find cover. Her sceptre did a decent enough job of redirecting the flares, anyway.

The consequences for keeping her heart beating faster than one of Tarchon's engines for so long were apparently not so easily fixed by Lyotep. There wasn't anything technically wrong with her heart, but her chest ached like the organ was molten. Not only that, her soul had taken a beating.

Nyxil fell on her back. The rough sand scratched at her skin where it caught in her robes.

Even dead and caught in a sacrificial ritual, Sekhhath'Ra had not gone down without a fight. She felt raw. While definitely stronger, it was as if the ancient fossil had left scars all through her name as he was ripped apart. She could feel just how ready her name was to evolve… but with that sensation came the frailty of her current state.

She had killed the pharaoh. Despite her advantages, it was hard to believe she'd actually done it.

In the face of that achievement, it was hard to get herself worked up about Lysyra again. The girl still knew about her mutations. By now, the girl had probably spread the information amongst all the high creeds of the Bodytwisters. Even if she hadn't, Nyxil couldn't chase her down any time soon; the exits of the null scar were no longer present.

Nyxil had to wait until the solar inferno swept clean all this rock and she could reach the golden summit of what had once been the pyramid. That had remained intact during the collapse. She could only hope that the spatial tear remained. If not… then Nyxil wasn't exactly sure what she'd do.

Without knowledge on the ritual used to create this Null Scar, her ability to return was… questionable at best. There was a reason Null Scars were sometimes used to seal away creatures of the Darkness. Not often; there was no way to use their power through the border of the Null Scar. But on occasion there were creatures that could not be suppressed so easily. The best option was to throw them into a Null Scar and toss the key.

Such imprisonment was never used on people, so Nyxil just had to assume there was a way out should her exits be blocked.

She hoped she wasn't trapped. The Dark Star was enough of a prison for her; it was not something she wanted to repeat any time soon. Though, admittedly, this desolate planet wouldn't be so bad. Without Sekhhath'Ra and his embalmed it was quiet. If the sun didn't blast her with unbearable heat every few minutes, the place might even be pleasant. A nice break from the immoral cults.

Nyxil returned Cuddly's hug as her wings stretched through the sand. Regardless the existence of an escape, she took the moment to enjoy the freedom of her mutations. Ta'Stralanov'r's armband had never stopped trying to stretch its film over her body and cover her wings and tentacles, but stretched as they were, it provided no camouflage. Pushy held the sceptre overhead — annoyingly not casting a shadow for her eyes — while Curious played in the sand.

Given the current tender nature of her soul, it was unwise to go through with her evolution now. No matter how eager she was. But look at her name? That she could do.

Unwilling to get up, she left Curious and Pushy to sketch the basic name ritual through the sand. In seconds, she fell into her soul.

Tstll — Fell the great. Fell the immortal. Fell the gods on pillars above. Realms pose no barrier, yet death is an eternal chase. A predator without teeth hunts but never eats. No more. No more. One who has toppled the heavens has earned the right of bypass. For this being, battle is no longer an act; it is law. Pierce the soul, and both shall be bound by oath: Accept death, or become death.

Well, that sounds… good? Nyxil thought. Not sure I like the sound of an oath, though.

She had a dozen other names to look through, yet she lingered on the Feat. It would be strong. Nyxil was certain. But like her other names, it wasn't immediately clear what it did. Her best guess was a mutual death pact.

Nyxil really hoped it wasn't that.

When nothing more jumped out at her from the description, she shifted her attention to the names that awaited. These were much easier to parse. Most were basic. Names she would use as fuel to strengthen the evolution of others. One was the ability to clear dust off an object just by looking at it; immediately redundant. Another let her see blue light as pink… which was completely pointless. Almost harmful. If not for having the choice, it would be considered a curse.

A few were decent. Youn and Kqui, for example, would make good additions to N̚oth with their focus on body improvement. An improved grip and brief boost in muscle-mass might be helpful on their own, but their effects would no doubt be greater when combined with a superior name.

Above all else, only three truly caught her eye.

Gova — To be small means to be meddled. A fish, caught in the tug of a net. A mouse, trapped in man's hand. But some… some of the small learn to be large. Snap the net and weigh down the hand; a boulder hiding within a pebble.

So… it made her heavier? She hadn't felt any heavier. Maybe it was something she had to intentionally activate? Nyxil would have to look into it later.

Eiyp — When one spends their life obsessed with blood, blood will eventually return the obsession.

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I am not obsessed with blood! Nyxil scoffed. Just because I bleed a lot, and have been surrounded by an ocean of the stuff more than once…

What did that even mean for blood to become obsessed with her? She wasn't going to start finding pools of random people's blood beneath her bed now, was she? No, that wouldn't be that bad. At least compared to the thought that amalgamations might climb out of her bloodstream, and they'd be the ones obsessed with her. She'd take the free BD any day.

Tsair — Always hiding, but never hidden. Always noticed, but never seen. Any obstruction is a tool. A haven. And a siren shrieking its existence to the world.

This was the one she was most hopeful for. Sure, a method of hiding that told everyone where you were was not particularly helpful… but if it could cover her mutations, it would give her a much needed option to use her mutations without them being seen. As much as Ta'Stralanov'r's armband was a blessing, it didn't give her the freedom she most desired.

Nyxil would have to put in a lot of work to discern her new names. Some would be tossed to the grinder to improve the names she already had, but the best of the lot? She was considering evolving them alone. Sacrificing Sekhhath'Ra had already pushed them to the point where they could evolve, yet she had no experience with them. Combining them with other names before she truly knew what they did… wasn't ideal.

At least waiting an evolution to incorporate them posed no issues. Only the delay itself usually made people combine immediately. Combined collaborative names formed a stronger ability than if all those names were raised individually. But most took so long between evolutions that they would gain a dozen more names before then. Nyxil would lose nothing so long as her next evolution came soon.

It just so happened that the prize for winning the Trials was exactly that.

Satisfied with her now twenty part name, Nyxil slipped from meditation. As she sat up and stretched, she found the golden pyramid nestled in the what little remained of black stone. Hours had passed. Her skin was dry, and having spent enough time baking under the immense yellow sky, she wasn't interested in lingering.

Nyxil jumped to her feet, and was reminded that she didn't have feet any longer. Beneath her weight, the pair of slime orbs lost their shape. It spread out, entirely like the liquid it was, yet not so far as to disconnect from her body. She was standing in a puddle, and was the puddle. The slime seeped into the sand. Only as she took a step did her sludge take on any form similar to her old feet.

Movement forced the sludge into shape, but the moment she stopped again, it tried to spread.

From her shins to her ankles, her skin gradually faded away into slime. The liquid was semi-transparent. She could see inside, but it was hardly clean. Through cloudy mist, indistinct objects floated through the slime. They were wet and fleshy, as if her new — shapeless — feet were in a constant war against the human muscle that tried to stretch down where it used to connect.

Out of a slightly disgusted curiosity, she passed a finger through. The flesh twirled around her, and she felt no resistance.

Trekking across sand felt incredibly uncomfortable. Each step filled her feet with grains. They rubbed the wrong way; like tiny stones in your shoe that just wouldn't leave. It was somehow both easier to walk and not. The sand didn't sink beneath her, yet her feet refused to hold their shape. Plus, it was increadibly unpleasant. Somewhat like dragging your tongue along the ground.

She almost wished for steel boots. Almost.

Stepping onto the rocky remains of the pharaoh's tomb, her annoyance abated. Only slightly, but it was something. While she still tasted everything she walked on, the slime morphed around the sharp rocks of the unstable ground easily. She didn't even need to watch her step to trudge down the slope. A rock dislodged, and her sludge had enough to ignore it completely.Nyxil's walk down to the summit was as easy as taking a set of stairs. Convenient, but messy. Behind her, a trail of slime revealed each of her footsteps.

As she approached the entrance to the golden summit — where it had once connected to the rest of the pyramid — Nyxil's felt the sting of metal in her formless feet. Tasted it. Curious was the first to toss aside stones. From the small hole it dug, her rapier was pulled free. Blackened by the sun, and with three deep divots from Sekhhath'Ra, but it was her blade.

It no longer fit its scabbard.

Nyxil took the proffered sword in one hand, and the sceptre in another, before stepping inside the only shelter left on this planet.

It was… surprisingly empty. Considering it was made entirely of gold and had been the only thing to survive Sekhhath'Ra's rampage, she'd assumed it had protected something priceless. There was nothing but empty pedestals.

Nyxil glanced down at the sceptre pulsing with power. Maybe it had.

This Null Scar was still the Bodytwisters; whether they had known of the being buried below or not, they had cleaned through the summit long before allowing the Trial to take place. The fact that the sceptre was where it had been could have easily been a modified trap of the Bodytwisters as one of Sekhhath'Ra's. Until the pharaoh touched it, the sceptre had refused to be anything more than a torch.

Through another golden chamber, Nyxil found her way out. A shifting fissure distorted the bright golden colours of the air around her to something dull and dark. She stepped back to the previous chamber.

Her tentacles and wings slipped beneath her robe, but as she looked down on her feet, she lamented the absence of shoes. As she'd done earlier, Nyxil tore off the sleeves of her robe and tied them into makeshift socks. They would look horrible, but hopefully they would at least keep her feet in the right shape.

Unfortunately, the moment she slipped them on, her slime began to seep through the fabric. Her feet were absorbing them, not wearing them. Worse: they didn't keep shape.

Out of frustration, she tore out some hair and pressed them around the sleeve in hopes the stickiness would hold it in the form of a foot.

Instead, her foot froze.

A cold mist rose from the mixture of slime and mould, drastically cooling the air within the golden chamber. Well, it hadn't done what she'd expected, but the ice did hold her feet in a relatively human shape. Enough for the armband to do its job. Her feet didn't even feel cold.

N̚oth had created another combination between her mutations.

Checking herself over once more as she fed blood to her robe to increase its regeneration, Nyxil figured that there was no reason to delay any longer. Her escape was right in front of her. She may worry about what Lysyra has spread amongst the cultists, but lingering in a Null Scar was not going to offer her any better prospects.

Nyxil calmed her heart, and stepped through the spatial fissure.

What awaited her, was chaos.

Under the high arches of the Biovault, a thousand voices screamed. Power flowed from high-creed cultists, and rituals were being prepared in every corner they could fit. A dozen cults stood against an army of Bodytwisters. They were prepared for a battle; not just with each other, but also against Nyxil… or what should have come in her place.

All eyes fell on her. In an instant, Nyxil felt herself the focus of a thousand weapons, rituals, and abilities that could kill her in an instant. She froze. Yet she did not remain idle. A Dark Star was only an instant away from being unleashed.

"Cease!" Ep'Nanorschi's tall form stepped out from the line of Bodytwisters. "She is a participant."

Any lingering verbal abuse fell away to silence. Disbelief. They knew something powerful had been in there, and they didn't believe her survival was possible.

Nyxil's eyes found Lysyra's where she stood amongst the Bodytwister's formation. Her eyes were wide. Mouth agape. She, more than any other, couldn't believe Nyxil was alive.

Lysyra exploded in a white mist. As it faded, she was nowhere to be seen.