Chương 117: What Are You Willing to Give?

Nyxil breathed, letting the hymn fade and the reverberation of her second voice dissipate. The battle had been a great teaching experience. So many times she had to hold back her instincts to lash out with her tentacles or pivot through the air with her wings. As her first serious fight without being able to rely on her mutations — at least not the noticeable ones — it had been difficult. Grifvoi was not someone to be dismissed.

While his armour and rituals were formidable, in the wrong hands, Nyxil would not have been pressed nearly as hard. No wonder he'd become a powerful harbinger in her last life. Rising to her feet, she found that while she'd recovered her right leg, three toes and much of the foot was still gone. Right, she thought. I sacrificed it to summon Euphoria. Not even a Feat this impressive could heal through that. Nyxil kicked Grifvoi on his side. He let out a weak groan.

Unfortunately, as her blade lacked a hilt, the handle had buried in his chest until it got wedged between two summoned ribs. She had to brace her foot against his chest to yank out the weapon. The Scripture's future harbinger moaned in defiance, but his attempt to stop her was pitiful at best. Each hand, bone gauntlet included, were pulped. Anything that remained only did so on the persisting muscle ribbons. Grifvoi momentarily tried to reach out for her. The pain was quick to pull them back into a cradle.

Blood gushed from his stomach, and Nyxil had to guess her blade had pierced his intestines or kidneys, if not severing his spine entirely. He would die in minutes. But Nyxil wasn't content to wait. In only a few years, he shot through the creeds. He was infamous. To Nyxil's eyes, he was worth none of the hesitance to kill she showed many of her other ward-mates. There was no possibility to pull him away from the cults. He was already involved. Well and truly. Besides, he was a threat she couldn't leave alive.

As Nyxil placed her sword against the hard casing around his neck, she breathed out and steadied her heart. This bone — whatever it was — took everything of her strength to penetrate. Even now, she needed a perfect rhythm. A hymn slipped from her lips, and the small green balls of fire in the skull covering Grifvoi's head shifted to look at her. The flames stole all light from around the boy's eyes. In the dark sockets of the skull helmet, it was almost as if his eyes ceased to exist.

During the fight, the one time she'd thrust her blade inside, taking it for the vulnerable point it should have been, she'd found the chilly flames seep through her sword and up her arm. She no longer considered it a vulnerability. Nyxil tapped her foot on stone as her heart played the drum to her song. It had, disappointingly, become apparent that adding more and more parts of her body to the rhythm came with diminishing returns. Still, six in sync should be enough to sever Grifvoi's head.

She stretched, and swung.

"Stop!" Nyxil bisected the worm before it could latch onto her. The long creature split down the middle didn't have the time to squirm before it was swallowed by the field of mushrooms. Fighting Grifvoi had really helped her remain in rhythm, even with surprises. Standing at the head of the crowd of gawkers, Mavi chanted another ritual. The scroll in her hand flared in response. First, shining blood read, the most common ritual colour, before a swirling darkness engulfed the page and her arm.

It responded all too easily, as if whatever she was summoning was trying to claw its way into reality and latched onto the gifted rope. One of the Darkness. Mavi interrupted her hymn, leaving the swirling darkness to flounder, but not yet disappear.

"Let him go, and we don't have to do this." The girl's eyes were hard, yet the way she stared at Nyxil with nothing but apprehension told her that she hadn't thought Grifvoi could be beaten. From the entrance to the temple, a dozen more Scripture acolytes filled the tunnel. Likely here to gather. Nyxil had no doubt there were more on their way. Nyxil pointed her blade down at her defeated opponent. Mavi almost immediately dove back into her ritual. A ritual Nyxil hadn't been certain wasn't a bluff.

She frowned at the girl. There was no doubt now that, for whatever reason, she was willing to go this far to keep her cult's champion alive. Darkness creatures were some of the easiest to summon, yet no cultist was willing to do so. Unlike most beings, their demands for sacrifices were far more personal. They never accepted a binding agreement unless their summoner was giving up a part of themselves. If the summoner wasn't willing to give up whatever they demanded, they would be the first victim. Love this story?

Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! At only her first evolution, Mavi would not be able to pay its toll. Nyxil dropped her gaze to the champion under her feet. The small blaze eyes reflected pain, but they followed each of her movements. He was still completely lucid. Looking at his pitiful form, she wanted to end it now. If she didn't, the boy would only come back to be an annoyance in the future. For a moment, she considered just doing it.

Let Mavi summon the beast that would kill her, then go on to kill every other potential cultists that watched on as if they were some blood sport performance.

"Why?" Nyxil asked.

"If he dies, then you could take his place as the Scripture's champion." Mavi twitched. So she has at least considered it. Unfortunately, her stance hardened and she glared at Nyxil as if the idea was beyond unreasonable.

"I am under no illusions of my standing. Do not tell me I could win." She gave Nyxil a pointed look.

"My role lies elsewhere, and I do not intend to fail it. Even if it means I have to fight you." Nyxil muffled a frustrated groan. Stepping to the side, she kicked one of the dead bodies into the middle of the mushroom field. Immediately, she regret it. Her feet did not have the same strength as her hands necessary to handle the impact of her rhythm. It only added to her irritation.

"Ma̍vi, leave the cults," She warned.

"Don't… and my blade is destined for your heart." Leaping from a sprint, Nyxil bound off the wall, kicked the corpse, and flipped to the other side of the field of carnivorous mushrooms. She glanced over her shoulder. There were already half a dozen Scripture acolytes sliding to Grifvoi's side. There went the chance of him bleeding out. Well, it's not like a few acolytes — even one with as much potential as Grifvoi — would matter in the end.

Her end goal was the decapitation of each cult; she would have to triple Grifvoi's growth in the past timeline at the very least to achieve that. If he learnt from this fight, and gave her more valuable experience the next time he came for her — and she had no doubt he would — then maybe it wasn't the worst outcome. It still left a bad taste. Nyxil turned the corner at the end of the entrance hall and found herself walking between walls of giant warrior statues.

Kneeling and crouched, all pushed against the ceiling as if it were a great weight. They weren't human. That was obvious at first glance, but their bipedal figures were similar enough that Nyxil now realised the oddities of the carvings weren't artistic representation and symbolism. These people had spheroid segmented torsos. Whether it was the method of carving or they actually looked that way, she wasn't certain, but their bodies were smooth; like an insect.

Each had pincers around their mouths, and lacked eyes in favour of long, spindly antennas. Besides that, they were humanoid. The arms pressed against the ceiling were segmented, but thick. As were their legs. So thick, that they made Tarchon's limbs seem thin. The visual itself almost stripped the insectoid comparison. Each had a sword; discarded to hold up the ceiling. The weapons were identical, yet calling them such was impossible. They were nothing but a representation of what these people once wielded.

Each blade was carved into the stone inverted. A mould for the sword, rather than a weapon ready to wield. There was no regularity to the carvings. Each held a different pose. Each sword cut into the stone at distinct angles. Nyxil immediately assumed these weren't mere statues, and kept her eyes peeled for any movement. Yet nothing challenged her. She made it to the stone stairs at the end of the hall without interruption. The burdened soldiers remained.

It was easy to move on from the frustration of Mavi willing to sacrifice herself for her cult when she had actual threats she had to worry about. Nyxil doubted Ep'Nanorschi would be sated with only the solar flare as a threat. At least with how minimal the corruption was, she didn't need to question whether a stairway leading up, actually went up. As much as she wanted to forget it and move on, the battle against Grifvoi had revealed just how little experimentation she'd done to test her names until now.

Particularly with N̚oth. The description was a convoluted mess, so she'd assumed it was based around the single most powerful effect it provided. But nowhere in the name's description had it even alluded to a rhythm. Now that she realised her boosted speed and strength had no difference after a certain number of beats had synchronised, Nyxil had to conclude that there was more. Sure, the rhythm was strong, but a name that cryptic was never that simple in its effect.

Not to mention the way her acid clung to her claws. Nyxil was almost certain it was because of N̚oth. She had some ideas, but they would have to wait for her next fight. Whether that be some monster of this temple or another Trial participant… well, they were equally as likely. Nyxil rolled her shoulder. The pain of that chill flame had finally disappeared. Apparently, the healing of slaughter was not solely a burst effect. So had the gash between her toes healed.

While the condition for 'survival' was 'slaughter', she could have the ability linger by continuing to 'persevere'. Good to know! Really, it was simply too bad El had done nothing. The name for burning bones like candles had seemed almost too perfect a fit for the fight… but it had no effect. Though, Grifvoi had technically made himself a candle with that second ritual, so maybe it had? What else had she learnt from the fight? Ah; don't ever let herself be pulled into a grapple.

Her hands were strong, their force amplified by rhythm, but the rest of her wasn't so persistent. If Grifvoi had pinned her hands rather than try to take her head on, then his physical prowess would have overwhelmed her. She might have been forced to use her mutations to escape. She could fight to her acrobatic advantage all day, but she couldn't become complacent. Anyone intelligent would try to strip her of that edge. If they could stop her, or engage her in a tight space, she would be in trouble.

As Nyxil crested the top step, she found her path splitting again. Three stone tunnels just taller than herself stretched at her sides and ahead. She rolled her head back to glare at the ceiling. Why is it always a labyrinth? Something shifted in the dark of her right tunnel. Her head snapped towards it, but even lowering her skulk shroud revealed nothing. Well, there was certainly something hiding in this pyramid. Nyxil didn't give the other two tunnels a glance. She followed the movement.

Time to enjoy the return of her hand… and put her name through some comprehensive tests.