Nyx strode out of the dark alley with empty pockets, but very happy with her purchases. The scabbard of her new weapon was strapped to her waist. She couldn’t help herself; her fingers fiddled with it as she walked through the dark alley. The walk back to the market proper want long, yet she’d already unsheathed it a dozen times just to look at it.

  It was clearly an incomplete blade. She liked that about it. No cult specific runes had been carved into its length. The hilt was simple grooved metal, stripped of leather or any other coverings that made a normal grip. And best of all, it lacked the bulky guard shared by many other swords.

  Any rapier — any blade — was objectively better with these aspects, but Nyx felt no desire to fix her weapon.

  The grip felt tight in her chitinous hands. The blade was unmarred by ritual. And the lack of guard meant the style of fighting rung true with her heart. She had to strike and kill while risking it all if she hoped to live another day.

  Senoeul’s eye for suitability extended beyond the rapier. Under her other arm, Nyx carried her new robe. Thick, self-maintaining fabric and sized perfectly for her — she’d tried it on over the top of her current robe, not trusting the changing room he offered — was just what she needed.

  And it just so happened to be the same black with red accents of her wings. A colour scheme that was growing on her.

  She would need to stop by Tarchon’s to put on the robe before she descended into the depths of the Fleshsmiths’ territory and erupted their cult in chaos.

  Between the robe and blade, Senoeul had stripped her of every drop she had. Despite that, Nyx knew she got a good deal. The blade itself, if it hadn’t been a throwaway piece, could have fetched ten, or even a hundred times what she’d bought it for.

  It almost made her feel like she was robbing the man.

  She remained suspicious. There was the possibility the blade was flawed in some way she’d yet to discover… but even if it was, it fulfilled its purpose as a cover. There was no reason to believe that yet, so her main concern was what Senoeul was really after.

  Nyx didn’t believe for a second anyone would give something like this away out of the goodness of their heard. Not when there was room to benefit. So the only answer that made sense to her was that he wanted her to feel indebted to him.

  She had to realise it sooner or later. Nyx wasn’t the only one who could see or guess at one’s evolution. The additives that allowed such weren’t unique to onomasticians, after all. So it wasn’t a stretch to think that Senoeul saw she’d already reached her first despite her obvious youth, and decide to invest.

  Well, he said he’s no longer associated with the Bodytwisters, so I guess it’s fine. Nyx thought. Besides, his range beats out the other unaffiliated traders.

  Her timer was ticking and she had to get a move on, so she stopped fiddling with her new toy and jogged through the market. The added weight felt odd at her side, but it didn’t whip around as much as she’d been expecting. Thankfully.

  The harbingers died mere hours ago, and there was probably a few more before they were expected to report. It was also unlikely they’d send out an investigation team immediately, but she didn’t think they would wait long either. Nyx gave herself twenty four hours. She needed to cause mayhem in the cult before this time tomorrow if she wanted to have whoever was sent out be called back before they could possibly discover the truth.

  It would likely take longer than that, but she faced greater danger the longer she took. Best case scenario, she would ignite the Dark Star Event long before the investigator was sent out, and they would write off the team of harbingers as casualties of the disaster, and not unexplained circumstances.

  She’d already passed the borders of the market and was wandering down the quieter tunnels that led towards Technocult territory when Little God spoke.

  “You have followers. They move to ambush you.”

  Nyx nearly spun on her feet, but quickly stopped herself. The last thing she wanted was to let them know she was aware of them.

  Were they Fleshsmiths? Had they discovered what she’d done to the harbingers already?

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  She took a moment to appreciate the orb floating out ahead of her. Little God had become a great help ever since he’d started talking… or at least since she realised he was real. What would she do without him?

  “Are they strong?”

  The eyeball dropped its eye to stare into her own. “Weak,” he said, as if it was the only possible answer.

  “Is that in comparison to me, or you?”

  He bobbed up and down. “Yes.”

  Or… maybe she’d do fine without the simpleton.

  Nyx turned down the next narrow tunnel offshoot. Hugging the wall tight, she slid up a portion of her skulk shroud to cover her face and glanced back. The trio were easy to spot under the white glow of the light strips. Hoods covered their faces, but now that she could see them, it was much easier to stretch her sense out to them.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  There wouldn’t be enough time to scan any more than one, so she chose the leader and feathered her fingers over their name.

  She was underwhelmed by what she felt.

  The man or woman hadn’t even achieved their first evolution. Their core name only a single component.

  Before they could catch up, she slipped away from the main corridor and ran. Nyx made no effort to hide her footsteps. These three were obviously not with the fleshsmiths. No unevolved would be entrusted with a task that even a third creed cultist had failed.

  So why were they after her?

  It wasn’t a question she could leave unanswered, so she baited them further and further from any form of life. Led them down one of Coral’s forgotten maintenance corridors, and past long redundant machines. She soon found herself at a dead end. Deciding this was as isolated as she’d get, she spun on the scaffolding that hung above broken turbines. Any that approached would either have to come at her directly, or fall into the wreckage of the machines.

  When the three came into view, Nyx cast her sense over the other two just in case they were secretly a higher creed in disguise.

  They weren’t.

  In fact, the two trailing behind the first seemed to have even fewer additives. If any of them were over twenty five, Nyx would consider that a feat of incompetence.

  Were there any Feats for being the worst at something?

  Fortunately for them, when the dull light shone beneath their hoods, none seemed that old. They were about as old as Nyx had been when she’d died… which wasn’t all that much better.

  At least I had a good excuse.

  “Nowhere to run,” the leader, a woman, barked. “Give us the skulk shroud, and all your BD and we won’t cut you up for the skitter spawn.”

  Wait… this is just a robbery? Nyx thought. Oh, thank fuck. I thought this was going to be something I actually had to worry about.

  All three pulled rather threatening looking knives from their robes, but after a week of near non stop fighting, Nyx barely felt concerned. Of course, if the blades struck her, they would do a lot of damage. But in those hands? There wasn’t a chance they hit her.

  If they had any skill, their additives would have grown enough for an evolution by now.

  Well, it gave her the perfect opportunity to try out her blade, so she wasn’t complaining.

  “No.” she said. “Why should I?”

  “You dumb, kid?” The second crook lifted his knife before his face, as if Nyx hadn’t seen it. “You’re young, so maybe you don’t know how things work, but when someone stronger than yourself threatens you, you do what they say.”

  His last few words were spat out with a snarl. Nyx guessed he spoke from experience. But regardless of who took advantage of them, she didn’t care. They’d signed over their lives the moment they knowingly threatened her.

  But they hadn’t yet attacked, so maybe she could give them a chance.

  “Out of curiosity, are you with any of the cults?” she asked.

  “The Bodytwisters,” the woman said, stepping forward with her knife raised towards Nyx. “Now stop dawdling and give your stuff. We don’t intend to hurt you unless you resist.”

  Negative points for being with one of the worst cults.

  Nyx took a step back from the woman and unsheathed her blade before pointing it at her. The cultist glared warily at the blade. Even with Nyx’s small and thin stature, the presence of a blade longer than your own was always something to worry about.

  “Leave now and I’ll let you live.” That was the only warning she would give. If they didn’t listen, then there was only one outcome for them.

  Their reactions couldn’t be more different. The leader’s gaze hardened, and she remained stoic. The man scoffed and stepped in line with the woman. But the third, another woman, her eyes bulged and she stepped back.

  “Guys, I don’t think we-” whatever she was going to say was cut off by her leader.

  “Get up here and help. We can’t be any more picky with our targets than we already are,” she said. “Do you want to starve?”

  Unfortunately, that was enough to convince the third to fight. She took her place behind her leader, unable to move out to her side on the narrow walkway.

  “Last warning kid; you don’t have to die.”

  Nyx just tossed her newly purchased robe behind her to deal with later. That seemed to be the breaking point in the cultists’ patience.

  The woman jerked forward, before immediately pulling back as Nyx thrust the blade at her chest. In a coordinated move, the man dashed forward before Nyx could pull out of the thrust.

  She caught the blade with her hand — the chitin not even scratching — and slammed her own into his chest. He collapsed with a scream.

  As great as it would be if she could immediately be amazing with her new blade, it was unrealistic. She was an amateur with the rapier, and to expect she could take on more than one target at a time with it would be foolish. So even if it meant revealing her mutations, she needed to cut down their numbers first.

  Taking a step back, she hooked a finger in the collar of her skulk shroud and revealed her third eye. In mere moments, the second woman’s legs were burnt through, and she was on the ground screaming alongside her companion.

  Nyx felt slight pity for the woman who’d wanted to flee, but quickly shook off any regret. No matter her reluctance, the woman was a cultist. A cultist that willingly followed Nyx down the isolated back corridors with the intent to rob and kill. She likely had done the same to plenty of other unaffiliated people.

  Pulling up the shroud, Nyx raised her weapon to the shocked leader.

  “This is what you wanted,” she said. “Don’t second guess yourself now.”

  Thankfully, the woman didn’t run. Already she was less of a coward than K’lon. Yet still a cultist. Still someone who deserved death.

  Nyx stepped forward and thrust. The cultist’s knife slapped it aside. Unlike her own dainty little ritual knife, the blade was closer to a short sword. Like the butterfly swords she’d considered.

  Despite her weapon being knocked aside, it was almost too easy for Nyx to flick her wrist and bring it back across the woman’s unprotected abdomen. The sharp —momentarily curved — tip tore through cloth and drew blood, but it was hardly deep. Mere scratches. She would need to learn to angle her blade properly for such last second alterations.

  Realising she was on the losing end, the cultist roared and swung her arm. It was a clumsy strike. One Nyx could have avoided easily. But with her blade already in hand, she tried to redirect it. Of course, that only had the large knife glide into her fingers.

  The thunk of metal on chitin was loud enough to overwhelm the screams. At least briefly.

  Nyx struck again, and the woman dropped her knife. Two more slashes to her legs, and she was prone on the ground. Groaning alongside her comrades.

  Three more sacrifices. It would take a little while, but she felt it worth it. Especially with how energised she felt after the last one.

  After that, she would drop by Tarchon’s place. She needed something to eat, and would leave a note saying she’d gone to one of the wards so he didn’t think she was the one to cause the Dark Star.

  Not that she was worried. The man hadn’t dropped by in the entire week since he’d given her the key. What were the chances he would return the night she needed to strike the Fleshsmiths?

  ???

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