"You feel alright, when you hear the music ring."
(MINOR) CONTENT WARNING: This chapter *should* be fine but just in case. References to severe injury, including dismemberment, as well as references to sexual themes.
It's an interesting little story you've got here.
Oh, the somber tale of the wanderer, stripped of his being and left to die in a world he does not hail from! The bold fable of the hero, vainly hunting in a hostile world for a greater purpose! Oh, the grueling trials of the dying man, with nothing to lose and all the world to gain, willing to surrender all 'til his dying breath!
…
…
...Oh, Gods damn it all.
I'm tired of playing these games, Chance.
I'm uncertain of how to say this, but... Those visions of your beaten and battered body, lying in a pool of your own blood?
Do you think those were meant as threats?
I am trying to warn you. Warn you of what's to come.
Don't you get it?
…
...
The blood, the wounds, the… agony. It's not some obscure premonition of a possible future, or even of a likely future.
It's of the past. It's already happened.
Your choices, your actions, your words. All of them are meaningless when they are all written for you.
All of this, happening right "now"? It's in your head. An escape from the pain.
Luckily for you, the mind is my absolute domain.
…
...
Do you understand what I'm offering to you? I cannot do anything for your body, but I can save your mind.
I cannot heal your wounds, but I can erase your suffering.
All you have to do... is give in to me.
Give me complete control.
Surrender everything.
I can save you from the agony of this failure, and every possible failure to come. You'll be free from the inevitable suffering.
You won't need to keep running. You won't need to keep fighting. You could finally lay your weary head down, and rest.
…
…
...
Are you even listening to me?
…
…
...
If you insist. My offer remains open for… however much time you have left.
…
...
As I said, it's an interesting little story you've got here.
...
Wouldn't you like to know how it ends?
...
...
Bonk!
"Ow! Rio, what the hell are you-"
Bump!
"FUCK!"
"Oops," Rio said, unapologetic. It was pitch-black, and everything was too warm and leathery and tight. Chance felt like he'd been shoved in a vacuum-sealed bag; he didn't consider himself a claustrophobic person, but he didn't think anyone, especially him, could handle this very well. He had to curl himself up in a fetal position, and he could only barely make out the muffled noises around him, much less see.
And it didn't help that Rio was just dragging them all over the dirt.
"D'ow! T-This is cruel and unusual punishment!", he could hear Jeremy protest from somewhere… nearby. He gave up on relying on his senses a while ago.
"Shut up before someone hears you."
"y-y-yyyyyesma'am."
Chance could do nothing but curl up a bit tighter and hold his hands protectively over his head. Rio had already made it crystal clear that this was his punishment for… well, for all the stupid shit he's done so far, and he was less than keen to argue with the ticked-off Mantis lady.
Besides, this was kind of their only way in.
"Rio. You've returned… and without the Trickster in tow, I see," grunted out an unrecognizable voice. He immediately caught on as it being one of the Village guards, and clamped a hand over his mouth, silently praying to whatever God governed this backwards world that Jeremy was currently doing the same.
"Ah, yes, about that," Rio's voice wavered for a moment before she found her confidence again, "The kind soul he was, offered to help me with hunting duties-"
"You don't have hunting duties-"
"-Just to grab a quick bite for him and I. He had felled two Fungoons, but a sneaky Sporg managed to catch his blindside, and the explosion blew him completely to bits!"
A pause, as the guard recovered from Rio's dramatic retelling of a story that never happened, "Completely?"
" Completely!", she reiterated, probably waving her arms in the air like the maniac she was. "Not even a body left to find! Merely a red skid mark where he once stood!"
"...I…see…"
"Oh, but I felt pity for the late young man, and could not let his efforts go to waste. I managed to recover his kills, and carried them back here."
"...Well…" Chance couldn't blame the guard for needing a minute to process this. The thief that captured one of their scouts, stole a prized treasure of theirs, and caused enough chaos to capture the attention of the entire Village, had simply up and "died" in a random explosion the same day. Rio's story had him literally go out with a bang.
And now he was dead. Apparently. That wouldn't be too easy to explain away when it turned out that he wasn't.
"Erm…" the guard continued, "That's… alright. I will take the kills-"
"Oi." Chance felt his body suddenly jerk to the side, and he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from making any sound in the cramped darkness. "I'll handle these myself. I dragged them all the way here, didn't I?"
"...Well, then I'll inform Lightfoot-"
"I can do it myself," Rio spat. Even though she was still acting, Chance could hear genuine anger in her voice. "Do not treat me like some invalid. I'm not an empty husk just yet." Before the guard could say another word, Rio pulled them all along through the gates and into the Village proper.
Suffocating darkness is one thing. Suffocating darkness surrounded by the sounds of angry Mantises is an entirely different horror. Chance could only quake in quiet terror as Rio strode proudly into the heart of the Village.
"Bleh!" Jeremy was hunched over in a corner, gasping for fresh air. "Seriously? That was the best plan you could come up with?!"
Rio huffed indignantly. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"
The Mantises were proud creatures, willing and able to defend their home to their final breaths. Tusk only managed to sneak out once because the entire rest of the tribe was hyperfocused on Chance's wild flailing; it wouldn't be so easy to sneak back in without causing alarm. Even if Tusk miraculously managed to get in silently, Jeremy and Chance would certainly have no such luck. They were bigger, noisier, clumsier. Simply sneaking in wasn't an option. They had to hide in plain sight.
Jeremy proposed that Rio could pose as having beaten Chance and Tusk in a fight, and returned them as prisoners. It sounded good, but wouldn't have worked; it'd be too suspicious for Rio to have advocated for Chance before and then suddenly turned on him. Again, the Mantises were proud creatures, and didn't rely on trickery and deception to get what they wanted.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the Tribe, Rio was apparently a glaring exception to this, since she just smuggled them all in right under the Tribe's noses.
The Fungoons of the Wastes, the large, bloated creatures floating around the region, were generally passive in nature. They only exhume heavy toxic gas when they feel that they are threatened, and otherwise have a very docile behavior. When killed, the toxic gas in their bodies gushes out, and they deflate like a balloon. Their bodies are observed to be very flexible, like rubber, while also being difficult to tear into (unless the meat is cooked to flavorful tenderness). The use this rubbery property of theirs to-
...W-Wait, no, come back! This is important, I promise!
O-Okay… Okay, so they use this- the Fungoons use this rubbery property of theirs to contain all the toxic gas they later expel, bloating up their bodies, like how a camel stores water in its hump. So, it follows that if a Fungoon's body can store toxic gas, then its corpse could store just about anything in it. The body would simply stretch out to accommodate the size of whatever is within it, essentially making Fungoon corpses giant, leathery bags.
Perfect for smuggling drugs. Or people.
You'd want to clean the insides, first, though.
Chance sat against a wall, still reeling from the whole experience. Thankfully, the Fungoon's flesh was within the "walls" of the balloon and not just inside their mouths. He'd rather not sit in a bag of meat compared to a bag of… whatever mushrooms were supposed to be made of.
Ignorance was bliss.
Taking a deep breath of fresh air - well, the freshest air he'd breathed in the last fifteen minutes - he gave a sideways glance at Rio, the mastermind behind his suffering. "So… where are we, anyway?"
"In a small storage area, deeper within the Village," she murmured, not even glancing in his direction. She focused on the nearest door, as though expecting guards to come charging in at any second. "The Lords will be in their throne room, in the very depths of the Village, likely sealed off for security."
The… Lords. The Mantis Lords. Right. He knew they were important to him, but whenever he reached for a reason in his mind, it fizzled away, his hand only clenching around fog. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he glanced over. "How're you holdin' up, Tusk-...?"
...Tusk?
He shot up from where he was sitting, glancing around the room frantically. "Where's Tusk?"
Jeremy looked up, blinked, and tried pulling open one of the discarded Fungoon corpses. "Uhhmm… Not here." He flinched as Chance threw his hands up, giving the room one final glance over before storming over to the door, only for Rio to hold a bladed arm up against his chest.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm not doing anything without Tusk," he firmly said, reaching for the door handle. Rio stopped him, holding her arm against his wrist, the cool, sharp blade barely pressing into his skin.
"And yet, you seem awfully prepared to step out in the middle of a city of angry Mantises wanting your blood spilled." Her orange glare bore into him.
"I just wanna make sure they're safe."
"Of course they're safe. If anything, they're probably worried about you, judging from how you're always hiding behind them."
Now it was Chance's turn to glare at her. "I'm not hiding behind them."
"Then where was this attitude before you found them again?"
Chance and Rio stared daggers into each other, neither one paying any mind to Jeremy cowering in the corner.
"Chance," the Mantis huffed finally, "I won't say anything sentimental, like that I 'care for you' or that I'm 'worried about you,'" she stared deeper into him. "But for your sake, step away from the door."
The room went deathly silent.
Jeremy gulped.
"...Make me."
Rio took one step forward, and a heavy THUNK echoed through the room.
Chance and Rio both jumped more than they'd have liked to admit. Jeremy nearly had a heart attack. Hesitantly, Chance tugged the door open, and the pale mask of Tusk peeked through the crack.
Someone viewing the storage ward from the outside would only see the tiny bug be suddenly yoinked through the doorway.
"Ohthankgodyour'resafe," Chance breathed, sitting against the wall again while he smothered Tusk into his shirt. The small warrior wrapped their stubby arms around Chance's abdomen as best as they could, and Chance gently ran a hand over their polished, seemingly porcelain head, petting them affectionately.
Rio crossed her arms and sighed, leaning back against the closed door. "Heartwarming," she stated matter-of-factly, "Though I can't help but be concerned by your willingness to throw yourself in harm's way for your tiny friend, who is more than capable of defending themselves."
Chance didn't respond. Jeremy meekly scooted over next to Chance and reached out to pet Tusk on the head, silently giggling to himself. Rio rolled her eyes.
"So did your 'Tusk' friend go out for a reason, or…?" At this, Tusk wiggled out of Chance's arms and held up a small object in their tiny hands(claws? It was different for every bug, he supposed).
Rio's eyes widened. "A Mark of Pride! I wasn't aware we had any just lying around. Not bad…Tusk." At this, she too gave the small bug a pat on the head(gently, and minding her bladed arms), who leaned into her touch almost adoringly.
"A 'Mark of Pride?'", Chance asked. Tusk hopped out of his lap and pulled out their nail, before pinning the charm proudly on their chest. Almost immediately, the light around their nail began to shimmer, before an ethereal edge glowed sharply along the blade. The transparent edge, however, extended beyond the metal part of the blade, effectively extending its range. Chance could see the real nail underneath it, but there was no doubt that this "ghostly" part of the nail was just as lethal as the solid metal underneath it.
Jeremy sat staring at the sword in awe. "I thought these were meant to be handed out only to those who were held in the highest esteem in the Mantis Tribe… and you can just… take one?"
"Well, you can 'just take' almost anything in the world, if you have both the skill and no care for the consequences," Rio shrugged. "Speaking of which, if the rest of the Tribe wasn't already planning on killing you for stealing a Claw, they'll most certainly want to do it now that you've robbed them of a Mark."
She shook her head, walking over to the door. "I hope you intend on winning your next fight, Chance, or the consequences for your crimes may be… dire."
Chance didn't respond.
Jeremy only gulped in horror as they all stood to leave.
"W-Wai-Hold on, so like, when you said-"
"Yes, Chance, by 'deeper in the Village', I literally meant 'deeper down.'"
"The vertical expansion here is impressive for something labeled as a Tribe. You sure you guys are savages, Rio?"
"..."
"KILL HIM!" "KILL THE TRICKSTER!" "THEY'VE STOLEN THE MARK OF PRIDE!" "OFF WITH HIS HEAD!" "TEAR HIM TO SHREDS!" "BURN HIS FLESH!" "STICK HIM UP ON A PIKE!"
"SHUDDUP!"
Chance slammed the door behind him with all his might, an entire army of infuriated Mantises right at his heel. They scratched and scattered against the heavy stone door, but this door was meant to hold out against a potential invasion; something that not even the Mantis Warriors could crack. Chance quickly flung down a nearby barrier over the door, keeping it sealed as it bumped and banged with the force of an entire Tribe of warriors.
He leaned up against a wall, before his knees gave way and he slowly slid down until he was curled up on the floor. They were safe, for now.
"Y-You alright, Tusk?" he asked, wiping his brow of a cold sweat as he struggled to catch his breath. The small knight nodded, unfazed by the events of the last ten minutes.
Rio had said that if they managed to get this far and seal the door behind them, they'd be safe, and there wouldn't be anything left between them and the Mantis Lords. The problem was actually getting there; the place was swarming(oh, har-har.) with Mantises, and if Chance showed his face, it'd be sliced off in a second. Rio's bright idea was to cause a distraction on the opposite end of the village, where Chance and Tusk would either sneak down to the door, or if things went wrong, sprint for their lives.
Things went wrong, so they sprinted for their lives.
Chance wasn't a hundred percent certain what had happened in the rush of it all, but it looked to him like he'd gone just a bit prematurely, and one of the last stragglers had caught sight of him, sounding the alarm. As always, he was still useless at stealth. Rio and Jeremy would probably be a little pissed that he botched their efforts of making a distraction.
Oh, Jeremy. Would he be alright? Surely, the Mantises wouldn't harm one of their own, but the poor guy was still an outsider here. Would Rio be able to protect him, like she had for Chance?
Well… he wouldn't be able to find out unless he opened this door, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now. Hopefully, they both - him particularly - just got swept up in the crowd and managed to sneak away.
Standing up, he followed Tusk down the hall to a pi-
A p- a pit. A pit.
A pit. Just a straight, square hole. At the end of an empty, unmarked hallway that was like, twenty feet long.
Who the hell designed this place?
Sighing with resignation, he let the Mantis claws morph onto his hands - it'd been a hot minute since he's done that, he needed to get more used to these things - he leapt onto the opposite wall and began sliding down, with Tusk following him further up.
The stupid hallway-pit opened up into a much more grand room, befitting of not merely one Lord, but three. He took a shaky breath as he stepped into the grand throne room, the corpses of beasts impaled on pikes around the room. It was oddly spacious ; it seemed like it could've housed a sports stadium instead of thrones.
Four thrones, with the rightmost one demolished.
Stepping forwards, inching closer towards the towering figures of the Lords upon their thrones, Chance shuddered. He clenched and unclenched his hands, struggling to beat down the anxiety welling up in his chest. He'd done it. He'd reached the elusive Mantis Lords, he'd accomplished his goal here.
Your choices, your actions, your words. All of them are meaningless when they are all written for you.
So what was this feeling of inescapable dread?
The earth before the thrones was surrounded in what looked like a large, copper trapdoor, shaped in a semicircle in front of the thrones, as though marking some kind of boundary. Chance nervously glanced in Tusk's direction, gulped, and the two warriors stepped over the line before the Lords.
The three glanced up in their direction, but otherwise said nothing. They didn't look like the other Mantises; instead of antennae, they had large, uncomfortable-looking blue horns, and instead of bladed arms, they had actual hands(Claws? Oh my God, I'll just say hands. It doesn't matter. Leave me alone.) They were also staggeringly tall; maybe the distance was just difficult to judge, but they each had to be at least twice his height. Minimum.
They stepped forward to what felt like a respectable distance, and Chance cleared his throat, jumping at how far his cough carried through the echoing caverns. He mustered up all the manners he could because oh God I'm practically a war criminal to them, and spoke,
"Hello!"
The Lords remained silent.
"...I, ahm… I stand before you, today, to… request…" He clenched and unclenched his fists again, "I-I wish to know if you happen to have any… information, on a... cure to the Infection."
…
...
...The Lords remained silent.
I'm uncertain of how to say this.
"I uh, I heard from a friend that ah- I-It is my understanding, that the Mantis Tribe is mostly untouched by the Infection, and I figured that- It was my assumption, that you may have some kind of, er, secret that you could uh, lend to me."
...
The Lords maintained their silent stare.
...
"...T-Though, now that I'm thinkin' about it," he mumbled, "If you had anything like that, Rio wouldn't be Infected so uhh…"
The Lords' stare was finally getting to him, and he awkwardly glanced away, feeling hot under the collar. He noticed a large, dark hallway to the left, with a hauntingly menacing aura emanating from it.
"What's uh, what's over in there? Is that like a cellar, or a garage, or…?" He guessed he was just trying to make small talk? He took a few steps closer, but the moment he left the copper ring in the center, the large door was suddenly sealed off with a heavy slam of a stone door.
Chance jumped at the sound, feeling like he'd just heard a cannon go off, and spun around just in time to see the leftmost Lord with her arm outstretched towards the door, before she lowered it back to her side.
He stood in place for a spell, trying to calm his rattled nerves, before he took a deep breath. "Alright. Alright, it's private space, I get that, I won't budge. Er, I won't judge- I'm not gonna bug you about it. A-Ahm, sorry. I mean-"
He threw his hands in the air and, at risk of being immediately decapitated and shoved onto a pike, raised his voice;
Are you even listening to me?
The silence spoke volumes. Chance huffed.
"Alright. Then I'll… leave."
One of them finally blinked. Wait, were they not blinking that whole time?
"Yeah!" Chance nearly shouted, starting to feel petty rebellion well up in him. "I'll just leave. Like, now. See ya."
So he and Tusk clambered back up the wall they came without another word, and left the Mantis Lords in silence.
Just like that.
…
...
…
…
…
…
…
Three voices.
Voice #1: "He looks JUST like her!"
Voice #2: "Hmph. He lacks everything else she had. Aside from his status as a criminal to the Tribe, I'd say he's not worth our time."
Voice #1: "I wouldn't say that. I witnessed his scuffle with Lightfoot the other hour."
Voice #3: "I'd like to say it's unlikely for him and… her, to have ever known each other. Though, it has been quite a while since a human has ever set foot within Hallownest."
Voice #1: "Another human, here in Hallownest…"
Voice #2: "And what? Do we owe their entire race for the actions of one?"
Voice #1: "Well…"
Voice #2: "Banish the thought, my Sister. Besides, he has robbed us of our treasures and tarnished our traditions; he has long since fallen out of any favor he may have had with us."
Voice #3: "He requested a… cure, to the Infection? Why, if we had such a thing with us, I can scarcely imagine what we would do with that power."
Voice #2: "Surely not hand it out to thieves on the road. We are not a charity."
Voice #1: "Perhaps… we would be able to save-?"
Voice #2: "Do not even speak of him. No use mucking about in fantasy."
Voice #3: "And what of the little one who accompanied him? They carried themselves with a certain air about them that I feel at least calls for our interest."
Voice #2: "They appeared to be a… Vessel, Sister Oasis."
Voice #3: "Ah, yes… one of the Pale Wyrm's endless follies and atrocities. How to handle them…?
Voice #2: "They are likely an accomplice to the human's growing list of crimes against our people. Just another ghost needing to be put to rest. Nothing more."
Voice #1: "Well… Perhaps we could-"
"Nevermind, I'm back."
Immediately, all voices in the Lords' throne room came to a halt. The only noise to be heard was Chance and Tusk scraping their ways back down into the room with their (stolen) Mantis Claws. Chance strode back into the ring with less resignation this time, glancing around the room and between the Lords as he spoke.
"Yeah, I got so caught up in being petty that I forgot that the only way out of here is through the sealed door with a pissed-off mob on the other side. Don't feel like dying today, so I'll just uhh, stay here for now."
…
…
...The Mantis Lords regarded him in silence.
…
"...What were you sayin' about ghosts or somethin'?"
…
…
…
"Hey, uhh, listen. I couldn't help but overhear-" He rubbed the back of his head nervously, "Overheard the end of that bit. And I realized that uh, yeah, I kind of am a criminal? Like, here, to your tribe? So, uhh.. Alright, hey, let's strike a deal or something. I'll return all the stuff I stole, and issue a uhm, public apology , but I need help moving forward with this… place."
…
…
…
"A-As in like, all you'd have to do is just give me a pointer or two, help me on my way deeper down, and I'd be out of your hair. Permanently. Out of your… antennae? Oh, but you don't have… antennae…"
…
…
"I-I should just… leave. I'll… see myself out."
...
…
…
…
...
...Something in the room was… growing.
Like a heat, like a heavy blanket.
Like a thermostat about to shatter.
Something was growing impatient.
My offer remains open for… however much time you have left.
And here he was, the clock was ticking, marching onwards into infinity. Ripples turned into a tidal wave, and castles turned into sand.
Chance marched onward with the beat of the second, back turned from his fate, and everything drew to a close, the stars aligned,
and the clock
struck
midnight.
Shhink!
Chance whipped around, eyes widening in terror at the sight of Tusk standing alone before the Lord Trio with their nail drawn, standing in challenge to the Mantis Lords. The Lords stood in unison, finally responsive to someone who spoke their language, and the copper trapdoors around the throne room opened to reveal a massive pit of lethal spikes, surrounding Tusk and the Lords on all sides.
No, not a throne room, Chance realized with growing terror. The massive, empty space, the corpses on spikes, all of it suddenly made sense.
This isn't a throne room. It's an arena.
Something on the ceiling rattled, and a cage began falling onto the arena, intending to lock Tusk alone with three deadly foes. Chance wasn't sure what overtook him, but he sprinted over with his heart pounding in his chest and legs pounding into the dirt, before making a desperate leap into the arena, narrowly avoiding getting trapped under the cage's bars by mere inches.
He landed flat on his chest, knocking out all the wind in him, before quickly scrambling further into the arena floor to avoid falling into the spikes. When he stood, he and Tusk were locked in the cage surrounded by spikes with no way out, and one of the Mantis Lords had disappeared from sight.
Oh, Chance, my dear.
You've just sealed your fate.
She was impossible to pin down.
At one moment, she would be striking at Chance, only to immediately launch an assault at Tusk. And the next, she would be up near the top of the cage, clinging to the bars.
When she landed there again, Tusk valiantly leapt up, nail drawn back to strike at her exposed form. Just as they drew close, however, the Lord sprung from the wall, impossibly fast, and in the same motion, dove at Chance with her lance-like blade.
Shit-!
Mind burning with adrenaline, he dove to the ground. The Mantis Lord just barely missed him, only grazing his side. In the rush, he barely felt the biting pain of his tumble, or the bite of the blade. Tusk swept to his side, and helped him to his feet.
Already, the Lord had vanished once again, all left of her a stiff breeze. Chance and Tusk stood back to back, heads wildly shooting about to find her.
How the hell is she doing that?!
She was fast. Unnaturally so.
Chance caught a blur of motion, but by the time he turned his head, it had already become nothing more than wind.
She was wind.
She was everywhere and nowhere.
A violent air current ripped above them. A blur. The Lord, for a moment frozen in the air, nail poised to skewer them from above. Tusk, with lightning reflexes of their own, tackled Chance just as the Mantis plunged downward.
Even then, she barely missed, her nail embedded into the ground where he once lay, now right between his feet. She glanced up, and her eyes met Chance's for a heartstopping second. That second was all she needed to wrench her nail free, but that brief pause was also more than enough for Tusk.
A vicious bite of their blade embedded into one of the Lord's slender limbs. She hissed venomously, and forced her blade out of the stone. Chance futilely tried to stop her by grabbing one of her legs, but today shall be remembered as a great loss for our Tribe. Many, if not all of us, have lost family members and loved ones, to this… this insurgence.
A child may run off, leaving a cold nest for their parents to wake up to; or a parent may run off, leaving a defenseless infant alone in the dark.
Or perhaps a brother may flee into the blinding light, chasing dreams of peace and strength for his own loved ones, unaware - or perhaps uncaring - that his efforts to protect them, hurt them more than he could ever imagine.
Today is a day of mourning. But it is not a day of despair.
With heavy hearts, and with another gust of wind, Oasis had vanished from sight.
Chance stumbled back to the ground, blinking rapidly, head throbbing.
What was that?
He shook his head, scrambling to his feet. Oasis, clinging again to the bars of the cage, hanging high above them. Tusk was already scaling up to her with their claws. Just as they reached her, the Lord did… something with her nail. The world around her warped almost imperceptibly, and Chance had to squint to see it clearly.
The blade tore the very air apart, unnaturally bending around the blade. A whistling maelstrom, a razor sharp edge of wind, shot out from the distortion. Tusk, at the apex of their jump, was squarely hit by it with a sickening crack. Several cracks were running across their mask, and they were sent tumbling down.
Chance was already running to where Tusk was about to land, not even thinking.
He tripped, sprawling out on the ground. A moment later, Tusk landed just in front of him, tumbling onto the stony surface. They lay still for a second, before shakily getting up, only to jump to the side as Oasis flew past. There was enough of an opening to get to Tusk, and with a hand on them, revitalize them.
A faint shadow fell over them.
He grabbed Tusk's wrist, and with a leap, dodged to the side, just in time to miss the Mantis.
Tusk's blade found home in the prone Lord's body, but with another gale, she had disappeared.
Was she… teleporting?!
There was no way that speed was natural, even for the lithe Mantis. What sorcery was this?
Impossibly, he swore Tusk's eye sockets grew wider, looking at something behind him. He whipped around, only to get a close look at the charging Lord.
Tusk leaped out of the way, while he desperately rolled to the side. But, he wasn't fast enough.
The Lord tackled him to the ground, her nail missing his head by an inch and embedding into the stone once again. She wrenched her nail free, and raised it just above her head.
Oh god, he was going to die here.
He stared at the glistening blade, a singular moment, a millisecond, frozen in his mind. One miniscule slipup had led to this. The future had closed itself to him.
…
He didn't want to leave Tusk.
…
Suddenly, moonlight flooded the cage and slammed into Oasis, forcefully knocking her off of him. A moment later, Tusk had vaulted over Chance's prone body, and latched onto her, nail in hand.
Tusk simply wouldn't let go of Oasis. Their grip was true, and she couldn't shake them off. They were too quick; as soon as she tried to pull them off, they would scurry to another position. She, at one point, took a blind stab at them, almost stabbing herself in the process.
While the two fought, Chance got back to his feet. Almost immediately, he doubled over, orange bile spewing from his throat.
Oh god, he was going to die here.
The Mantis Lord finally managed to shake Tusk off. They flew through the air, landing close to him.
The Mantis Lord landed galey at the edge of the cage, lance already prepared for a charge. Time stood still for just a moment. A slight posture shift sent Oasis hurtling their way, fully intending to skewer them. Move now, or die.
God, this was going to hurt.
Chance screwed his eyes shut. Screaming very un-heroically, he lunged at her oncoming form. Under her blade, right into her legs.
She didn't just slam into him. Like running into an oncoming train, the sheer force threw him back, his arms and ribs cracking under the pressure. Oasis didn't fare much better, as she was thrown off her charge and slammed into the ground. Her nail flew out of her grasp as she rolled, stopping just before falling into the spikes.
Chance hit the ground a moment later, landing hard on his arm. A clear Snap! sprung through the area, with a muffled shriek of pain from Chance.
FUCKfuckFUCkcufkcFUCKfcuKCUFUCK-
F-Focus.
While he grunted and groaned on the floor, marshalling the willpower to prove that his body wasn't shattered, Tusk quickly was at his side.
Chance wrenched his head from his chest.
"I'm Fine!" He shouted, fire in his eyes. His gaze made contact with Tusk's sockets, causing them to flinch back.
Okay… okay… Focus.
Focus through the pain.
He wasn't in pain.
He wasn't-
He coughed up more orange bile.
Everything. Was. Fine.
Everything. Is. Fine.
He got back onto his unbroken, rested body, stretching slightly.
Tusk glanced at his movement, but kept where they were. The Lord had disappeared, all remaining of her being several splotches of green blood on the ground.
"Did you…"
A nod.
But the cage wasn't gone, nor the spikes retracted. He spun on his heel to the other Two Lords, still on their thrones.
Wait, no. Two remaining Lords, and one battered Oasis, sitting sullenly on her throne. Several deep gashes were slashed into her body, still oozing a bit of blood. Tusk certainly did a number on her.
And he'd just sat back, licking his own wounds and hardly helped at all. If nothing else, he felt miles better, compounded off the high of a victory.
He shook his head. They'd won now, right? He could… it didn't matter. He could just talk his way out of the rest of this now.
As though the music had suddenly come to a slow, Chance stretched his - not broken - arms in the air and gave a heavy yawn. "Weeeell," he sighed, "Alright, good fight, good fight!" He cracked out the kinks in his neck, shaking his jittering body out to drain it of the remaining adrenaline.
He gave the trio of Lords a big, friendly smile.
"So, uhh, I beat your boss… can I go home now?"
The two Lords flanking Oasis rose from their thrones wordlessly, and in the blink of an eye, both they and Chance's smile vanished completely.
Shit.
He barely had time to even blink before a gust of wind blew right next to him. One of the Lords stood poised to charge at Tusk. But where was the other-
Another gust, right above him. On instinct, he threw himself to the side. The Lord landed right next to him. Tusk fared better, elegantly dodging the other noble.
On a blind hunch, he threw a punch at the Lord that had landed next to him. His fist, just barely, managed to land? I'd say that was more of a crash, dear sister.
My thoughts exactly. How will we ever win, with you dragging us down?
Oh, don't be cruel, R██████. We've all had our struggles. Need I remind you of when we were younger? Our spar in the Waterways-
Tch! Don't even mention it. We all grow from our suffering. I know I have.
And she will, too.
Oh, but C████r doesn't. He never learns.
Mhmhmhm. Yes, perhaps not C████r.
...We're doing another match. From the top. Stand up, Cecelia's leg landed in Chance's gut, launching him away before she vanished. He could've sworn he saw his life flash before his eyes as his body rolled just a bit too close to the spikes along the edges.
That wasn't his life, though, was it?
One Mantis they had barely managed to beat, but two?
Oh god, he was going to die here.
The only chance they had was for Tusk and himself to divide and conquer, one Lord for each of them. Of course, that plan had more than a few holes, and if he didn't figure something out soon , he'd have his fair share of holes in him, too. Most glaring of them all, Chance didn't have any real weapon. Not including his body, but he really didn't think his mad, suicidal tackling ploy would work again.
He took a step forward, and froze. Nobody was moving. The two Lords hung off the sides of the cage, and Tusk stood still in the center of it all. Even Oasis, tending to her wounds from atop her throne, joined them as they all stared off towards the pit they had entered the throne room from.
And then he heard it. The buzzing of wings, the pounding feet, the buzzing of voices .
He swore he only blinked, and they were everywhere.
The entire rest of the Mantis Tribe surrounded the cage, the bars being the only thing keeping them from mobbing the arena. Hundreds of jeering Mantises, all eyes on him, all eyes recognizing the one who had robbed them, tarnished them, rejected everything about them. All eyes waiting for him to slip up and spill blood. Screaming for it.
Chance could feel himself tense up; his breathing grew erratic, his shoulders clenched up involuntarily, his feet couldn't stay still. He had to force himself to not curl up into a ball on the ground from the sheer panic running through him.
There was no good way out of this.
(If Rio and Jeremy were among the crowd, he couldn't see them anywhere. He hoped they managed to escape. He also hoped they didn't escape and came to watch him, just so he didn't have to feel so alone.)
Turning his gaze back to the arena, he could see the Lords on the move again, and he mentally steeled himself for their next attack.
But, no next attack came.
At him.
Cecelia charged Tusk, who deftly dodged, only to narrowly miss a sharpened blast of air from the other.
Oh.
Oh, God.
They were ignoring him.
They knew he was harmless, and now were focusing on the actual threat; Tusk.
Even with Tusk's endless agility and energy, they couldn't dodge forever. The Lords could constantly press their attacks and control the flow, giving Tusk no space to counterattack.
He was already running forward. Blindly, in panic, with no thought. He didn't know what he was going to do. He just needed to break it up somehow.
Without even glancing his way, one of the Lords conjured a sharpened blade of air. He ineffectually jumped to the side, but the blade caught his arm. It cut a deep gash into the flesh, hot blood pulsing from the wound.
He fell to the ground with a cry, clutching his wounded arm.
Tusk heard his cry, turning to him for just a second. Their distraction was all the Lords needed. One of them slammed down onto them, nail first, cracking their mask on the stone floor, black matter seeping from their face like blood.
He didn't even bother with his arm. Tearing his bloodied hand away from the gash, he staggered forward, half-falling towards the Lord that stood over Tusk like a wounded animal that needed to be put out of its misery. His hands grew sharp, and I'm loathe to admit it, but even Oasis is starting to miss you.
And you're not?
Oh, as if. I'm more than capable of surviving without you holding us back.
And as am I. Now, if you're not here for a drink-
Damn it, listen to me for once, why don't you?
I'm listening. I've been listening. I've been listening to you all my life, and here I am, in a place where I don't have to listen. And yet, here you are.
...It's… unlike us, unlike our tribe, to remain divided so. It's unnatural. Were the tension in the air any thicker, the younglings could use it for target practice.
Ha, I think that's just the usual unbearable atmosphere of the Wastes you're thinking of. Besides, I can't possibly be causing that much of a disruption-
You and your daughter.
Double a tiny value is still tiny.
Chance wished he could agree, but the two Mantis Lords swirling around him convinced him otherwise.
A wind blade just barely over his shoulder. Another scraping past his ankle. Chance spun around just in time to see Rosanna staring him down like a bull, before she charged forward, intent on impaling him straight through the gut. He reeled back, and he could feel the bite of her blade graze through his side as he hit the ground and she vanished again.
With a pained groan, he rolled over on his mostly unscathed side because he had no time to heal no time to heal no time have to KEEP moving, they were ON him he had seconds left. run RUN keep moving they were on him he had to get out get Tusk get out now he was trappedkeepmovingkeep FIGHTING, keep going they are scum under your heel make them all your BITCHes tear to shreds tear him to shreds seconds seconds seconds they were HERE they were on all sides. Hissing clanging blade on metal the crowd the crowd on him blade through his heart heart stop blood cough up blood. No breathing could not breathe heart blood could not breathe, ground ceiling floor wall? Brown. Copper. Gold. Orange. Green. Blue. Orange. Red. Orange. Orange. Orange Oraneg orange Orange oregne aronge Orange-
Tusk's eyes met his.
The Lord's eyes met his.
The Lord's blade met Tusk's eyes.
The Lord's blade stabbed out the back of Tusk's skull, and pried open their head.
…
…
He'd shouted "Tusk." He knew he had shouted "Tusk" when he saw their neck snapped, mask split clean in two. He'd shouted and he hadn't heard a thing.
The howls and clamor of the crowd around them had gone mute. He felt the agonizing vibration in his throat, he could feel his mouth moving, but no words came out. None that he could hear, anyway.
He'd hardly felt his footsteps on the ground as he sprinted over to Tusk's body. It didn't feel like a sprint. It felt like he was wading through molasses, taking far too long to reach Tusk's body Tusk's body on the ground body Tusk was a body head gone head gone head gone-
And then the molasses around his body pulled inwards, pulled together from the pool it had formed around Tusk's body oh god tusk's body, and Chance was seeing a ghost.
He was still screaming, he could tell. A wetness rolled down his face, and he couldn't seem to stop it. It didn't matter; with the numbness welling up from his very core, he wouldn't be able to see past the blur anyway.
Why was he here? Why did he want to come here so badly? He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die.
He didn't know what he was looking at anymore. Colors and shapes all blended together, and he couldn't focus on anything he saw. Like trying to make out street lights as the rain pounds on your windshield on a dark night, and you can't tell if that distant red blur is a stop light or someone's rear lights. And it didn't matter by now, anyway; the road was too slick, and it was too late to stop now.
One way or another, all that would be left of you would be the dark skidmarks on the road from the last seconds of your life, trying, begging to turn back, too little too late.
And he was begging, begging for the Lords to just let them go, begging for mercy, begging for his life back, begging to go home, begging to be free. He didn't want to die.
So they freed him.
They burned him.
Chance fell on his back, body convulsing, blinking back the tears just long enough to glance over his left shoulder to see the burn, to see his numb and bloodied arm.
His arm, six feet away from his body.
It's an interesting little story you've got here.
And as he bled out, he glanced up and his tired, tangerine eyes gave one final gaze into the blinding headlights of the inky black ghost that was once Tusk.
He vaguely remembered raising a hand to block out the light, the light that threatened to consume him.
Wouldn't you like to know how it ends?
And consume him it did, and Chance knew no more.
…
…
…
…
…
beep.
beep.
beep.
…
beep.
…
beep. beep.
beep. beep.
...
It was…
...
beep. beep.
...
… so bright.
That was the first thing he'd noticed, as consciousness had flowed back into him. The second thing he noticed was that this wasn't the Fungal Wastes anymore.
The bed he lay on was too soft. The air was too clean - too clean, chemically sterilized with something that smelled like bleach. The bandages around his body were too recent, the sheets were too white, and the lights were too bright.
This wasn't the Fungal Wastes. It wasn't even Hallownest anymore.
This was a hospital.
Chance gave a stifled groan as he tried to raise an arm to cover his eyes. Squinting, he looked around his hand, half in the shade and half illuminated; snow-white bandages across his palm and over his fingers, trailing all the way up his arm.
His right arm was beat up, but a lazy glance over made him worry for his left arm; completely buried under a heavy cast and hung in the air by a sling. He was completely numb; his arm could've been there just as easily as it could not. Though, on the other hand, the fact that there was a cast at all was promising for his recovery.
His right arm - his good arm - was occupied by a needle from an IV bag, also just as numb as his left. Actually, his whole body was numb, head to toe. All he could feel was this dull, throbbing ache all over.
He let his arm fall over him and his hand to slide down his face, trying to wake him up better. He reached back into his mind, trying to remember how he got here.
Something about… a car. A rainy, shrouded night. A red light. He slammed on the brakes, and…
...So was that it?
Was everything that had happened to him just his head getting banged too hard in a car crash? Was Hallownest - the Infection, the False Knight, Hornet, the Mantis Lords, Tusk-
Was it all nothing but a dream?
...He chuckled. It really had felt real. But if it wasn't this whole time… well, that was one way to cure the Infection. The Infection that never existed. As for Tusk… they would be just fine in non-existence, he decided. He was free. He could kick back, let himself heal, let all his memories slowly trickle back in over time. He didn't know how long it'd take, but he figured it wouldn't be long. When he was out of here, maybe he could write a book about the crazy dream he'd had in a hospital bed. From the safety of a writing desk, with the terrors of Hallownest safely and firmly separated by a thin sheet of paper.
Maybe it'd be fun.
It wasn't his problem anymore.
Just as he closed his eyes with the comfort of this thought, he heard the tapping of shoes approaching him. And from behind the curtain, a nurse stepped into view.
Chance couldn't help but squint at the sight of her. He wasn't a doctor, but he was pretty sure nurses weren't allowed to wear high heels on the job. And didn't nurses usually wear blue these days? What was with the red and white getup?
...Yeah, no, what was with the getup in general? He couldn't see her eyes past her shimmering silver hair, adorned with a white cap displaying a red cross, but he could see her soft golden lipstick curled up in a sly smile. Her suit - if you could call it that - was nearly skin-tight, latex-like and shined under the blinding hospital lights, and covered far less skin than was probably appropriate. He was reasonably certain nurses weren't allowed to show that much cleavage while working, and that skirt looked almost criminally short. Were thigh-highs ever a part of a nurse's uniform?
With a sigh, Chance let his head fall back into his pillow, feeling a blush bloom across his cheeks. He didn't care. He was tired and he didn't care. She could be wearing nothing at all, as long as he still got himself fixed up and out of here soon enough.
The nurse turned her back to him - he really shouldn't be looking - and fiddled with some tools on a table. She gave a soft, breathy sigh, and Chance finally couldn't help but steal a glance as she opened a drawer and pulled out a small scalpel.
Turning on her heel, and with a precision that took lifetimes to master, she held the scalpel between her fingers and flung it straight at Chance's throat.
Chance reflexively flung himself to the right, and the thrown scalpel embedded itself into the pillow, only managing to nick the side of his neck. He yelped as the sling holding his cast in place snapped, and the flimsy rollaway hospital bed he was laying on fell on its side, taking him down to the floor in a mess of thin blankets. The IV bag stand fell down with him as well, hitting the floor in a noisy clatter. Chance gave a pained groan as he hit the solid floor, still beaten and bruised from whatever put him in this hospital to begin with.
"YOU IDIOT!" the nurse shrieked, storming over to where he collapsed on the ground. With a panicked breath, and oh god he definitely was not tired anymore, Chance scrambled back as much as his battered limbs would allow him. On instinct, he grabbed ahold of the fallen IV pole, and although he could only effectively use one arm, he held it up as a weapon as best as he could.
The nurse grabbed onto the other end with an iron grip. "I set," she seethed, "EVERYTHINGUP FOR YOU!" With a flick of her wrist, she bent the metal IV pole all the way down the middle like it was a twig. She flung her arm outward, and the pole was ripped out of Chance's grip and thrown halfway across the room, crashing into another table of medical supplies and smashing everything in its way.
Chance could barely breathe as she stood above him, she was on him, he could feel the gravity of her fury pressing down on his chest like a boulder, staring up in terror, unable to tear himself away from her brilliant orange eyes, and he was trapped-
"And YOU went and…" She trailed off. Her anger wavered and her face shuddered, her eyes starting to grow wet as she stared down at him. "And you…"
With a cry, she collapsed into him, her body wracked with muffled sobs into his shoulder. Chance stared at the stranger like she was an alien; she'd just tried to kill him, and now she was holding him like a giant teddy bear on the floor, using him to comfort herself from whatever unknowable grief she was suffering.
Without having the foggiest clue of what to do or think, he hesitantly brought up his good arm over her back, and tried to wrap her in a reluctant embrace. Feeling his warmth, the nurse huffed, then huffed again; her body shaking not with sobs, but with gentle, somehow bitter laughter.
"Y-you, haah-" the nurse mumbled, "You… don't even know what's going on… do you? No… you don't even remember."
And then she fucking licked him.
Chance's whole body seized up as her tongue danced over the wound on his neck - that she herself made - lapping up his blood like it was water in a desert. His blush returned in full force as he realized that she had been straddling him this whole time; him, wearing little more than a hospital gown, and her wearing little more than… nothing. He didn't like this.
"I had this all set up for you," her voice took a deep, sultry tone, and in the back of his mind, he was starting to think this woman didn't have an actual medical license. "When you were done, I'd be here for you, and we'd have allllll niiiiiiight, just to ourselves~" Her breath flared up against his neck, and he felt like he was on fire.
"All night, for me to… tend to your wounds, dearest~"
...Alright, look. He was a guy. Sometimes, he couldn't help it. It wasn't like he had any control over this situation to begin with. All he could do was try to make himself as small as possible, and pray that nobody else would stumble in here and see them like this.
A soft, petrifying laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about anyone else walking in on us, love. Unless you'd like that…?"
...Oh no.
She sat up, sitting on his waist properly now, and let Chance get a good, long look at her face. Her flowing, silver hair; her shimmering golden lips; her clear skin, smooth as porcelain. and her brilliant tangerine eyes, somehow brighter than the light behind it, casting her shadow down onto him, and in that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of inhumanity from the woman sitting in his lap.
"It just occurred to me… We haven't been properly introduced, have we?" In a flash of sunlight, two grand wings flared into existence from her back; wings made of soft fluff, tendrils trailing behind her like some eldritch monster. Her nurse's cap was replaced by a three-pronged silver crown, and the rest of her outfit was replaced with some kind of armor (though, no less skimpy than the last getup).
"I am the Radiance," her voice projected directly into his mind. "I am the Goddess of Light and Dreams, the Breaking Dawn, the Mother of Moths, the harbinger of the Light Plague."
She lay a finger - a soft, fluffy finger - on his lips, and her silhouette gave him a small smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, love. 3"
"I'm sorry. I'm-" She gave another light chuckle. "It's just… I've been waiting for so long, to hold you close like this~"
She - the "Radiance" - lay back down, using his body as a giant pillow, softly humming into his chest as she moooOoookkkaayyy, don't look down don't look down don't loowwhyYyy was she pressing into his waist please don't move down please don't move down please don't move down-
Yeah, okay. Fine. It was """hot""". Sure. Whatever. It didn't make him want to get the hell out of here any less. Nothing about this made him comfortable. She tried to stab him, dammit.
"Aah, you're so good to me…" she whispered, eyes closed as she held him. At some point, the floor had turned into a soft bed, and all the clutter around him had vanished, leaving them in an endless white room where every surface felt like a cloud. It reminded him of a mental asylum.
"Sooo goooood… That's your flaw, Chance, you're too damn nice to people…"
For the first time since he'd nearly been stabbed, Chance licked his dry lips and shakily said, "W-What do you mean?"
"...Ah. No, you don't remember, do you?" She hummed to herself. "I can't blame you for hoping it was all a dream. But I'm afraid to say, Chance, that this is the dream. You're still half-dead in the Wastes."
Chance's eyes widened with horror. "W-Wait-"
"Mhmm. There was never any so-called 'car crash'. You fought the Mantis Lords and lost." Before Chance could speak she hushed him again, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. "But you lived. You lived because of course you did. "
Chance could only stare.
"That was my whole plan, you see? It was an experiment. I wanted to see how you would react in the face of a terrible fate. If you tried to escape, and gave into my influence completely, like a weathered pebble in the unstoppable flow of a river, then you would have lost.
But you didn't. You kept fighting, stayed strong, and at the end of it all I would bring you here and we would…" she trailed off. "Well. I think you can guess."
Chance stared, gulped, and suddenly sat up.
"Wait, so it WAS a test! There was a losing condition!"
The Radiance blinked in surprise, before huffing, turning her gaze away from his. "Irrelevant."
"I nearly DIED-!"
"But you didn't," she stated firmly, in a voice that left no room for argument. Seeing his startled expression, she softened up. "Though, I would have preferred if you tried a bit harder to preserve yourself…"
Chance furrowed his brow. "Meaning…?"
"Well… Oh, damn it all, I'd be better off just showing you."
Her hands - No, her paws - grabbed either side of his face, and she pulled him into a searing kiss, burning away his fear, burning away his pain, burning away his sight, burning away the whole world, burning away his mind, burning away-
…
…
...
…
Burning away him.
Chance fell on his back, body convulsing, blinking back the tears just long enough to glance over his left shoulder to see the burn, to see his numb and bloodied arm.
His arm, six feet away from his body.
The crowd around him, who cheered uproariously at his defeat, had quieted down and watched in a silent awe as he bled out on the stones.
Six feet away, his severed arm twitched, warped, and like an ejected CD, the Mantis Claw slid itself free from its dying flesh. Rosanna bent down to pick it up gingerly, regarding the bloodied metal like dirty laundry that needed to be deep-cleaned before she could even stand to look at it again.
"What has been stolen…" she spoke, projecting her voice to the crowd that had gathered around the arena, "...has been returned."
Chance glanced up and his tired, tangerine eyes gave one final gaze into the blinding headlights of the inky black ghost that was once Tusk.
Cecelia stepped closer. "To think he'd spend his final moments begging for mercy, not for his own sake, but for a Vessel's…"
...A Vessel's?, Chance thought silently, his mind growing numb. What's a Vessel? Was he begging for mercy? Were these his final moments? Was he begging for someone else?
No… why should he be begging? He could do it himself.
He would do it himself.
He already has done it himself.
Raising his remaining arm up to the ghost that remained of Tusk, he felt the cold wisps dance between his fingers, and for a moment, he felt something that wasn't blind pain or empty numbness.
He only had enough Soul to heal one of them.
The two cracked halves of Tusk's mask rattled, which didn't go unnoticed by the Mantises, least of all their Lords. Rosanna made a move with her spear, but Oasis silently raised a hand to her, letting events unfold as they would.
As though pulled together by some ghostly force, the mask halves flew upwards and met the inky ghost that hovered over him. The ghost pulled itself inwards,curled up into a tight little ball of darkness, and let the porcelain mask encase them, the deep cracks running up and down Tusk's face slowly shrinking, mending itself back together again.
And with a quiet Pop!, Tusk reemerged into existence again, falling into Chance's coat with a flop. They were still injured, but they were alive, in one piece.
Chance gave a small smile, and let his arm flop to his side, letting the darkness take him.
The arena was silent as Tusk pulled themself up, sitting on Chance's stomach, staring at his unmoving face. Waiting, waiting for him to wake up and heal himself too. Tentatively, they reached out and poked his bloodied cheek with their finger. Then they gave him a firmer jab.
And soon, they had grabbed onto his hair, tugging, desperately trying to wake him up. Inky black tears welled up from their eyes and rolled down their mask, catching onto the cracks in between like a river flowing into a valley. Shaking uncontrollably, they grabbed the neck of his shirt and hit his head on the ground.
Why was he still asleep? Didn't he know sleep was a bad thing? Why didn't he just heal himself like he always had?
Cecelia watched in some unreadable awe. "He… gave his own life… for a Vessel…?"
Everyone in the arena nearly jumped out of their own chitin when Oasis slammed her spear at the foot of her throne, like the shot of a gun echoing through the throne room, demanding the attention of all present.
"I've seen enough! Move these two up to our medical wing, now!"
Rosanna took a firm step forward. "Sister, we cannot just heal a villain to our Tribe-!"
"I don't CARE!", she roared, slamming her spear down again as she stood from her throne. She waved her spear once in the air. "CALL FOR THE HEALERS, IMMEDIATELY!"
And with a third and final bang of her spear, like a judge's gavel, the spikes were covered and the gates rose.
The crowd ran in all directions, nobody sure where to go or what to do, everyone trying to catch a glimpse of the human! who had robbed them and soiled their honor, only to be smited by their beloved Lords. A group of Mantises in primitive medical gear crowded around Chance's body, gingerly lifting him up, not even bothering to move Tusk off of his body and letting them ride on Chance, with ink-black tears still rolling down their face and dripping down, staining Chance's shirt a deep black.
Glancing down at the bloody Mantis Claw in her hands, Rosanna gave a frustrated huff and tossed it to the ground, barking orders at the crowd to keep them under control.
Guards surrounded the doctors on all sides, unwilling to let a rogue Mantis jump in and finish the job the Lords left for them. One of the Mantis doctors pushed through their tight barrier from within and sprinted back into the arena, before carefully collecting Chance's severed arm from the ground, and running back to the main group.
"For limb replantation," she had breathed, only just realizing that she had left herself open to attack from any proud Mantis who didn't want to let the human! get away with his life. "If we reattach it quickly enough, he has a chance to recover."
"Chance… didn't he say that was his name?"
"So the human's name is Chance, hm?"
"Chance…"
Already, whispers and rumors began to spread through the crowd, something not even the Lords could control. They whispered among themselves, that the human was a renowned criminal wanted in kingdoms over, that he was descended from the legendary thief-hero they heard about in their children's stories, that he was here to steal a cure to the Infection…
And as the crowd split apart, some dispersing back to their daily routine, some still eagerly following the healers from a safe distance, a lone Mantis walked into the arena.
Lightfoot reached down and picked up the Mantis claw, feeling the cool metal and the hot blood pooling around it, and held it in his claws, glancing over at where Chance's convoy had left, lost in his thoughts.
…
…
...
…
He didn't suddenly wake back up.
Er, fall back asleep?
He eventually was back in his dreams, but he didn't just open his eyes and find himself there. He ebbed and flowed between reality and dreams, never fully conscious of either existence, rising and falling steadily like the waves on a beach, before he could finally reach high enough to grab hold and pull himself firmly onto one side.
This… "Radiance" woman was still here. She'd taken the time to redecorate a bit.
No longer were they in a hospital setting. They were in some kind of royal bedchamber, grand and lavish; Everything was either made of gold, or shined like it. Beautiful tapestries with colors he'd never seen before hung from every wall. Intricate wool carpets rolled over a floor so well-polished you could use it as a mirror. Marble pillars rising beyond a ceiling made of clouds. The bed felt like a cloud, too, with dreamcatchers hanging from its awning over him.
All these luxuries that the richest of the rich could only hope to afford, and the Radiance had decided that he was the comfiest thing in the room.
She laid against his right side, snuggled against him. Yet again, he felt like a teddy bear. Her arms wrapped around his, her silvery wings covering him like a blanket. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful.
Did… did she fall asleep with him?
Glancing over to his left, he froze. Where his arm once was in a cast, he now had a prosthetic made of solid gold, with mesmerizing engravings of flowers and dreamcatchers etched into its surface. It nearly perfectly resembled a human hand, with the metallic surface bending as he willed it to move. He should've been terrified at the thought of having lost his arm, terrified of all of this, but… something about this construct put him at ease. He was too lost in its glimmer to feel fear or panic.
Silvery, soft paws reached out from behind him and grasped his new prosthetic hand, locking fingers with it, with him. Chance spun around to see the Radiance pressed warmly into his back, a gentle, comforting smile on her features.
"It's only for now," she said. "When you wake up, you'll have your old arm back. There's no need to worry."
He stared into her eyes for a moment - solid orange, almost hypnotic - and decided that yes, he wouldn't worry about it. He was already worried about too much as it was. Letting his head hit the pillow, he sighed.
"So…"
"So."
His breathing was uneven as he tried to find the right words. The Radiance laid a paw on his shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly, silently telling him that she could be patient, that he could take his time. He still didn't feel comfortable in her presence, but at this point he didn't care. He was just so tired.
Finally, he said, "What… was the point of that? What happened?"
"Easy. You saved a Vessel when you could have saved yourself instead, and now you're paying the price for your kindness."
Her blunt answer caught him off guard, and he blinked for a moment before she continued.
"That was… why I was upset earlier. This experiment - test," she caught herself after noticing his flat expression, "this test was meant to be a judge of your will. When you knew calamity was approaching, that you'd be... beaten within an inch of your life soon, would you try to escape it? Or face it head on?
"I offered you escape. Multiple times. I warned you of what was to come, and you kept marching onwards anyway. I was… so proud of you, when you challenged the Lords without caving to my offers."
(Chance decided not to mention the fact that he wasn't the one who challenged them.)
"Your will was strong, and you did not collapse so easily under the pressure of fate. I had prepared everything; your last-minute comeback, your survival, your… reward. " She bit her golden lips, pressing her body into his just a little bit more.
(I don't want your reward. I want to go home.)
"But then you did something I couldn't have predicted. You threw away your own life, discarded your will to survive, the will that I had just put through one of the most trying tests I could. You threw it all away for the sake of a Vessel, a Vessel you had come to care for."
(Chance also decided now would be a bad time to ask what the hell a Vessel was supposed to be.)
"Your will to resist the flow of fate was strong, for yourself. But when someone else doesn't have that same strength of heart, self-preservation is the last thing on your mind. A will to survive becomes a will to save.
"At first, I was furious. All this, and you gave it all up in the final stretch? But then I realized something important. You didn't fail my test; you split the difference in a way that challenged me, challenged my understanding of what it means to have a "strong will.""
She shifted. She no longer hugged his side, but she was straddling him again, staring down at him, into him, with a hunger that paralyzed him. Her paws pressed down into his shoulders, trapping him under her, trapped-
"And finally, I realized the most important thing of all: You're just like me. You would eradicate every obstacle in your path, destroy every foe under your heel, if you only had the strength to do so. But not for your own sake. You'd undo the seams of the whole world, just to sew a new one where everyone you care for could be happy, even if you suffered for it.
"I made that same decision, too, once. For my tribe. I may have been forgotten, may have been betrayed, but my goals remained the same. If I could pull everyone into my "world", a world where I reign supreme, I could hand-craft happiness for everyone. World peace. Love. Every last bug, clothed, sheltered and fed. Nobody would be alone ever again. All the desires of the world brought together and weaved into a single, grand tapestry. The ultimate dream."
"And if I had to drag every last bug there, kicking and screaming all the way, then by the Gods I'd do it in a heartbeat."
She leaned down, deep. Her face was so close, so close and it terrified him. Her wings flared out behind her, and She was all there was. The Sun in a void, a perfect singularity. And to Her, he was everything.
"Isn't that what you want, Chance? Just to make everyone happy? Come with me, and we shall craft our perfect dream, together. With you by my side, as my King of Dreams, and as my mate."
...If this was a dream, now would be a great time to wake up.
Chapter name and summary are a reference to Sultans of Swing by Dire Straits.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Oasis (Artist)
Cecelia by Simon Garfunkel
Rosanna by TOTO
Voice #1 is Cecelia (Rightmost Lord in-game), Voice #2 is Rosanna (Leftmost Lord), Voice #3 is Oasis (Center Lord).
Holy shit. I did NOT expect this to become our longest chapter yet, but here we are. In fact, this chapter is so long, it's made us reach 100,000 words. It's kind of insane to think about how far we've come since we started this fic a little over a year ago (as of January 4th), and we're only just getting started. Thank you for all your support so far, and we hope to see your continued support as this story continues!
I'm still trying to decide if I want to change Tusk's name back to Ghost or not. again, I *could* do it and it wouldn't hurt or impact the story or any way, I just don't know if I *want* to. I'll have to decide sooner rather than later, so maybe in the next chapter or so I'll come to a conclusion.
this is kind of a dumb thought, but I was thinking of more ways to connect with the community more? I mean, neither Piston nor I have a tumblr account or anything. We communicate mostly through Discord tho, so if anyone was interested, we could make, like, an ethnoentomology discord server or something. just a small, niche thing. unless there's some kind of secret "Hollow Knight Fanfiction server" i don't know about. or would just a tumblr be better? idk.
Speaking of, sorry for not responding to many comments last chapter. my dumbass was worried i'd spoil something. i'll try to reply to more this time!
Next chapter'll prolly be much shorter; just a wrap-up of Fungal Wastes before we move on to the City of Tears (ooh!). Also, maybe a new Midnight Rider chapter soon-ish?
Again, thank you for your tremendous support, and we'll see you next chapter! :)
