Despite the major racket of what was almost an entire wall of stone scraping along stone, the embalmed crocodile remained unmoving. Its eyelids sealed.

Nyxil let out a low breath of relief. One that was mimicked by the Everseeing Eye champion.

Neither of them dared to take a step — Su'Baar still unsure why they had grown so visibly tense — and maybe that was for the best, as one by one, thirteen more Trial participants slunk through the openings, looking ready to strike at an imminent ambush. Oddly enough, despite five doorways opening, only four welcomed new participants. The last remained inactive.

Her hand was already on her blade. This many cult acolytes in one place was bound to cause problems… even ignoring the giant embalmed across the hall.

"Su'Jool? Su'Ev?" the Worshipper besides her suddenly exclaimed. He ran to the nearest door, where a pair stepped out, their metal beetles following close behind. "I didn't think I'd see you until after the Trial. What happened?"

"Shut up," the lidless boy hissed, garnering the eye of all new arrivals.

They were a diverse bunch. Beyond Su'Baar's Machine Worshipper friends, there were also many from the other cults. As she cast her eyes over the participants that lingered near their own doors, she found that the only cult that seemed absent — besides some of the minor cults — were those of the Bodytwisters. Nyxil counted Scriptures, Fleshsmiths, and even a Child of Omarrus.

The odds that they had all gotten together to ambush her and Su'Baar were non-existent.

Nyxil didn't miss how the Fleshsmiths all immediately locked eyes on her. While she was holding a bright rod in her hands, at least the other groups tried to gain their bearings.

"Can I assume we all have the Bodytwisters' champion to thank for being here?" one of the Scriptures asked. Her group was the most numerous with four cult prospectives besides herself.

The faces of all the other new arrivals answered to the positive. Well, except the four Fleshsmiths. They were still determined to glare a hole through Nyxil's face where it hung illuminated by her sceptre.

The agitated Everseeing Eye cultist looked like he was ready to burst. His fear of the beast fought with the desire to make each of these participants shut up. Taking it upon herself, she slipped through the permeating dark until she stood right next to the crowd of Scriptures.

Of course, they were no less tense than anyone else, and struck at her immediately. Nyxil slapped the paper-wrapped dagger out of a hand and kicked another's leg out from underneath him.

"Be quiet," she whispered. "There's a massive embalmed sleeping across the hall."

As she spoke, she realised that she recognised half of these Scriptures; they were with Mavi when she'd arrived to back up Grifvoi. And it seemed they recognised her too. Thankfully, having seen her beat their own champion had instilled a good amount of hesitance. They backed off and she could reach the next group.

Both the new Worshippers were too busy surrounding Su'Baar's tank, mourning the damage it had taken. They were talking, but it was quiet and amongst themselves, so she decided to inform the other others first. Especially the Fleshsmiths. She didn't trust that they wouldn't fuck everything up and cause the beast to awaken.

But before she could reach them and instil a proper fear of their current situation, someone else decided to cause problems.

"Four champions and the Oddball." One of the Children of Omarrus — identifiable by the ugly purple bruising along her neck and mouth — said, paying no mind to Nyxil and the Everseeing Eye cultist's attempts at silence. "It should be obvious what the Bodytwisters are trying."

Nyxil pivoted. The two Children reached for their vials of sickness, but it was already too late. Before Nyxil could give the girl a bruise to remember — and difficulties breathing — the Everseeing cultist had already taken care of her. Needles and small floating razors surrounded the girl's head, forcing her mouth shut.

Unfortunately, that still wasn't enough to send a message to some.

One of the Fleshsmiths laughed. His voice loud and shrill. "You count yourself amongst the Champions? If the Children of Omarrus think they can stand amongst the pinnacle cults, then you're sorely mistaken."

There was a snort from the Scriptures. "Like you Fleshsmiths can talk after-" Their mouth was clamped shut by one of the other Scriptures. At least one of them was quick enough to catch on.

"I'll make a tome of your skin anytime," the same Fleshsmith snarled. "That's all your kind are good for."

Nyxil was suddenly tempted to just wake up the damned embalmed herself. If this lot didn't want to listen, so be it. Out of everyone here, she was the most likely to survive.

With her patience gone, she took the option she'd been reluctant to take before. Nyxil tossed her glowing sceptre. It had the chance of waking the beast, but it was either that, or they'd tear each other apart anyway.

Her golden stick clattered across black stone and slid to a stop at the base of the embalmed's jaw. As shadow engulfed them all, silence fell. Only the array of teeth and wax-coated scales of the lower jaw were visible, but it was enough to make each of these participants realise the danger they were in.

Nyxil backed away, just in case the light awoke the beast, but still its eyes remained closed.

She wasn't the only one. Around her, the other participants, wide eyed and anxious, quietly stepped back through the doors they came.

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Only one of the Fleshsmiths didn't. Enraptured by the semi-illuminated beast, their legs didn't move. While everyone was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to keep themselves alive, he alone failed to react to the danger.

At least, that's what she thought, until he spoke.

"It's dead." Turning around to see his own cult along with the other kids creeping back into the dark caves they came, he huffed with an arrogance that Nyxil had to hold herself back from amending. "Cowards."

No one corrected him. They held their tongues and let the boy approach the massive embalmed. Once before it, he brought his spine-embedded baton around with a swing into the scales of the embalmed. A questionable decision, no matter how confidant he was in its lack of life.

Silence reigned as everyone waited with bated breath for the massive beast to snap open its jaw and swallow the foolish boy whole. She'd be surprised, if she hadn't already met many Fleshsmiths just like him.

Fortunately — or not — he retained his life. The embalmed remained still. Lifeless.

Well, the boy hadn't left so much as a dent in the wax, so maybe his heavy weapon wasn't enough to awaken the beast. But in that case, a bit of chatter wouldn't make a difference.

Convinced, the other cults reentered the wide cavern. That wasn't to say they mingled with the other groups. Even now, knowing no one was here in order to ambush another, they still eyed the other cult prospectives with wary eyes.

"Well, that's a relief." Su'Baar broke the silence. He glanced around, not sharing the same outward hesitance to the other participants that his fellow Worshippers did. "So… I'm guessing Ly͚sy͚rã dropped everyone down here to be eaten by this thing. Good thing she didn't realise it was dead." He paused, as if waiting for someone to interrupt, before continuing. "How did the rest of you survive the fall and boulder?"

"… what boulder?" one of the Worshippers at his side asked. Everyone else seemed equally confused.

Nyxil burnt her third eye through the set of large doors and found that no, there wasn't a mountain of rubble like what she and Su'Baar had to deal with.

"You think you're sneaky, don't you?" the only Everseeing Eye cultist sneered. "I'm not even going to give you even a hint at how I survived that fall."

"You had a fall?" the Child of Omarrus asked. "The two of us got shoved down a chute. More like a slide than a fall."

Nyxil felt like glaring. What was this disparity in the traps they had to deal with? But before she could waste her time with that, she found a certain someone bending down for her sceptre.

She was at the head of the crocodile in an instant.

Her fist collected his wrist, and she whipped her leg around to kick away his fleshforged weapon as she snatched the golden staff. "That is not yours."

Unfortunately, the staff hadn't melted the boy's hand off. Disappointing. It meant the power she felt from the sceptre truly was fictitious.

The Fleshsmith scrambled for his weapon. She hadn't hit him that hard, but by the way he held his hand, he thought differently. Unexpectedly, he didn't attack immediately. Instead, his gaze shifted to the three other Fleshsmiths; his intent was obvious.

Turning to the three who were preparing to attack, she felt a warning was appropriate. "I will kill you if you try. Two unevolved, and two single evo…" Nyxil trailed off as she inspected one of the girls. "I know you. You're the one that tried to poison me."

The Fleshsmith squeaked. A noise very unfitting someone who had made an assassination attempt on her. "I… I don't know what you're talking about."

"Did you know K'Sill is dead?" Nyxil decided for an… alternative attack to start with. Even acolytes, these were Fleshsmiths. It was almost a certainty that they would strike regardless of what she did to discourage them.

"K'S̻͂iͦḻl͓?" Their reactions to the question couldn't have been more obvious. Frowns, furrowed brows, and shared glances. They knew K'Sill, and they knew she had never come back.

"Yep. And not only her. Zan'Asyll too. I found them both dead. A real surprise to come across their bodies in the few times I decided to wander on my lonesome. Real bad luck." Nyxil leaned in conspiratorially. "Say, if any of your upper creeds have asked you to do something foolish, I can always take you around the other side of this embalmed and show you what I think of Fleshsmiths." She grinned, gesturing to the huge croc looming over them in silence.

Nyxil was having fun at their expense. They were obviously put off, but with how obsessive their cult had been to get Nyxil, she still expected something to come her way. Even if they backed off now, they would strike later when she least expected it… when they thought she least expected it.

What she never anticipated, was for them to throw down their weapons and declare that they weren't Fleshsmiths.

The boy with the spine club led the charge. With only a few moments to stare into her eyes as she gave her offer, he cast aside his weapon, and hastily spoke. "I have nothing to do with the Fleshsmiths. On my soul, on K'Psao, I swear to remove any link to them at my next evolution."

His partner acolytes were struck between shock at his declaration, and fear towards Nyxil. It was strange to see. As far as she knew, she hadn't done anything in the open to make them this visibly terrified of her, even if they believed she had a part in their higher creed seniors' deaths.

All three of them followed suit quickly. They swore upon their names to separate themselves from the cult upon their next evolution.

Nyxil was astounded.

Swearing upon one's name was nothing near as powerful as an Invow, as one could break them fairly easily, but just making the declaration likely broke another they'd made to the Fleshsmiths. Would they take a curse and promise themselves one in the future if they just wanted to trick her? They were truly dedicated to their cult if so.

Well, if there was anything that saved them, this was it.

"Good choice," Nyxil said simply, unable to say more because of how dumbfounded she felt.

She left the four, but strained her ears to hear their whispered words before the other echoing voices overtook them.

"Are you sure this is the right choice, K'Psao?"

"Yes." There was no doubt in his voice. "You trust my senses right? Well, my name has never been more confused. She felt almost too alive. The only people that have deviated that far from normal are the upper creeds. At least with Ly͚sy͚rã, it was a lack of life. Nỷx̱il, I have no idea how to explain." He paused, seeming to notice Nyxil lingering. "Besides, in the Fleshsmiths' current state, we're more likely to be collateral. There's too great a void the higher creeds will be fighting to fill."

Nyxil's eyes burned as she lost herself in the bright sceptre. Happenstance or not, she'd convinced a small group to leave their cult. She'd never thought it possible. So much hinged on one's place in a cult, that the very idea that anyone — even Ari and Dan — would listen to her was inconceivable.

The majority of her mind was cynical. She felt that even if they did choose to abandon their cult, they would simply join another… no matter how dangerous that was after a couple of them had already achieved an evolution following the cult's main path.

But, there was a small part that hoped. Who cared if the girl made a foolish attempt to inject her with vitiate that Nyxil already had a cure for. If she actually abandoned the Fleshsmiths and pursued life without the cults, Nyxil would forgive her in a heartbeat.

"Oh, shit!" a voice rang through the wide hall.

A moment later, Su'Baar called for her. "Nỷx̱il, mind if we get some of your light over here?"

Her mind still spinning, she trekked over to the fifth door where no prospective cultist had come from. As the thick darkness scuttled away and the cave was bathed in light, six corpses came into view.

Barely noticeable amongst the bloody piles of mush were stitches unique to one cult.

Six Bodytwister acolytes had fallen to their deaths.

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