Chương 122: Slime

Nyxil ran around the corner, intending to catch up quick so that Su'Baar didn't grow suspicious. One foot squelched in the confines of her shoe, while the other left a thin layer of goop behind with each step. The residue was concerning. While Ta'Stralanov'r's armband still kept her body coated in that thin film that fooled the senses, it did nothing for what she left behind. At least with her mould and acid, there was no way to know it came from a person. Her slime left a footprint.

And a distinct one at that; she doubted there were many participants missing the same toes she was. For now, her third eye ate anything that lingered, but that was hardly a perfect solution. What if she couldn't turn around ever dozen steps? What if she had to crawl through the narrow tunnels again, where no matter how she contorted herself, she wouldn't be able to see where her feet touched? It was infeasible. Especially if there was anyone around.

What would someone think if they not only saw her snail-like trail, but witnessed it evaporate the moment Nyxil turned to look? They'd hardly think it natural. At best they'd assume she was some hybrid of a Bodytwister and one of the Everseeing. At worst… well, they'd learn the truth. Her temporary partner didn't seem observant enough to have noticed, but if she kept treading slime behind her, he was bound to find out. Not to mention what would happen if someone crossed paths. She needed to stop her ooze.

While her left foot felt like it was constantly stepping in swamp mud, at least it was covered. Her slime contained. Unfortunately, she didn't have another shoe. What she did have, was a self-repairing robe and some sticky hair. As Su'Baar turned the corner at another branching corridor, Nyxil quickly snipped off a sleeve. Knotting off one end, she pulled a bundle of hair and threw it inside. With a tug, the makeshift sock slid around her foot.

She worked the mould around her new layer of slim skin, and tied off the top. It looked a little silly, but it worked. Nyxil took a few steps, trying to get accustomed to the feeling of walking through ankle deep water. She knew the slimy, disgusting feel would only last the next few days — as it had her first time — but that knowledge didn't help her actually walk through it. What she didn't expect, was for her foot to suddenly grow as cold as ice. A slight vapour rolled from her sleeve sock.

As she took an experimental step, there was a crack, but the moist feeling was gone. More vapour rose through the fabric. Pressing her foot into the stone again, there was a crunch sound, but Nyxil focused more on the cold crumbling sensation beneath her sole. Pulling at the sock's neck, she was surprised to find her foot covered in ice. Right. N̚oth. It was surprising to find a combination for her sludge feet even before they'd fully come in. Nyxil only hoped that it wouldn't feel this cold then.

While it did take away the slimy sensation, the chill sunk deep through her leg. Would she need to change her plan? She could hardly have a foot rolling with vapour; that was more obvious than the residue itself. Unfortunately, Nyxil didn't get the time to consider her options. An explosion threw her body into motion. She dashed around the corner with ringing ears, rapier already unsheathed, only to find a cloud of dust settling around Su'Baar's micro-tank.

"What was that," she yelled, quickly realising that no, she hadn't just been attacked as her body seemed to think. Su'Baar casually glanced back her way.

"Oh, just one of the embalmed." He waved to the corridor ahead, where nothing but a leg and a few jar shards remained.

"Buddy dealt with it." The Worshipper pet his machine's side. There was a heavy clunk of a shell being loaded as the tank's barrel rose in pride. Its treads jittered back and forth for a moment before carrying the tank forward through the tunnel. Whatever remained of the insectoid was crushed under the machine. The acolyte Worshipper watched it go ahead with amusement, before looking back her way. His brow raised, and Nyxil almost let her heart stop when his gaze fell.

"New… shoe?" Her own eyes followed suit, and thankfully the mist had dissipated. Her foot was still chilly, but apparently whatever reaction happened between her mould and slime was done. There should be nothing to give her away. Not that she wasn't willing to kill the boy if he found out. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"The stone kept agitating my wound." Nyxil shrugged, hoping it was believable enough.

"Doesn't look great, but it'll do."

"I heard you got healed. Did they not bother restoring you fully?" Well that was convenient. Su'Baar didn't know it was a name ability that let her heal. Well, there was no reason he should; it had only been revealed in her fight against Grifvoi. Maybe the Worshipper had been told she was only half healed, and having seen her crippled foot, assumed that was what his informants meant.

"I sacrificed that half." This was something she had no reason to hide. Plenty of people sacrificed unneeded fingers or toes when they had no other path to power. And the explanation seemed to work well on Su'Baar. His eyes widened and he nodded in understanding. Considering her growth had come unassisted, the idea that Nyxil gave up part of her foot to improve her evolution or something of the sort, was like a puzzle piece slotting in place for Su'Baar.

It was much more believable than summoning a god with a few unimportant digits. Nyxil also didn't miss how he specified someone had healed her, but never asked who. More than likely, he and his cult had assumed the Technocult. After killing K'Sill and watching Tarchon slaughter a bunch more Fleshsmiths, Nyxil had put in a bit of effort to muddy the waters on which cult had helped her. Around Bodytwister observers, she'd mentioned Scripture assistance, and vice versa.

Anyone willing to properly investigate the healing would have concluded it to be either an ability of hers, or the Technocult… not difficult to see which the Machine God Worshippers would consider more likely. Regenerative names were rare. Now that she thought about it, one of the Worshippers approaching her cooperatively — even an acolyte — was odd. Whether they believed she was being assisted by them or not, her contact with them after the Fleshsmiths' Dark Star was undeniable.

Unless this was all on Su'Baar's unbothered attitude — which it could be — the Machine God Worshippers were up to something. As another cannon shot rung through the narrow corridor and she followed the boy through the vaporised remains of a second embalmed, she realised what. Nyxil had been in contact with the Technocult, yet she hadn't taken on any of their body alterations. In the Worshippers eyes, that was an opportunity. Su'Baar hadn't approached her for cooperation against the other participants.

Well, not solely. He was here to poach her away from the Technocult. It was honestly relieving. Much easier to work with her enemies when she knew their ulterior motives. Between the friendly attitude, the power of their weapon, and the unintrusive way he went about trying to convince her, it was no surprise they converted so many more cultists than the Technocult. The cooperative nature of the younger cultists' relation with their machines did much to stifle the image of their more servant-like older Worshippers.

Having a partner you could trust — even in form of a soul infused machine — was a rarity many desired. Nyxil wouldn't be caught dead with that line of thought. They were a cult of slaves. Members were welcomed with the promise of love, unshared by the other cults, only to be slowly whittled into subservience as their names grew to help their machines, and the difference in standing broadened. If they were a cult of fools, Nyxil might have felt sympathy rather than hate. But they weren't.

Each Worshipper's life belonged to their machine, yet with what little agency they still had, they spent bringing young into the fold. They knew their own will was questionable at best, but never warned others away. Nyxil despised the cult, but it was impossible to say they were any worse than the others. Let Su'Baar try to convince her. It wouldn't work. He, and the Worshippers above him, believed she was like any other kid right out of the rearing wards.

They didn't know her hatred ran far deeper than any promises could overcome. Soon, the tank had blown through enough embalmed that they reached the next set of stone stairs. Unlike corners, Su'Baar's machine had no need for help. If they kept at this pace, they'd be through the Trial in no time. Before she could follow the boy up the stairs, a flash of movement caught her eye. Nyxil glanced back, expecting to find another embalmed, but found a face framed by white hair. Lysyra. Her body almost glowed in the dark.

A luminescent cloak flowed off her body, completely transparent, but shining over the pale robe she wore underneath. Nyxil stepped forward, hand already at her hilt, but the other girl only grinned. Her gaze fell to Nyxil's foot. The grin grew wider, and the acolyte Bodytwister returned her eye to Nyxil's and winked. Furrowing her brows, Nyxil did everything to keep the sudden shock and fear from showing on her face. She unsheathed her blade and moved to run her down, but it was already too late.

Lysyra faded into a shower of ghostly motes. Hardening her third eye, Nyxil felt something solid amongst the mist. She narrowed her focus, but whatever remained melted away beneath the weight of her observation. Shit. Nyxil bit through her lip for the first time in days. She knows. Lysyra absolutely knows. How? Even high creeds aren't able to see through the armband's obscuring film. She chewed some mould into her wounded lip but didn't sheathe her sword. The girl was already gone, but Nyxil needed to check.

She rushed down the hall to the place Lysyra's ghostly visage disappeared. She hoped for something. Some clue to where the girl had gone, or how her teleportation worked. How long had she been there? Nyxil found nothing. The dust was disturbed, so it hadn't been a hallucination — that would be far worse — but Lysyra had left nothing behind, and no indication of how she'd arrived. If the Bodytwister could appear wherever she wanted… Nyxil wasn't sure how to deal with that.

Even if the girl didn't have any combat names, it would simply take teleporting behind her at an inopportune time and there's nothing she could do. While Nyxil trusted her reactions, she couldn't keep an eye on her back at all times. Unless… there was a mutation that could grow an eye back there?

"What happened?" Su'Baar called as he trudged down the stairs. The scrape of his tank followed close behind. Nyxil gave the empty tunnel one last look before loosening her shoulders and returning to her temporary ally.

"Ly͚sy͚rã. She was here."

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"Did she try to attack… or?"

"I don't know. She might have been following us." Nyxil was in a lot of shit if the girl had and she'd never noticed. She was sure she'd cleaned up all the sludge she'd left behind, but if the girl had appeared behind her while she was focusing on observing the slime… then that would explain how she knew. However it happened, that wasn't important. Lysyra knew. Now Nyxil needed to hunt her down before the girl decided it was a good idea to tell the Bodytwisters. One cult was already too much.