[Re:Cursed] Chapter 86: Ta̽'Ș͑t̕r̊a͑ḷa̾͆n͙͂o̼͗v͐͐̿͝'r̝͇͎͓͜

Nyxil had considered Tarchon unparalleled in his mechanical nature. The man had replaced near every part of his body with machine and technology. More steel than human.

Yet his form pales in comparison to Ta’Stralanov’r’s.

The Technocultist leader’s body is so far separated from humanoid that it is impossible to distinguish between her and the structure supporting her. Like Tarchon’s home, the walls are nothing but a confusing mass of technology. Even to Nyxil’s untrained eye, the designs are smoother, more expertly crafted. Leagues above Tarchon, the qualitative difference is clear.

Instead of countless pipes, extensive arrays of moving mechanisms, and a loud cacophony, the massive cathedral hall’s design is subtle yet undeniably powerful. A light hum emanates from all around her. The walls don’t move; not because they can’t, but because they are so criminally efficient that even the tiniest motion would be a loss to the system.

There are so many tiny little details and perfections of the temple around her, that it might have been hard to choose any one to gape at… if not for the conduits glowing with power. It left a physical sensation; her skin tingled beneath their intense blue light. The strange power flowed along the walls in pipes or thick wires — it was impossible to determine — and only ever shifted at forty five degree angles. From behind her, they converged like roots to a single point.

The altar.

A perfect sphere of black metal nestled in the apse. It hung from the ceiling, and touched the floor, but none of it was hidden. The blue glow of the conduits flowed radially inwards to a pool of power that gazed over the Technocultist hall.

Ta’Stralanov’r.

“I see you did not lie about the child’s uniqueness. Never have I witnessed anything like it.” The flowing, liquid energy seemed to pulse with the cult leader’s voice. “Bring her closer.”

Nyxil felt the man tap her shoulder, but she was thankful he didn’t pull her forcefully. With careful steps, she walked from the canister that now sat forgotten in the centre of the great hall, and down past dozens of aisles of what looked like connection ports.

Besides herself, Tarchon, and Ta’Stralanov’r — though it was hard to say if the cult leader was actually here — the cathedral was empty. Did they clear the hall for this meeting, or was it usually this lifeless?

As she approached the sphere, Nyxil found it impossible to look away. The tingling of her skin intensified with each step. Her eyes stung, but they could no longer blink. A shiver ran down her spine, and she felt observed again. Not like her very recent brush with death. Not with eyes. But Nyxil felt watched regardless.

Unable to resist the curiosity of whether she truly was meeting the cult leader, or if this was just some remote interface, Nyxil cast her name sense forward. If she was here, then there was only one place she could be.

Nyxil found Ta’Stralanov’r’s name in the centre of the sphere.

She felt like choking as soon as she saw it. A flat plane rather than a ball. The name was filled with so many components that she didn’t even bother to guess. Millions at the very least. Comparing it to her own would be like comparing a candle to one of the planetoids that often fractured and burned in the Great Iris. She shifted her sight to the next down the chain. It was nearly as massive. At least with this one, she could see the slope in its surface.

Nyxil had never seen his full name, but this was well beyond Little God. It was obscene. With a soul that strong, she might as well be considered a god herself.

“Stand still,” the disbodied voice commanded, and she obeyed. It originated from everywhere, but the pulsing energy made it clear who it belonged to.

A needle pierced her back. Nyxil winced, but couldn’t tear her gaze from the powerful cultist before her. Terror struck her as a slender mechanical arm slid from the ground and cutting at her. It plucked some hair from her head, cut some skin from the tentacle below her robe, forced open her jaw and twisted a tooth free.

Had it all been a lie? Was Tarchon’s promise void now that she’d been delivered to the head of his cult? Even if he hadn’t known her value, Ta’Stralanov’r would. All the other cult heads had. Why would she — someone who had likely stepped over countless corpses through many centuries — ever help Nyxil when doing the opposite promised so many benefits.

Still unable to tear away her eyes from the enchanting blue glow, Nyxil struck out with her claw. Her hand shifted to a pincer in an instant, and slammed down on the slender metallic arm that was now poking at the gem in her chest. At the same time, her tentacle slipped from her robe, grabbed her rapier and brought it down on the needle still jabbed in her back in a fluid motion guided by her Talent.

Nothing breaks.

Nyxil’s sword bounces off something hard, and her claws clamp down, yet they leave not even a mark on the sleek metal.

Once again, she feels the hopelessness of fighting beings so far above her strength. Just as the day she was sacrificed, Nyxil finds her efforts crashing against the immovable walls of the cult leaders. She should give up. There’s no hope fighting something so overwhelming. But just like that day, she has no choice but to scrape for her slightest chance of a future.

With monumental effort, Nyxil tears her eyes away from the hypnotic blue plasma, and does everything to avoid being brought into captivity again. Her sole wing tears through the fabric of her robe, and throws her forward, sliding off the intruding needle but also barrelling towards the sphere that is Ta’Stralanov’r.

Despite her panic, Nyxil knew well enough that any attempt to fight would be met with failure, but she couldn’t allow herself to become the sacrifice again. The rest of her tentacles broke from their concealment, and halted her momentum before she struck the metallic sphere. They threw her back. While her mutations were now on full display, Nyxil had gained space between herself and the two Technocultists.

“Your plan has merit, Tarchon. That is obvious now.”

As the voice of Ta’Stralanov’r spoke, Nyxil finally felt the unnerving sense of being seen relent. With it gone, she took stock of her situation, and realised that while the cult leader had all the means to restrain her — this was the core of her temple, after all — she had not done so. Those metallic arms that poked at her now slid into the ground, leaving not even a seam.

She doubted they were the only tools at her disposal.

Tarchon nodded once as his eyes followed Nyxil. He seemed wholly unsurprised by her reaction. Nyxil glared at him as she realised that she might not have just been betrayed, as her mind had immediately jumped to. He could have warned her.

“Child.” Ta’Stralanov’r’s intense energy once again bares down on Nyxil, but this time, she doesn’t allow it to enthrall her. She keeps her eyes moving. “You claim to have seen the future. Do the Omen Artisans reveal their project before the time of your death?”

Nyxil blinked. The cult leader acted like she hadn’t just yanked out her teeth, and cut at her tentacles. That had hurt. She glanced to the only other person in the hall that had a face. Tarchon simply stared back expectantly.

Suppressing a sigh, she answered the unreasonably powerful woman’s question. “Yes. They called it the Mural of the Endless Ocean. I don’t think they finished it, but it was supposed to predict the future.”

“So it is true.” The flowing blue energy slows to a crawl, and suddenly streaks of red crash through the conduits like bolts of lighting. “They have been tampering with the temporal laws. Then the collusion between the pinnacle cults is not probabilistically impossible, as previously determined.”

The red streaks quickly disappeared from the plasma pipes, only for the flow to increase rapidly, and that subtle background humming to intensify to a growl.

“Should we remove the limiters on your predictive algorithms?” Tarchon asked after a few moments.

“No. We cannot risk any more Eidolon attention than we have already garnered,” Ta’Stralanov’r said as her eyeless gaze fell on Nyxil again. “We will have to make do with the warning they sent us.”

“Then we should make our move before they can make use of this mural.”

“It is too late for that,” Ta’Stralanov’r said. “Failure rate of my node strikes has risen by twelve percent in the last months. Coral AI has also left Data-Spawn to corrupt some of its networks. It would never do such unless it could predict with a relatively high degree of certainty of where I would direct my resources. I wrote it off as a statistical anomaly for the time being, but now I am confident it is operating on prophetic data.”

“All the more reason to act before their predictions become accurate,” Tarchon said. “We have our warning; we must strike before the other cults bring the Eidolon Gods down on us all.”

“No. Haste will be our downfall. Because of the child, we know that inaction is equally damning, but if we move too quick, they will learn that we’ve discovered their prophetic heresy.” Ta’Stralanov’r then addressed Nyxil. “You haven’t told anyone else about your return, have you?”

Her head was spinning as she tried to clutch all that was being said. Nyxil only followed half of it, but it left her with so many questions. “No.” Tarchon was the first to learn. “But… why do you not even consider sacrificing me?”

The last thing she wanted to do was give the cult leader ideas, but she doubted the woman hadn’t considered it.

“Consider me cautious. The Eidolon Gods relieved you of your death and gave you this opportunity for a reason. While I could raise my cult to prosperity and myself to true immortality with your sacrifice, I am wary of treading in the path of the timeless.”

“Then why…?” Nyxil couldn’t voice her frustration that they would sacrifice her to the Eidolon Gods when it was so risky. The cults had been so sure there wouldn’t be consequences.

“The other cults have more to care about than just themselves,” Ta’Stralanov’r answered cryptically. “Additionally, if they have committed to the path of prophecy, giving you to the Eidolon Gods would appease them.” The cult leader paused. “At least, it should. Your return raises some questions about the entities’ intent. Did they indicate why you were returned?”

Maybe she should have obscured her goal, specify only the pinnacle cults, but she had already resolved herself to be open. If there was to be any trust between them, then that was the only option. So, Nyxil spoke exactly what she declared as she fell to the black hole.

“To destroy the cults.”

She was not yet certain she would exclude the Technocult. Both Tarchon and Ta’Stralanov’r understood that immediately.

“Troubling.” Her murmur burnt Nyxil’s skin. “That is not an achievable task, even with my assistance.”

“But you are going to help?” Nyxil couldn’t help her hopeful tone?

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m sure Tarchon has told you; our cult operates on processes and structure. Exceptions invite chaos. Prove that you have what it takes to fulfil that goal of yours. Prove that you have the strength to start a war against all of Coral. Only then, will I consider providing a path.”

Oh, Nyxil realised. She doesn’t just want me to win. I have to crush the competition.

“But trade must be fair,” the cult leader continued. “For the information you have given, I will provide the means to conceal your mutations. That was why I needed samples of your biology.”

And with that said, a panel slid out of the ground. Finally, Nyxil had the tool that would keep her safe.

But why does it need so many needles?

❖❖❖

Next Chapter

Sorry for late chap. I have no excuse besides being a slowpoke :)
But really, this chap was a damn pain to write, and I have no idea why. Anyway, i hope it's still good.