"Take me back to the start."


NOTE: This fic's rating has been changed from T to M on AO3 for violence, and I'm considering doing the same on this site, too.

CW: This chapter contains *extreme* violence, gore, and body horror, including descriptions of decapitation and melting flesh. This chapter also contains (attempted) depictions of panic attacks.


...

Bzzt!

…?

...


L████ - R██

Today 11:34 PM
L████: What does this do
L████: WaiT
L████: DAmmit

R██: ?

L████: Dammit dammit dammit
L████: You saw nothing.

R██: who tf are you

L████: Alright, fine!
L████: Fine.
L████: I suppose this is what we're doing, then.

R██: no seriously who are you
R██: r u the one who was calling me earlier

L████: That's not important right now.
L████: What's important is that you turn back!
L████: I know you're headed for the Soul Sanctum. It's too dangerous for you; you're better off leaving the City entirely.

R██: actually what the fuck are you on about

L████: Please just promise me you won't go that way!
L████: Okay?

R██: lol

L████: Chance!
L████: That place is going to kill you!

R██: lmao

L████: Chance!


Cornifer was just getting done with his map, adding the finishing touches so it could be resold up in Dirtmouth, when the wall next to him exploded.

Chance's limp and bloody body came rocketing through the wall, rubble flying everywhere around him as he tumbled across the ground. Eventually, he rolled to a halt halfway across the room. Cornifer stared at the body in horror, his fear barely relieved by seeing that Chance was breathing, at the very least.

He was about to stand over to help him, when a pale glow surrounded Chance's body. With a shaky arm, he managed to push himself up, coughing up crimson blood on the ground.

He looked up at Cornifer, an absolutely manic grin plastered over his face.

" C-Cornifer!" he laughed, struggling to rise to his feet. "I didn't know you were still here!" The glow faded; he must've run out of Soul magic to heal himself with. His wounds were still grievous, but he managed to stand.

...Only to stumble back down. He held his hands to his temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain. "Auughh… Whu… What's in that place?"

Cornifer put his maps and quill aside, realizing he was crushing them in his shock. "A-Are you alright, Chance?!" he asked. Of course he wasn't alright, what was he thinking asking such a foolish question-

With herculean effort, Chance pushed himself back to his feet with a roar. "AAAaaahahahAA! I feel better than I have in ages!" He stretched out his bloody and bruised limbs in triumph, grinning from ear to ear. "I think there's somethin' in the air in that place? I dunno what, but it's like a drug or something! I-I just walk in, and it's- it's all a haze, y'know?!"

Cornifer stared at him in thinly-veiled horror, whatever words he might've spoken dying on his lips.

Chance popped out some kinks in his neck, grinning as he walked back towards the gaping hole in the wall. "Hey, I never asked b'fore, how's Dirtmouth doin'? I gotta go back up 'n visit sometime soon, been too busy!"

Cornifer could barely speak. "...D-Dirtmouth is… fine," he stammered out.

Pulling out Iselda's nail from across his back, Chance gave one last smile, hopping up into the hole. "It's nice seein' ya, man! I'll talk to you soon, if I survive!"

And with that, he jumped down the elevator shaft, and the horrifying sounds of combat echoed through the darkness.

Cornifer stared at the spot in the hole where Chance stood just a moment before, bleeding and smiling like a maniac. Silently, he took his quill and map, and crossed off the section of the wall that was now gone.


Tusk drew their needle, taking a step back as they glared up at the massive looming eye above them, challenging it to make any unexpected moves.

"O-Oh, haha! I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to startle you!"

Jeremy moved his head away from the large glass apparatus, its lens seeming to enlarge his eye to the size of a monster. Tusk relaxed, sheathing their nail underneath their cloak. Jeremy gave them a comforting smile.

"I wonder what this thing is for, anyway…?" The hybrid put his hands on his hips, studying the large device. "If I had to guess, it's probably what they used to channel Soul into patients to heal them. They can't use Soul to heal other people naturally, but the scholars here found a way to artificially manipulate their magic to do it anyway, bypassing nature's laws… They must have been geniuses."

Jeremy grinned, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself. "But Chance can do all that on his own! Isn't he amazing?" His eyes were half-closed, as though stuck in a pleasant daydream.

Tusk walked up to them and hit them in the shin.

"Ow! O-Okay, let's keep moving. I'm sure there's something about Chance's magic here somewhere…"

Tusk stopped and stared up at him. Jeremy paused, tilting his head as he considered the small knight.

"...Where's he at right now, anyway?"


"Friends say he's fine, friends say he's good,

Everybody says it's just like rock 'n' rollllll-!"

Chance's nail smashed through another floating purple blob, the horrific creature popping like a balloon, its melted flesh splattering on the walls and ground. With a cry of rage, he spun around and slammed his nail on top of another shambling mass, over and over again until the gorey puddle on the ground finally stopped moving.

He breathed through gritted teeth, every breath racking his entire body. Chance's eyes were bloodshot as he glared with rage at the enemies approaching him. He held his nail in a vice grip, the blade's handle digging into his palm. In his pocket, his phone was blaring music at max volume for some reason, not that he cared why.

"I move like a cat, charge like a ram, sting like a bee,

Babe, I wanna be your maaaaan-!"

As he stepped forward, a flash blinded him, which left him open for something sharp to be buried into his side. Chance cried out in pain, grabbing at the sword that had him impaled, only cutting up his hand. The bug that had him pinned stared down mockingly with orange eyes into his own.

With an animalistic shout, Chance grabbed the scholar-warrior's cloak in a fist and cleaved their head in with his blade, over and over, until the body fell limp to the floor, their sword sliding out of Chance's cut with a sickening squelch of blood and clattering to the ground.

"Well, it's plain to see you were meant for me, yeah,"

He held a hand to the wound, pale wisps dancing around it until the hole sealed itself back up. He grinned.

"I'm your boy, your twentieth century toy!"


With a heavy thud!, Jeremy placed down a heavy stack of 'books' on the table, before looking around, making sure the noise hadn't drawn any unwanted attention. He sat down at the table while Tusk jumped up into a nearby seat, and he pulled the first book in front of him.

A book. No, this was more like a tome. Except it wasn't, because Hallownest didn't even have paper, or any cheap substitute; what they called "books" were just slabs of carved stone. It was so cumbersome and inconvenient, all for the sake of longevity and affordability. Jeremy almost wished they used normal books and lost half of their works, costs be damned.

Pulling one of the slabs closer to him, he read it over. Then he read another. And another, and another, until he shoved the stupic rock away from him in a fit of frustration.

"It's all just crazy ramblings! There's no science here!"

He crossed his arms in a pout, staring down at the pile of tablets before him. This was a dilemma. He sighed, leaning back on his chair. Glancing around, he looked over the room, at the magic scorch marks on the furniture and curtains, the cracked and broken tablets scattered across the floor. He shuddered as he eyes a corpse of a scholar slouching in another chair a ways away from him.

"...What… happened here, Tusk?" The small knight looked up at him, tilting their head in confusion. Of course they wouldn't know either.

The Soul Sanctum used to be a… well, a sanctuary, for those who studied arcane arts and wished to use them for the world's betterment. Did it just fall along with the rest of Hallownest over time? Or was there something more sinister at play here?

He stood up, pushing his chair back. "Something awful happened here… but maybe what I'm looking for is a document from before that event. So I should look for older records, not newer."

He crossed his arms again, looking over the piles of rocks strewn everywhere. This would be quite the search. Hopefully, he had time…


Chance ground his heel into another purple blob, not listening to its eldritch cries of agony as its goopy form was crushed under his foot, stomping it into the ground.

He was torn up, beaten, and covered in blood; some of it his own, much of it not. The smell was revolting; the gore caked along his skin and clothes, orange and crimson blood intermixed in a vile dance. He couldn't even tell how injured he was anymore, he'd grown numb. He just kept healing and kept fighting.

He could barely hear anything over his own heart pounding out of his chest, and his own panicked breaths. He felt like someone injected cheetah adrenaline into him; it was the air of this place; it was infused with dangerous levels of Soul, drawn to him like iron filings to a magnet, and his body and mind struggled to handle it all.

Soul was life essence. Soul came from the wills and spirits of living beings, who lived, breathed, laughed and suffered just as he did. And something in this Soul was angry. It made his blood pump and his fists clench.

This Soul wanted to hurt people. It made him want to hurt people.

"Friends say he's fine, friends say he's good,

Everybody says it's just like rock 'n' rollllll-!"

A flash. Another scholar appeared in the air above him, some orange and white orb of energy orbiting around it. It spawned a second orb, launching it at Chance, who dashed in the other direction. Using the Mantis Claw, he kicked off of a nearby wall, running along it sideways until he jumped off, swinging his nail against the scholar.

The wizard recoiled, falling to the ground as orange hemolymph oozed from its new wound. Before it could retaliate, Chance dropped his nail, grabbing the scholar by the collar of their cloak and punching them in the face. They spat up more orange blood as he delivered a swift blow to their jaw, rearing back to hit them in the eye-

-In a flash of light, they vanished, and Chance's fist hit nothing but air. Another flash came from behind him, and Chance spun around just in time to see an orange magic orb flying at his face.

"Fly like a plane, drive like a car, bawl like a hound,

Babe, I wanna be your man-!"

He raised an arm to block it, and it exploded. He screamed.

He felt like magma was splashed across his arm, the burns blackening his jacket sleeve. The heat was so intense, it washed through his jacket and across his skin, seeping into his flesh. The cloth of his sleeve had melted into his skin, which had become a gruesome red and black from the burning. Like molten rock, his brittle skin chipped away as his flesh began to melt right off his bones.

The smell alone made him want to vomit. It was a sickly sweet, metallic smell, like the smell of cooking rotten meat over melting copper. It was nauseating, it made his head spin, it was thick enough that it was almost a taste. He'd vomit if he had anything left in his gut.

He doubled over, screaming until his lungs were empty and his throat felt like it was being torn apart.


Cornifer heard horrific screams echo up the elevator shaft, and promptly packed his bag. "Well," he thought to himself, "Now's as good a time as any to get going, and the sooner, the better."


Chance practically shoved as much Soul as he could into his arm, desperate to stop the pain. Soon enough, his flesh un-melted, and most of the pain began to subside, and although the remaining burns on his arm were still nasty, he wouldn't need an amputation.

The wizard scholar hovered above him, more burning orbs surrounding them on all sides, as though challenging him to a fight. With his good arm, Chance grabbed for the nail he dropped, and with a murderous cry, he reared back and threw it like a javelin at the scholar.

"Well, it's plain to see you were meant for me, yeah,"

By some miracle, the nail hit its target dead-on, the blade burying itself deep within the scholar's skull. The force was enough to send them flying backwards through a window, the glass shattering as they fell down in the open rain. Somewhere far below, their body landed on a row of spikes, impaling them high above the City.

Chance stopped to breathe, falling to his knees. The sound of rain through the broken window as all he could hear as he tried to recover. He was surrounded by gore and blood, splattered on every surface, including his own body. The haze that clouded his mind began to recede, just slightly, and he could finally see the world around him, and what he'd done, with a clear conscience.

Chance doubled over and vomited on the ground.

"Yeah, I'm your toy, your 20th Century Boy!"


To say the rock hewn books were confusing would be a major understatement. Nay, an insult to the very idea of an understatement.

This all wrapped in the blasphemous books strewn in front of him.

As Jeremy had previously observed, it was madness in written format. Legible, yet without structure, form, grace , dignity. Random findings, experiments, inane thoughts, and most damning of all, jumbled together without rhyme or reason. Jeremy was faced with the informational variant of finding a needle in a haystack, and who was to say this particular needle even existed?

Frustrated, he pushed the tome away. He had been at this for… how long again? An hour now? Even with his prodigious reading abilities, his studies had all too quickly sunk into a quagmire.

Tusk, who had been picking at one of the tablets, looked over to Jeremy. The little vessel remained mute as ever, yet Jeremy understood the silent question.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

They tilted their head.

"What? I'm trying my best here! 't's not my fault the 'scholars' here went mad with power!"

Tusk straightened.

"Yeah, of course they did. Have you ever tried going mad without power? It's boring. Nobody listens to you."

Reluctantly, Jeremy retrieved the tome he had been pouring over. And thus, returned the headache.

He still couldn't wrap his mind around what had happened here. The atmosphere, the residual soul weighed down on him, seeped into him, yet there was little explanation of why. Some of what he read did point to the scholars of the, ahem , Soul Sanctum experimenting with the stuff, but why would it suffuse these halls like some sort of morning fog?

Tragedy happened here, that he knew.

The scholars were madmen, twisted psychopaths, judging by some of the records, yet to such a level? Soul wasn't supposed to coalesce and stick, at least, not within places such as this. Graveyards, final resting places, but not a Scholarly institution. And that didn't even consider the imbued rage and grief. It spoke of a tragedy, soul twisted to an unnatural extent, modified with wanton abandon.

And now, thrown away, left to rot. And rot, it didn't.

He yawned, rubbing his eyes. He felt like a schoolboy studying for an exam. Blinking away the exhaustion out of his eyes, he looked over the cracked tablet in his hands again, trying to grasp its meaning from whatever bits were left.

Experimenting with the effects of Soul on spatial polarity; attempting to create self-sustaining, long-range spatial "jump" by isolating and amplifying teleportation runes. Observations suggest a breakthrough in sight; expected result is a "wormhole" of sorts. Destination unknown and incalculable; experiments are to take place by Hallownest's border for safety. (The Junk Pit is also a suitable alternative for portal experimentation if need be.)

Addendum: Evidence suggests that Subject "V" hails from the unknown location beyond the spatial distortion. Consider investigating, if she is ever freed from incarceration. -Lady G

Jeremy's head lulled forward, and he had to catch himself from smashing his face into the tablet before him. He gave a heavy sigh, burying his face in his arms on the table as he groaned. There wasn't anything about healing in this place at all! Only creepy attempts at immortality and some weird nonsense about portals!

Peeking out from his arms, his eye caught on one particular slab that stood out from the rest. He grabbed it, pulling it closer to him, expecting nothing.

But as his eyes crossed over the stone surface, he found them widening, his attention enraptured by the knowledge within. He held the tablet close, feeling like he'd struck gold, an excited gleam in his eyes as he laughed softly to himself.

"...Honeyed Tiktik roasted with Sunshrooms, huh? I could use this recipe…"


Chance felt like death.

He'd collapsed on the ground in a puddle of his own orange vomit, the bile staining his clothes and sticking to his cheek and hair. The smell would've made him vomit again if he could. Blood covered him like a sick blanket, orange and purple and red all swirled together on the canvas that was his limp body.

He could barely focus, his dead gaze threatening to slip into sleep. His eyes wavered on the pool of orange he layed in; he was low enough to the ground that the small puddle seemed like an endless ocean, a golden sun setting upon calm waters...

If he fell unconscious now, he'd die for sure. With a strained groan, he rolled onto his back.

...Oh, God, it was on the ceiling. He'd gotten blood on the fucking ceiling, somehow.

Revulsion swarming in his gut and up his throat like a parasite, Chance managed to prop himself up on his elbow, leaning on his side. Some annoying noise kept buzzing in his ear, and he was getting sick of it. Reaching into his pocket with a hand still slick in blood and bile, he pulled out his phone.

"20th Century toy-!

I wanna be your boy-!"

He tapped the phone screen, finding his hands too dirty to be recognized by the touchscreen. His face scrunching up, he half-heartedly tossed the phone across the room. "Shhhuddup," he mumbled, watching as the phone clattered across the floor, the glass scratching on the stone floor.

...It was quieter now. Good. The pounding in his head settled, if only slightly. His mouth and face quivered as he spat into the ground, trying to get the raw and rotten taste of vomit out of his mouth. He couldn't tell if he was gonna vomit again or not anymore.

The pitter patter of soft footsteps approached him. Chance struggled to look up, seeing a familiar pale mask standing above him.

"T-Tushk," he slurred, struggling to breathe through the noxious rot in the air. The small knight was holding his phone, the screen scratched and dirty from blood. With a limp, lazy hand, he reached out and tapped it. By some miracle, the song finally stopped, and Chance took the phone back.

Crawling on the ground out of his own sick puddle, he reached up to grab a nearby bookshelf for support, but the bile on his hands made him slip, and the small shelf came toppling down on top of him with a loud thud. It was thankfully empty, but Chance yelped in pain; he definitely had a broken rib or two ...He should probably fix that. Yeah.

The weight of the bookshelf was lifted, and Chance looked up to see Tusk holding it back upright. Holding onto the edge more carefully, he finally managed to stand up, leaning on the side of the shelf.

He gave Tusk one thankful smile, before his face fell at the state of the room. Several corpses littered the floor with varying injuries; limbs were dismembered, holes were stabbed and heads were bashed in. Blood and gore splattered the room, including the purple liquidy-flesh of those shambling masses.

...He had to get out of here. Now.

Leaning up against the wall, blood and vomit dropping down him and onto the floor, he let Tusk lead him out of the hall. "C-C'mon… J-Jay's gotta be… 'round here… somewhere…"


When Chance staggered in half-dead, Jeremy and Tusk dropped the tablet they were holding and rushed over to him.

"C-Chance!" he cried out, wrapping him in a hug. Chance groaned at the sudden pressure, squeezing his eyes shut. Jeremy noticed and stepped away, "S-Sorry," he said. He looked down at the two of them; their hug had transferred the sick fluids from Chance to Jeremy, smearing them together.

Chance gave a tired laugh. "Y-Your cloak… it's…"

Jeremy's nose scrunched up at the smell, but he shrugged and hugged Chance again, more gently this time. "I can wash it," he said, pulling him close. "I'm… I'm just glad you're okay."

A long silence fell between the two of them. Jeremy let himself rest his head in the crook of Chance's shoulder, closing his eyes in peace. It felt so warm, like this…

"...I am very not fucking okay right now, Jay."

Jeremy blinked, pulling away to look him in the eye. "Can.. can you not heal yourself?"

"Used up… all my Soul on… not dying." He held up a hand to his ribs, but his eyes widened in surprise when cold wisps still danced between his fingers. "...I guess… this place's got a lotta Soul lying around." The ambient soul hanging in the air, while intoxicating, refused to bend to his will.

Something was scratching on the floor. They looked over to see Tusk dragging a large glass bottle of Soul over, the white magic swirling around inside. Chance nodded in gratitude, picking it up by the handle and smashing it on the ground, letting the pleasant cold wash over him.

As he was healing the worst of his wounds, Jeremy spoke up. "W-Where's your nail, Chance?"

Chance froze, the flow of magic in his hands halting for a minute, before he bit his lips awkwardly. "I… Uh… lost it."

"...Lost it, how?'

"I kinda threw it out a window."

"...Oh." Jeremy blanched, but didn't ask; all the details were splashed across Chance's clothes.

Jeremy helped him over to a chair and let him sit down to rest and recuperate. An offer which Chance gratefully accepted. He sat, head bent down, exhausted.

While he did so, Jeremy retrieved a particular tablet from the table, set aside from its brethren.

"Well, since you're here, do you mind if I pick your brain?" He held a tablet of Hallownestian gibberish up to Chance, who only gave Jeremy a dirty look.

He raised a finger to his shoulder and flicked a spec of gore off. Jeremy cringed.

"P-Poor choice of words. You, uh, know what I mean."

Chance sighed and leaned forward, intrigued, "Nevermind. What did you find?"

So Jeremy had been up to some reading, it seemed. That was… more productive than what he had been up to. Especially if it could actually point to something meaningful. He couldn't say he was optimistic; whatever purpose this place had served before, it was a far cry from any kind of respectable hospital. It felt more like a haunted house, or the set of a zombie movie.

But even if he expected nothing didn't mean he couldn't be hopeful. He did not drag himself through all of that shit back there to come home empty handed.

"Everything here's a mess. At best, hastily scrawled notes, and at worst… Eugh." Jeremy pointed at a spot on the tablet, "But one thing that's mentioned a bunch is-"

"Wait. You can read Hallownestian?"

Jeremy paused, and gave Chance a funny look. "...Yeah? I've lived in Hallownest as long as I can remember."

Chance stopped to consider this. He felt his face warm up in embarrassment. "S-Stupid question. What were you saying?"

Jeremy unceremoniously dumped the tablet in Chance's lap, who had to stifle a pained groan. This thing was way too heavy to be useful to anyone.

"Pure Focus."


Chance looked down at his own hands, still stained in blood. He hoped that stepping outside would be enough to wash most of it off, at least until he could find a hot spring again. Survival came before hygiene.

"You think… that's what I have?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I dunno. You've got a type of Focus magic nobody understands, and they're looking for a type of Focus magic that they don't understand. It lines up, if nothing else."

Putting his head in his hand, Chance recoiled when his palm squished against something very much dead on his face. He wiped it away, leaving an orange stain on his fingers. Even Tusk didn't want to be near him, and the small knight didn't seem fazed by anything.

That was it, he was setting his goals now. Once he could put his hygiene as a higher priority than his survival, he'll have overcome the ordeal that was Hallownest's mere existence.

"...less about healing, and more about undoing… Are you listening?"

Chance snapped out of his thoughts. As much as his nerves were screaming otherwise, a bath could wait. "I-I'm sorry, yeah, I'm-" He shook his head. "I'm good. What's up?"

Jeremy sighed, setting the giant rock down on the table. "I think if you wanna know more, we'll have to go even deeper in the Sanctum. There's some loose hints around here, but I think we'll find something really substantial if we-"

Something moved out of his peripheral vision, and Chance turned. The dead scholar slouched in a chair across the room was never dead, their glowing orange eyes boring into them as they rose, their blade in hand.

Tusk shot forth and swung their nail at them, only for the scholar to vanish in a flash of light. Jeremy startled out of his chair, backpedaling as he stared where the scholar was just a second ago, the tablet slipping out of his fingers and clattering to the floor.

Chance tried to stand, but moved too fast, and grit his teeth as a sharp pain flared up in his ribs, and he was forced to sit back down. His body still hadn't fully healed, and unless he got more Soul fast, he was sitting duck here.

A burst of light, and the scholar's imposing form appeared behind Jeremy. The moth hybrid spun around in surprise, but couldn't move fast enough as the scholar's blade made a wide cut, leaving a deep gash in Jeremy's upper arm.

"AAH-!" Jeremy screamed, clutching his arm as he collapsed to the floor. Tusk was already making their way back, but they wouldn't be fast enough. Chance's eyes widened in horror

Jeremy stared up, paralyzed in fear, tear prickling at the corners of his eyes as the scholar raised their blade, aiming for his heart-

BANG.

Everyone jumped at the deafening noise. The scholar jerked back. The blade, moments from ending Jeremy's life, fell from nerveless fingers, and clattered onto the floor.

They stood, dumbfounded at what had hurt them. Jeremy saw it immediately; A small splotch of orange that bloomed dead center on their carapace. Soul leaked from the wound, evaporating into the air.

For a heartstopping moment, the Scholar took a step towards Jeremy, only for them to collapse onto the ground on the next. Jeremy saw the life bleed from their eyes, and with one, last shuddery gasp, they grew still.

He looked up, and saw Chance slouched over in the massive chair, covered in bodily fluids and grabbing his chest in pain. Even from this far away, Jeremy could still smell sulfur and smoke on him. And in his hand, he held the gun, smoke still trailing out of the barrel, floating up in wisps.

Chance's fingers shook, and the gun fell out of his hands, clattering to the floor. He wrapped his arms across his chest, hugging himself as he slumped out of the chair and fell to the floor, eyes squeezed tight in pain.

Tusk was already on the move; they'd brought another large glass jar of Soul, smashing it and letting the pale wisps float into Chance's body. His labored breaths slowed and relaxed, until he could finally stagger to his feet, He clutched his temple in delirium, but snapped back to focus when he saw the wound on Jeremy's arm still bleeding.

"JEREMY!", he cried, stumbling over. He kneeled down next to him, his hands waving over his arm to heal his wound. Jeremy had terrified tears in his eyes as he clutched his arm, blood running down his fingers. (Red blood, Chance noted. Blood seemed to come in all colors of a revolting rainbow in Hallownest, but Jeremy's was at least familiar.)

Soon enough, Jeremy's wound vanished under Chance's healing magic. Even the blood that had been spilled was now gone, somehow. Jeremy's breathing also began to calm down, and the two of them collapsed with their backs to the wall, side by side as they tried to catch their breaths.

"Hey… M-Maybe we should head back," Chance said. "I think that-"

"No… You keep going. I'll head back."

Chance sat up. "H-Hold on a sec, splitting up is even more dangerous than going deeper. Whatever we do, we should do it together." Never mind them splitting up earlier in the Sanctum.

"I-I'm just a liability, Chance," Jeremy lamented. "I'll only drag you down wherever you go. This is something you need to do… I can feel it."

"I…" His self-deprecating comment aside, he didn't see himself fighting Jeremy's conviction. He decided to humor him. "Alright. Let's… At least let us lead you back to the entrance. We'll find a rendezvous point, o-or something. We can meet up when-"

Bzzt!

Oh, what the hell was it this time?


L████ - R██

Today 1:07 AM
L████: Chance!
L████: Is this working?
L████: Hello?

R██: wh
R██: okay first off

R██ changed their name to Chance
Chance: thats better
Chance: idk why it was like that
Chance: who the hell are you? for real

L████: I am...
L████: Er

Chance: j give me a fake name or whatever
Chance: im not calling you l

L████: Well… how about this?
L████: Let's play a game together, Chance.

Chance: luigi

L████: ...I'm sorry?

Chance: i bet ur name is luigi

L████: I'm not
L████: What?

Chance: u were gonna make me guess ur name
Chance: i guess luigi

L████: You're so
L████: Dammit
L████: ...Layla.

Chance: huh

L████ changed their name to Layla
Layla: Did I do that right?
Layla: Oh, good. I think I did.

Chance: i was basically right
Chance: ok but howd you get my phobwasm31h19dhuj,m

Layla: Chance? Are you there?
Layla: Chance!


Chance reached out over Jeremy, trying to grab his phone. "G-Gimmie that, Jay!"

"Who're ya talkin' to, Chance? A giiiirl?" Jeremy was having the time of his life, holding Chance's phone just out of reach, before Chance lunged for it and managed to catch it. "Aw..."

"I really have no clue who I'm talking to, but they seem important, if they can be texting me when I'm in a different universe and God-knows how far underground. Maybe it's like, magic or some shit, I dunno."

Jeremy stared at the phone in Chance's hands, his gaze far away. "Magic…"

He reached into his cloak, shuffling around for something. "I-I didn't mention it before, but I grabbed some stuff from the Junk Pit before we left. This cloak has some deep pockets! I got a surprise for you…"

Chance turned to see what he was talking about, but Jeremy's back was turned and he was hunched over, busy with something he couldn't show Chance. While he was distracted by Jeremy's antics, his phone went off again, and he turned to look at it.

It was from someone new.


Jeremy - Chance

Today 1:12 AM
Jeremy: hi!,,


Chance blinked in surprise, and turned to Jeremy, only to see him presenting an old smartphone in his hands. Jeremy grinned. "Ta-daaaa! ...Do you like it?"

Chance looked it over; it was an old Motorola smartphone, definitely an older model than his own, but still somehow functioned despite the environment it was left in for so long.

"It's… neat. How come you can message me, too? Is there some Hallownestian network I don't know about?"

"Huh? What's- Oh! Is this who you were talking to?"

Chance and Jeremy's phones went off at once, and they both opened up the new message.


Layla, Jeremy, Chance

Today 1:14 AM
Layla: Oh? More fresh meat.
Layla: Greetings, child.

Jeremy: whuahsushsajuh!,,!

Layla: ...That was a joke.
Layla: Chance, who is this person?

Chance: i dont know

Jeremy: Wh! :(((
Jeremy: I"m riGHT Next to you!1

Layla: Surely you know who he is.

Chance: no i dont
Chance: idk who you are, either

Layla: ...Ah. Fair enough.
Layla: Regardless, I'm here to tell you that I've changed my mind.

Chance: ?

Layla: You've more than proved your strength against the Sanctum. It'd be a waste for you to turn back now.
Layla: I suggest you continue further; find the truth that awaits you within.

Chance: ok

Layla: ..."ok"?
Layla: Just like that?

Chance: yea

Layla: ...Hm. Alright.
Layla: You've chosen wisely.
Layla: Do stay safe, love.


"LOVE?!"


What a mess.

It was about an hour later, and Chance had managed to escort Jeremy somewhere safely outside the Sanctum. There were Infected guards everywhere, but they acted like zombies compared to the murderous focus of the scholars in the Sanctum. Jeremy insisted he'd be okay; even if he couldn't fight, he was good at running and hiding. Chance was still worried, but he didn't press the issue.

He had Jeremy all over him the whole time they were walking there about this nonsense on their phones, and about this mysterious "Layla" person. Asking if they were dating or something. He didn't even know her. Him. They. It. Fuck.

Layla… Something about it screamed "fake name" to him. Was Layla someone he already knew, going under a pseudonym? But every time he tried to think of who it might be, the name eluded him, vanishing as he tried to grasp it like fog.

This was just an unnecessary headache. He had more important issues right now.

He and Tusk looked out a large window, over what appeared to be a rooftop made from a glass ceiling. The area was surrounded by cave walls, and served no obvious use.

"We've been everywhere else," he said. "May as well check it out. Could be important." Tusk nodded, and they jumped down, walking out into the spacious room.

It was raining in this small corner of the City as well, the blood and vomit on his finally starting to wash them all away. Chance blinked, looking around at those cowards, they can't be trusted to make the hard choices stepped forward, scanning the area for the voice within guides us, promises the life of a god! The light shines the way forward into the room, starting to panic.

Chance reached for his nail, only to remember that he'd lost it. Shit. Was he ready for this? Was it too late to turn back?

He took a step back towards the door, and the world turned to black.

He spun around, feeling his heart beating out of his chest. There wasn't any rain; he couldn't even see Tusk anymore. Nothing but himself in the endless black.

Nothing, except for a distant spec of light that was barely visible on the horizon.

But then it grew larger, and larger, and brighter and brighter, until it exploded into a blinding light so immense Chance had to shield his eyes from the pale sun. Freezing cold, raging rivers of Soul flowed off of it in waves, threatening to drown him as he struggled to hold his ground against-

YOU.

The cacophony reverberated through Chance's skull, sending him to the ground.

WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED, INTERLOPER? AFTER YOU HAVE ALREADY RUINED SO MUCH?

W-What the hell are you talking about? I don't know you.

NO…? YET, YOUR FORM, WITHIN AND WITHOUT, SO MADDENINGLY FAMILIAR...

...AH. SO NOT HER, THEN.

Not who?

HMPH. BUT YOU ARE NOT WITHOUT YOUR OWN SINS, STRANGER; MY LIGHT, THE LIGHT THAT HAS GUIDED MY PATH, PROMISED ME ETERNAL LIFE, HAS GONE DARK SINCE YOUR APPEARANCE.

And... how the hell is that my fault?!

THE LIGHT… DOES IT GUIDE YOUR PATH INSTEAD? WHAT DOES IT SEE IN YOU THAT I HAVE NOT? I MUST UNDERSTAND.

What I wanna understand is where we are! And who are you! And… What's happening?

SPARE ME; YOU'VE SEEN THIS ALL BEFORE. TO PEER WITHIN ANOTHER'S INNER BEING, UNDERSTAND THEM AS THEY ONLY UNDERSTAND THEMSELVES.

...A… Soul Reading? But I haven't even touched anyone-

I AM NOT SO WEAK AS TO REQUIRE SUCH A CONDUIT TO EXERT MY WILL, CHANCE.

Chance blinked, and the world exploded back into existence, and from the cold sun erupted Soul Master Creedence, head of the Soul Sanctum.


He ran and dodged, but only barely. Those orange blobs of Soul came flying at him, blowing into nothing as they hit the ground or walls, but they didn't hit him. They couldn't hit him, he couldn't let them, he couldn't-

Tusk was faring better than he was. They were actually landing hits, fighting back. All he could do was scramble and hope to distract the Soul Master.

While the gargantuan Master was focused on Tusk, he ran up from behind and cleaved their back with the Mantis Claws, hearing them roar in pain before teleporting away. Chance sprinted away from where he stood as those orange things exploded where he was not a second ago, not even bothering to wipe the hemolymph off his hands.

These hit-and-run tactics worked, especially in a two-on-one like this. Even with the advantage of teleportation, the Soul Master still couldn't focus on both of them at once. Tusk did most of the frontal combat, but every now and then Chance would manage a sneak attack as well, and they'd go back and forth like that. They both got Soul out of it, too.

It worked.

Until everything started to fall apart.

Tusk stumbled as they landed from a jump, trying to regain their balance to keep running circles, when the Soul Master took the split second of weakness and rocketed a Soul Ball at them, smashing them square in the mask.

"TUSK!" The Soul Master, Creedence, turned just in time to see an enraged Chance leap onto his face, clawing it. Creedence closed his eyes just in time, but his eyelids still had painful gouges torn into them, hemolymph running down his face as he roared.

Chance jumped away, staggering over to Tusk, waving their hand over their fractured and leaking mask, Focusing their Soul. It was okay, they'd be okay, they weren't hurt, everything would be-

STOP.

And everything stopped.

Chance had managed to heal most of Tusk's injuries, but they were still prone on the ground, struggling to stand. He turned to look at Creedence, who had appeared in the center of the arena opposite from them, up against the wall.

Chance took a moment to catch his breath, staring at the Soul Master in anticipation. For a minute, everything was silent. They only stared at each other, waiting. Creedence seemed to be thinking to himself, calculating the situation.

...SO THAT POWER EXISTS AFTER ALL.

Chance stood up, glaring at the Soul Master with balled fists.

What power? And… What are we even doing? How can I hear you in my head?

WERE YOU NOT EVEN TAUGHT THE BASICS OF TELEPATHY? SHAMEFUL. THERE IS MUCH WE COULD LEARN FROM ONE ANOTHER, CHANCE.

Don't get all buddy-buddy with me! What do you want?!

YOU KNOW THE NATURE OF YOUR FOCUS, DO YOU NOT? THE POWER TO HEAL THOSE AROUND YOU, IN ITS INFINITE KINDNESS. HOW UNIQUE… HOW POWERFUL…

IN SHORT, I WANT WHAT YOU HAVE. A FOCUS AS PURE AS YOURS; IN FACT, YOUR FOCUS MAY EVEN BE THE PURE FOCUS THIS SANCTUM HAS SOUGHT OUT SINCE ITS FOUNDING.

"Pure Focus"? So, what, you want my soul?

YES, CHANCE; I WISH TO TAKE YOUR SOUL.

And the Soul Master flew at him. Chance had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit; even if he was only flying at him, the Soul Master's massive body could hit like a truck. They teleported away, and Chance realized too late that he left Tusk behind. He ran forward to try and pick them up, when an orange orb crashed into the ground where he would've been.

DON'T STRUGGLE; IF YOU DIED BEFORE YOUR PRECIOUS SOUL COULD BE EXTRACTED, IT WOULD BE A TRAGEDY FOR US ALL.

Chance didn't even bother think-shouting something back anymore. He was too busy hyperventilating. With Tusk down, the Soul Master could focus entirely on him. The main reason Chance could do so well before was because he was the underdog, able to slip around unnoticed while Tusk divided the attention so he could strike from behind.

Now? Unless he could heal Tusk again, and fast, things would get really bad, really fast. He could even get hit with one of those Soul Balls. He couldn't let that happen, not again, not after last time, not again-

Just as he thought that, another Soul Ball came flying down, aimed right at his face. Chance screamed, falling back, feeling his heart pounding against his chest like an engine, eyes wide in horror as he watched it come closer, backing him into a wall. He couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe, it was going to hit him, he had to move, he had to-

At the last second, it swerved safely away from him, and smashed into Tusk's limp form.

"nuh...NO!" Chance shouted, trying to get closer. His legs gave out from under him, and he hit the floor. His vision was clouded by tears, and every breath felt like ash in his throat. He used the Mantis Claws to drag himself closer, feeling adrenaline pump through his body, only making him panic more instead of working any miracles.

Why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he stand?

YOU'RE TERRIFIED OF THE SOUL-SPHERES. PARALYZED, EVEN. ...WHY? YOU CAN SIMPLY HEAL YOURSELF AFTERWARDS, CAN YOU NOT?

Creedence's taunts echoed in his head as Chance tried to claw closer. He reached out with a shaky hand, hoping maybe he could use his Soul from a short distance, when several more Soul-Spheres came crashing down into Tusk.

Every hit made Tusk's limp body jerk back violently, ragdolling as they were struck rapidly over and over, beaten into the corner. They did not scream, and the only sounds were of the Soul-Spheres colliding with their body, which cracked more and more with every hit. Their movements were erratic, involuntary, unable to even raise an arm to defend themselves. All they could do was lay there and take it.

Chance's eyes widened in horror, and he reflexively curled in on himself, covering his head with his arms as he tried not to break down and vomit from how hard his heart was beating.

THEIR WOUNDS DO NOT MATTER. NONE OF IT MATTERS. NOW, DEMONSTRATE YOUR POWER TO ME, AND HEAL THE PITIFUL VESSEL.

He… He wasn't even treating this as a fight anymore. It was just a game to him. A sick experiment.

They weren't fighters. They weren't threats. They were animals in a cage, waiting to be tortured and then euthanized.

ONCE THAT VESSEL IS DISPOSED OF, WE CAN MOVE ON, YOU AND I. YOUR WOULD PROVE EXTREMELY VALUABLE TO THE SANCTUM, AND MAY EVEN BE THE KEY TO CURING THE BLASTED INFECT-

Chance reached into his bag and drew his gun, shooting Creedence square in the forehead.

BANG.

The white crystal on his forehead shattered on impact, glass and hemolymph flying. Creedence's eyes widened in shock, mouth hanging open as though soundlessly screaming, falling back to the ground with a heavy thud.

The Soul Master lay there for a long moment. Silence. Chance could only hear his own heartbeat.

One.

Two.

Three...

Four.

He turned and scrambled towards Tusk, the gun still in his hands as he tried to Focus his Soul, healing Tusk as best as he-

Something erupted from his chest, white-hot and furious. Chance couldn't even take a breath as a Soul-Sphere rocketed into his back and shot straight through him like a cannonball.

Blood rose up his throat as his vision blurred beyond recognition, blind panic taking over. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, he was paralyzed in burning, blinding agony. He fell over onto his back, his mangled spine unable to hold him up; whatever parts of it hadn't been blasted away began to crack and shatter. His whole body went limp, but he felt like he was a fish flopping out of water, involuntary spasms running up and down that his body couldn't follow. He was trapped, writhing, a prisoner in his own body.

He coughed up blood. Oh, God, there was a hole in him. If he could sit up, he'd almost be able to see straight through. The flesh should've cauterized from the overwhelming heat, but from whatever sick hell magic the Soul Master used, it melted over like molten rock, his soupy flesh blending with his jacket and shirt, both with a sizable burn-hole in them.

He tried to cough up blood, but he couldn't. He couldn't even think anymore. He couldn't feel. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, why couldn't he breathe-

THAT PITIFUL PEA-SHOOTER HAS CAUSED ME ENOUGH TROUBLE IN ONE LIFE ALREADY. I'LL TAKE IT OFF OF YOUR HANDS.

-this wasn't happening, this wasn't happening, he wasn't here, hewasntherehewasnthere, he wasn't on fire, he wasn't melting, he didn't have a hold in him, he wasn't dying, he wasn't here, he wasn't burning alive, he wasn't suffocating, he wasn't in Hell anymore, he wanted to go home, he wanted to be okay, he was okay, he wasn't dead, he wasn't dead, he wasn't dead, he wasn't dead, he wasn't-

...Dead.

Chance took a deep breath of fresh air.

...Rain.

Rain fell down on his face as he laid on his back, rolling off of him. The cool water was… soothing.

He could breathe.

He could feel.

He was alive.

...

"I… I think I understand, now."

...

He shifted his arms, resting a hand on his stomach, his thumb playing with the soaked fabric of his shirt. With a deep breath, he rolled over, and rose to his feet.

Jeremy's words rang in his ears.

"...less about healing, and more about undoing … Are you listening?"

...

"...This power… Focus, Pure Focus, whatever… it's not just some dumb healing spell, is it? It's about restoration. It's about fixing what's been broken."

The front pocket that I was stabbed through.

Chance tugged his coat closer, running his thumb over its front. Then over its back. Then on the inside of the pocket. The outside.

Again. Again.

It never changed. It was still there.

Or rather, it wasn't.

The holes Hornet had shredded through his chest were gone. His jacket was practically in mint condition.

Chance felt the fabric slip from his fingers. He stepped back in the water, still holding onto the fragile glass.

...And a soft chuckle escaped from his lips.

"...I lost a button hole," he giggled.

"No… Not even. It's about going back, right? Pure Focus is kindness. It's the opportunity to try again. It's a second chance."

"Y-Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn't know about that, huh?" Chance only laughed again. "This thing, it has a battery inside, it stores energy that it uses to power itself so you can use it, see?" He pulled the phone from the silk bundle that Hornet used to keep all the pieces together-

One.

The device in Chance's hands had healed itself and become whole again. Not a crack nor scratch to be found in its flawless glass screen.

Irreparable damage, completely undone.

"Hah… I can't believe it took me so long to find out. Maybe there's more about my power I still don't know… But I do know this."

"...Y-Your bag, it…"

Chance blinked, looking down at his bag, before looking back at her. "O-Oh! Uh, thanks for fixing that, I didn't even notice! Even though you, a-ah, tore it…"

"I... " Hornet actually seemed stumped at what she was seeing, unable to comprehend the evidence before her. "I fixed nothing."

Chance's expression was… confused, but otherwise unreadable. Putting his bag back over his shoulder, he ran his fingers along the strap, trying to find any kind of microscopic tear or seem, only to come up with nothing. Hornet… wasn't sure how she felt about the implications.

Chance pulled out his gun, snapping open the cylinder. All six shots were spent, and there was nothing but empty casings.

Without emptying it, he held his hand up to the cylinder, pale wisps dancing between his fingers.

"This is my power."

When a bullet is fired, only the very tip launches out of the gun. That tip is connected to a casing filled with gunpowder, which is ignited by a small primer when struck by a gun's firing pin. The gunpowder explodes, the tip breaks off from the casing and the expanding gases fire it away and out of the gun.

Chance's magic flowed through the barrel and grew outwards, pale streams reaching out to great, incalculable distances, just to retrieve a few small pieces of warped metal and spent powder. They even reached out to Tusk, healing their wounds and fixing their mask, who then sat up and stared in confusion.

And as they retracted, the thin air around the casings compressed, contracted, condensed, and became gunpowder, filling the casings within before they were sealed off with the tips of the bullets being reconnected.

And as his power faded, Chance snapped the gun close, gave the cylinder a spin, and leveled the barrel with the Soul Master's bleeding head, all six chambers fully loaded.

"And I'm not gonna let you take it."

INSOLENT CHILD! YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING OF PURE FOCUS; YOU'VE BARELY SCRATCHED THE SURFACE! YOU KNOW NOT WHAT POWER IS CRADLED WITHIN YOU, WHAT WONDERS AND HORRORS IT IS CAPABLE OF.

Chance barely blinked, and Creedence vanished. A dark shadow fell over him.

ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU.

He leapt out of the way as the Soul Master came crashing down into the glass floor, shattering it completely. He felt his gut rise up into his throat as the ground beneath him gave, and he screamed as he fell down into a dark pit below.

He tumbled and flailed with no control, reaching out anywhere for some kind of stability, for safety, for escape, for-

Crunch!

Not of his legs, but of what he landed on. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, yet mercifully, his fall had been broken. In a miasma of painful panic, he squirmed on the ground, trying to get to his feet, yet what he laid on shifted around him, like brittle pieces of wood. Shards of glass intermixed with the rain that fell through the now broken ceiling, kicking up dust and mildew.

He was in a pile, a pile of something that refused to give him up, provide him purchase. Only by some miracle did he untangle himself, rolling down onto the uncaring, stoic stone floor. More dust dislodged itself; it was sour to his scent.

And then he saw what he had been entangled in moments before.

A mound of bodies; pillbug bodies. What little flesh remained was sunken inward, as if the very life had been stolen. Some were merely shells, brittle. To Chance's growing horror, the path he had taken out of the pile, as well as his landing spot, was nothing more than broken shell and flesh.

He was covered in it.

The thought, mingled with the stabbing pain coursing through him, was enough to bring him to his knees, retching.

But, not enough to blind his senses. The rain above him ceased, and a shadow fell over him.

Chance scrambled away just as the Soul Master came crashing down, smashed and mangled corpses flying in all directions like some hellish tidal wave. Oh, God, the smell was sickening. It was even worse than the room with fresh bodies and blood of his own making; these had all the time in the world to rot. He felt like he was constantly on the verge of vomiting, his stomach was churning so hard.

Finally, he managed to stagger into a clearing in the center, where he could stand on solid ground. He crouched down, staring wide-eyed around the room, scanning for the Soul Master who was nowhere to be found. He was torn between taking shallow breaths to keep the retch out of his throat, and taking deep, panicked breaths to keep him from passing out.

DO YOU SEE NOW…?

The Soul Master's deep voice shook through Chance's skull, haunting him.

DO YOU SEE WHAT US SOUL-WIELDERS ARE CAPABLE OF? ALL YOU SEE BEFORE YOU WAS THE RESULT OF BUT A NOD, AND THOSE LOYAL TO ME WOULD SOAK THEIR HANDS IN SIN. YOUR FOCUS IS PURE, PERFECT, YET INEXPERIENCED… CAN YOU EVEN FATHOM WHAT WE COULD ACHIEVE TOGETHER?

"'Achieve'?" Chance shouted to the sky, not even bothering to use the creepy telepathy thing. "This isn't an achievement! This is… this is sick! You killed these people!"

AND WITH YOUR HELP, THEIR SACRIFICES WILL NOT BE IN VAIN. TO RESIST THE LIGHT THAT PLAGUES THIS KINGDOM, THEIR SOULS WERE NECESSARY. YOUR PURE FOCUS WILL BE THE KEY IN UNDOING THIS KINGDOM'S CURSE.

Chance blinked. "W… Wait, you…"

YES, CHANCE. WITH MY HELP, WE COULD CURE YOUR INFECTION.

He looked down, rain from the broken glass ceiling above soaking his hair, which dropped down over his face in wet strands. This whole thing was horrific, inhumane… but was it what he was looking for?

Every moment, he was marching towards a slow and horrible death at best, and eternity as a mindless zombie at worst. Any, any hint at how to cure himself, he had to follow like his life depended on it, which it did. Beggars can't be choosers.

Chance felt cold. He wanted to sink down to his knees. Was this the decision he wanted all this time? Was this a decision he could make?

...YOU ARE UNCERTAIN. PERHAPS I COULD SWEETEN THE DEAL?

Chance grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to cover his ears with his hands, pressing so tight it almost hurt.

YOU'VE LOST YOUR MEMORIES AS WELL, I SEE. IT IS WELL KNOWN AMONG HALLOWNEST'S SURVIVORS THAT LEAVING THE PALE LIGHT OF THE KINGDOM BRINGS THE MIND BACK TO A PRIMITIVE, FERAL STATE, WIPING ALL RECOLLECTION…

Chance's fingers dug into his scalp, threatening to draw blood.

...A PITIFUL LIE, ALL OF IT.

His eyes snapped open with a blink, uncomprehending. He hesitantly let his hands fall from his ears, looking up into the empty sky.

BE IT BUG OR HUMAN, THE MIND IS SELF-SUSTAINING. OUR WISDOM IS NOT DEPENDENT ON BEING WITHIN HALLOWNEST; RATHER, THE KINGDOM IS SURROUNDED BY… A TYPE OF INVISIBLE BARRIER. THE KING'S LAST-DITCH ATTEMPT AT QUARANTINE.

WHEN IT WAS CLEAR HIS ORIGINAL PLAN TO HALT THE INFECTION HAD FAILED, HE CONSTRUCTED A MAGICAL BARRIER AROUND THE KINGDOM THAT WIPES THE MINDS OF ALL WHO PASS THROUGH, IN HOPE THAT IT WOULD FORCIBLY SANITIZE ANY PRESENCE OF THE INFECTION. IT WAS INTENDED TO PREVENT THE BLIGHT FROM SPREADING BEYOND THIS KINGDOM'S BORDERS.

I KNOW THIS BECAUSE I HELPED HIM CONSTRUCT IT. I CAN REVERSE THE EFFECTS AS WELL.

Chance, his will wavering, collapsed to his knees on the ground, mountains of corpses surrounding him on all sides. If he wasn't careful, he could end up as one of them.

TOGETHER, WE COULD CURE YOUR INFECTION, RESTORE YOUR MEMORIES AND EVEN SEND YOU HOME.

ALL I NEED IN RETURN… IS YOUR SOUL.

"I…"

He startled as the air before him exploded in a blinding light, the Soul Master appearing out of nowhere to glare down at him. Chance felt like Creedence's presence was smothering, like he was a pebble before a mountain.

WHY DO YOU STILL HESITATE?! IS THIS NOT EVERYTHING YOU'VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR?! WHAT DO THE SAVAGE, APOCALYPTIC RUINS HAVE TO OFFER YOU THAT I CANNOT?!

Chance cowered under his raging voice, booming within his mind, but he still managed to look up into the Soul Master's eyes.

"...Friends, for one."

A shadow fell over the Soul Master. He blinked, and turned to look skyward, just in time to see Tusk's nail coming straight down into his skull.

As the Soul Master roared in agony, a nail buried between his eyes, Chance pulled out his gun. "And I'm not about to work with a fucking maniac like you!", he shouted, shooting the Soul Master twice in the back while he was facing away.

In a flash of light, he teleported just a few feet away, bleeding heavily. His fury was overwhelming, coming through his telepathic communication in waves, but he straightened himself up.

FINE. YOU'RE MUCH TOO VALUABLE TO RISK KILLING, AND MY SOUL RESERVES ARE RUNNING LOW. I'VE NO CHOICE BUT TO LEAVE. WE'LL MEET AGAIN.

With the last of his available magic, he shot a Soul-Sphere at Chance's hand. Chance howled in agony as the molten metal of the gun melted against his flesh, setting fire to the skin of his hand that was dripping right off of his bones.

The Soul Master began to float away out of the glass ceiling, when Chance looked up at him, his eyes burning with hate.

"You're not going anywhere," he said through gritted teeth. The gun and his hand began to revert back into a more solid shape.

All around him, the shards of broken glass began to vibrate and float off of the ground. They shot up, flying up to fill the gap in the ceiling and trap the Soul Master inside.

Chance raised his hand, still burned and aching, and leveled the gun barrel with the Soul Master, firing another shot into him as a distraction. Without any remaining Soul, Creedence couldn't teleport away as the glass ceiling began to restore itself, the hold in the ceiling becoming smaller and smaller around him.

With a burst of speed, he tried to fly out of the hole, only to get stuck halfway through.

But the glass ceiling wasn't fixed. There was just something in the way, something that needed to be removed.

Creedence struggled and writhed as the sharp glass tightened around his neck. It squealed as it rubbed and scratched against his carapace, trying to cut through.

D...DAMN IT! DAMN IT ALL!

More glass shards kept trying to wedge themselves between his neck and the ceiling, attempting to complete the restoration. Creedence struggled to breathe.

DAMN YOU, CHANCE! DAMN THAT COWARDLY KING! DAMN THAT NOSY THIEF AND THOSE MORALLY ARROGANT KNIGHTS!

The grating screech of the glass, like nails on a chalkboard, gave way to squelches of blood as his carapace was cracked.

DAMN YOU, GODIVA! YOU STARVED WENCH, YOU DID THIS TO ME! YOU DID THIS TO ALL OF US, LED US DOWN THIS PATH!

The glass was digging into his flesh. Hemolymph seeped through, dripping down from the ceiling.

DAMN ALL OF THEM! I WAS THIS CLOSE! VICTORY WAS RIGHT IN MY GRASP!

The glass dug deeper, deeper into his flesh. Creedence couldn't breathe anymore.

D-DAMN-!

With a sickening schlick!, the glass cut clean through Creedence's neck, restoring the ceiling as his decapitated body dropped back down into the pit, landing with a deafening thud.


"O-Oh… Oh, God, I…"

Chance fell to the ground, staring at his shaking hands in horror. Tusk stood off to the side, looking at him.

"I… I didn't mean…"

He looked up; the glass ceiling was perfectly repaired without so much a scratch, but Chance couldn't see Creedence's severed head from underneath the thick pool of hemolymph surrounding it, spreading outwards around it.

"I… I was just… trying to stop him, not…"

The Soul Master's words echoed through his mind again.

"You know not what power is cradled within you, what wonders and horrors it is capable of."

Tusk took a step closer, when they noticed a white wisp floating near the Soul Master's body. Reaching out, they felt Soul rush into their body as they learned a new spell, the words "Desolate Dive" suddenly feeling familiar.

They turned away, and patted Chance on the shoulder. He looked up, staring them in the eyes for a long moment.

He laughed. A quiet, shaken laugh.

"T...Thank you, Tusk…" he mumbled, overwhelmed. "I… I dunno what would've happened... if you hadn't-"

He was cut off as Tusk jumped into his chest, wrapping their arms around him in the best hug they could manage. Chance froze, hesitant, but with a sad smile he wrapped his own arms around them, lifting them off the ground and turning away from the bodies they'd left behind.

"C'mon… let's get out of this hellhole already."


Even with its Master and most of its inhabitants dead, the Soul Sanctum still hated him.

Tusk didn't give him any prior warning before they started using their new Desolate Dive spell(Wait, how'd he know the name? Soul bullshit?), and decided it was a great idea to position both of them on a small glass floor before launching themselves into the floor. Desolate Dive goes downwards, but also outwards.

A few broken windows, nearly-broken bones, heart attacks, and lots and lots of chaotic falling later, Chance's stupid ass had managed to completely lose Tusk in this house of horrors.

He stumbled through a dark hallway, leaning on the walls for support. He'd healed all of his injuries, but he felt about ready to pass out and sleep for the next few years. With a groan, he looked up, scanning the hall for anything familiar.

...Wait. Oh, he knew this place! A wave of relief washed over Chance as he sighed. This was close to where they'd dropped Jeremy off; they could regroup before doubling back to find Tusk.

He stumbled over to the doorway, smiling as his eyes landed on the oak-green cloak of Jeremy and the crimson cloak of-

He spun back, back pressed into the wall, gritting his teeth. His lungs were screaming for him to start breathing heavily, but he slapped a hand over his mouth to keep quiet. His heartbeat was pounding out of control.

What the hell is SHE doing here?!

Taking a moment to let his heart steady, he peeked around the corner again, hoping the shadows were dark enough to hide him. Thankfully, they weren't facing him, so as long as he was very quiet, maybe Hornet wouldn't notice him.

Jeremy was sitting on a curb on the floor, playing with a dirty Rubix Cube. Hornet stepped forward from behind him, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He noticed the shadow hovering over him, looked over, and jumped.

"A-A-Ah, u-uhm, uh, uuuuuummm-"

Hornet tilted her head, looking at him funny. "...Hello to you too, Jeremy."

Chance's breath caught in his throat. They KNOW each other?!

"UhHhHhh… W-Whatttr'you dooing heeere?" Jeremy tried saying. Hornet gave a small huff, looking down at the item in his hands.

"What is that?"

Jeremy looked in her eyes, then down in his hands, uncomprehending for a moment. "Um… It's a Rubix Cube."

"A what?"

"I… Found it. In the Junk Pit."

Hornet's face scrunched up. "You went down to the Junk Pit?" She stared at the cube with some kind of resignation, before she leaned down further. "What does it do?"

"W-Well… It doesn't really do anything. I-It's just a toy. You turn the sides around like this," Chance heard some clicking as he demonstrated, "and try to get every side to have one color."

"Fascinating. Show me."

They said nothing more, but Jeremy sat there and focused on the Rubix Cube while Hornet watched him over his shoulder. He furrowed his brow as he spun the cube around in his fingers; he was surprisingly good at it, Chance thought. After a minute, Chance let his knees give out as he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground.

...Could he just… walk out and say hi? He was terrified of Hornet, but she was… Actually, no, that was reason enough to stay behind for now. He didn't want another confrontation.

Finally, Hornet stood up. "Perhaps I should be going now. We'll meet again." Chance and Jeremy both looked up as she walked out another door.

Before she left, she paused, and looked back. "This was… nice, Jeremy."

He stared at her, dumbfounded, before he anxiously smiled, giving a small wave. She turned the corner, and just like that, she was gone.

"...She is gone, right?"

Jeremy jumped, the rubix cube flying out of his hands. "C-C-Chance! You're alright!" As Chance stepped into the room, Jeremy rose from the ground and wrapped him into a tight hug. Chance groaned, startled and still feeling off-kilter, but he managed to return the embrace.

He remembered something, and pulled away. "H-Hey, have you seen Tusk around? I-I lost them getting out, and I was gonna regroup with you before I doubled back…"

Jeremy tilted his head in confusion. "What're you talking about? Tusk is right here."

Chance blinked, and looked up. "Oh, of course," he laughed, reaching up to help Tusk off of his head. The small knight must've caught up and climbed up his back again when he wasn't looking. "You really gotta let me know when you do that," he said.

It didn't take them long to all find a nearby bench to sit down and rest on. Jeremy stood and leaned over the backrest of the bench while Chance and Tusk got the rest they needed.

"So, what's our next move?"

Jeremy crossed his arms. "Did'ja forget? We gotta go back to the Mantis Tribe in time for the Sunset Festival! I don't know how much time we have left, but we've been running in circles in this city for a while now…"

Chance sat up. "Oh, shit, yeah. Otherwise, we won't be able to even approach the Tribe for a whole year, and that's time I can't afford."

"You mean we?"

Chance looked up at him with his glowing, orange eyes. "Not to sound selfish, but…"

Jeremy wilted at the reminder. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Forget it," Chance said, groaning as he pushed himself off of the bench. God, he felt like an old man. This Hallownest bullshit was probably taking a good twenty years off of his life. "It's alright. We have to keep going. Is there anything else we gotta do before we try to find a way back to the Village?"

Jeremy shrugged. "I can't think of anything. The sooner we depart, the better."

Bzzt!

Chance's mood took an immediate and dramatic downward turn.


Layla - Chance

Today 2:15 AM
Layla: I talked to a friend.
Layla: Time works strangely in Hallownest, but the so-called 'Sunset Festival' only lasts for about one more day.
Layla: Better hurry.


"...Oh, shit."


Chapter name and summary are a reference to The Scientist by Coldplay
Other musical references in this chapter include:
20th Century Boy by T. Rex
Layla by Derek & The Dominos
Creedence Clearwater Revival (artist)

good fucking lord where do i even begin with this chapter.

for one, the texting bits in this chapter have actual proper formatting on AO3 that was both a bitch to set up and im also really proud of, so please consider checking it out there :D

finally revealed Chance's secret power :D some of you saw this coming from some of the not-so-subtle hints but now its A Thing, plus because of the definitely-not-bullshit bullet healing, Chance can finally use that revolver as a regular weapon! which he'll need to, after losing Iselda's nail. she aint gonna be happy about that

i dont know why i decided to make *this* the super-gory chapter; probably because obvious Soul Sanctum body horror stuff but damn. I'll admit this chapter is closer to what i've been meaning this story to be like for a long time, ig i just haven't had the guts to go this far til now? or maybe i didn't know how? either way, this is the bullshit we're on from here on out. i'll keep adding CWs when applicable but expect this kind of thing in general

just BARELY got this out before the months end so im happy about that :D i know we technically got one out for MR already but i wanted to do this in time. deadlines are good for my productivity ig.

there's a metric fuckton of other things i could talk about for this chapter but im tired and it's midnight so i'm j gonna post it and go to bed. Please leave a comment they are my drug