Chương 129: When Dead Things Aren't Dead

"So Ly͚sy͚rã struck her own cult members?" Val'Manis, the Everseeing Eye champion, said.

"Why? I can understand her taking out the competition, but not this." Nyxil lingered outside the chamber with the Bodytwister corpses. The light of her sceptre encapsulated the puddle of blood and her immediate surroundings, but the darkness always seemed to creep closer whenever she wasn't looking. Each group stayed where they could see, but each held candles ready to light should her's cease. Even if they weren't tearing at the other groups' throats, nobody believed they were in the presence of friends.

Trust was scarce. Lysyra had been decisive with her targets. Around Nyxil were some of the biggest threats of the Trial. Well, compared to Lysyra and Grifvoi, they weren't much, but each were the most likely to have reached the pyramid's summit. She already knew Su'Baar, who was the Worshippers champion. Besides him, there were the champions for the Fleshsmiths, Children of Omarrus, and the Cult of the Everseeing Eye.

Each had their names checked, and other than herself, only Su'Baar and the Eye acolyte had reached the second evolution. Honestly, it was surprising the two unevolved Fleshsmiths had risked travelling through the pyramid. Even in a group with their champion. No, they weren't Fleshsmiths anymore; she shouldn't consider them such, lest she accidentally get the urge to rip out their throats. Nyxil took no small amount of pride in the fact that she'd stripped the cult of their champion.

Just another way to rub it into the beleaguered Fleshsmiths.

"What makes you think Ly͚sy͚rã betrayed them?" one of the Scriptures asked.

"You've seen how the Bodytwister acolytes have been rushing around in their efforts to keep up with her. They probably just tripped." Considering how Nyxil knew these five Scriptures had been with Grifvoi, she could only imagine that Lysyra had attempted to drop him down here with them, but had failed. How likely was he to toss aside a few of his underlings for his own safety and convenience?

"Tripped?" another Scripture laughed.

"What? All six of them?" The first shrugged.

"You saw the same trap I did. Not hard to miss it if they were rushing. Without any way to slow their fall, that could have been any of us."

"Whether she killed her own cult or not, it hardly matters to us now." Val'Manis shifted his lidless eyes across the fifteen around him. He and Nyxil were the only ones without any other cult members to back them up.

"What I want to know… is what all of you intend to do?" Suspicion and wariness flowed off him so thickly it was almost palpable.

"Isn't it obvious?" K'Psao asked, gesturing to the dark hall.

"We find a way out. If there isn't one, we go back up the way we came." Almost everyone cringed at that. They'd fallen a long way, and it would be a long, difficult climb for any without a name that specifically helped. Even Nyxil wasn't looking forward to it; it's not like she could bring out her wings with so many people around. She'd been lucky with Su'Baar — not that she truly believed he had seen nothing — but complacency was something she wanted no part in.

"Then can we agree not to fight while we're down here?" Su'Baar proposed.

"Everyone wants to cut down the competition, I understand that, but Ly͚sy͚rã was able to ambush all of us on her lonesome. If any of us want the triumph of a Trial victory, then we need to overcome Ly͚sy͚rã first."

"Right, and I'm going to trust that you won't blow a hole through my back the moment I begin my climb?" Val'Manis deadpanned.

"Well, you don't have to trust anyone, but if we're all on the same page, then all our chances to succeed are improved. Not just mine." Nyxil glanced around, wondering if anyone would willingly agree. They all looked doubtful. Even if it wasn't a swear upon their name and soul, one still faced the possibility of curses should they break a promise. They might not intend to act, but declaring one way or the other was bound to cause issues if an opportunity presented later on.

"Nỷx̱il, why don't you go first," Su'Baar suddenly put her on the spot.

"What? Why me?" She blinked.

"Because you are the most aggressive person here." Wow, and just when I thought we were getting along. Nyxil gestured to Val'Manis, wondering why the boy that had done nothing but growl at everyone else had avoided that label.

"In the time since we've all been here," Su'Baar said.

"You've struck three people, and scared four Fleshsmiths into renouncing their cult." Nyxil scratched her neck while the former Fleshsmiths grit their teeth in embarrassment. None of them had thought they'd been paid attention to.

"You are absolutely the most aggressive person here," he continued.

"Not to mention the strongest." Val'Manis snorted with derision at that. Apparently he disagreed.

"Fine." This was hardly a problem for her.

"I won't lay the first strike on any of the participants here until the end of this Trial." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Good enough," Su'Baar shrugged.

"I declare the same." With two voices already confirmed, it didn't take long for the rest to join. They remained reluctant, but each agreed to the temporary truce. If Nyxil hadn't seen all the cults come together to collaborate in her death, she might have been shocked.

"So, miss torch-bearer," Val'Manis eyed her sceptre with blatant greed.

"If you would please." He gestured past the corpse of the massive embalmed to the dark chamber beyond.

"You're one of the Everseeing." She raised her brow.

"What? Can't see?" He snarled at her.

"I'll have you know the dark is thick. No matter how much better my eyes are than yours, some things do not want to be seen. But do not worry; I'll make sure to let you know when you've walked into a trap." Val'Manis tried so hard to make his voice sickly sweet that Nyxil couldn't help but laugh. He didn't share her humour.

"Right. You do that." She turned and strode towards the massive beast. Behind her, one of the Scriptures let out a giggle. She was muffled within a second, but it was not enough to save her from anger.

"You think this is funny?" Nyxil heard Val'Manis snap, but she zoned out the growing argument between him and the five Scriptures. This truce isn't going to last five minutes. Up close, the crocodile seemed so much larger. Each tooth was as large as her forearm, and sat over waxen scales above head height. It was reminiscent of the fleshforged great white. She had barely made it out of that creature's jaw alive, and even with how much she'd grown, she didn't wish to relive the agony and fear.

This beast was different, yet it sent her anxiety skyrocketing. Peeking back, she tried not to get too annoyed that all other participants were satisfied to let her trek forward at a distance. She'd expected at least Su'Baar to want to linger close. Instead, the boy was with the other Worshippers and their machines, surrounding Buddy. Both mechanical beetles had opened their faces like they were a set of doors, except hinged at three angles. At first, it looked like the beetles were eating the micro tank.

Unfortunately, they were repairing it. Nyxil would have to keep an eye on that cannon. She didn't trust the machine not to blow a hole through the back of her head the moment it could. Creeping around the large, unmoving front leg that was about as big as a trolley, Nyxil finally pressed her gaze through the hall. As the Everseeing acolyte had said, the darkness was oppressive. If not for the clean air around her, she would have thought they were in the midst a thick fog.

Not even her third eye could see more then the black stone beneath her and the ceiling above. Slowly, Nyxil walked deeper into the grand hall with a wall of wax and scale at her side. She wanted to hurry — Lysyra could be announcing Nyxil's mutations to all of Coral at this very moment — but with how heavy this darkness felt, she dared not take a step she wasn't confident. Nyxil's shadows lingered at the edge of her light. As they moved deeper into the dark, their voices quietened.

Footsteps echoed around her, yet after a minute of walking, even they fell away into a muffled hum. Finally, they passed the end of the embalmed's tail and found themselves fully encased. Nothing but rock and darkness surrounded them. Nyxil paused. The other participants had shifted closer. Where before they glared at each other suspiciously, their focus now lay entirely outward. She waved her sceptre, and the darkness reluctantly rolled away. Slow. Delayed. Like wax.

Nyxil couldn't see the walls, and the ceiling rose higher than any other in this pyramid, yet she felt claustrophobic. Entombed. It was difficult to take another step forward. Without the dead embalmed to guide her, Nyxil couldn't tell which way was forward. Should she back off? It would be smarter to follow one of the walls rather than heading through this dark. No matter how little corruption permeated this place, something was wrong. But before she could back away, her sceptre tried to tug her forward.

Feet firm and chitinous fingers gripping tight, she didn't move, but that didn't stop the golden staff from trying again. It wanted to lead her. Nyxil had no way to determine its intent, so she opted for distrust. As its slight nudges grew in strength, she held still and focused her third eye ahead. With so many participants as close as they were, any movement from her mutations was a risk, but she couldn't stop her spines spiking up nor the chills ran down her arms and tentacles.

Nyxil pushed her third eye to focus hard enough to pierce through the dark. For the first few dozen metres, there was nothing but stone floor. Then, fifty metres ahead, she came across a step. It, along with the next three, stretched wide into the dark. Any further was impossible to pierce. The shadow too thick. Val'Manis was already starting to notice the dust flowing towards her chest, so she needed to make this quick. Nyxil stepped forward, hoping she'd found their staircase out.

Instead, she found the wide steps ended after only four more. Enough to reach her head high, but no further. This wasn't a staircase. It was a dais. Nyxil had only enough time to perceive the throne before her sceptre pulled again. This time much harder. Their source of light tore out of her hands and speared through the hall. … towards the occupied throne. The insectoid didn't move. Its arm hung slack over the side of the throne, yet the sceptre landed within its grasp as if that were its proper place.

Gasping at suddenly being thrown into darkness, those around Nyxil reached for candles. They tried to ignite them, but not even the momentary sparks gave off any light. The darkness smothered all, preventing any flame from catching. Only Val'Manis didn't bother. He gaped at the same thing she did. The insectoid was slumped in its throne, head tilted. A grand headpiece of blackened gold rested upon fossilised chitin.

Its exposed thorax lacked any wax of the other embalmed in the pyramid, nor did it appear anywhere else on its body. A garb hung from the narrow intersegment between its thorax and abdomen, and rested over its legs. It looked dead, yet she couldn't tear her eyes away. The other participants, they could only see what her eyes could; a bright pinprick of light from across the hall. They couldn't see the danger before them. At least, not until the sceptre pulsed.

A wave of light rippled outwards, making the earth tremble and momentarily blinding Nyxil's normal eyes. Each eye around her snapped up. As the light cast away all shadow near the throne, so too did the darkness around them thicken. It choked her. The sceptre burned. Nyxil could feel the heat from across the hall. Now, she held no doubt it truly would melt skin on contact. Nyxil knew what was coming, but she desperately wished it wouldn't An antenna twitched. Slender segmented fingers shifted.

All the humans watching on stood petrified as they felt the ancient being awake. It was intimate. Like a rolling wave of power that permeated through the very stone of the pyramid itself. A spark ignited in its eyes. First as small as a candlelight, but rapidly expanding until two miniature suns burnt with a bright, sulphuric yellow behind insectoid lenses.

"Has the time finally come?" The ancient being's voice sliced through Nyxil like hot plasma. Its head straightened, cracking its fossilised chitin. The burning light of its eyes swept through the dark, parting it wherever it looked. The ancient king's gaze fell on their group.

"It has not."