The pyramid was massive.

That was obvious from the outside, but as she walked through the dark tunnel, Nyxil was surprised she couldn't even hear any other participants. There had been eight wide entrance halls on her side alone. It was hard to believe that these tunnels didn't connect in some places… and harder to think none of the thousands had reached the first level yet.

It's not like there was a brawl at every entrance… right?

The path split, and Nyxil spotted a sliver of yellow light down the side passage. She ignored it. That was not where she'd seen the movement.

Treading ever deeper, her newly formed hand rested on her hilt. The extra weight felt odd. Strange how a week or so was all it took to adjust. At least with her hand, she didn't need anything to go with it. Nyxil hadn't thought it necessary to bring a shoe for a foot she didn't have.

She stopped to glance back the way she came. Maybe she could confiscate someone else's. Some girls in that crowd were about her size.

A shift in the dark refocused her. Something was running around. Something that left soft, puttering taps to echo along the narrow walls. It flickered in and out of sight. Even to Nyxil's third eye, she only ever caught glimpses. The shadow phased through stone, slinking out of her burning gaze before it became anything more than a silhouette.

The long stretch of stone was undisturbed besides the occasional crack. No passages existed for it to move between, yet her consuming sight ate into something hard, so the being wasn't a phantom.

Nyxil crept through the dark, her sword drawn. A chilly breeze rolled through, slipped up her sleeves and prickled her arms like a dozen needles. Metal rattled. She spun, ready to thrust her blade through whatever dared sneak up on her. But there was nothing.

She paused for a moment. Her ears strained against the deafening silence, picking up only the slightest whispers of cloth shifting in the draft. Her own robe and…

Clack.

In an instant, she twisted. Her body flexed around a thrown object and lashed out. In two steps, her rapier pierced the chest of her attacker.

With a hard exoskeleton and an insectoid face, it took Nyxil no time to make the connection to the statues and carvings. She pressed her hand against the creature, and yanked her blade free, but instead of sharing the texture of chitin as she expected, it felt like wax. Hardened wax that deformed slightly under the force of her hand.

The insectoid creature, as if unable to feel the heart-piercing wound in its chest, yanked a chain that wound around its thorax and torso. Nyxil leapt back as the object it had attacked her with flew through the air and into the creature's hard, three digit hand.

It was… a jar? A jar almost obscured by binding copper chains, but the ceramic shape and lid wrapped in waxy cloth was distinct.

Knowing this wasn't a Trial participant, Nyxil's eye burned with increased focus. The wax wasn't a part of its skin or exoskeleton, but a wrapper encasing the insectoid's entire body. Even its wide eyes and antennas were covered by a finger thick wax layer.

It looked disgusting.

The wax wasn't at all clean. There were so many impurities mucking the added skin that it carried more dust and debris with it than marred the tunnel around them. Tattered, loose-fitting clothing weaved through the wax; each patch that escaped was missing entirely. Worst of all, the wound Nyxil had cut into the creature stunk of rotting flesh. The chitin held within was weak and brittle; nothing like her own claws.

So Ep'Nanorschi wasn't kidding about embalmed.

Long preserved bodies that were indistinguishable between living and dead. This insectoid embalmed wasn't like any of the types Nyxil had heard of, but considering the Null Scar she was in, that wasn't surprising. So many strange, alien rituals and technology could be found in these things.

Nyxil didn't attack again immediately. She opted for patience. The embalmed reeled in the chain until the pottery was clutched to its chest like a baby to protected. Its eyes were unexpressive. Blank. But those antennas twitched and shifted down over the jar to inspect it. Nyxil shifted her blade to the side, and the antennas snapped to her.

Despite having only just shown affection for the jar, the insectoid flung it at Nyxil again. She sidestepped it with ease. Nyxil was surprised that the fragile looking vase didn't fracture upon striking the wall. It hit hard enough that small fragments of stone broke off the surface, yet the ceramic remained unbroken.

The embalmed ducked low. With a hand yanking the chain, it scampered to the opposite wall. Nyxil's eyes widened as it didn't phase through the wall as she'd thought, but a narrow passage opened briefly enough for the creature to slip through before it sealed into visibly unbroken stone. Chained pottery flew threw the gap just in time.

Nyxil cautiously approached the hidden entrance. It was small. Even in this narrow tunnel, the passage had only taken up a portion. She was smaller than most of her cohort, and she would barely fit. The embalmed had been slightly larger than her. How had it fit?

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Her heart beat fast enough that the touch of dust falling on her was enough of a warning. Nyxil slipped to the side. The insectoid dropped from above with both hands clutching its jar. It struck the ground with its makeshift weapon, target gone.

Its antennas twisted to her, and a single distinct click echoed from its mandibles.

The embalmed leapt at her again. With both arms clutching the jar connected to it by chain, the insectoid swung its bludgeon at her face. After three feral strikes — that Nyxil dodged without problem — it jumped back.

Nyxil saw the embalmed's next actions coming. She twisted around the thrown jar and ran forward before it could slip back into the secret passages.

Her blade's thrust slowed when she noticed the creature's hand snap forth. Pointy fingertips sliding into three holes she'd assumed were just cracks in the stone. Without so much as a scrape, the dark rock opened. A door swung inwards to welcome the creature before rotating and shutting the gap again.

Nyxil stomped on the chain. With the jar no longer following the embalmed, its chain remained to jam the hidden door. Stepping forward, she pushed against the stone, only to find that it didn't budge under her strength. Even empowering herself with the rhythm of her voice and steps couldn't push past whatever tried to close this door.

Well, it wasn't Nyxil who was stuck. If the creature wanted its jar back, it would need to come back out.

She'd been intending for this fight to help her test her name; this simply gave her time to prepare some of the ideas she'd had.

First she spat along the edge of her blade. With her hand, she rubbed the acid along the length. If her saliva clung to her claws, then she should be able to do the same with her sword. Should she be able to obscure its origin as a mutation and pass it off as another name ability, then it could be useful going forward.

Once there was a layer of acid encasing the metal, Nyxil gave it an experimental swing. For the most part, it stuck, but a portion splattered along the dark stone before her. Smoke rapidly rose as the liquid that usually sat between her cheeks dissolved rock.

Two more strikes and the acid slipped off entirely. Unfortunately, her saliva didn't cling to the blade nearly as well as it did her claws, but the effect still remained.

As an effect of N̚oth, it wasn't surprising. Much of the name's effect was unclear, but its focus on the body was undeniable. Even if she had a Talent that helped make blades feel like an extension of herself, it wasn't inherently part of her body.

Besides, swinging an acid sword was no more effective on a stone wall than simply spitting. It had its place, she was sure, but not here.

The strange way her acid acted gave her inklings of an idea about N̚oth. It may not harm her own body, but that was absolutely not how her saliva acted in her past life. The way it clung to her hands was new. So… if her hunch was right, what else about her mutations might the name have changed.

It was rather difficult to do tests with half her mutations, considering they needed to stay hidden and bound — despite protests — but there were some weren't so hindered. While her sharp teeth and back spines would be too obvious, whether they did something or not, she still had her mould hair, and second mouth. Not to mention the sternum eye.

Grabbing a handful of hair, she tore off a chunk. Ever since she'd left the Dark Star, it had grown at far more sedate pace. Thankfully. Instead of a metre every hour or two, it took a week to grow that long. Still quick enough that she cut it every day.

At least she'd had enough experience that she could cut it to her liking in only a few seconds. Maybe in another life she'd have become a pro stylist. The scissor-hands helped.

With her lump of mould, and not having any better ideas, she spread it around her hand. It stuck, and ever so slowly grew, but that wasn't any different from normal.

She pressed her hand against the door and when she tried to pull away, the sticky mould clung to her. It took a second for her hair to let her go, as if needing a moment to read her intent before becoming non-sticky.

Nothing different.

Nyxil hummed as she felt a tug on the chain. The embalmed was trying to get its jar back, but she wasn't about to make it easy. It would have to come out and face her directly. With Nyxil and her blade waiting, the insectoid was intelligent enough to not have any desire to rush.

Momentarily, she wondered if it was possible to communicate. By the carvings, she didn't think they were much better than the cults, but they hadn't been the ones to sacrifice her.

Glancing back at the mould now trying to spread across the dark stone, she decided to go down the list. Her acid had clung to her claws, so maybe it was all about the combination. Nyxil loosened her tongue and sung. The two voices melded into a basic hymn with eerie synchronicity. They were so perfect that it sounded indistinguishable, but the ever so slightly higher pitch of her tongue rang through the tune sharply to her ears.

When nothing happened, Nyxil felt a little silly. Why was she chanting at a door?

Suddenly less optimistic about this whole line of testing, she let her tongue gather a ball of acid and launch it at the centre of the spreading mould.

It immediately incinerated everything it touched. Mould included.

Just about ready to give up, Nyxil almost missed the colour shift of her hair. Where the rest of the mould remained in a ring around a dripping sphere of missing stone, the bluish hue turned white. Instead of slightly transparent, it was now opaque.

As the mould began to grow and eat into the dark stone as if it held no resistance, Nyxil became very interested. Her detached hair spread to fill the hole left by acid. Each strand of mould either pushing further across the surface, or setting roots within the surface.

The chain jerked again. Nyxil wondered how effective this acid mould would be on wax and flesh.

After half a minute of waiting, she felt the time for testing had passed. Surely other participants weren't far behind. She didn't want to see Mavi until these Trials were over.

Increasing the weight on her sternum eye, Nyxil wanted to see just how deep her acid mould dug. Well, that was the intent, but it refused to break down in her gaze. Did it still count as part of her body? There had to be a point where it broke down even if it was once part of her.

Nyxil gazed harder.

By the time her full focus was on the mould, and she could see down to the microscopic growth of each strand, there was enough pressure applied to the mould that should she veer her gaze to either wall, she was sure she could melt through it in a matter of minutes. Yet not a single mote broke free of the mould.

Nyxil was about to admit that her gaze had no effect on her mould, and leave it at that — a good way to cover her eye if she ever lost the shroud — but it finally broke.

Not the mould. The door.

With an explosive crack, it flew out of its frame and raced towards her.

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