Re:Cursed

"Where is your observer?" A Bodytwister walked up as Nyxil waited for her team's results.

"She disappeared." Nyxil shrugged, ignoring the raised eyebrows of her teammates.

The woman didn't acknowledge their reaction. "It was a Fleshsmith, correct?" she asked, flicking through the pages of a tome. At their nods, she clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"Is this going to reflect on us?" Mavi asked.

"Oh, no." The Bodytwister said. "Just means we need to manually account for a lacking testimony in the ritual." With a strike to her page, the cultist left. Off to the next team that was missing their own observer.

Nyxil had thought it would be a bigger deal that they'd spent the majority of the Trial without their observer, but apparently it wasn't so uncommon. Probably had to do with how many people they had to bring in to manage the Trials. There were bound to be some — like the Everseeing Eye cultists — that ditched their roles as soon as something more interesting came along.

The last time she'd been to the surface, the stars within the Great Iris still spun. They didn't look like they would return to normal any time soon.

A few minutes passed in tense anticipation. With everyone waiting for the ritual to begin and show their results, they had far too much time to fester in their doubts and failures. Whether intentional or not, the participants were forced to reflect on their performance. Where they could have improved. Where their inadequacy had prevented them from succeeding as others had.

Nyxil was one of the few fortunate participants that had such a strong performance that she needn't think of the impressions she might have left. Instead, she was worried about Ari. Had the girl found her note? Had she enough time to take on those locations before having to give up? She wanted to leave her team and find her friends, but she wasn't even allowed that.

Cultists wandered about, forcefully returning any participant that decided now was a good time to leave their teams.

"The ritual will begin now."

The assistant Adjudicator's voice was immediately followed by the chants of a dozen cultists radiating through the arches. Scrawled runes swam across the surface like skitter-spawn, surrounding each teams in rapidly forming circles. Within each transient pentagram, a smaller circle scrawled around each team-member.

With all these massive, prepared rituals enacted through the Trials, Nyxil couldn't help but be worried that some aspect could detect her mutations. She discarded the fear each time it came. The Technocult wouldn't have let her enter the Trial if they didn't trust Ta'Stralanov'r's armband to hide her properly.

The runes suddenly flowed like liquid. They bubbled out from the flat surface, taking form of a blood-permeated molten metal that spun around each person in thin strands as they reached into the air.

At the feeling of movement, Nyxil's hand fell to her small pouch of tokens. Opening it, she found the red and black coins melting. She touched them. The cold liquid flowed through her chitinous fingers and out to join the ritual now spiralling around her. The same happened to her team, and everyone else in the former marketplace.

"I'm sure I don't need to reiterate, but in case any of you think you can hide from unimpressive numbers by breaking the ritual, please note that doing so will be treated as worse than achieving no tokens." His summoned giant raised its hand higher, giving the Bodytwister a better platform for his voice to carry. "Now, before we get to each team's counts, let us get through the black marks."

A shift in colour washed through the runes. It passed Nyxil harmlessly, but upon reaching Tru, it morphed and settled in a dark mar through his spiral. His eyes widened, glancing around at his neighbours' clean crimson variants.

"Unlike demerits granted upon cheating, these black marks are not a financial burden. Nor do they count towards your failure. These are simply a warning to cults that may choose to take you in; you are not trustworthy." The assistant Adjudicator didn't bother to explain what it was for. "Begin the count."

Nyxil noted that while the man mentioned the demerits for those who cheated, they weren't publicly outed like the black marks were.

"What?" Tru was hysterical. "What did I do?"

"Treat your team as your cult," Nyxil repeated. "You betrayed the cult. Gave away tokens that weren't yours."

"But I was just trying to earn favours."

"Favours with outside cults?" Nyxil didn't pity him, even if she didn't much care for the cults' way of doing things. "Be as self-serving as you want, but the cults come first." She couldn't help the snide tone as such words left her lips.

Tru slumped to his knees in despair, but Nyxil only paid attention to crawl of liquid metal as it spun up into a mass over their heads. The two dozen coins Nyxil had left a mark in her own spiral before moving towards a larger mass above the rest of the team.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Each sliver of former token spun into a single ball above their heads before pulling out and creating a taut strand connecting a smaller, orbiting sphere. It looked like a pincushion. Thirty nine black and red pins to reflect the tokens they'd won during the Trial.

When the ritual had gathered their spoils into the sphere, it enlarged, and rose until it settled high above the orbs of the neighbouring teams. It was a visual display. A simple glance at any team's spheres, and how high they rose, let the cultists see just who were the frontrunners of the Trial.

All around them, orbs ranging from three to twelve pins hovered. There were some with more — and some with less — but they were uncommon. Nyxil's team stood out.

So many teams hadn't achieved the eight required to pass.

"Now it has come to my attention that many of you have come to believe that not collecting eight tokens is grounds for failure. Let me ease your minds. Only teams unable to complete two token pairs fail. Those who have achieved more than that, yet not the four pair requirement have simply performed poorly. You will not be disqualified from continuing further, but we greatly discourage it."

Nyxil suddenly felt relief wash over her. Even if Ari hadn't used her note and gained enough tokens, she wouldn't be marred with a possible failure curse. She would just be seen as undesirable by the cults. She wouldn't tell her friend, but Nyxil considered that a win.

"No way," she heard Mavi's voice, and turned her head.

There was no need to ask; Nyxil spotted what Mavi was gaping at instantly. Across the arches, there was a single large sphere that had wedged itself in the ceiling far overhead.

"How?" Mavi asked. "Just running from place to place takes enough time to make that impossible."

One hundred and fifty.

That was how many tokens one team had somehow collected. She tried to count again, but there was no mistaking the number. While Nyxil's team towered over the competition, this one team towered over them.

What was that? A token every two minutes? Sure, Nyxil and Mavi had been slowed down by the boys — and her own detour — but these weren't teams you got to choose yourself. Whoever it was must have known where all the token locations were from the start, and had the perfect path laid out. Not even the Machine God Worshippers using their trolleys and 'arachnoangels' could make it through the labyrinth of Coral so quickly if they hadn't sorted their destinations ahead of time.

Nyxil wanted to see who managed such a massive lead, but the crowd was too thick. Her eyes couldn't pierce through. Surely there was another way to find out who they were without seeing them? Everyone's performance through the Trial was recorded. The cults had to have some way to access that information, but how could Nyxil?

"Now then, you will be given an hou-" the assistant Adjudicator barely got out before he was interrupted by a woman leaping up to his platform and brushing past him.

"Twenty minutes." The actual Adjudicator shouted across the grand open space. "Get whatever deals you need done, done, and get out. In twenty minutes, only harbinger Trial contestants should remain. Anyone not wanting to join, but too slow to leave…" Ep'Nanorschi broke a grin. The stitches binding her upper lip strained. "You get to be target practice."

Now free to wander about, Nyxil let curiosity take her. She veered towards the orb of the only team that beat them, and managed a glance just before the river of cultists overwhelmed her.

It was that white-haired wisp-like girl from the first Trial. Every cult was quick to surround her, clearly trying to poach her before the next stage. But before Nyxil's eyes, she vanished. Ghostly white motes were all that remained for a second before they too disappeared. Even the higher creeds that had come to entice her now glanced around in bafflement. They didn't know how she'd escaped.

Nyxil immediately dismissed the thought of teleportation from her mind. Not even the cult leaders could manipulate space around the black hole to such a degree. Some had ways around that, like Ta'Stralanov'r's digitised mind, but it was unthinkable for such a name to manifest for a person below eight evolutions.

It wasn't teleportation, but it might as well have been considering how she'd collected so many tokens. Nyxil doubted the girl's team had contributed nearly as much considering the lack of interest they garnered from the cultists.

"We can offer to fully recover your arm and leg, along with direct tutelage under the sixth creed Child of Omarrus, O̚ma'H͚as̅ s̅ ai͐."

Unfortunately for Nyxil, she couldn't teleport either, and had a way to make it look like she did, so she was left at the mercy of the cultists that wished to take in her strength. Though it was surprising that one of the minor cults had gotten to her first.

"That is the best you can offer?" a Bodytwister scoffed. "At least provide the teaching of someone who's evolution count fits their creed." They shoved past the Child of Omarrus to address Nyxil. "I am an acolyte of an eighth creed Bodytwister that must remain anonymous for now. My master gives you the opportunity to learn under them, along with the resources to follow whatever research you desire. We have seen your body enhancement names, and believe that with some… physical improvements, you could reach far within our cult."

She had declared to herself and to Tarchon that she would make herself visible during these Trials, but to see such desire directed her way that had nothing to do with how good of a sacrifice she might be was certainly odd. Their attention wasn't exactly pure, but it was normal; something she'd always desired in her last life. Now… she wanted to spit on them. Ridicule their efforts to bring her into the fold. She wanted to embarrass them.

"Nỷx̱il."

She barely held back a flinch. They knew her name? After only a second of thought, she let a silent, annoyed sigh. Of course they did. If the ritual itself hadn't collected her name, then the cults had onomasticians to unveil it for them.

The Scripture continued, giving his own sales pitch which was soon to be joined by half a dozen others. Many from within the same cults, each fighting over her. Notably absent, were any offers from the Fleshsmiths. Shame. She would have loved to include them in this next part.

"Everyone, please." Nyxil raised her hand for silence from those surrounding her. "The Darkness would sooner consume me than I accept any of your pitiful deals. None of you are worthy."

Only silence followed her words.

To her baffled, disgraced audience, this was an unhinged insult from a conceited child. One that deserved retribution. A retribution they would vastly underestimate, as they had the meaning behind the insult. They didn't know this was a warning. To Nyxil, this was a promise of death in the years to come.