Chương 171: Too Visible

Nyxala resisted the urge to immediately unleash the curses clinging to the five Scriptures' souls. While they would absolutely be helpful — especially the 'melt guts' one — she doubted cultists at this rank lacked any way to push through them. Better she waited. Use the rupture as a surprise. Disregarding the abnormality that was Sekhhath'Ra, the strongest cultist Nyxala had killed was a sixth evolution. Back then, K'Thorn had the backing of only his two acolytes; a fourth and fifth evolution.

Despite the master being betrayed, Nyxala had barely survived the encounter. Three evolutions was the difference between then and now, but the cultists she faced now were all at the same tier as K'Thorn. Only one was still on her fifth, but considering the respect the others showed her, and the multiple names nestled in her soul that reached that height, she was no less a threat than those at her side. Honestly, Nyxala was probably biting off more than she could chew.

Not only hadn't she practiced with her new mutations yet, but her names were still unfamiliar. O̅s̫stho̲th, which had risen from the ashes of N̚o̲th, Thaḁren͉, and O̅ssuqul did not give any benefit to the abilities that had made each of those names great. It did something else, and her only hint was the Talent which had pivoted to her mutations. Still, its strength remained mostly unknown.

The smart thing would have been to find some third evolution cultist stuck on their lonesome, and slowly work her way up to bigger challenges. It's what she should have done… but she could hardly turn away from the prey right before her. Besides, this worked towards regaining her sceptre. She was outnumbered. Outranked. Outpracticed. Yet Nyxala knew she was not outmatched. Not so long as she approached this fight properly.

And if there was anything she'd learnt in her time within the Dark Star, it was that attacking fast — before you were seen — was the easiest way to kill. Her wings beat as her tail slapped against void. This was no battle she could hide what she was. She needed all the strength her mutations provided, as they were the only way she could come out on top. Her gaze ate into the forest of bars, yet she got nothing but a trickle of dust in return. She should have expected as much.

Cults couldn't use some weak alloy to keep some of the more powerful creatures contained. Tsal̺air̡ scraped at what little it could grasp. The metallic particles from the bars alone were not enough to create anything more than a thin spiral around herself. Barely enough to see, let alone obscure herself with. Her sight shifted to the corpse-littered ground and melted them instead. Nyxala ignored how, as the dried blood flaked and floated towards the gem in her chest, it split off.

Both third eye and name of hiding lost to blood's obsession. Bits of blackened, leftover blood joined the mass still flowing across her body. With how slow the bars broke down under the weight of her eye, Nyxala had a good idea of what it would take to break through. Her claws could do it — probably — but not fast enough. Instead, she angled her flight to soar down the thoroughfare between cells. It twisted and angled with a frustrating lack of cohesion, yet it was most likely to guide her to the cultists.

Finally, she passed a gap in the forest of bars. Nyxala got a glimpse of the cultists. It was momentary. Not nearly long enough to glean much of substance, but Nyxala matched the teeth to their human forms.

"Incoming!" the fifth shouted, startling each of his squadmates. It seemed she wasn't the only one to see through the gap.

"Information, Kȕ͉z̯los͎̍̓," Ezaltena urged without turning his way.

"Single target. Flying," he barked.

"Not human. At least… I'm pretty sure it's not."

"A summon then. What type?" Once again, Ezaltena invited no room for discussion. Only answers.

"I…" Kuzlos hesitated.

"I cannot tell." As one, the three sets of teeth turned to the fifth Scripture. Though Nyxala noticed that not all looked in the same direction. Probably looking at him out of the corner of their eyes. Chaz stepped forward with an aggressive flap of the jaw.

"Someone must have left their exotic pet behind. Enthralled? Or a lost resident? There better be someone hiding beyond the Kennel with the other end of the leash." Nyxala brushed past another section of clear line of sight. This time longer. With her heart beating fast, she focused not on the cultists, but the cage they stood within. There were no breaks. No shattered bars she could slip past to attack their rear. If only her old ability to phase out of reality hadn't been lost to the evolution.

No amount of practice in the Technocult temple had brought it back. She could only hope it still somehow reintegrated itself in the resultant. She didn't let up. The group weren't prepared for her yet. Only Kuzlos seemed to be able to track her approach. The woman with the gun hadn't even readied it yet. She was her first target. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

When the bars finally thinned enough for Nyxala to take in her enemies, and vice versa, Tsal̺air̡ had finally finished its job. A swathe of viscera surrounded her. Swirling bone fragments and snapped strands of muscle spun through the air, obscuring her form from their eyes. Nyxala was a sphere of dusty dried entrails crashing towards five cultists caught flat-footed. No wait… four trapped cultists. Nyxala took in the sight of the Scriptures moving to ready themselves. One was absent entirely.

Just as she turned the last bend before the entrance to the cell they shared with a pile of corpses, Nyxala spot Kuzlos' teeth. They were where no person stood. Just as Lysyra said, he had some form of camouflage. How many times would she have to fight invisible enemies? First Lysyra, then the phantoms, and now another? This was becoming a pattern. But as she looked closer, her mundane eyes picked out the discrepancies where the outline of his form clashed with the straight lines of the bars.

It was a ruse that collapsed as Nyxala's gem gazed upon him. There was no invisibility here. Only flimsy camouflage. Lysyra had been right to look down on it. Finally, Nyxala reached them. She struck the cultists harder than they could have expected. Her first target was too slow. The woman still failed to bring her gun up to pose a danger, and Nyxala was all to happy to take advantage. With her immense gathered momentum, she twisted. Her tail swung.

All that weight rushed forward, unfurling like a whip, and struck the metal frame of the weapon the woman had only barely pulled up in time to defend herself. It mattered little. Nyxala's spikes drilled through the barrel, splintering the weapon and passing on to the woman behind it. She posed no more of a barrier. The spikes drilled through skin and bone without stopping, but once her feathered mass of bone struck, it was as if the woman popped. Her chest exploded.

Ribs caved in, thrown out the rear of her shoulders as Nyxala's tail found nothing to slow it down. The spine held up only slightly better than the rest. It took the brunt of Nyxala's momentum, and shattered. The powerful thump through her tail, and the mist of gore that followed was almost enough to have her feeling confident. Arrogant. But she was lucky to get the drop on one. The rest would be so much more difficult if she couldn't press her advantage.

She adjusted her flight — never touching the ground — and rushed for her next target. Just as she was about to fly through the broken gate, Nyxala slammed her wings forward. Her tail whipped with equal strength, adding to the power, and throwing her back towards the hidden cultist. And not a moment too soon. A wall of bone exploded from the ground both ripping through the metal, and leaving it completely unmarred.

That came only an instant before an explosion crashed over her ears and rattled whatever bars weren't bolted in place. She'd been expecting something of the sort, of course. Unlike the gun wielder, this lot were quick to react. Their plan was obvious; trap her in the back of the cage, and wail on her where she couldn't do anything. She would have preferred to take out Ezaltena first. She looked like she was waiting to assess the fight before participating.

But why would Nyxala ever pass up an opportunity openly given. Nyxala's boots crashed into Kuzlos's head before he even truly acknowledged her change in direction. Both at once. Surprisingly, it felt natural. With all the added weight in her tail, added to the improved flexibility of her hips, her legs suddenly felt like the natural weapon for flying. A natural weapon that would all but be ruined if she didn't have these iron heels. Slime was not great for impact damage.

Her claws reached down with the momentum, one nestling around a shoulder, and the other reaching for his neck. Before she could sever his head, teeth dripping with a deep purple glow manifested in her arm, tearing it away as the rest of the creature appeared. Nyxala clenched her other claw before that too became the chew toy for another of the creatures. She severed his arm cleanly.

There was a flare of red light that ran down the arm, lighting the lines of the broken skin ritual before they extinguished as the limb stilled. She flew on, snapping her arms to the side to get rid of the creatures clinging to her chitin. Looking down, she noted the extra weight clinging to her leg. In an instant, its head was severed, but the bright violet glow of its blood had already infected her bloodstream. Vitiate beasts. Somehow, Kuzlos had managed to instill the trio of foxes with his camouflage.

Hard to say if it was a ritual or name ability, but silencing the light that bled through flesh and bone must have been a nightmare to achieve. Even now that the foxes had been revealed, the beating of its heart and flow of blood through its circulatory system was visible as if its skin was translucent. Unlike those she'd fought in the Biovault, all fur on their heads had been shaved. Replaced with an intricate pentagram etched through skin and into the skull itself. Instead of attacking, those under her gaze fled.

With space, the camouflage tried to take place once more. Only, they were hard to miss now that they were moving. There was no way she could have missed them with her sternum eye. They must have run in as soon as she wasn't looking their way. But what about those teeth? Glancing around, she spotted what had before faded into the background of her mind. There were fangs of many different beasts laying near the corpse piles, yet remained mostly unnoticeable to normal sight.

Nyxala glanced down at her leg, and the poison had already reached up to her hip. This was far stronger a vitiate venom than she remembered. If it hadn't already been obvious, these creatures had been altered far beyond their typical capabilities. Unfortunately, Nyxala didn't have time to go back for a second swing for the man's neck.

The bone wall — skulls alone, she realised — had crumbled, and with a flare of red in the pattern ringing Varrus' arm, a tiny parchment flew towards her at speeds that should destroy it. Nyxala only had the time to beat her wings once more before an explosion shattered air behind her. Heat rolled over her feathers. Tongues of flame raced to consume her. She only avoided the next one because Lysyra appeared besides Varrus and drove a knife through the man's neck before exploding in vapour.

Her wings tucked to her side as momentum carried her. She spun, and her tongue lobbed a globule of acid back at the armless Kuzlos. He reacted, but late. Nyxala's saliva ate through his pant knee and sizzled skin. Well, that could have gone better, Nyxala thought. But not the worst. Varrus was alive. With a hand to his neck, he cauterised the wound. Heat flowed off his fingers. Ezaltena stood next to him, offering her ritual but he brushed her aside and pulled his own scroll from his robe.

As Nyxala slipped through the exit of the Kennels and into the long corridor, a rope of blood followed. Where Kuzlos tried to stem the bleeding, his blood didn't want to listen. No backing out now. Even with the obscuring cloud of week old fleshy particles, there would be no mistaking that ability. A hundred thousand had watched her fight. And blood's obsession was hardly going to be a common affliction. Fortunately, they would now be forced to follow her. If not…

well, fleeing prey was much easier to kill than one that fought back.