"What if I say I will never surrender?"


Okay, so maybe he had gotten a bit over-confident.

But could anyone really blame him? He'd just learned magic. Real, legitimate, honest-to-god magic. And the knowledge that his soul was somehow special among the countless souls of Hallownest only helped to further inflate his ego. With this newfound power, something once thought exclusive to fairy tales and fiction, he could heal himself. And also heal his comrades. And…

...Yeah.

It was far too late to ask the shaman, Ophelia, about it, but one question that popped into Chance's head while on the trek back to the False Knight's chamber was whether the 'uniqueness' of his soul was exclusive to him, or just a human thing. He figured that for the time being, there wasn't any real way of knowing, seeing as how he was the first human to set foot in Hallownest in… ever.

The route back to the False Knight was an unfortunate one. With the gates back into the arena shut firmly behind them, the only two ways to get back were either climbing up a tall shaft that even the acrobatic Tusk couldn't find a foothold in, or walking all the way back around in a giant circle. He should have been grateful that they found a way out at all; it was sheer, dumb luck that they found a weak section in the wall that, when broken, opened into the main shaft.

It took a solid fifteen minutes of scanning Cornifer's map, fruitlessly scratching up smooth brick walls and cursing before Chance found himself on the long haul back the way they came. At the very least, the path was a familiar one; they even managed to get a few minutes in for another trip to the hot springs. It was certainly much more relaxing than the disparate rest he endured with Ophelia. If nothing else, it was much warmer.

But the relative relaxation meant nothing to Chance, not with his mind running at a mile a minute. The only thing he could focus on was the sheer silence, weighing down on him with all the weight in the world.

He kept instinctively reaching down into his pocket, where his phone should be, only to tense up in a nervous frustration when he felt nothing there. He couldn't even play any music to cushion the piercing emptiness of the caverns as they marched on. It was driving him crazy, how nervous he was, and how he couldn't even do anything to help calm himself down, even if only for a moment.

It didn't help in the slightest that he also had left Iselda's nail back with the Shaman on accident. In his rush to get away from Ophelia's lair, it slipped his mind, and by the time he had realized as much, they were already at the bottom of the shaft. No going back for it now. He at least still kept his bag on him, but what help would it be now, since he could just heal himself without needing the jars of lifeblood stowed away inside?

Chance glanced down at his companion, walking alongside him. Tusk seemed as unfazed as always, their empty eyes staring dead ahead as they strolled along at a steady pace. He took a nervous breath; he couldn't play any music, but maybe he could just…

"...Know it sounds funny, but I just can't stand the pain~" he whispered. His voice was soft, and the echoes bouncing back at him along the cavern walls were even softer. Having tested the waters, he sang just a little louder.

"Girl, I'm leavin' you tomorrow…"

He kept clenching and unclenching the edge of his jacket, running his fingers across the cold, jagged zipper.

He shuddered.

"Seems to me, girl, you know I've done all I can…"

If Tusk had noticed his shaky singing, they didn't show it, still walking as straight and even as could be.

Chance let himself raise his voice just a little more.

"Y'see, I've begged, stole, and I borrowed~"

He took a breath, and broke out into a full song, turning to face Tusk as he dramatically chanted a joyous chorus.

"That's why I'm ea-sy~!"

Chance skipped a little, almost starting to feel his nerves calm down a little. He heard the echoes of his singing ricochet off the cave walls and down into the inky-black reaches of the tunnel beyond.

"I'm easy like a Sunday mor-nin'~!" He bellowed, singing as loud as he could manage. Even the stoic Tusk could no longer ignore the sheer volume of the noise, compounded by the seemingly endless echoes that followed it, and paused. They turned to look up at Chance with their empty, emotionless eyes, devoid of expression.

"It's why… I'm easy…" Chance felt his confidence waver and crash when he looked back down at Tusk. There was no emotion, no joy to be found in those black holes they called eyes. Despite that, Chance could almost feel the judgement oozing out of their sockets as they stared up at him.

Chance's theatrical pose tensed, and slowly fell. The warmth that he had just barely began to grasp faded all too quickly, and suddenly the caverns deep underneath Hallownest felt far too cold for him. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, averting his gaze from Tusk's silent stare.

It was hard to calm down with a sing-along when your only companion never made a sound.

"...esy lk a sndy mrnin'..." Chance barely mumbled, as the duo continued their journey.


If there was one nice thing about having to go over the same trail once again, they didn't need to worry about the bugs they had already slain. Their corpses were still on the ground, and had long since stopped leaking their orange pus. Chance still couldn't help but be disturbed at the sight, however, as he cautiously stepped over the husks, half expecting them to lunge up and grab his leg.

It was a metaphorical cakewalk compared to their previous stint throughout the caverns. In truth, they found their way back to the same ruins the False Knight occupied in record time. Probably. It wasn't like he had any way of checking with his phone gone.

Chance could still remember fighting every corpse they passed, including the boulder of a bug. He couldn't help but sigh at the sight of it; the damn thing had unknowingly tricked him into thinking that it was the False Knight, not the behemoth in the room beyond. A False False Knight. The two silently walked past the corpse, back into the False Knight's domain proper.

Chance was no architect, but he still couldn't wrap his head around the layout of the False Knight's lair. A massive, circular room, but they fought their opponent in the smaller room above this otherwise perfect arena. Well, perfect aside from some rubble that was scattered across the floor. Strange. Didn't he remember this place being completely empty when they first entered?

Well, he did injure his leg from a falling rock. He glanced up; a spiderweb of cracks ran along the masonry. Even after all this time; all the decay, ruination, desecration of time on this structure, it still held up very well for years, maybe even decades. And now, the mammoth form of the False Knight was causing it to tear at the seams, struggling to withstand its sheer force.

It was impressive it was still standing at all, though even with its formidable strength, it likely wouldn't last much longer against that sort of punishment.

Chance blinked, studying the ceiling more closely. They were only cracks in the dull grey stonework, but to Chance it was suddenly as interesting as the elegant ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The False Knight was a very heavy creature, and this ceiling definitely couldn't hold its weight much longer.

What if he just… y'know…?

The clatter of falling pebbles made him look over, and he saw Tusk already climbing up the path to the room above. With one final glance to the cracked ceiling, Chance ran to catch up, steeling himself for battle as best as he could as he clambered up to follow his companion.


Once again, they found themselves in the open doorway into the False Knight's little arena. Aside from the small fractures and cracks lining the center of the space, it was as if there had never been a near-lethal fight here. Looking back over the arena with fresh eyes, it was clear that it served as a trap, or some kind of choke point.

It made Chance wonder if it was actually being used in such a way intentionally, or if the False Knight's chosen battleground just happened to have been set up this way. It was easy to mark up the armored behemoth as the "all brawn no brains" type, but he couldn't say for certain. With armor and a mace that big, anyone's fighting style would turn into a mindless rage, drunk on the sheer force and power the suit possessed.

He glanced nervously around the empty room. The very empty room, in fact; the abundance of enemies that had been in this room before were now absent, even their corpses missing. Much to his horror, he noticed that the hole in the wall they had fled out of previously was now firmy patched up with what seemed to be scrap metal. The False Knight was obviously waiting for them. There would be no escape this time.

If they stepped inside, they'd be trapped until either it died, or they did.

Chance quickly licked his dry chaps. How should they approach this? What should his first move be? His gaze fell to a fist-sized chunk of rubble at his feet. Assuming the False Knight did a sweep of this room after they fled, it must've missed this bit, as the rest of the room was nearly spotless.

He picked up the modest chunk of ruined masonry, feeling its weight. Tusk looked up from his right side, curious to his actions. He cocked his arm back, then tossed the chunk into the arena. It made it to about two-thirds of the room's length, before losing momentum and falling to the floor with an echoing clunk.

A few seconds passed as the echoes faded into silence. Nothing.

Chance expected as much, but didn't let himself relax. The False Knight was still here, ready to ambush them at any moment, he knew it.

"Tusk, listen to me," he began, kneeling down to the small bug's eye level, "I'm going to run to the other side of the room. You stay on this side." His hope was that if the False Knight dropped down on them like last time, it would be forced to focus on one of them, allowing the other an opening to attack. Divide and conquer. Tusk nodded; good enough.

Chance backed up slightly, knees bent. A burst of power, and he was off sprinting across the room as fast as his feet could carry him. And a good thing, too, as a large, bulky mass fell just behind him, missing him only by a few feet. The trembles borne by the False Knight's explosive entrance caused Chance to stumble, nearly sending him falling onto the ground. He kept his balance, though, narrowly missing a slam of the mace sent his way by the False Knight.

Tusk immediately exploded into action, and as they did, the gates slid shut behind them.

It had begun.

The False Knight noticed the smaller bug dashing up to them, and remembering their previous fight, must've deemed Chance to be the lesser threat as they focused on Tusk. They blocked a strike from Tusk's nail using the handle of their mace, before swinging it over their head to crush Tusk. The small bug, however, was quick, and darted to the False Knight's side, where they landed a heavy blow to their side.

Or at least, it sounded like a heavy blow. The clang of metal reverberated through Chance's eardrums, but there wasn't any noticeable damage on the False Knight's armor. It was hard to tell, but he couldn't even see a small dent.

Chance watched helplessly as Tusk danced around the massive False Knight, landing almost every strike but never dealing any actual damage. Was their armor so strong that even Tusk's impressive swordsmanship (nailsmanship? nailsbugship?)) couldn't even leave the smallest of scratches.

Chance clenched his fists and steeled himself. If just beating the hell out of the guy wouldn't work, they'd have to try something different.

He sprinted up to the False Knight while their back was turned, exchanging more blows with Tusk, when he bent his knees, and using the force of his momentum-!

Clunk!

A silence fell over the room as the False Knight turned around, staring at the small human rolling on the ground, clutching his foot in agony.

"Sssshhhhhhit, dammit, dammit, gaaaaawwwfffffuck-" Chance seethed silently, something in the back of his mind still telling him to be careful not to teach Tusk any new choice words.

Suddenly, the pain in his stubbed toe meant nothing compared to the cold chill that washed over his skin when he felt a massive hand clench the back of his jacket, and the False Knight lifted him up into the air like a ragdoll. The behemoth held him up high, face-to-visor, while holding off Tusk with their foot. Chance gulped as he stared into the dark eyes of the False Knight's visor, empty and devoid of emotion, nothing but an intent to kill lurking in the darkness. The two pronged horns that jutted above the mask didn't help.

And yet, they're still not quite as empty as the little one's eyes, something whispered in his mind.

Chance felt his body quake with terror as he saw the False Knight raise up its massive mace, ready to smash him to gory bits like a baseball bat connecting with an apple. The knight tightened its grip, and with a heavy swing-

A dull thunk filled the room.

The False Knight dropped Chance in a panic, who stumbled to the floor as he hit the ground. But he smiled as the massive knight clawed at its face in a panic, trying to grip the rock shoved into its visor with its mitten-like gauntlets.

"I…" he took a heavy breath, still reeling from his near-death experience. While the False Knight flayed about, Tusk ran over and helped him to his feet. "I picked up that rock I threw earlier… again…" He fought back the urge to vomit. He hadn't even known what he wouldn've used it for at the time, but seeing as it had just saved him from being pulp splattered on the wall, he was damn glad that he did.

Now that he was up, Tusk charged the False Knight, who in its panic, shakily gripped its mace and swung it wildly in all directions. Chance ducked his head and scrambled away as the mace collided with the walls with thunderous thuds, cracks growing all along the arena's walls, stretching up towards the ceiling.

A rock fell to the floor next to Chance, almost giving him a heart attack as he clumsily rushed to his feet and ran randomly around the room, trying to survive the falling rocks. He had gotten lucky with a leg injury last time, he doubted he'd be able to 'focus' with a flattened skull.

This won't work, Chance realized with dawning horror. The ceiling will collapse onto us before the floor gives out.

"TUSK!" he screamed in desperation. The smaller bug, who had been weaving around the falling rocks, noticed his distress and ran over. But his scream also caught the attention of the False Knight, who, even with their vision obstructed, could still hear where the scream came from.

Tusk reached him first, however, but didn't slow down as they got closer. Chance was confused for a moment, before lurching backwards as he felt Tusk jump up and kick off of his chest, shooting up towards the False Knight.

Chance hit the floor dazed, but just when he collapsed to the ground, he was blinded by moonlight.

An explosion of pale light erupted out of Tusk's form, several times larger than the bug itself, and the chaotic white energy flew outwards and crashed into the False Knight's face at point blank range.

Chance's breath stifled as he watched the monolith, the massive behemoth, fall backwards and collapse into the stone-brick floor with a colossal thud. Its helmet split in two from the impact, almost like it was a pair of hinged doors. Having opened down the middle, a round, doughy face popped out of the opened mask, seemingly far too large to have ever fit inside that helmet in the first place.

Chance stopped for a second, staring at it incredulously. While the face still bore those dull, evil eyes, the rest of it was frankly pathetic. Besides looking more like an overstuffed dumpling than a proper head, it bore no discernable features save for two small bumps on the top of its head, a miniscule mouth, and the albino flab it possessed.

The laughable true form of their enemy made Chance's mind stutter for a moment, but he re-focused himself quickly. As long as they still had that massive suit and mace, the fight wasn't over. Tusk, ever one to jump to action, rushed over to slash the bulbous face to shreds. Globs of infection bled from the cuts inflicted, but all the blubber seemed to be a bit thicker than it appeared, as the Knight wasn't able to inflict anything more than a few superficial wounds.

While Tusk relentlessly slashed up the False Knight's unarmored face, Chance glanced around, his mind spinning. He noticed the knight's giant mace lying on the ground, having been dropped out of the knight's reach. Disarming it would definitely help, right? He ran over and grabbed the handle, giving it a mighty heave.

And another.

And… it wouldn't budge.

He hadn't gotten a clear look at the mace, but at such a close range, it was obviously far taller than him, not to mention the spiked, steel ball at the end. It was unfathomably heavy. He put his full might behind it, putting his back into it, feeling his muscles burn, but it would barely move an inch.

He readjusted his grip to try again, when he felt the handle twitch. Chance froze. Another twitch ran through the mace's handle. But it wasn't the handle making the motion. Chance put a foot onto the head of the mace, and felt it jerk heavily under the sole of his shoe. The head shifted under his foot, unfurling into a very large, very angry, sphere-shaped bug.

I-It's alive?! The head of the mace is alive?!

While Chance was still reeling from this discovery, the bug curled back up into a ball, shuddering violently. Still attached to the mace, it spun forward, pushing back against the handle. Chance jerked his foot away to avoid it being crushed as the blasted thing started to pick up speed, the friction of its body against the stone floor forcing Chance backwards.

While Chance fought their new foe, the False Knight suddenly reared back onto its (stubby) legs. With that, the head was immediately concealed by the helmet again, slamming shut like a windowpane. It reached down to pick up its mace, only to find the head spinning about, and a human clinging to the handle for dear life. Mumbling something that didn't sound pleasant at all, the False Knight turned back to Tusk, who had been trying to stab through its armor.

Tusk, emboldened by the False Knight's lack of weapon, dashed forward, nail poised for its visor. What they failed to take into account was the backhand the False Knight shot their way. It squarely caught Tusk's entire body, hurtling them into the back wall at brutal speeds. A gut-wrenching crack came from Tusk's mangled body on impact, dark matter trickling out of several new cracks in their mask.

"T-TUSK!" Chance cried, feeling tears of desperation welling up in his eyes.

The False Knight turned its dark gaze onto Chance, who was still pushing back against the mace-bug. It had his back pressed against a wall now, and was only gaining in speed, kicking up a small cloud of dust behind it. If it got any more powerful, his grip on the mace's handle might slip. The tip of the mace's handle wasn't at all sharp, but with this much force behind it, pointed straight at his gut…

Chance was a cornered wild animal, a deer stuck in headlights, as the giant, thunderous form of the False Knight stormed over in his direction. He couldn't escape. He couldn't even move. The False Knight was insanely strong, but all it'd need to do is just give the mace a little push, and it'd all be over.

The sweat on his palms glistened, and his hands slipped an inch. Chance quickly threw a hand onto the bottom of the mace, pushing back as hard as he could. The slip had pushed the handle upwards, now mere inches away from his throat.

The False Knight stopped, standing just in front of Chance. Its form towered above him, a mountain of metal and sheer strength, all of it poised to crush him flat.

It raised a massive arm, clenched its fists together, and time seemed to slow as it came swinging down, an avalanche of destructive power, collapsing down into him with nowhere to run.

And Chance grabbed the end of the mace, and twisted it.

The mace-bug, not expecting such a motion, could hardly resist as it was thrown on its side, and with it, the rotational force of the mace's handle went sideways, too.

And by now, that bug had been building up a lot of speed.

Just before the False Knight's fist came crashing into his face, Chance flew out from under him, grabbing onto the very end of the mace's handle for dear life as he zoomed in a great arc around the False Knight's flank. He didn't even have time to scream before it came to a screeching halt all too soon, the handle of the mace slamming into the False Knight's side with tremendous force. Chance's grip finally gave as he went soaring through the air and crashed painfully into a wall, grimacing and crying out in agony as he felt his ribs crack from the impact. Just to rub salt in his wounds, gravity then took hold of him as he fell to the stone floor with a dull, painful thud.

Wearily glancing up from the masonry, he could see through blurry eyes the False Knight staggering around, taking a few wobbly steps. However, the crater left in their armor was deep enough that it sent them off-balance, and it wasn't long before the monster finally tumbled and thunderously crashed into the floor.

Heavy cracks grew outward from where it landed, and the floor shattered like glass.

Chance's eyes widened and he screamed as gravity pulled him down yet again, feeling his gut lurch as he fell down, down, into the pit below, knowing there would be nothing below to cushion him. He took in as much breath as he could force his terrified lungs to. This was the end. He'd smash his head on the rock, or be impaled by the rubble, or-

KRAAASH!

He felt his back explode in pain and his lungs be forced free of air when he finally hit the ground, before everything went hazy. Somehow, through sheer adrenaline, he barely grasped onto the seams of consciousness as he started heaving, desperately gasping for air. He could barely think, his head was pounding so loudly.

He twitched his hand around and found he landed on something not at all soft, but surprisingly smooth. He tried to crawl away, but his legs refused to obey him. He couldn't force them to move in the same way he could his arms. Glancing down, he didn't see anything blatantly wrong with them; no giant boulder crushing them, no blood, no bone sticking out from his skin. There was only one conclusion his scattered and weary mind could come to.

I… paralyzed… Chance thought, bringing a hand to his sweaty brow as though it would help silence the deafening pounding in his skull. I'm… paralyzed from the waist down, at least… While he had somehow managed to shed minimal blood, he had more than a few cracked and broken bones, presumably a spinal injury, and apparently he'd be wheelchair-bound the rest of his life, now.

Wait. No. No, he wouldn't. He hovered a shaky hand over his abdomen, and wisps of pale light danced around his fingertips. He was perfectly fine. Peak condition. His ribcage was untouched, and his back was fine. He wasn't paralyzed. He could walk just fine. He'd be just fine.

Slowly, he felt the bones fuse back together as he groaned and seethed in pain. He was perfectly alright, despite the agony. Feeling began to return to his numbed legs as he twitched them, rotating his ankles to make sure they really were just fine.

And of course they were. He said as much, didn't he?

With a strained groan, the cool light dissipated from his body and he managed to pull himself up to a sitting position. Looking back, he felt his chest clench up.

He had, miraculously, landed on top of the False Knight's chest, and while it certainly wasn't a viable cushion, it had made his fall just barely survivable. The front of the armor was deeply dented in his image, like a metallic snow angel. Lovely.

A subtle movement of rubble. Chance's hazy mind instantly snapped into focus.

"T-Tusk!" he called, hopping over the False Knight's body as he ran over to his companion. They were in serious condition; their mask was on the verge of splitting in two, and the dark chitin on the rest of their body was cracked and leaking that ominous black fluid. Tusk was likely on their last leg of survival, barely able to think, just as he had been not moments before.

But he turned out fine, right? And so would Tusk. Tusk was okay. Nothing was wrong. Their injuries were healed. They'd be fine. They'd both be fine.

Chance nearly collapsed in relief as the cracks along Tusk's body began to seal themselves up. He embraced them deeply, feeling his mind start to calm down as finally, finally, they were both safe and alright.

To think he had almost lost them. Chance hugged Tusk just a little bit tighter.

SPLAT!

Both Human and Bug jumped at the noise interrupting their moment. Chance, in a knee-jerk reaction, stood up and turned around, still holding Tusk in a vice grip.

A few seconds passed before he realized he was still carrying the tiny bug.

"O-Oh, sorry, I'll set you-"

Tusk reached up and gripped his jacket sleeve. Chance blinked.

"Y… You… You want me to keep holding you?"

Tusk nodded.

"Uhm… Okay."

Still keeping the bug bundled up in his arms, Chance cautiously traversed the large pile of rubble, watching his footing to make sure he didn't trip on the jagged and uneven ground. Stepping close to the False Knight's body, he tensed up at what he saw. A boulder must've dislodged itself from the ceiling just moments before and fallen down, because the False Knight's entire bulbous head had been smashed flat under the giant rock. Orange infected pus seeped out from underneath the rock, staining the floor in violent tangerine.

Chance grimaced at the sight. He was about to back away, when something glinted in the corner of his eye. Crouching down slowly, as though not to lose his balance, he reached down and grabbed something partially hidden underneath the boulder, its edges slick with the orange blood. Picking it up, he noticed it was attached to a string that was wrapped around the False Knight's (former) neck. With a gentle tug, it snapped and came loose, the string falling through the hole in the object as he lifted it up.

It was a key.

Granted, it was unlike any key he had ever seen, intricately designed, made up of very thick metal that weighed down in his palm, but it was undoubtedly a key of some kind. He gingerly tucked the object away inside his jacket, sighing as he looked down at the mountainous body one last time.

He didn't know what this key led to, but he'd find out. And slowly, but surely, he'd work his way deeper and deeper into the heart of Hallownest, fighting enemies far stronger than this False Knight. He'd get beaten and broken, but he'd heal. And he'd go right on marching ever deeper in a single minded goal.

And in this moment, Chance had decided his fate. He would fight his way through Hallownest, no matter what hellish monsters this cursed and dead kingdom threw his way.

His bones were fine. His companion, Tusk, was fine. He was fine. And he would find a cure to the blasted Infection.

And that was the truth.

With this dedication steeled into his mind, Chance turned on his heel to walk away from the scene of the battle, tiny comrade in his arms, ready to face the next challenge Hallownest had in store for him and Tusk.


"My head keeps, spinnin',

I go to sleep, I keep, grinnin',

If this is just the be-ginnin'',

My life is gonna be,

Be-yoo-tee-ful!"

"WILL YOU SILENCE THAT INFERNAL RACKET?!" Ophelia screamed as they smashed a lantern with their staff like a baseball bat, sending it flying halfway across the bone-ridden cavern before bouncing to a stop next to the small, black object lying on the seat of a metal bench.

"I've sunshine enough to spread,

It's just like the feller said!"

Ophelia seethed in rage, gripping their staff in a vice that threatened to snap it. "Oh, just you wait until he returns," they spoke venomously. "He'll know how to shut you up, I'm sure. You cannot lay in wait within that device forever, demon."

"Tell me quick,

Ain't that a kick,

In the heaaaad?"


Chapter name and summary are a reference to The Pretender by Foo Fighters. (again)

Other musical references in this chapter include:

Easy by Commodores

Ain't That A Kick In The Head by Dean Martin

I think we got this chapter out a bit faster than the last one, right?

It was an interesting process to re-imagine the False Knight battle in such a way so that it wasn't just a boring, predictable novelization of what happened in-game. The whole "spinning mace" thing was a weird idea that popped into my head but overall, it seems to have come out fairly well.

Hahaha, poor Ophelia, not knowing how to work a phone and then blaming it on evil spirits like the crazy hermit they are. Hahaha. Haha. Ha. Haaa...

Please leave a review, and we'll see you next chapter! :)