Chương 237: Chapter 233: Spread of Terror

Nyxalrai's forearms cracked and shrunk back to their normal size as Yog pulled his power from her hand. The chitin reformed almost seamlessly with her regeneration, casting off the old, broken shell that hadn't suffered the transformation well. It was not a pleasant feeling, allowing her body to take on amalgamation forms. The pain was not something even she could ignore. The randomness of the alterations were rather unsettling, too.

Yog, for all the blob was good at directing blood through her veins, didn't understand the human body. But still, the empowerment was too good to ignore. Especially when she had realised O̅s̫s̋tĥo̲t͛h rewarded the alteration of her body more than even murder and psychological attacks. Nyxalrai gestured to Yog, and the blood drained from the dozen dismembered bodies splayed through the tunnel in another gruesome display.

This group of Scriptures were hardly a threat, but there were a lot of interactions to test, combat techniques to practice, and names to push to their limits. Her goal was more than the simple reaping of the cultists she hunted. As the newly acquired blood joined the ritual, it glowed a bright red that illuminated the dark tunnel. Light blue wisps floating near each body all funnelled towards the comatose rabbit in her hand.

Nyxalrai sang the last line of the hymn, and the ritual consummated with a loud thump that rippled through her body. The rabbit, now containing the souls of a dozen men and women, startled to alertness. Its eyes flickered in so many varying directions the pupils seemed to split. Tiny legs flailed as differing minds clawed for control. Nyxalrai had taken a page out of the Soulchasm's summoning.

It wasn't quite the unilateral soul-grabbing ritual that had powered the pillars, but for one of her first self-recreated rituals, she was ecstatic with the result. She opened her mouth, and the chaotic motions of the now screeching bunny immediately snapped to a halt. Their eyes locked on her. Those souls, trapped in a form that couldn't fully express their names, froze in terror at what they knew was to happen. They were prey, not before a predator, but a force of nature that could never be escaped.

Teeth sliced through the rabbit's neck. Nyxalrai barely even noticed the head slide down her throat before she gulped down the rest. Technically, it was still more efficient to swallow her kills with her chest jaw, but after quite a few of these hunts, she discovered how… effective it could be to leave behind scenes to her butchery. Sometimes, when she'd been careful to keep herself fully hidden through the fight, she even let the souls go.

Nyxalrai only wished she'd been there as the soulsingers for each cult had to listen to the terrified rantings of supposedly emotionless souls. Nyxalrai leisurely strolled from the site of the slaughter. She passed a faded label of 'B6' on the wall beside a long sealed-off elevator shaft. It was interesting to find such ancient remnants in a relatively frequented part of Coral. Usually, repair, replacement and reallocation of space wiped clean the signs of a time when the place might not have been so corrupted.

Only the shadows of Coral remained entirely untouched. But even then, the damage of time had altered those places beyond the point of recognition. Nyxalrai doubted the ancient people had lived amongst such jagged and decayed steel. These labels were probably the most common remnant Nyxalrai had come across as she had spent the last months moving through every corner of Coral. They were — she believed — an old indication of the floor number.

It was almost unthinkable these days, as corruption left no one floor above another. Honestly, giving a level a number was more likely to make that number untrue. Corruption was fickle like that. But… the sixth floor was likely in an accurate range. This was one of the upper levels, and close enough to the safe zone that corruption wasn't too thick. Nyxalrai heard the voices of the half-dozen cultists long before they came into sight. They were being loud; not trying to conceal themselves. That was a good thing.

It meant they weren't another ambushing squad, and she hadn't made her hunts predictable again. Though she lamented being caught off-guard, the fight had been fruitful. Not only had she added a couple of ninth evolutions to her stomach — right beside Solan, who still had more to give — but the experience itself had been invaluable. Especially that Omen Artisan that joined them. Her rituals had been… unique, to say the least. Nyxalrai was already hard at work trying to decipher how they brought their art to life.

She figured Ari would make good use of it. Maybe showing the girl that she could learn their techniques without actually joining them would persuade her otherwise.

"See? I told you the rumours were overblown," Nyxalrai overheard as she continued toward the voices.

"The Nightmare is nothing to worry about. Nothing more than a phantom scraping at the glass of a trolley." Nyxalrai winced at the title, before stripping the expression from her face in case one of the six had a way to see her coming. It was only natural she'd been given a title after offing Solan and her subsequent — very noticeable — attacks on the cults, but she would rather 'The Cultslayer', which had also been in circulation.

That name struck at the very core of her goal, and was almost a promise that she was coming for them all. Instead, most had seemingly settled on 'The Nightmare'. At least it wasn't 'The Fangs of the Macabre'. That had been a mouthful. It didn't make for a pleasant final cry from her victims. Stolen novel; please report.

"You don't actually believe that do you?" a second voice almost screeched. He sounded young.

"Half the cult's in lockdown and the war's ground to a halt. The upper creeds don't act like that for nothing!" That had been… a rather unfortunate side affect of her actions. Right after Solan's death, the cults seemed to throw themselves at each other with more vigour then ever. The war had flared so hot as they all fought for Fleshsmith resources that the battlefields breached the Biovault and dragged the uninvolved cults into the mix. Those first few weeks had been spectacular.

The conditions had been perfect for Nyxalrai's particular brand of guerilla strikes to leave thousands dead every day. Then, the cults grew wise to her hunts. The wars cooled and they began to sharpen their defences. Only the Technocult-Worshipper war raged as it had in those early weeks. As it had for centuries. Bodytwisters and Scriptures still fought, but only infrequently, and only at battlefields with the most powerful harbingers present.

It left Nyxalrai unable to cull the same numbers she'd achieved in those first couple of weeks. Mostly just the rabble, like this group before her, sent out to do one menial task or another.

"The deaths have only happened in the deeper parts of Coral. This high, we're-" The one who thought they were safe cut off, turning Nyxalrai's way.

"It seems we have company." Of the six Scriptures that suddenly turned to look at her, only one reached as high as their fourth evolution. The rest were only second or first. Given their lack of reaction from her gaze, her concealer worked perfectly against them. Oddly enough, the one man who'd been so confident they wouldn't run into her wasn't the fourth evolution cultist. Her eyes flickered to the actual strongest.

She was the only one who actually seemed combat ready, but as the woman's wary gaze flickered over Nyxalrai, she immediately dismissed her as unimportant and returned to looking over her shoulder. A sole harbinger attached to a group of lesser cultists? Given her disgruntled expression, it might very well be a punishment. A temporary demotion of sorts.

"What's a kid doing down here?" the foolishly unworried man asked. Nyxalrai was a little annoyed at the term of address. Sure she was still short — the long term damage of undernourishment on development weren't exactly something she could reverse — but she knew she at least looked her age now. If he knew who she was, he absolutely wouldn't be calling her 'kid'. His eyes trailed over her shoulder, and a look of understanding crossed his face.

She picked up a hint of self-affirming smugness too — her swirling eyes seeing more than they should — but he was gracious enough not to make it obvious.

"The Archive turned you away? That's unfortunate, but to be expected. You aren't the only kid to have come knocking in the past couple of months. Not everyone is capable enough to join the Scriptures." The Harbinger turned a subtle eye his way. Her brow raised in disbelieving mirth. Nyxalrai pretended not to notice. The Archive? It was one of the Scriptures strongholds outside of the Library. They trained most of their acolytes there now that the surface was off-limits.

Now that she thought about it, that was probably where the last group she'd cut down had been heading. Though, they were a lot stronger than mere acolytes. This mouthy one seemed to love his assumptions. Nyxalrai enjoyed his type. They were so very fun to mess with before they died. And she was already approaching this group less-than-seriously, so why not play the part he'd given her?

"You could tell?" she asked, giving her best impression of a child with no knowledge of the world. Nice wide eyes that stared up at him and stroked his ego.

"Of course," he said with far too much pride. The harbinger rolled her eyes and went back to scanning the tunnel for threats.

"We may have sent you away now, but one day you might gain an additive worth taking you in."

"Don't lie to the girl," one of the others said. A rather skittish looking woman whose eyes kept flickering to the shadows around them.

"If she's out here looking for a cult, then she's had her naming. Even waiting for a second additive that might not come anytime soon, chances are it'll be as bad as the first. Besides, without the safety of a cult or ward, she's going to be eaten by… that thing," she paused.

"Just like we are if we linger to throw a pity party for every doomed kid on Coral." All but the obstinate man shifted uncomfortably. They joined the woman in searching the shadows. Nyxalrai was so very tempted to spread her shadow and make them move just to amplify their fears, but she held back. They'd gifted her another route.

"That thing?" she asked innocently, as if she had no idea what they were talking about.

"The Nightmare," spoke the young man who she'd first overheard. He said the title in a hushed whisper, as if saying it would summon it.

"The Fleshsmiths unleashed a god from the Darkness upon Coral, and now there's no way to know where it will strike. Only that it will. It's fury against people is inescapable. I heard it can appear anywhere, with glowing crimson teeth that can eat through the densest of corruption imbued alloys." Nyxalrai's eyes widened in fake fear. Inside though, she was eating this up. They thought she was a god?

"If that were true, then the cult strongholds would have been breached by now." Despite the nervousness radiating off the others, this one man remained steadfast in his belief. It was true that she couldn't chew through everything… but the strongholds weren't always defended by the hardest metals. Nyxalrai had infiltrated the Worshippers' Tributary with little more than acid and slightly above average strength, after all. But the fact that they didn't know about her assault from last week was a surprise.

She was honestly impressed the Bodytwisters had managed to keep that hidden. Teleportation was very useful. And very scary.

"Then all the more reason to return to the Archive quick," the younger man said. His eyes lingered on Nyxalrai for a moment, who was putting on an amazing performance of being suddenly terrified. Her shoulders hunched and she even peeked where she had to go as if there was a monster waiting for her.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Curious about the line of question, Nyxalrai shook her head.

"I'm sure the cult could use a pair of hands for menial tasks. Not everything needs a name." Nyxalrai was surprised, but she didn't miss how each of the other Scriptures eyes snapped to him. It was almost eerie how in-unison the reaction was.

"We are not taking in any worthless that has already been turned away from the cult," the fearless man said.

"Touz̮a, you have been with us for a few years now; crush that compassion, or it will be the end of you. I will not have my reputation stained by your foolish action." The younger man flinched and opened his mouth to defend himself, but another of the Scriptures spoke first. One of the last two Nyxalrai hadn't really been paying much attention to.

"No, maybe Touz̮a is right," he said, to everyone's surprise.

"This girl is out in the middle of nowhere, taking one of the lesser known tunnels from the Archive, without cult nor ward to watch her. We could take her, and nobody would be the wiser. No higher creeds to take a majority cut. No complaints from the Technocult for taking from the wards. Have we not just landed ourselves upon the best scenario; a human sacrifice, free for the taking."