Re:Cursed

Chapter 181 177: Old Grudge

"So-"

Nyxala's fist immediately crashed through the face that manifested besides her tendrils. The explosion of white was followed all too soon by giggling. Lysyra reappeared in front of Nyxala, grinning, all too happy with herself.

"Don't be so high-strung, N̪ỷx̱̽ala." Lysyra shook her head, exaggerating a look of disappointment. "Who knows how many heads you'd rip off if I wasn't here."

She narrowed her eyes. "Maybe I should take yours. I don't see anyone else around so insistent on being an annoyance."

"You could always take T̆a̹̅r͐chö̠n̩͂͑'s." Lysyra's gaze sent waves of rolling heat that Nyxala did her best to avoid. "Though, you might need a hacksaw."

With a sigh, Nyxala tossed the girl her altered Worshipper badge. "We're alone now. What is your problem with him? Did T̆a̹̅r͐chö̠n̩͂͑ do something to you?"

Lysyra caught the access circuit with a casual flick of the hand. Her smile was gone, and she seemed to see through Nyxala, lost in thought. Without answering, she spun on her heel and strode through the hall.

"C'mon. No point waiting around." She dismissed Nyxala's question entirely. "The Worshipper's Tributary — and your sceptre — is this way."

If the girl was unwilling to share, than Nyxala wouldn't push her. She knew she could. Nyxala could do anything she wanted with Lysyra if she really wanted. Take anything. If she so cared, she could strip the girl down to her fundamental thoughts and take them for herself. Nothing that was Lysyra's was blocked to her. That was what it meant to Invow.

But that's not what Nyxala wanted.

Nyxala didn't need a hollow puppet. Someone who would simply do everything told of them at the whim of their devotion. A fully trustworthy peer was invaluable enough. But what most stayed her hand was that the cults wouldn't hesitate. Given the opportunity, the cults always took full advantage of an Invowed devotee, and Nyxala would not be like them.

No matter how curious she was.

Still, If Nyxala couldn't feel her own name etched in the other girl's own, she never would have guessed she was Invowed. Lysyra hadn't changed. She had no problem getting on Nyxala's nerve for her own amusement. That… was strange, wasn't it?

Nyxala had always thought Invows were rather rare, but if others were anything like Lysyra, and hid or suppressed their devotion, then it was impossible to know just how many were barely more than thralls. It should be impossible to Invow unless one truly wished for it, but Nyxala had two now that had occurred in… less than ideal situations. She herself had no intent to bind them to herself, but what of the cult leaders? Would it truly be impossible for them to inflict similar enough circumstances to garner devotees of their own?

Well, it mattered not if the cult leaders bound all their cultists to themselves. Nyxala was going to end them all regardless.

Lysyra didn't speak as she led her through the corridors, so Nyxala was all too happy to let the walk slip into a calm silence. As they trekked up a wide spiral staircase to a higher level of Coral, Nyxala couldn't help but notice her guide's tendency to stick to only well-travelled halls. It seemed strange to Nyxala. The girl had hundreds, if not thousands of replicas across Coral; surely she knew of countless hidden shortcuts?

Casting aside the thought, Nyxala took the quiet opportunity to dive back into her name. Pink and her new eyes had come in, so she was ready for another. With the deviating growth times, she needed to be breaking open a crack whenever she could if she wanted to make any progress.

The first thing her attention was pulled towards, were all the mutations linked to Pink. None were accessible yet. Not unless she wanted another messy scenario like with her tail. But a small few were blocked only by a single prerequisite. One, she found, would give her another mouth. This time, not in her tongue. It was difficult to perceive where exactly the mutation would appear, but she was sure it would be easier to hide than the other options.

Only one thing held her back from tearing it open immediately. The size. Not of this mutation, but the one after which linked with Pink. There was this very distinct sense of weight. The mutation felt expansive. Impossibly so. How could a jaw expand beyond the bounds of her body?

She had to assume that size was just the pink space she felt. Whatever its influence over the mutation, it remained unclear.

If Nyxala could skip all the time it took to grow, she would have jumped into this mutation immediately. Unfortunately, she had to wait. With Pink's association, the changes were likely to take days. Better to welcome another she had her eyes on. Something could possibly be helpful sooner.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Forgetting the extra mouth, she let her name-touch strike the crack of her shadow mutation.

After the near-disaster that had been Coral's shadows, she really wanted something that could help. Unfortunately, her sense of the not-yet-adapted mutations was not so comprehensive she could just ask and have a solution show. Instead, she skimmed through, feeling for any that gave a feeling even close to 'shadow'.

She hadn't expected to find one that fit so perfectly.

Nyxala began to dig her claws through the crack, ever so slowly tearing it apart. A shadow and extension of herself. They were the feelings she got from the mutation. She had no way to know if it — whatever it was — could help her at all in the phantom's domain, but she figured the mutation was worth a try.

Still, by the resistance she felt, it would take a while.

"He did nothing," Lysyra said suddenly.

Nyxala snapped back to reality. "What?"

"T̆a̹̅r͐chö̠n̩͂͑," she said. "And by extension the Technocult. They did nothing. That's why I can't stand them."

They did nothing?

Lysyra let out a groan of frustration. "After the Bodytwisters slaughtered our ward, T̆a̹̅r͐chö̠n̩͂͑ took us in. My sister and I. For the next few weeks, he took care of us. Protected us. We-" her voice broke, growing quiet. "We loved him."

Her eyes raised to meet Nyxala's. When she spoke again, her words were harsh and clipped.

"And he abandoned us."

Lysyra's gaze fell again. She clutched the pommel of her knife like she was trying to choke the life out of it. "The Technocult's regulations dictated we could only be offered protection for so long. And when that time came, he was all too happy to dump us in the nearest ward. We tried to tell him that they would just come after us again. My sister pleaded. She knew the Bodytwisters were after us, yet he ignored her. The only thing that bastard cares about is protocol. It would have cost nothing to just let us stay. We would have stayed out of his way, helped where we could, and yet that wasn't in line with his policy."

"It wasn't a day later that Ila, my sister, was murdered." Lysyra lost the bite from her tone. "The rearing ward couldn't keep us safe, so we ran. We tried to find a place to hide. Didn't matter. The Bodytwister leader found us. She found Ila. I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye before P̝̦͆h̥͝ŏs͂p̢̑ḣ͓o̻̮̭̗ŗ̀t͉a̐n̮i͋͒͒̀̂̋͘͠s ripped my sister's heart from her chest and ate it."

"T̆a̹̅r͐chö̠n̩͂͑ did not kill Ila, but it was his inaction that allowed her death," Lysyra said. "My sister's last words were to hide, and so I did. I'd say I got pretty good at it, wouldn't you?" She tried to grin, but it was less than convincing.

No wonder she didn't like Tarchon, but… was it really true? Could there not be any other extenuating circumstances that stayed his hand? Maybe it had become less safe at his home than anywhere Lysyra and her sister could have gone. Nyxala caught herself as she was moving a chitinous knuckle between her teeth.

"Yeah." She didn't know what to say. "I know nobody better."

Lysyra's brow furrowed slightly, and she turned ahead again. "We best keep moving." The girl seemed quick to move on from the topic, and Nyxala wasn't about to cling to it.

If Tarchon had abandoned Lysyra, would he have done the same with her had enough time passed? He was the first person she'd come to trust, but was she just a variable in his protocols, like Lysyra had apparently been? If she hadn't offered the value she had, would he have not considered her worth keeping from the Fleshsmith leader? Is that what happened with Ila?

Nyxala didn't want to doubt the Technocultist, but by the very nature of an Invow, she trusted Lysyra more. The best she could hope for was a misunderstanding… but if it wasn't?

Her gaze followed Lysyra's back closely. Lysyra had opened up to her, but she wasn't sure what she should say. Dan and Ari would probably know. Unfortunately, they weren't here to guide her through interpersonal communication. At least with Technocultists, you didn't really need to care about emotional language. They were either stoic, or had enough experience with the blunt to not care.

For the entire rest of their walk, Nyxala pondered whether she should ask about Ila, cheer her up, or simply stay silent. She ended up with the latter out of indecision.

"Well, there's the Tributary," Lysyra announced as they reached an intersection.

Nyxala peeked around the corner and, while she didn't notice any structure out of the norm, she certainly didn't miss the large arachnoangel skittering along a few hundred metres away. It slipped out of sight only for another few machines to appear. Their Worshippers all close behind.

This was a place to make offerings to their machines and the Machine God, not even one of the cult's primary fortresses, and yet it had more activity than the Technocult's main temple. It truly reflected the differences in numbers between the cults.

Unfortunately, that also meant they wouldn't just be able to rely on their altered badges to get in. They would need to hide from the Worshippers and their machines while they slipped through.

Nyxala's edge sight trailed along the interior of what she figured was the Tributary until something caught her eye.

"Want to make a bet?" she asked, doing her best to stop the smirk tugging at her cheeks.

Lysyra hummed in question as she glanced back, immediately narrowing her eyes when she saw Nyxala's expression.

"Let's see who can find a way in first."

She kept her suspicious glare for a moment longer before she raised a brow. Arrogant. "You think you can beat me?"

Nyxala shrugged. "Who can say?"

"Alright then, winner gets first pick of Worshipper treasure?"

"Sure."

Lysyra broke out in a grin. "Sorry to say, but-"

Nyxala didn't give her any more time to speak. Her claws dug into the wall and ripped a heavy plate free. It hit the ground with a heavy slam, and in the vacated space was a hidden walkway that led right into the Tributary. Her first thought was a service tunnel, but the set of rails that ran overhead indicated some sort of transport passage. Likely for a trolley only the size of a person.

"Oh would you look at that? I win."

Lysyra was not impressed. Nyxala smirked. At least the girl's mind wasn't on her sister.