Luxor’s smirk deepened as if he could see the war of emotions roiling inside her. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the others, but Zaria couldn’t shake the feeling that his words had been meant for her alone.
A low, gravelly voice growled from her left, the harsh syllables jagged and foreign. “Rkxth z’klarn tar’qesh n’rath…” The Thalorn Ruxkan spoke, the guttural sounds sending a wave of static-like tingles through her mind. Suddenly, the words shifted, filtered through some unseen process, morphing into something she could understand.
“I will kill your entire species.”
Zaria’s breath hitched as a chill coursed through her veins, leaving her fingers tingling with an icy numbness. The Ruxkan towered nearby, its predatory eyes boring into her with an intensity that seemed to freeze her in place. Its low growl reverberated through the air, each syllable of its guttural language laced with malice. Though the words weren’t directed at her, she felt the threat as if it were a blade pressed against her skin, her instincts screaming at her to move, to do something.
But Luxor? He stood there as if he were presiding over a lighthearted galactic game show. His grin widened, the reflection of the stage lights dancing in his sharp teeth. With a sharp clap of his hands, the sound ricocheting like gunfire, he addressed the contestants with unshaken cheer.
“Now that’s the enthusiasm I expect from the Nexus Trials!” Luxor’s voice boomed, dripping with theatrical delight. “I must say, Ruxkans always bring a certain... energy to the competition.”
Zaria’s heart hammered in her chest as the tension remained thick, but Luxor was unrelenting. He gestured to the group with a flamboyant wave, his glittering suit shifting colors as if mocking the life-or-death atmosphere. “Ah, but don’t worry, everyone,” he said, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “you should now find yourselves connected to the system. Communication should be a breeze among you fine competitors—uh, pardon me, TechNavs.”
Zaria blinked, her thoughts spinning as she processed the flood of information. She swore she could almost hear the faint hum of something clicking into place, a faint sensation tickling the edges of her mind as if an invisible thread had been tied between her and the others.
She tore her gaze from the Ruxkan, willing her breathing to even out. Fear had no place in science—that was the mantra she clung to now, the steadying anchor in the chaos. Her gaze shifted to Luxor, whose showman’s facade hadn’t faltered for a second, and then to the holograms still floating ominously above.
The gnawing dread in her chest didn’t fade entirely, but she buried it beneath a practiced determination. If this was a trial, she would treat it as an experiment—a series of variables to analyze, adapt to, and overcome.
Luxor’s smile stretched wider, his teeth glinting under the glaring stage lights as he surveyed the contestants. “Any questions, dear TechNavs, while we still have… precious moments to spare?” His tone oozed with an exaggerated kindness, as if he were indulging children in a classroom.
To Zaria’s right, something stirred. A wet, slithering sound drew her attention, and she turned to see a creature lifting one of its tentacles. The appendage moved with a deliberate sluggishness, as though the air itself resisted its passage. Its gelatinous skin shimmered faintly under the lights, catching hues of green and gold. A strange device, a patchwork of glinting metal and pulsating lights, clung to the top of what Zaria could only assume was its head. The device hummed faintly, sending out faint, rhythmic pulses like a heartbeat.
The tentacle rose higher, curling slightly at the tip in what looked like a question mark. Zaria’s gaze flicked between the creature and Luxor, the contrast between the being’s deliberate movements and Luxor’s exaggerated exuberance creating an odd, almost surreal tension. She leaned forward slightly, her curiosity warring with the knot of unease coiling in her stomach.
“Well, well,” Luxor drawled, pointing a gleaming finger toward the being. “We have a brave soul—or should I say appendage? Go on then, ask your burning question.” His tone, dripping with amusement, made it clear he relished the spectacle more than the substance of the inquiry.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
TechNav-0243: Lyriss’kai Tonneth,
Species: Nyranthi
Technomancy Potential (TP): 16
Role: Technomantic Navigator
The creature’s question sliced through the tense air, its high-pitched, watery resonance sending a shiver down Zaria’s spine. She winced, the sound triggering a fresh spike of pain in her already pounding head. She clenched her teeth, wishing—not for the first time—that she had her tools, her scanner, something to anchor her in the swirling chaos. Instead, she was left with nothing but her raw senses and mounting frustration.
Luxor’s ever-present grin faltered, just for a moment. It was subtle—a slight tightening of his jaw, the barest flicker of irritation in his gleaming eyes. “What do you mean, what is a Technomancy Navigator?” His tone sharpened, the amusement laced with an edge.
Zaria glanced at the creature, its undulating form eerily still as it awaited a response. The device on its head pulsed faintly, in sync with its question. Steeling herself, Zaria raised her hand, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what it means either,” she said, forcing her voice to sound steadier than she felt. “It’s not… something we have where I come from.”
The corners of Luxor’s mouth curved upward again, his grin growing wide and theatrical as though he had rehearsed this very moment. “Ah, my dear TechNavs,” he purred, stepping into the spotlight as if performing for an invisible audience. “Let’s enlighten you! A Technomancy Navigator is a master of paths unseen, a weaver of energy and understanding.”
Zaria’s brow furrowed, skepticism flashing in her eyes. Luxor’s flowery words seemed more like fluff than fact. She studied his expression, her scientist’s mind picking apart the theatrical flourish for any trace of genuine substance. He didn’t seem to notice—or care—as he continued, his voice rising with enthusiasm.
“Imagine,” Luxor said, gesturing grandly, “being part mapmaker, part sorcerer, part strategist. You don’t just follow trails—you create them. You unlock hidden gateways, manipulate energy flows, and decipher ancient puzzles.”
Above the stage, a holographic map burst into existence, its glowing lines stretching and shifting like veins of light. The map pulsed rhythmically, radiating an energy that made the hairs on Zaria’s arms stand on end. She found herself leaning forward despite her doubt, drawn to the intricate lattice of pathways that twisted and intersected like a living organism.
“Technomancy Navigators bring clarity to chaos,” Luxor continued, stepping into the shimmering display. His figure glowed faintly, bathed in the map’s iridescent light. “Your skill isn’t just in battle, but in understanding the very fabric of this arena. Each relic, each node you uncover, is yours to command. Your role,” he said, his voice dropping into a tone of reverence, “is to turn the uncertain into the inevitable.”
With a flourish, Luxor swept his hand through the map. The glowing lines scattered like sparks, momentarily lighting the space around him before dissolving into the air.
Zaria crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. It was a pretty speech, she had to admit. But pretty speeches didn’t answer questions, and Luxor’s explanation left more gaps than it filled. She glanced at the other contestants, noting the confusion and unease etched into their varied features. Her gaze returned to Luxor, her mind racing.
This wasn’t just a performance. Luxor was testing them, probing for reactions. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of stumbling. Not yet, anyway. For now, she’d play along, gathering every scrap of information she could. After all, as Luxor himself had said, clarity turned chaos into inevitability—and Zaria Jenkins thrived on finding clarity.
Zaria’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as the weight of the situation settled like a heavy shroud. This wasn’t just about survival—it was a proving ground for intellect, skill, and raw instinct. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as a flicker of determination broke through the swirl of panic. Unknown territory wasn’t new to her; it was where she thrived. She was a Uranographer, after all, someone who charted the uncharted.
Luxor’s voice sliced through her thoughts, his every word dripping with calculated charisma. His eyes scanned the contestants like a predator assessing its prey, pausing briefly on each one. “The Nexus Trials are your chance to represent your species,” he declared, his voice reverberating through the arena. “To prove to the 20 sextillion inhabitants of the Maelstrom Galaxy that you and your kind are worthy of standing among them.”
The sharp glint in his gaze met Zaria’s, a sly smile curling his lips. “But don’t worry,” he added with mock reassurance, “I and the system’s AI will be here to offer guidance—when it suits us.”