Re:Cursed

Chapter 167 163: Deviated Plans

Nyxala begrudgingly carried Lysyra through the air.

She'd been given no choice in the outcome, but that didn't mean she happily sat by and let the other girl get away with it. No she didn't hold the girl close to her chest where it would have made the most stable flight. She didn't even hold her with her hands. She left the task entirely up to Pushy.

And Pushy was all too happy to dangle Lysyra by her foot, shaking her from left to right as Nyxala raced through the countless storage racks.

"Okay, you've made your point," Lysyra screamed. "I'm sorry. Now please stop it. You're gonna make me puke all the way back in my little cubbyhole."

"Oh?" Nyxala hummed. "With how you threw yourself from that platform, I got the impression you had no problem with heights."

"The heights aren't the problem, you harpy!"

Nyxala chose to ignore the human pendulum as she swayed between insult and pleading.

Having the opportunity to show off in front of Lysyra had been great, but… a part had felt hollow. While her mutations were flourishing — improving her with each new addition — her name had backslided since the final Trial.

While it was her base name that had reached the fourth evolution, that's not where all her strength had been. O̅s̫stho̲th was only at the third, yet it was forged from the combination of all the abilities that formed the way she fought. And yet… she couldn't figure it out. The Talent was gone. Her ability to slip through space, gone. The combination of her mutations? Massively reduced in impact. There should be something to replace it, but in her days within the safety of the Technocult Temple, she had not found it.

Until Lysyra arrived, she'd been tiding herself over with curiosity. Her possibly enfeebled name couldn't bother her if she drowned herself in her mutation options.

There were so many to choose from. Too many blocked behind prerequisites that she now knew to holster until she was ready. But of all the mutations, there were some that were… particularly strange.

The Oth aspect of her core name was supposed to be her past mutations, yet there were a series of crevices linked with the heavy emotions she'd felt back then rather than any mutation she'd once manifested. Her strengthened core name didn't give her any more insight. All it accomplished was to drown her in the feelings that defined the person she'd been.

The soul-wretched terror of falling into the black hole. Her suicidal depression and pain in the hands of the cults. To feel these emotions once again so pure it felt like they'd just happened, Nyxala didn't even need to touch the crack of hate to find herself wreathed in it. She never needed a reminder of what her ultimate task was.

Before touching the emotions, there'd still been doubts of their origin, but feeling the veracity of them, Nyxala knew. Those weren't experiences one forgot.

Which brought into question… Pink.

It was such an odd thing to find bordering what she had to assume were emotion-based mutations. Not only was the colour not an emotion, but nothing from her past stood out as pink enough to qualify its position with the rest of Oth. Even her newly improved sense for her soul left her with nothing other than befuddlement.

So, of course, she'd tried to welcome it.

And smacked headfirst into the limit that would be cause of many a frustration in coming days. The pink mutated far too slowly. While she was certain the crack was widening, she noticed no changes anywhere on her body.

Two days straight of nothing.

Unlike her tail, this mutation had no prerequisites she was missing, so she doubted it would tear apart her body again. Well, she hoped.

It was getting to the point where she wanted to leave it and try for something else. The crack gave no indication of how much further it still had to go. She could be waiting weeks. Maybe years. The whole process wouldn't have been a problem if she could unveil more than a single mutation at a time. Splitting the weight of her soul-touch was possible, but would take longer than if she'd unravelled mutations individually.

At least the widened cracks didn't close again if she let up the pressure. Mutations were a one way thing. Once Nyxala welcomed them, there was no getting rid of them.

With a beat of her wings, she finally decided to relent on Lysyra's punishment. Nyxala let her go. The girl landed on a spool of wire, crying out in relief as she did. "Watch where you sleep N̪ỷx̱̽ala, I might pluck you alive and make a pillow of your feathers."

"Uh huh. And maybe I'll find your little cubby and flay your skin before you can try."

Lysyra looked up, horrified. "You wouldn't."

"Of course I wouldn't," Nyxala deadpanned. "Now tell me what you know about the sceptre."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"I haven't been able to sneak inside." She swung her legs around to sit comfortably. "But so long as your relic is still in the Tributary, I might have found a way inside." She paused, finger to her pursed lips. "Well, at least past the first round of Worshipper defences."

"Really?" As much as she'd hoped to regain what she'd rightly earned, the time when she'd be able to break through the Worshippers' defences was still far off. If Lysyra could bypass that… "How?"

Lysyra tried to smother it, but the arrogant smirk slipped onto her face all too easily. "Well, the Worshippers and the Scriptures have forged somewhat of an alliance."

Nyxala tilted her head. "Don't we already know that?"

"That was only a joint attack. Now it's official." Her smirk deepened. "The Worshippers have gone so far as to grant some Scriptures squads limited access to their strongholds. Tributary included. Each have ID bands, like this." She slapped the cuff on her wrist. "Except… not as bulky and threatening to pop my brain should I misbehave."

Suddenly Lysara's smirk was gone. "Ta̽'Ș͑t̕r̊a͑ḷa̾͆n͙͂o̼͗v͐͐̿͝'r̝͇͎͓͜ can't actually do that through one of my reflections, can she?"

"Probably," Nyxala shrugged. "She's one of the cult leaders. It's hard to say what they're capable of. Now, those squads. If we steal the tags from them, will they work for us?"

"They should, yeah," Lysyra said, though Nyxala could feel the 'but' coming. "Only problem: the units I've found so far have been sixth evolution and higher."

Nyxala didn't hesitate. "That's fine. I'll handle whoever we need to take down."

It would make the perfect challenge to finally solve her new name.

"I uh, hardly think you're weak… but these are balanced groups of harbingers. They don't hold their positions because of luck."

"You saw me in the final. That was without my mutations. I can do a whole lot more damage with them."

"If you're sure, then I'll keep an eye out for a suitable target. But seventh evolutions and above I'm avoiding outright."

Nyxala nodded. Taking on sixth evolution cultists would already be pushing the extreme edges of her capabilities, and that was before she lost her three greatest names. Anything more would be blatant arrogance. Maybe this already was. Well, arrogance or not, she needed to be on the constant push towards strengthening herself.

"Oh," Lysyra said. "Perfect timing. I've got our targets."

❖❖❖

"You realise that S͍̾ølą̛́̄n̼̙͈̘̄̍̓͘ is actively hunting you, do you not?" Ta'Stralanov'r's unimpressed voice rang down from all around them.

"I do," Nyxala said. Her mutations were back to being hidden now that she was in the temple proper. "But sitting here on my laurels will do me no good. If I'm ever to reach the strength I need, then I need to be out there."

The voice doesn't come for a few seconds, as if assessing. "I intend to keep you here for three weeks, learning from Ta'Ta̭̦î̾ͩsẖ̪ until certain projected circumstances occur in which allow you to act."

"This cannot wait."

"Yes. So you've made clear," Ta'Stralanov'r said. "This will require adjustments to my designs, but I shall consent if you are driven. But before I let you leave, there are a few details you should know. First, most paths from our temple to these targets of yours cross active warfare zones that you, as you currently are, will not survive. Instead, you'll need to pass along Coral's undersurface."

Strange to hear someone say Coral's belly was the safe path, but Nyxala didn't question it. She was physically in a much better position to handle it than she had been the last time she was down there.

A hole opened in the wall, revealing a straight drop. Nyxala glanced to Lysyra, but she remained as wordless as she'd been since Ta'Stralanov'r began speaking again.

"Second," the cult leader continued. "Is Coral's shadows. It is your best option should S͍̾ølą̛́̄n̼̙͈̘̄̍̓͘ find you. An equaliser of sorts. Stick to the shadows. If you can survive in the domain of the phantoms — make it your own — you will no longer need my protection."

Nyxala couldn't stop her eyes widening. Nobody, not even the highest creeds, dared pervade the shadows long. Phantoms weren't a matter of fighting and beating a beast. It was no different from trying to fend off the ravages of accretion winds. You could place something between you and the burning storm-light, but it would eventually eat through. It would eventually cut into your core no matter the strength of your soul.

A harbinger could 'kill' a phantom, but if they lingered, it — or another — would return, stronger. Shadows of life could not be destroyed without destroying life itself.

Seeing her expression, Ta'Stralanov'r must have decided it necessary to elaborate. "I only recommend this due to the complete unknown that is your mutations. There may be one that can assist you where all others would fall."

So, roll the dice and hope she gets some lucky solution to the most dangerous place in Coral. Right. Sounded solid.

"And one last thing before you dive down that chute: Ṭ̫a'M̽a̬li̞ͧͅs̆ has something for you."

Nyxala spun to find the woman in question hurrying towards her, some sort of contraption in her arms.

"Oh good, I caught you in time." She dropped the machine onto the ground before Nyxala. "That tail of yours gave me some very interesting ideas. Unfortunately, I've only had time to whip this up."

The machine was about as long as her arm, and twice as wide. Two belts of razor-bladed chains were strapped up its length, and on the underside, there was an array of buckles and bolts. A vicious-looking chainsaw.

"Well, come on. Bring out your tail. I made it to fit around your spines and lock to each so there shouldn't be an issue with manoeuvrability."

Nyxala, enchanted by such a large weapon, did as she was told. As soon as her tail was in reach, Ta'Malis moved faster than Nyxala could follow, and before she knew it, the weapon was bound to her tail. She lifted it, and despite the chainsaw weighing more than she used to, her tail was easily strong enough. The weight felt almost comfortable.

"Strike the underside against the ground," Ta'malis encouraged.

Doing so, the engine sprung to life, sending a thrum up her spine as the chains ripped along tip of her tail. It was honestly amazing, and she really wanted to test it out on the next unlucky cultist she came across, but…

"There's just one problem."

"Oh?" Ta'Malis didn't sound the slightest bit insulted. Only curious.

"With the way it pins my feathers, this is going to make flying difficult." A major problem, considering she was moments away from diving to the subsurface.

"Ah! I didn't even consider you needed it to fly." Nyxala wasn't given a chance to protest the stripping of her new weapon before Ta'Malis had unbolted it and taken it back. "Next time, it'll fly as well as you do."

She didn't stop to say goodbye. The Technocult just left. Off to start up another iteration of the machine.

Nyxala shook her head and approached the hole in the wall. It reminded her a lot of that one where they'd tossed the unruly cultist on her first day here. She glanced back.

"Wish me luck?"

"You don't need it," Lysyra said. "I'll see you when you make your way up."