Chương 239: Chapter 235: Reaching a Balance

Nyxalrai licked her lips as she looked over the carnage. There had been six cultists, but anyone who found this site would think there were at least twenty corpses. The fact that each Scripture was in no less than a dozen bits each helped… but it was mostly thanks to her new name. Inqyͮͩ̿ḿ͔ͦe — Butcher. Batter. Bludgeon. Shred. Carve. Mangle. Purge. Savour the massacre and reap your harvest. Sundered flesh and soul shall spill through the mill, surging until all hunger chokes of excess. Devour.

She was sad to lose the self-consumption ability of Qycḿ͔ͦe. Being able to eat bits of herself to satisfy her hunger? Or even slowly bring her names closer to evolution? It had been incredibly promising. Unfortunately, the timescale for that to become beneficial was just a bit too long for her to hang onto the name… especially when Inqyͮͩ̿ḿ͔ͦe was the alternative. The new name that had taken most of its roots from Qycḿ͔ͦe was incredible. Bloody, messy, and rather horrific, but still incredible.

Inqyͮͩ̿ḿ͔ͦe, in the simplest way she could describe, made wounds worse. If she cut someone with a rapier, the laceration spread. Deeper. Longer. But that wasn't where it really shone. It made already gruesome deaths far, far worse. Nyxalrai glanced over to the remains of the harbinger woman's arm. At least… what she could still make out. When her tail had struck the limb, it hadn't just been knocked off, it had exploded in a shower of muscle, gristle and bone. Enough to paint the entire wall.

Her name, upon Nyxalrai inflicting the wound, had amplified the amount of resultant flesh exploding off the woman until what remained of that arm probably weighed more than the rest of her. It was great. The more bloody, gruesome and harrowing the mess Nyxalrai inflicted, the more meat she had to eat. And it worked on their souls too. Nyxalrai wasn't exactly sure how, but the more nightmarish a death she inflicted, the more filling their souls became.

Their names weren't exactly getting stronger, but they became flush with soul-nutrients. A bit like how the unevolved could still provide far beyond their power as sacrifices when prepared properly. Of course, the soul-bloating relied a lot more on the psychological nature of their deaths than the physical… but that led into probably the best part of the name. It synergised exceptionally well with O̅s̫s̋tĥo̲t͛h. Almost too well. Nyxalrai glanced down at Curious.

The tentacle passed before her face, flickering from one point to another. Half the space it passed, it simply… skipped. Even in such a short fight, she'd been able to pull her enhancing boost up to the point where her body was ignoring the natural laws. The sensation was different to what it had once been. Her early evolution name that had given her a single instance of unnatural flexibility inflicted near existentially destroying damage on her body when used for more than that single moment.

The agony of defying reality had been immense. Now? She could barely feel it. A slight, annoying jostle that pushed back at her illegal motions. Nyxalrai watched the skipping motions fade as her wings folded back at her sides, and the mist dissipated with a mental command. There was still so much to explore of O̅s̫s̋tĥo̲t͛h. The higher states were quicker to vanish without continuing her warpath of altering attacks, but each time she pushed that little further she was awed by the power that shot through her.

She loved the rush of her mutations becoming so much more deadly. They absorbed the boost far easier than her human parts. The sixth evolution of O̅s̫s̋tĥo̲t͛h continued to prove its worth. Soon, it would be ready to evolve to the seventh. Just as so many of her other names were. A part of her mind slipped back into Pink just to check her name.

N̪ỷx̱̽alr̘a͎i-Nya͎la̲ͪ̑c̭̒-Ỷ̠o̖̯̐gͮ¦ ­epy -o̅s̫s̋tĥo̲t͛h-Lý̥o̻t́e̞pͦ-T͑s̟͂tl̬̐l̞-V̠ͅai̝k͍na̓-inqyͮͩ̿ḿ͔ͦe-jnoi-athra Only V̠ͅai̝k͍na̓ had been left at the fifth evolution. The rest were sixth. Well, besides the latter two names, but they were basic additives she'd gained since merging everything into Inqyͮͩ̿ḿ͔ͦe a week ago. Nothing impressive. Nyxalrai could have evolved her core name already, if she'd focused on it, but she'd spent too long with unbalanced names.

Technically, that made no difference to her fighting potential. The problem came about with evolutions. A higher evolved name would be disproportionally represented in the final result. Combining names of equal evolution — though not necessarily component count — always produced greater strength. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Mostly, Nyxalrai wanted to assure her future growth had the greatest potential while she finally felt she had real control.

The name she'd had the hardest time evolving was V̠ͅai̝k͍na̓. As a name marked by the Soulchasm, maybe she shouldn't be surprised it had been difficult. The improvements had been more than worth the effort. Nyxalrai loved being able to ignore gravity, remove the weight of bullets so they simply bounced off even normal skin, and her favourite, applying a slow, but seemingly infinite weight to whatever part of herself she wanted.

Nothing beat watching her claws sink into impossibly hard armour so slowly that the cultist behind the shell could only watch in terror as she reached for their heart. Unfortunately, that did tend to leave her claws in a rather rough condition afterwards. Good thing a new layer of chitin shoved off the old when she healed enough. But… despite how much she'd used the name, it was still slow to progress.

Consuming souls should have already pushed it as far as that would, so she knew it was Nyxalrai's use that was unfit. Honestly, she could look at the description itself and know that she was missing something. But… what? Nya͎la̲ͪ̑c̭̒, on the other hand, had ripped through the ranks. She had no idea what to make of that; if the Elder God name was hard to evolve, why was the Eidolon one easier than all other names she'd ever had? Every time Nyxalrai had checked, Nya͎la̲ͪ̑c̭̒ had been ready for another evolution.

Only when it hit sixth and stopped dead, did she figure out why. The name had only two requirements: souls, and it couldn't be higher than her core. What the name actually did… nothing, as far as she'd been able to tell. It was honestly frustrating for Nyxalrai. A reward by the Eidolons themselves, for accomplishing the first part of her purpose, and it did absolutely nothing?

Other names had been difficult to discern before, but she'd been trying to decipher this one for two months now without so much as a hint of progress. For now, until she was given a sign to think otherwise, she'd decided that it didn't actually do anything and was simply waiting for the right moment. A… seed. Hopefully it wouldn't kill her. Regardless, now that most of her names were of equal standing, she only needed to wait a little longer for them to reach the point of evolution and she would push for seventh.

She would have just enough time to adjust to the changes before her stunt on the Observatory. She had not been able to speak to Dan after that day where he'd told her about the upcoming ceremony. The Cult of the Everseeing Eye had locked down upon her increase of slaughters. Most cults had. Same as the wards and little pockets of unevolved living in the upper layers. Nyxalrai stood over Touza's corpse, and stared. He was the only one she'd left… mostly unmangled.

His soul was gone — that went without saying — but Nyxalrai couldn't help but leave the man in a state far better than the rest of his crew. While he had disappointed her in the end, Touza showed more than most cultists were capable of. She feared that Dan would be similar to him. He didn't want to be a part of this sick culture, but was too afraid to fight against it. When the Everseeing Eye ceremony had its… misfortune, Nyxalrai could only hope that Dan wouldn't resist the result.

If she could get Dan to join the Cultless, then he could help her in convincing Ari from chasing the Omen Artisans. At least she was locked up safe in one of the ward's bunkers. Nyxalrai had been concerned that the girl had been cast out when she started finding kids bunkered in the odd abandoned room at the peripheral of the safe zone. Good thing she had Alysyra to confirm her friend wasn't in danger. Those kids… Nyxalrai had tried to get some of them brought to the Cultless. But the Cultless were secretive.

They refused to even consider accepting someone into their midst unless they'd completely been cast aside by the cults. Even then, they were reluctant. There were far too many cultless for the Cultless to take on. Anyone under twenty, they considered still capable of being scouted by a cult.

She had wanted to argue the point the last time she'd been up there, but it was impossible to ignore that — even if the Cultless had room to take in some kids — there would be those amongst them that still desired to be taken in by a cult. Actually, that would be most of them. Nyxalrai suppressed a snarl that had the new pair of vents in her mouth peeling open. She could kill cultists like they were nothing now, but convincing people away from them? That still seemed impossible.

She really needed to make it obvious that 'The Nightmare' didn't touch those without a cult.

"C'mon Ỷ̠o̖̯̐gͮ, let's see if we can find some Bodytwisters." She turned away from the carnage as the sea of blood slipped from the corpses to follow her. She'd found the Bodytwisters were the most enjoyable to fight. A lot more physically solid. They made good punching bags, and didn't have the most insane cards up their sleeves. Typically. By comparison, the Scriptures were a more annoying enemy. Their rituals had such a massive variance of effect between one and the next that Nyxalrai had to keep wary.

Well, that was mostly for the upper creeds. If she struck any other Scripture quick, they would die before any ritual could pose even the idea of a threat. Unfortunately, the more experienced had plenty of rituals that acted as an automated response. Her fingers itched to fight someone that would push her. Each tentacle shivered in agreement. As satisfying as it was to watch the terror burn into the retinas of a cultist as they saw their last, that didn't hurt the cults. Not really.

It spread the fear of her existence through the ranks and interfered with their day-to-day operations, sure, but it didn't dent their power. She wanted to hit a high-creed. Maybe even a tenth. Unfortunately, she had to grudgingly admit that the cults knew how to stem a bleed and make her hunts difficult. But, they would not let this slaughter continue. Sooner or later, Nyxalrai needed to be ready for a true retaliation.

"-worm-" She barely heard the word as it echoed through the tunnel. She stopped. Something about it set her spines on edge and gave her goosebumps. Her antennae stretched, trying to catch more of the voice.

"Don't be silly. Worms don't exist. You can't smell what doesn't exist." There was a giggle. It did not sound sane.