"You're lookin' good, just like a snake in the grass, /
One of these days, you're gonna break your glass."
Layla - Rio
Today 3:27 AM
Layla: Heeeeyyyyy!
Rio: What
Rio: What is this?
Rio: What are you doing to me?
Layla: Oh, nothing.
Layla: It... doesn't hurt, does it?
Rio: I can barely describe it
Rio: I don't hear anything in my head but
Rio: Am I seeing things? No… am I reading?
Rio: I can understand your message perfectly but I don't know how I'm doing it
Layla: It's… just a fancy new form of telepathy, is all. No worries!
Rio: That doesn't make any sense…
Layla: Forget about that.
Layla: I have a favor to ask…
Seeing as the Sunset Festival was wrapping up, time was of the essence. Twenty-four hours would have been manageable under normal circumstances, but here, they would be cutting it close to the wire. Hell, they probably didn't even have a full twenty-four. It would take a few hours to get back to the Mantis Village, and after recent events, all three were exhausted, physically and mentally.
The Soul Sanctum had… Well. Chance didn't want to think about the Soul Sanctum.
But, when it came to the festival, they didn't have much choice in the matter. Not unless they wanted to wait another year, by which his Infected self would be long dead. A serious issue, yet one that was long term.
The real, short-term issue came from how to leave the City of Tears.
Looking at their hard time limit, going directly back to the Fungal Wastes was the best choice, even if Cornifer's map pointed to a Stag Station near the top of the City. Had they a bit more time, it may have been better to utilize it, and from there get to Mantis territory from the Queen's station, but that meant going travelling the long way through the Wastes.
But…
"It's still here?!" Jeremy whined. The same monumental barrier that had trapped them in the City still stood, unmoving as ever. Jeremy ran a hand over it, judging its strength. "We have places to be!"
Chance said nothing, slowly stepping up to Jeremy's side. He looked intently at the slab of stone, thinking.
It's less about healing, and more about undoing…
"...Let me try something," Chance muttered, voice tense. He wasn't sure what his limits were, if they even existed , but, this could be a good test. If things were to go down at the Sunset Festival, he wanted to be ready, to know himself.
Reaching inward, he felt for his soul, for the loose strands that wound through the ethereal space. Grasping one, he pulled it away from the main, string ball mass, feeling it, its weight, its power. A thrum. It wove through his body, through his chest, through his mind . And into his hand.
This stone would move to him, to his will. Or, rather, it had never fallen in the first place. Another tug on his soul, one that pained his chest; he grunted, eyes screwed shut.
Jeremy backed away from the obstruction, watching in bemusement as it slowly rose, dislodging small pebbles and dust. Stone ground against stone, yet, the wall still rose at a snail's pace. Chance's breathing had grown labored, sweat trickling down his face.
It was working!
There was a nice space now, one that they could slip through. Not that Jeremy did; while he did trust Chance, he didn't want to risk being crushed! He could feel the soul at work; it bled from Chance, from the stone he was raising up. There was a third source he could feel, above them, a smaller, discrete one. A locking mechanism for the stone, perhaps?
Hallownest's engineering did sometimes incorporate soul for their more complex contraptions. Almost like the bug equivalent of electricity, for when pure metal and stone wasn't enough. He surmised that when the stone wall reached the point, it would detect it, and thus lock it in place. A magical sensor, he mused.
Until the soul spiked , followed by a stone-shaking crash!
It broke Chance's concentration. He cried out, his metaphorical grip on the wall vanishing. What progress he made reset, falling down with a thunderous crack!
And with it, Chance collapsed, ragged gasps dragged into his lungs. Jeremy was kneeling at his side in an instant.
He shook Chance, trying to help him up. All he got was a pained groan, mumbling, " Too much…"
"Chance, Chance…" Jeremy replied, whispering, "Don't exert yourself like that." He paused, looking up at the stone wall, contemplating. "Maybe your limits are based on how abstract the 'healing' is? Healing a wound makes perfect sense, but 'healing' a door to open it is kinda pushing the logic…"
Jeremy huffed, getting back to his feet. It had almost worked. Almost.
"Now what…?"
That line of thought was cut off by a small stone striking his shoulder. He whipped around, looking for where it came from, only for another to fall, this one on his head.
Only then did he look up, and in doing so, seeing Tusk's mask peering down from a sizable hole in the ceiling.
"What're you doing up there?"
Unless…
"Did you find a way around?"
A nod.
"Oh, good!"
A moment.
"...How? I don't remember seeing any way from the other side."
Tusk, in response, raised a small fist, then slammed it down onto the stone.
Then it clicked.
"Ohhhh! Oh! You broke a way through, didn't you?!"
Another nod.
Jeremy nodded in response. Well, this worked out well. Mostly.
"Uhm… Would you mind helping me get Chance up?"
Chance didn't think strolling back into a village he was just banned from, covered in blood with a firearm strapped to his waist, would make for a very good look. But as he - very cautiously - approached the border of the Mantis Village, Lightfoot of all people, couldn't have looked more relieved to see him.
As relieved as Lightfoot could ever look, anyway. He didn't seem the expressive type.
"Been out long enough, do you think, Trickster?", he snapped when he saw them. His arms were crossed over his chest, leaning up against a wall while two formal guards watched the border awkwardly. "There's still time, you know. Why not go out shopping for another year?"
Yes, this is Lightfoot being relieved.
Chance furrowed his brow. "Well, 'hello', to you too," he mumbled, glaring. He knew he was an outlaw, but after their last interaction, he thought he had a bit more respect for the hot-headed Mantis.
Lightfoot glared back, but his expression shifted, and his eyes cast to the ground. "F-Forgive me," he spoke, uncharacteristically somber. His arms uncrossed as he approached Chance. "I… May you follow me, please? The Sunset Festival's laws are still in effect; you will not be barred entry. There is… a favor, I must ask of you."
The whole time he spoke, he refused to meet Chance's tangerine eyes. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were dull and sunken. Chance wasn't very accustomed to Mantis body language, but he could tell Lightfoot hadn't been taking very good care of himself lately, not to mention his quiet nervousness.
"Hey, uhm…" He started slowly, trying not to say anything to upset the Mantis, "Is something wrong? You can… talk to me, you know."
Lightfoot paused, looking conflicted. He stepped forward into the Village, and without looking back to see Chance, spoke.
"Mother's condition has worsened."
Chance didn't know what to think as Lightfoot practically dragged him through the Village, heads turning his way, his nickname being whispered by passersby. But what surprised him most of all was how few Mantises were paying attention to them; the vast majority were too focused on the party to care.
The atmosphere was completely different from the Mantis Tribe that Chance thought he knew; for once, the place actually seemed welcoming. Some younger couples were dancing to the beat of drums, bugs were laughing and smiling alongside each other, when just the other day they looked ready to strike at each other at any moment.
The air, for the first time since he'd set foot in the god forsaken Wastes, smelled amazing. From between the gaps in the crowds, he spied what looked like large doner kebabs roasting over bonfires, made of some meat he couldn't quite identify but almost reminded him of the Fungoon meat that Jeremy prepared for him last time he was here-
"O-Oh, Lightfoot, you never met him, have you?" Chance paused, turning around to introduce his friend to the Mantis warrior. "This is Jer-"
He stopped. Jeremy was nowhere to be found.
He spun around, not seeing the familiar green cloak anywhere in the crowd. Where'd he…?
"Trickst- Er, Chance," Lightfoot urged, "There is not much time. If you would-"
"One sec," Chance interrupted him. He looked down at Tusk, asking them, "Have you seen Jeremy around anywhere? Do you know where he went?"
Tusk tilted their head, confused, before jumping up and onto his head, piggybacking on Chance's neck. They patted his hair, wordless as ever.
He frowned. "I'm… not Jeremy, Tusk."
Lightfoot placed a hand on Chance's shoulder, turning him around again. "Chance, we really must get going. If there is nothing else…"
Chance put his hand on Lightfoot's hand.
…
...Lightfoot's hand.
Lightfoot had a hand.
Oh my GOD, LIGHTFOOT HAD A HAND.
"But-" Chance looked at the Mantis's hand, seeing the fingers flex in irritation. "How did-" He noticed how several other Mantises had hands too now, when they've only ever had bladed arms. "Why'd you-" He thought about the Mantis Lords, and how they had hands when none of the other Mantises seemed to. "What-"
"Ah, right, you would not know," Lightfoot said, his voice even. Chance watched as the hand he was holding shifted, the fingers straightening out until the hand was flat, and growing longer, flatter, and sharper, until Lightfoot's arm was the serrated blade that Chance remembered it being.
Chance held his arm, carefully, trying not to cut himself. "...How…?"
"Is it not obvious? What else can shift someone's arm to become sharp and bladed, or to become more flexible and practical?"
For a moment, he said nothing. Then,the realization hit Chance like a truck.
"So that's what you use the Mantis Claws for, right?"
Lightfoot nodded, letting his arm shift back to a usable hand. "Did you think they only existed to hand out to strangers on the road? We make tools so we can use them, Trickster."
"...Huh."
Lightfoot pulled away, stalking further down into the Village. "Please try to keep up. We don't need any more distractions."
Layla - Rio
Today 3:41 AM
Layla: "And here he was, the clock was ticking, marching onwards into infinity. Ripples turned into a tidal wave, and castles turned into sand."
Layla: "Chance marched onward with the beat of the second, back turned from his fate, and everything drew to a close, the stars aligned,"
Layla: "and the clock
Layla: struck
Layla: midnight."
Layla: ...
Rio: What colorfully obnoxious prose.
Layla: I KNOW, right?! What romantic idiot actually writes like that?
Layla: Oh hold on
Layla: I think he's almost here.
Rio: Really? That fast?
Layla: Are you ready for the plan?
Rio: Ready as I'll ever be.
Rio: Just don't do anything I wouldn't do, I guess.
"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii~!"
This was the first time he'd actually seen Rio and Lightfoot's house. Not really a house so much as a hut, but it was all the same. They were just about to be led inside, when Rio almost leapt out of the hut's flaps and beamed at them.
Chance blinked at the sight of Rio, smiling his way. The Infection in her eyes seemed to have progressed, turning a brighter shade of orange, but otherwise, she looked no worse for wear. If anything, she seemed to have more energy than before, though that may have been the Festival's atmosphere.
Lightfoot blanched at the sight of her. "M-Mother, you must be in bed-!"
"Bah, I've been sleeping plenty these past few days, haven't I?" She reared back, stretching her arms, as though having just woken up from a long nap. "Besides, I've missed the whole festival so far! We'd best enjoy this last day while we still can, right, Chance?"
He took a step back. "M-Me?"
He'd admit, he was eager to join the celebrations while he still could; it seemed like the first time since Dirtmouth where he didn't feel like the whole world actively wanted him dead. But he still had a job to do. His Infection wasn't going to cure itself, and the Lords weren't going to defeat themselves.
Plus, he still had to find Jeremy. He had to be around here somewhere, right? Maybe he ran off back to his little cave…
She plucked Tusk off of Chance's head, holding them at arm's reach like an infant needing to be changed. If Tusk had any complaints about being manhandled, they didn't raise any. She dropped them off in Lightfoot's arms, "Watch the child for us while we're away, will you, Lighty?"
Lightfoot fumbled with the small knight, eventually managing to hold them from under their arms, looking down from them to Rio in a confused panic at the sudden change of plans. "W-What?! Mother, you're deathly ill! How are you even standing-"
"I wouldn't miss a party for the world, you little ankle-biter."
Lightfoot looked appalled. "I-I'm nearly twenty!" he sputtered.
Without warning, she wrapped her arm around Chance's, pulling him close with a grin. He stumbled into her, trying not to cut himself on her sharp, bladed arm. Did she have one of the Claws, too?
"So long~"
And with that, she spun on her heel, practically dragging Chance along by the arm, who looked just as confused as Lightfoot. He was excited to see the celebration, but he didn't need to get wrapped up in Rio's antics right now. He'd get the time to challenge the Lords before too long, right?
Lightfoot stood there, holding Tusk. He looked down into the small knight's eyes.
"...Do you… need anything…?"
Tusk held up their arms and wrapped them around Lightfoot's chest as best as they could, leaning into the embrace.
"I-I appreciate it, but…"
...He wasn't getting out of this.
"We'll take three, please!"
The young Mantis serving them furrowed his brow. "I-I'm sorry, three? There's only two of you." He cast his eyes over them, and Chance didn't miss the way his gaze lingered on him for a bit too long. What a freaky duo they must've been; the crazy old Infected Mantis lady, and the mysterious human who basically blew the place up not a week ago. He felt like he was about to get mugged.
"Don't worry," Rio whispered to him. "They only get this party once a year; they value this easy feeling too much to throw it away fighting some measly terrorist." She turned to the Mantis and repeated herself, "Yes, three, please. We're expecting a friend soon."
The Mantis before them shrugged, handing them three meaty kebabs, just off of the fire. Kebab is a funny word. It sounds like some kind of explosion sound effect, or the sound Chance's poor heart made when he took his first bite.
He had zero clue what kind of sauce they used for these things (Jeremy would probably object to him calling it a "sauce" as opposed to like, a "marinade" or something, but oh well), but it was some kind of powerful sweet and sour flavor that rolled over his tongue with each bite of meat. It was so thick, it was almost syrup; the saccharine tang wrestled with a sharp tart flavor in a way that made his eyes want to water.
Chance and Rio made their way over to a small corner where nobody would bother them, sitting down with their kebabs("Don't eat that third one, it's reserved!"), illuminated only by a small fire between them.
"A lot of fires around here," Chance commented.
"Mhmm," Rio nodded, sitting close to him for warmth when there was a literal fire right fucking there.
"A lot of wood around here to catch fire," he noticed, looking around. "How safe are these festivals, anyway? Where's all the smoke go?"
"The mushrooms handle it," Rio shrugged. She looked out of focus, her eyes glazed and staring at a blank wall.
"T-The mushrooms?"
Yeah, they work in a really weird way here. They absorb smoke and most other unwanted gases from the atmosphere, and pump out oxygen. Kinda like trees, except a bit more efficient and also they don't make any sense at all. Then again, nothing about fungi makes any sense.
How's that-
Mushrooms are weird. They aren't plants, they aren't animals, and there's not some kind of in-between. They're difficult to categorize. No human scientist really knows what a mushroom is. Some mushrooms are literally immortal. Some of them can save your life, while others are so closely related to humans that eating them can give you an allergic reaction to your own body. The mushrooms defy explanation. Who says they can't filter the air, too?
That doesn't make any se-
"What doesn't make any sense?"
Chance blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder to see a familiar green cloak, shrouding what would be a familiar face.
"Jay," he called. He suddenly felt self conscious of the Mantis woman practically leaning on him, trying to awkwardly push her away to a more appropriate distance. "Where were you? I completely lost you there."
"I, uhm…" He sat down across from Chance and Rio, poking his fingers together timidly, avoiding Chance's orange gaze. "I got… nervous."
"Nervous?"
"T-There's just, so many people around, and I, uh…" He hugged himself, trying to maintain some sense of stability. Chance nodded in understanding.
"I don't blame you. I mean… I'm kinda expecting someone to try to kill me any second now." Paranoia rising, he took a quick glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was looking at him funny, half expecting a Mantis' arm to rip through him as if on cue.
He paused. Jumping, he held out the other kebab for Jeremy. "Oh, uh, this is for you, by the way."
Jeremy took it, nodding. "O-Oh, thanks." He shook his head. "And I don't think anyone'll bother us here. As long as we don't bother anyone else."
"We kinda came here to bother someone."
Jeremy gave him a funny, yet horrified look, just barely visible from under his dark hood. (Was that thing magically darkened? There was a fire right in front of him, his face should be clear.)
"Jay… the Mantis Lords, remember?"
Jay ducked his head, further obscuring what few facial features Chance could see under the hood. He looked kinda like an evil wizard, except more… vulnerable. "I-I remember! It's just… Do you have to fight them again?"
Chance blinked, giving a reassuring smile. "'Course I do, Jay, why shouldn't I?"
"That's not a good reason after what happened the first time, Chance."
Chance's smile fell. His hand snaked over to his forearm, clutching it in a vice, as he averted his gaze from Jeremy. Even with the fire, he felt cold.
Even from under a giant tarp, the moth boy visibly cringed. "I-I'm sorry. I… Fresh wound. But…" The cloak shuffled as Jeremy wrapped it tighter around himself. "You've never given a solid reason for this. Something about an 'experiment'? I know we only have today, but… You're dying, Chance. Do you really have time for this?"
Chance opened his mouth to retort, but his mind was blank. He silently sputtered to himself, furrowing his brow as he tried to grasp and reach for any shred of reason. His mind felt light, drifting through soft, orange, cotton-candy clouds of unknowing.
Jeremy straightened up. "Seriously?! Chance, you're not- I-I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed again over this! We need to cure you! Right, Rio?"
They paused. Rio's gaze had glossed over, staring into the bright orange fire. She was nearly limp. It dawned on Chance how they'd had an entire conversation without her saying a word.
"...Rio?"
Layla - Rio
Today 3:53 AM
Layla: This doesn't hurt, right?
Rio: No, it doesn't
Rio: But it's really weird
Rio: We don't really think of "seeing" as "seeing through our own eyes", because of course they're our own eyes, who else's eyes would we be looking through?
Rio: People don't see through their eyes, they just… see.
Rio: Me? I'm seeing through my eyes right now.
Layla: Interesting. I didn't peg you for a philosopher.
Rio: Gods above, don't call me that
Rio: Just… trying to make sense of things
Rio: Not much else I can do right now but think.
Layla: I can always talk to you, if you're feeling lonely.
Rio: You're better off talking to the boys. You're ignoring them.
Layla: AH
"Hm! O-Oh, I'm sorry, I just spaced out for a moment!" Rio laughed, her eyes darting between Chance and Jeremy, staring at her in concern. "W-What were we talking about, again?"
Jeremy sighed to himself, taking another bite of his kebab. "wow,thesearegood- Ehm, we're talking about Chance doing a rematch with the Lords… and what he thinks he'll get out of it."
Rio clasped her hands together cheerfully. "Oh, yes, free passage through the Village into Deepnest would be quite the prize! I think it's worth a fair shot, no?"
…
"The Grave in Ash… Were I in your position… I would use the tram in Deepnest. It's the most direct path to the edge of the kingdom."
...
"Wait. Deepnest?"
Rio nodded. "Indeed! The Tribe has been holding off their onslaught on our borders for as long as anyone can remember. But anyone who could single-handedly defeat our Lords would be able to face Deepnest's wrath."
Deepnest… The name didn't inspire any welcoming images. But it was a new step; a new place to look for a cure. And… There was that thing Hornet mentioned. Something about a Grave, but he couldn't even guess what exactly she meant…
It was something important. Important to her, important to Tusk, important to Hallownest.
But what?
"W-What?!" Jeremy exclaimed in horror. "Going toe-to-toe with the Mantis Lords is enough, we can't handle marching through the bowels of Deepnest! It'll kill us for sure!"
"That's the point of fighting the Lords, sugar; winning proves you are strong enough."
"A three-on-two fight hardly compares to surviving a nightmare world filled with giant, carnivorous spi-"
Chance tossed his finished kebab stick into the fire, stood up, and walked away.
"W-Wait up!"
...
"Where are you going-?!"
...
"Hey! G-Get back here!"
...
"Urgh-!"
He grunted as his back hit a wall, cornering him. He'd wandered off to some random, dark alley in a wall, obscured by heavy shadows, the warm flickering of distant fires being the only thing illuminating the side of his face.
He pressed his palms and back flat against the wall behind him, trying to put as much space between himself and Rio, who was standing right in front of him. She held her arm out against the wall next to his neck, practically pinning him. The hole in the wall wasn't very wide, so there wasn't much room to put between them anyway.
"Stop running for a minute and talk to me, Chance!" Rio whisper-shouted. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut as he turned away from her, his face hidden in the black shadows.
For a moment, they did nothing but breathe. He couldn't calm his heart down.
"...Chance, please. What's wrong?"
He pursed his lips, his hands clenching and unclenching, refusing to look Rio in the eye.
"...I'm lost."
Her brow furrowed. "...Really? I can… walk you back to the fire, if you-"
"No, n-no, I mean…" He looked down. "I'm lost. I don't know what to do."
Rio straightened up, but said nothing. He continued.
"I'm just… I'm running in circles. I don't know what I'm doing here, fighting some Lords for, I-I dunno, free access to a big door or something. I went all the way into the City, I… dragged myself through a world of shit in some Sanctum, and… what?"
He paused to run his hands over his face, sighing.
"I haven't done anything. I'm no closer to fixing myself- Hell, I don't even know if I can cure myself. I don't have any clues, no pointers, no paths to walk, nothing. I'm stumbling blind in the dark, fighting for my life. I don't know. What... hope do I have? Every second I don't get closer, I'm a second closer to dying. I'm dying, Rio. You are, too. And I feel like I can't do a damn thing about it. I don't know what to do."
Rio paused, her sad orange gaze meeting Chance's. Two souls, marching towards the same doomed fate, arm in arm.
"...I'm scared."
Slowly, she stepped back, her arm against the wall falling to rest on Chance's shoulder. Neither of them met each other's eyes. Rio spoke.
"...You've done more in the short time I've known you than anyone else has in… well, my entire life."
Chance looked up at her, his expression unreadable. Rio placed her other hand on his shoulder.
"The Infection is something we've just… come to accept, over the years. A hopeless, inescapable fact of life. Nobody's even thought about trying to cure it, beyond fantasy. Bugs who catch it are considered lost causes the minute they show symptoms. I'm considered a lost cause. We're lost causes.
"But then… you barge down here, tear down our stubborn ways and fight for what everyone thinks is impossible. And you're still here. And… It's given me hope. Hope that I might live to see just one more Festival. Hope that I won't need to tell Lightfoot how many more days the healers expect me to live. Hope that I could be cured, too."
Rio: And maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I'm a coward, maybe I'm just scared like you are.
"And maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I'm a coward, maybe I'm just scared like you are."
Rio: But that's okay, because…
"...because we'll be scared together. We'll face whatever future we have left together."
Chance stared into her eyes, mouth agape, lost in her orange eyes. Rio took a deep breath, her hands on the sides of his forearms, holding him. A long, comfortable silence fell over them. Nothing but the sounds of distant, muffled celebrations, soft firelight dancing across them.
Their faces were so close. Stuck together in this cramped gap, Chance felt nervous about taking even a breath with Rio right in front of him, and then her lips were smashed against his.
His eyes widened in shock, not even having the time to breathe. Her hands grabbed either side of his face, holding him close. Chance didn't have any memory of kisses in a past life, but Rio was utterly alien to him; the firmness of her mask-like face opening up to a sharp maw, his dull teeth hitting her razor-sharp fangs. Her long, almost serpentine tongue wrestled with his stubby one, dominating it completely before he could even think.
When they broke, he stumbled into her chest as she pulled him closer, deeper. They said no words, but he could feel her hot, panting breath on his neck in a way that left him limp in her arms.
Layla - Rio
Today 4:12 AM
Rio: GODSPL,,
Rio: DAM,MIT,
Rio: WHAT IN THE WYRMLOVING NAME OF FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING YOU IDIOT
Layla: ?
Rio: I SAID
Rio: DONT DO ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO
Rio: HOW COULD YOU MESS UP THIS BADLY YOU HAD ONE JOB.
Layla: ...
Layla: ...Was that unpleasant?
Rio: ...Damn you.
Rio: Do it again.
...
"Uhm… This is a 'kebab'. Can you say that? 'Kehh-baahb.' Try to say that."
Lightfoot crouched down, holding out the stick of impaled meat for Tusk to see. They stared at it, expressionless. Their gaze went from the kebab to Lightfoot.
He sighed. "Alright, well… Can you eat it, at least?"
It took all of Lightfoot's restraint to not scream when Tusk impaled their eye onto the sharp kebab stick without even flinching.
...
"Chance!" Jeremy shouted, stumbling through a crowd of Mantises, trying not to bump into anyone. "C-Chance! Where are you?!" he called out again, taking great care not to spill the contents of the glasses he was holding.
The Throne Room of the Mantis Lords. This was the place; this was the room they had to be in. But it apparently doubled as the grand hall for the Sunset Festival as well, and he didn't want to draw much attention right now, so Jeremy stuck a fair distance away from the main attraction, hoping Chance hadn't gotten ahead of him.
It was just them that the human bumped into the moth-human.
"O-Oh! Chance, there you are! Y-You and Rio ran off so suddenly, I-I-I didn't know what to do! What were you doing?"
"Me? Oh, er, uh…" He ran his hands over his face, feeling the dense humidity of the Wastes heating him up, leaving his cheeks rosy. "N-Nothing."
Jeremy paused, but shrugged. "Alright. Here, I got this for you!" He shoved one of the glasses in Chance's direction, who took it hesitantly, studying the contents within.
The beverage - which several Mantis party-goers were holding, now that he noticed - was startling to hold and witness. It was a deep, almost royal purple hue, the firelight refracting its colors in a kaleidoscope across Chance's shirt. Small bubbles rose up from the bottom of the drink, and a frigid cold fog drifted up from its surface and over Chance's hand. Floating within the drink, the fog emanating from it like a core, was a small bluish bubble.
"They get that thing from the Fog Canyons," Jeremy explained. "They don't know how it works, but it keeps drinks cool and it has a cool foggy effect, so it's a classic around here."
Chance brought the drink up to his nose, taking a delicate whiff. The way the smell of tart and alcohol tingled his lungs, as fragile as a bouquet of flowers but as strong as fresh berries. The color was completely wrong, but every other aspect of the flavor only reminded him of one thing.
"...Is this champagne?"
Jeremy blinked. "Y-Yes, actually. Or, the closest Hallownestian equivalent, anyway. The process it's made through is remarkably similar to how French champagnes are traditionally made; most of the difference is in the base ingredients. They use berries foraged from Greenpath."
Chance raised the glass to his lips, and took a slight sip. He nodded, pleasantly surprised. "...It tastes kinda like blackberry. Blackberry champagne. Except a bit more… sharp, I guess."
Jeremy tilted his head, confused. "I didn't know you were a wine connoisseur, Chance."
"I'm not. I just…say words."
Jeremy nodded, pursing his lips from under his hood. The conversation came to a comfortable lull, the two standing together in the shadows from the rest of the party, eyes darting to the three tall thrones, towering over them from a ways away.
"...Are you gonna drink that one?"
Jeremy looked back to the second glass in his own hand. "O-Oh, no, I-I don't drink! This was meant for Rio, but, uh… Where is she?"
"D-Dunno," Chance said. "Anyway, how old are we?"
"She couldn't have just run o-" Jeremy paused, letting his thoughts backup and reboot. "H-How old am I?"
"No, how old are we, both of us." He shook his head. "I mean, goddammit Jay, we've lost our memories. We don't even know how old we are. It could be my birthday today and I wouldn't know." He sighed, leaning up against a wall, taking another sip of the blackberry champagne stuff. The taste did little to soften his mood. "I mean… I'd guess I'm somewhere around nineteen? Kinda hard to tell; being caked in mud and blood after missing a few night's sleep makes the years really show."
"Nineteen, huh? That… feels right for me, too."
"Really? I expected you to be a bit younger, honestly."
"O-Only by a year, at most!" Jeremy said indignantly, before sighing. "What's your point here, anyway? Worried you can't drink that stuff?"
"Not really," Chance said. "It's not like anyone'll stop me. Though, uh, the thought did pop into my head."
Chance opened his mouth to say more, but stopped, grunting in frustration. "What are we doing, Jay? They're right there. We can finish this here and now." He took a step closer to the Lord's thrones; it didn't make much of a difference in this grand hall, the place must've been the size of a soccer field.
Jeremy grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket. "Chance!" he tried to shout quietly. "You're rushing things, you aren't ready! You don't even know where Tusk is!"
As if on cue, some Mantises pushed past them to run towards a growing crowd, everyone involved chanting and cheering. Curious, Chance gave Jeremy a quick glance before approaching, pushing some of the Mantises aside as politely as he could manage until he managed to get a clear view of the scene within.
Tusk was surrounded by a crowd of Mantises, all shoving kebabs, mushrooms, and even small rocks at Tusk, who grabbed them and shoved them all into their eye sockets, the food vanishing into whatever endless shadows made up their body. Chance still wasn't sure if this was "eating" the food, or simply storing it away.
Lightfoot stood off to the side, looking nervous about the scene unfolding before him, as if running through in his head how he would stop it, without ever intending to take real action.
Chance sighed, pushing through to walk up to Tusk, picking them up. He smiled at them as they wrapped their arms around his jacket, kicking their stubby legs in the air in excitement.
But as he looked around, Chance heard whispers. Noticed stares.
"It's them…"
"Oh! I didn't even recognize…"
"How long have they been here…?"
"Are they gonna cause trouble again…?"
"They're gonna fight the Lords, aren't they…?"
He held Tusk closer to his chest, his smile falling. He gulped, his throat feeling dry despite the drink in his hand.
"Well... " He took a shuddery breath. "We have a job to do here, right, Tusk?" He didn't know why he announced it to the whole crowd, but the small knight nodded.
He took a look at the blackberry champagne in his hand, and reared back, gulping the whole thing down. Damn, that was good. ("No, Tusk, you can't have any.") He'd need the liquid courage to take on this fight anyway. He held out the glass to his side, and a random Mantis took it away from him.
He took a step towards the three towering thrones a ways away. The crowd had gone suddenly silent, and split apart wherever he walked, eyeing them with anticipation but not getting in his way.
Soon enough, he reached the inner circle of the Lords. Their arena. The cage was up, and most of the celebration was in this area. It was packed so densely with partying Mantises that his attention from a minute ago was gone, and he was just another figure in the crowd.
They'd all have to disperse if they were going to have a fight here. Hm.
He pushed his way closer, holding Tusk close as he waded through the labyrinth of Mantises, almost all of them much taller than he was. A bead of sweat ran down his temple. He wished he still had that drink.
He finally reached a clearing. High above him, the three Lords were conversing among themselves.
"I still don't understand why you hate this celebration so much, Rosa!" Cecillia took a bite from a kebab. "It keeps morale up, and it helps foster forgiveness for any bad blood between the people. Not to mention, it's fun."
"Don't call me Rosa, and you know damn well why I can't stand it," Rosanna seethed. She rested her head in her arm, slouching on her throne. "It leaves us weak, vulnerable. And don't let me start about who this festival is even for; what good is there in celebrating a traitor?"
Chance paused, crouching lower. What?
"Now, Rosanna, you know the real purpose for this festival," Oasis said calmly. She looked relaxed, more so than Chance would've expected her to be. She lounged on her throne, swirling a glass of Mantis champagne, not unlike the one he had just drank. "We celebrate not his betrayal; rather, we celebrate the hope that he may one day still return to us."
"Despite everything, he is still our brother," said Cecillia, leaning out of her throne to look at Rosanna. "We've had this same discussion every Festival to date."
"And my thoughts are still the same," Rosanna said. "He isn't going to suddenly have a change of heart. He isn't going to cure himself. He isn't going to come home."
The mood fell at her harsh words, but Oasis only took another sip. "Regardless, it still is a great service to the general populace. It's a perfect opportunity to settle disputes between others, as Cecilia mentioned."
The downcast Mantis Lord perked up, nodding. "Exactly! Why, I received a complaint about a fellow Mantis having their home broken into, and their… food cooked?" She shook her head. "I swear, the strangest things happen in these Wastes sometimes."
Now seemed like a good time to speak up. Chance set Tusk down on the ground, and the two walked out into the opening together.
"OASIS!" Chance called.
The crowd around them grew quieter, but only in the immediate vicinity; his voice was drowned out by much of the more dense crowd, and most of the room didn't even register his shout.
The Lords, at the very least, noticed. "Ah, I was wondering if you would appear!" Oasis greeted them in a warm, yet demeaning tone. She didn't expect anything different from their last fight, did she? "It was Rio who informed you of this Festival, yes? I hope you don't intend to cause any more trouble here. If not, you're welcome within our borders for the duration of the Festival."
Chance took a step forward. "And if we decide to stay a bit longer?"
"Well, I'm afraid we'd have no choice but to execute you." Oasis shrugged.
Cecilia stared at her sister, appalled. "Oasis! Would it not be more suitable to simply maintain their banishment?"
"For their crimes? She may be right," Rosanna said, leaning down to see Chance and Tusk better. "They've gotten away with far too much already. If they even breathe funny, I say off with their heads."
Chance looked down at Tusk, and then back up. "Rio also told me that I'm allowed to stay if I beat you all up."
Whispers. Oasis merely laughed. "And have you the strength to even attempt such a thing again? If I recall correctly, our last battle ended quite… poorly for you."
hisarmwasburninghisarmwasburninghisarm-
"Humiliatingly. Bloodily." Rosanna was not helping.
"But you did survive," Cecilia said. "That's more than most can say. Please don't squander such a thing."
Oasis closed her eyes, swirling her glass of violet champagne. "Yes, squander not, human. Enjoy the festival while it still lasts."
BANG.
The glass in her hand shattered. The drink and shards exploded in a supernova of champagne, falling from her hand and into the gap between thrones below her. The three Lords were startled into attention, eyes wide.
The entire throne room went dead silent, all the hundreds of partying Mantises stopping to stare.
There, in the center of the crowd, stood Chance, holding a smoking revolver.
"My name is Chance."
Oasis regarded him with narrowed eyes. Cecilia and Rosanna looked on the verge of panic.
"Sister, t-that weapon, it's-!"
"Is that… the same one she used…?"
Oasis raised a hand. "Enough." The two sisters quieted down, and she looked back at Chance.
"If it is a fight he wants, it is a fight he shall get. Clear the room."
She didn't need to say it twice. The crowd surrounding Chance backed away immediately, like a receding tide, leaving him and Tusk alone in the center of the ring. When everyone had backed up far enough, the three Lords stood, and the cage fell, the spike pits opening around them.
Cecilia places a hand on her sister's shoulder. "You don't need to appease him, sister. That… thing is too dangerous. It's not too late to-"
"I've always wondered what it would be like to face that device in battle," Oasis said, her voice firm. "Worry not for me."
And then she was gone in the wind.
The first thing Chance and Tusk did was split; they had no idea where Oasis would come from, or what she would try to do. They ran in opposite directions, Chance holding his gun and Tusk holding their nail.
She appeared out of thin air, brandishing her spear. Tusk barely had time to react before she lunged forward, the small knight needing to leap above the Lord and strike her from above. If she was hurt by the attack, she didn't show it, and leapt into nothingness again.
How does she do that? …Is there some kind of secret?
A blue blur rushed past him, and Oasis was hanging off of the cage wall behind Chance. He turned and aimed, but before he could pull the trigger, Oasis flicked her wrist at him and vanished again.
A cyclone appeared in the air and came hurtling at him. Chance tried to step back, and-
He screamed, as the sickening squelch of his arm ripping appart echoed throughout the throne room. His left arm was nearly ripped off, only hanging on by a few straining muscles that he couldn't even move anymore.
All he felt was pain
BURNINGINBRUTNINGITBURNSITBURNSITBUNRSITBURNSHELPHELPSPLEASHELPSITSPUBRSUBURNS-
The gun clattered out of his hands and slid across the stone floor. It came to a halt when Oasis stopped it with a foot, regarding it.
"That's the same injury you suffered last time, no? I suppose some things never change."
Tusk ran up, nail in hand, and leapt into the air to attack Oasis from behind. She merely spun around and sent another Wind-Blade their way, and Tusk, unable to dodge in mid-air, collided head-on with the attack.
"TUSK!"
The small knight fell like a stone, dropping their nail with a clatter. With no resistance left, Oasis walked up to Tusk, kicking their nail away just barely out of reach.
"Do you remember what else happened last time?" She stomped on their chest, and raised her spear high in the air, the blade aimed straight into Tusk's mask.
Chance got to his knees, hand clutching his nearly severed arm, wisps of Soul dancing around the blood, and…
...He wasn't going to make it. His gun was out of reach, and Oasis was a second from killing Tusk. He didn't have time to grab it and aim. He needed to do something now.
Chance grit his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes, as he instead clutched at his arm, and yanked.
The few muscles dangling on snapped, and it hurt. It hurt so much. His arm was fully severed, and dropped to the floor as he cried out.
The blood-curdling scream was enough to make Oasis pause, and she gave a brief backwards glance, only to see Chance's severed and bloody arm flying straight at her face.
It wasn't that it hurt very much, but the act of having a fucking arm thrown at you is enough to make even the most stoic warriors startle. Oasis stumbled back, red blood staining her cloak and chitin, her concentration broken.
Tusk took the opportunity to jump up and grab their nail. They spun around, leaping at Oasis and striking her in the back of the knee, sending her to the floor as she gasped in pain.
Chance scrambled up, not having any time to heal his arm, and grabbed his gun, rolling over to face Oasis, who stared at him in horror, and-
BANG.
Oasis's head reared back, hemolymph arcing in the air from her bullet wound. The crowd surrounding the cage watched in terror as she clutched the hole in her horn, before leaping away into thin air.
Unable to bear the pain a second longer, Chance grabbed for his arm and healed it, sighing in relief as he felt his cold, numb fingers move again. He and Tusk got to their feet, looking up at a wounded and bloody Oasis, back on her throne. He could barely hear her labored breaths from down here.
Cecilia was instantly by her side. "Sister! Are you alri-"
"I got carried away," Oasis huffed out. "I was… arrogant. You were right, Cecilia. I should not have underestimated them, simply because we had beaten them before. Forgive me."
Rosanna slammed a fist on her throne, glaring daggers at Chance and Tusk.. "You'll pay dearly for the humiliation our sister has suffered today, you-!"
"No." Oasis waved her hand. "If they will pay, they will pay fairly, within the ring. Such is our ways."
Cecilia frowned, but nodded. She rose from her throne, spear in hand, alongside Rosanna.
Chance held his gun, Tusk held their nail, and-
"However."
They paused, looking up at Oasis. Woldessly, she pulled out a small, blue bottle, and rubbed its contents over the bullet wound. Lifeblood, Chance realized. But where'd she get it from?
As the wound sealed itself up, she grabbed onto her spear. "However," she continued, "As we have made the mistake of underestimating you, it would be folly for you to underestimate us."
Oasis grabbed her spear, and stood alongside Rosanna and Cecilia. Chance's smile fell.
"You have grown stronger, Chance. It is only fair if your adversaries are stronger, too."
And with her words, the Sisters of Battle all flew into the ring.
Each sister, Chance knew, was a hardened warrior-ruler, each only rivaled by the others, forged within the terrifying crucible of the Mantis Tribe's relentless culture of war. Each was a bastion in their own right, impregnable to pain and weakness.
One was a handful, manageable only with luck and an unfair two to one body advantage, plus a revolver, if available.
Two could easily overwhelm whatever Chance and Tusk threw at them, bar suicidal and desperate plans.
Three?
Three was madness.
The three sisters swarmed upon Chance and Tusk like locusts, biting and stabbing and stinging-
It was too much to process.
Chance could only blindly swing into the air with his claws, and while he failed to land a scratch on the Lords, he was battered and bruised with strikes. In a brutal strike, Rosanna slammed the butt of her nail into Chance's jaw. With a winceful crack! , it dislocated from the furious strike.
Tusk did not fare much better. While Rosanna specifically targeted Chance, Oasis and Cecilia focused their efforts on the small knight.
Cecilia charged low at them, spear thrusted out, forcing Tusk to jump over her. Before they could even attempt a downward parry, a Wind-Blade from Oasis whisked through the air, cracking their mask and knocking them to the floor.
Another time, two opposite Wind-Blades had them cornered, forcing them to jump straight up; directly in the path of Cecilia's downward strike.
Maybe it was just from them being outnumbered, but Chance thought the Mantis Lord's tactics were downright dirty. They cornered them, set them up for failure, gave them no opportunity to even defend themselves. It was cruel, lethal, humiliating. Effective.
At some point, they'd gotten bored and decided to switch places. Cecilia and Oasis focused on curb-stomping Chance together, while Rosanna fought Tusk. The one-on-one was almost fair, had Tusk not been on the verge of collapse from getting ruthlessly battered by the other two.
Chance had almost managed to fire his gun several times since the match started, but the Lords always managed to cut him off at the last possible moment. They knew the gun was dangerous, somehow, and didn't even give him a full second to himself. He needed to spend each precious moment on healing so that he wouldn't die, but if he didn't fight back, he'd never get anywhere, and he'd eventually run out of soul, and…
He cocked the hammer on the revolver, looking for the first target he could see, only to get the blunt end of Cecilia's spear smashed into his temple, sending him to the floor. The gun clattered just inches from his hand, but just before he could reach out to get it, Oasis's spear stabbed straight through the back of his hand.
He screamed as the tendons were ripped apart and the bones were smashed, the blade jutting out of his palm. He couldn't even move; he was pinned.
From the ground, he got a good view of Tusk and Rosanna's end of the fight, which wasn't looking pretty. Tusk was stumbling around, nail scraping on the ground, their mask cracked and leaking black blood. (Blood? He didn't know.)
They raised their nail, only to be knocked aside effortlessly by Rosanna. They collapsed onto their back, nail falling out of their hand. Rosanna stood over them, spear aimed into their skull.
Just like last time.
Just like last time.
Just like last time.
Not like last time.
Please, God, not like last time.
"TUSK!" Chance screamed again. His claws dug into the stone below him, jerking and writhing under Oasis to try and escape, to help, to do anything, to save Tusk-
…
...
Tusk warbled,
warped,
bulged,
and erupted.
An overwhelming heap of meat exploded out of Tusk's body and eyes, all of the kebabs they had been fed earlier by eager Mantises shooting out all at once, a tidal wave of freshly-cooked meat - still good, surprisingly - knocking Rosanna over.
"W-What the-?"
The thick, amber marinade on the kebabs stained her cloak and chitin as she stumbled and fell over, covered in the sticky substance. She dropped her spear, stunned.
The crowd surrounding the cage gasped in awe and disgust. It was pretty gross; Chance almost felt bad for Rosanna, but this was the opportunity he was hoping for.
He grabbed at his gun with his good hand, firing it upwards over his shoulder. He missed, but the resounding BANG!was enough to make Cecilia (Wait, Cecilia? Did she switch with Oasis?) startle and fall over, the spear dislodging itself from his hand.
With a short cry, Chance quickly healed his hand, scrambling to his feet to open fire on whoever-
He stumbled back as a Wind-Blade just narrowly missed his face, but the powerful vortex ripped the gun right out of his hands and sent it flying over…
...right into Oasis's waiting palm.
She tsk'd, meandering around the arena, calm and collected as ever. "Things almost got out of hand there." She weighed the gun in her hand, "What a curious weapon you've found. Why, I've seen nothing like it in many an age."
Chance paused, realization hitting him. "You've seen it before?"
"I believe so. It was wielded by another, similar to yourself. Chaotic, ambitious, always tangled in the lives of others." She hummed. It occurred to Chance that neither Rosanna nor Cecilia had even attempted to stop this brief parley. "Ah, but she fled this barren kingdom so long ago; lucky her."
She aimed her spear at Chance, who was weak, bruised and unarmed.
"You will find no such escape."
Think.
Think, dammit.
Chance took a deep breath, eyes trained on the blade of Oasis's spear, and the gun in her hands.
I'm cornered here. How can I get out of this tight spot?
The spear and the gun.
Oasis had used her spear to launch a Wind-Blade, which pulled the gun out of his hands, and into hers.
How does that wind magic even work…?
It was wind. It was wind. The stuff that would gently blow aside fallen leaves, that would let hair flow behind you and into your face, that could provide a soothing chill on a hot day.
That same stuff nearly ripped his arm off and stole a gun from right out of his hands.
The gun fell into the vortex… and was pulled away…?
...
Chance's hands sharpened into claws, as he got down into a running stance. Oasis looked amused.
"Oh? Intend to approach, do you?" She regarded the gun one last time, before crouching down in a combative stance of her own. She held her spear out, ready to swing at him and slice him in two.
Chance, unarmed, defenseless, and completely out of his depth, charged forward at the Mantis Lord with reckless abandon.
Oasis swung her spear high, the very wind around her blade shivering at her strength.
Chance didn't try to dodge, shield or deflect.
He ran straight into the whirlwind.
Oasis reared back, and with a merciless battle cry, lunged forward with her spear. She plunged the blade directly through his chest,
only to find that Chance had vanished without a trace.
The crowd kept pushing around the cage, everyone fighting to get a good view of the scene within. The challenger, the Trickster, had simply disappeared!
"Where'd he go?!"
"What kind of coward runs away from a fight…?"
"Did he just... teleport?"
"How'd he even do that?"
Cecilia hopped over to where Rosanna had Tusk pinned. "What just happened? Where's Chance?" She held her spear close to her chest, nervous, waiting for something to happen.
Rosanna stood up straighter, looking proud despite being slathered in kebab marinade. She vowed to take a long, relaxing soak in the nearest hot springs the minute this nonsense was over. "He's likely trying to pull another desperate trick," she huffed. "Honestly, I've had it up to here with his nonsense. I just want him to forfeit and run off already."
Cecilia paused. "I… thought you wanted him dead?"
Before she could respond, Oasis called out to them. "Don't stand so close! We don't know what he's planning!"
Cecilia took a step back, but didn't go too far. The pale mask of the knight below them, cracked and leaking, caught her eye.
They were expressionless, but they were staring up into empty space, and… nodding?
Up…?
Cecilia slowly turned her head to the ceiling of the cage, high, high above them, and could just make out the form of Chance, grabbing onto the roof, using the Claw to grind away at a link of a chain.
Lightfoot bellowed a furious war cry, and Chance only screamed back as the two warriors drew closer, blades at the ready, the crowds around them cheering, calling for blood to be spilled, and Lightfoot raised his blade, striking downward in a wide arc…
...and cut through thin air.
It took a moment for the disgraced Mantis warrior to realize what had happened. When he did, he glanced around frantically for his opponent, only to find Chance had somehow disappeared from the ring entirely.
The other Mantises only looked around in confusion, some disappointed, some in awe; whatever had just happened, it was too fast for them to see.
Lightfoot nearly screamed in rage, when a tiny bit of rubble fell and bounded off of his shoulder.
...From… above…?
Slowly looking over his shoulder, Lightfoot could spy Chance, trying to hide on a shadowy part of the ceiling, barely holding up.
"What're you doin' up there?!" , he hollered.
"Staying away from you."
That was the secret.
He wasn't sure how it was possible, but somehow, the blades of the Mantis Tribe had the potential to slice through the very air around them. Whether it was from extreme sharpness, or a secret technique, he wasn't sure.
But their mastery over wind explained everything.
It explained how the Wind-Blades worked. It explained how the Mantis Lords could move so blisteringly fast; they jumped through vortexes in the wind, practically teleportation at their speeds. It explained how Chance, entirely on accident, had wound up on the ceiling during his match with Lightfoot the other day.
And it also explained how he went from nearly being impaled by Oasis, to hiding from her, far, far up on the ceiling of the cage, in the blink of an eye.
He grabbed onto a hanging chain. He wasn't sure what its purpose was, but he guessed the cage around them had to be raised and lowered through some kind of pulley. Sharpening his hands with the Claw, he began to cut his way through the heavy chain link, wrapping his legs around the bars of the cage walls for support.
The Claw was sharp, and the chain was cutting easier than he expected. But he had to hurry; he couldn't have more than a few seconds before they-
"THERE!"
...looked up.
"Now!" he shouted, finally cutting the chain with a firm strike. Damn, he could cut metal with his bare hands now. Badass.
On his cue, Tusk broke free from a distracted Rosanna, jumped up into the air, and surrounded themselves with an abundance of Soul and smashing into the ground, the shockwave of Descending Dark sending both Rosanna and Cecilia to their knees.
He only had a few seconds.
He grabbed onto one side of the broken chain and leapt off of the cage wall, with one of Oasis's Wind-Blades smashing into the metal bar he was just hanging off of. Holding onto the chain in a deathgrip, he let it unwind and dragged it down, riding it back to ground.
Oasis raised her spear defensively as Chance flailed on his way down, but stumbled as she felt a wave of moonlight crash into her back. Behind her, Tusk had launched a Vengeful Soul to startle her. Being more on-guard than her sisters were a moment ago, she managed to stay standing, but it made her focus waver.
From above her, Chance came flying down. She looked back up at him just in time for him to kick her in the face with both feet.
Grunting in pain, she stumbled to her knees, dropping her spear as she cradled her injured face. Chance let go of the chain and fell to the ground, just before the dropped spear.
He grabbed it, holding it off to the side. He needed to use the Claws to keep his grip on it from how massive it was.
Oasis raised a hand. "W-Wait-"
Chance swung with all his might, and smashed the blunt end of the spear into the side of Oasis's head, shattering it into wooden bits that flew everywhere.
The crowd gasped in awe and terror. Rosanna flinched. Cecilia stared in shock.
Oasis grabbed at her head, shouting in pain. With a dash, she vanished, reappearing on her throne, grumbling in defeat.
One down… two to go.
A Wind-Blade sliced right past his neck, nicking it. He startled, jumping backwards as Rosanna charged him with fury in her eyes.
"I've had enough of you," she seethed. Chance gulped; if her stare was any angrier, it'd bore holes through him. She smelled of kebab meat.
She swung her spear wildly at Chance, forcing him to stumble backwards, inching closer and closer to the spike pit that surrounded the arena. With a particularly harsh jab that caught him in the side, Chance doubled over, clutching his wound.
He was practically at the edge now. His head and neck were just above the pit, lethal spikes mere inches below him. Splintered shards of wood were scattered across the floor around him from Oasis's broken spear, the pieces digging into his skin.
Rosanna stood above him, spear right at his neck. She stabbed downward, and Chance had to roll over to dodge, now facing downward into the spike pit. If he fell, there was little chance of him surviving it, healing magic or not.
Something caught his eye, and he blinked.
In a small gap between the spikes, arm's length away, was a small splinter of wood. Could he…?
He reached down to try and grab it, only just barely grazing it with his fingers. A long shadow fell over him, and he looked behind up just in time to see Rosanna's spear drive into his back.
He screamed, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel her cold blade stabbing through his back, barely missing his spine, and digging all the way through to his stomach, where the tip poked out and scraped against the stone floor. The pain was blinding, he could barely move. He couldn't move if he wanted to; Rosanna's spear had him pinned.
"Had enough yet?" she spat. With a harsh tug, she ripped the spear out of his back, forcing another cry of pain. She aimed at his neck-
He desperately lunged into the pit, hands wrapping around the wooden splinter, and poured his Soul into it.
Pale moonlight flooded the corner of the arena, blinding Rosanna and forcing her to step back. The outpouring of Soul was enough to heal the wound in Chance's back, letting him rise to his feet.
He held the shard of Oasis's spear, holding it outwards, waiting for the other fragments to come to him…
…
...the splinter was yanked out of his hand.
He blinked. The splintered wood, and other pieces like it, were flying out of the spike pits to be reunited, to be healed as one again.
But the fragments of Oasis's spear, scattered across the arena floor, weren't moving.
The splintered wood soared over Chance's head like a flock of migrating birds, all centered together on a different object. Something else that was destroyed in the arena.
Cecilia blanched. "T-Thats-!"
Oasis ducked as a piece flew right over her head. They all coalesced just to her left, next to Cecilia's throne…
Her breath caught in her throat.
Soaked in pale Soul light, piece by piece, a fourth throne among the Lords was restored.
…
The entire throne room had gone dead silent.
Cecilia covered her mouth with her hands, shaking.
Oasis stared at the new throne to her left, her hands clutching the armrests of her own throne in a vice.
Rosanna was… Her breathing was steady. She wasn't moving, her stare locked onto the throne.
In the crowd, a few Mantises complained as Rio shoved her way to the front, looking over the arena. When her eyes caught on the fourth throne, she gasped, taking a step back.
Tusk observed, unmoving.
Chance tried to roll out of his tight spot near the ledge as quietly as he could. He didn't understand what was going on or why, but he got the feeling that-
He froze as Rosanna's spear was pointed right at his neck. Her expression was unreadable, but it was clear she was struggling to maintain a mask of indifference. Her hand around her spear shook, but Chance couldn't guess from what emotion.
"Y-You…" Even her own voice quaked as she fought to keep her breathing steady. "You... wretch. Revolting fiend. Dishonorable Trickster. You insult our traditions, our people, our honor, our very way of life…" Her gaze darted to the throne, "And now you insult our memory."
She was seething. Chance could almost see the fire swell into a furious, raging inferno in her eyes.
"How DARE YOU!"
She swung her spear in the direction of the throne, a Wind-Blade poised to destroy it all over again.
But out of nowhere, a second Wind-Blade collided with the first, and the two exploded in a vortex of wind, forcing Chance to cover his eyes as his clothes waved.
"No, how dare you, Sister!"
Cecilia leapt in front of the fourth throne, spear at the ready, staring down her sister. Chance backed up further, but neither of the Lords paid him any mind.
"What are you doing, Cecilia? Out of my way!"
"No!" she shouted, standing her ground. "Not a day goes by where I don't look upon our brother's destroyed throne, and not a day goes by where I don't regret destroying it. His actions hurt us, but Caesar is still our brother, Rosa!"
"His actions scarred us! He's no brother of mine!" she roared, charging forward. "And don't call me ROSA!"
Chance could only watch as the two sisters clashed, sparks flying from the metal of their spears as they practically flew across the arena in their duel. With a shove, they broke apart again.
"How could you say that?! You loved him, too, just as I did! It is you who dishonors Caesar's memory, not Chance!"
"That was BEFORE he turned his BACK on us!"
"He only wanted what was best for-!"
"SILENCE!"
Both sisters paused as Oasis, still tending to her own injuries, slowly rose from her throne. A pregnant pause fell over the arena; Chance felt like he couldn't even breathe under her gaze.
There was something so fundamentally different in Oasis's presence when she's in the ring and when she's up there, standing high above her people, as their leader. Instead of the violent warlord he just had to take down, Chance saw a proud, noble figure, one the Mantises could look up to and depend on.
"Is this not… the very reason we hold this festival?"
The Mantises in the crowd turned to one another, murmuring among themselves. Oasis turned her gaze down to Chance, who was still half-lying on the ground, waiting for one of the Lords to stab him through the chest or something.
"Trickster… No, Chance. You are unfamiliar with our customs, yes? Perhaps it is only fair I give you a history lesson."
She turned back to the crowd, raising her voice for all to hear.
"Many years ago - time is imperceptible and thus immeasurable in Hallownest - our great Tribe was split. The light of the Infection promised us something we hold as a virtue; strength. It promised us greater minds and stronger forms. Although most of us possessed the mental fortitude to resist such temptations, many of our Tribe followed the Light in hopes of a better future.
"Perhaps they were desperate. Perhaps they were prideful. Perhaps they were not proud enough. Perhaps they simply wanted to protect those they cared about. Regardless, those who followed the Light and willingly took the Infection within themselves split off from our Tribe, and found their own home elsewhere. We are unsure what has become of them.
"And… our own dearest brother, Lord Caesar, was the leader of their division."
Some Mantises looked down, turned away. They shook as they were embraced by their loved ones. They must have lost family in the split, Chance realized.
Oasis continued. "His actions have scarred us, divided us, wounded us in a way only time could ever hope to heal. And yet, we still loved him, simply because he was our brother. Our strong, kind, foolish little brother. And we held out hope that one day, he may turn his back on the light and return to our side.
"And thus, we founded this Sunset Festival, in hopes that the blinding sun in their eyes may finally fade, and that our family may find their way back to us once more. For its duration, any and all may come and go, from travelers to outlaws, who seek redemption and peace.
"Forgiveness. That is the core value held within this Festival, and that is the value we hold close to our hearts."
She looked down at Chance. "Trickster… Perhaps that title is one of pride now? Although you fell to our blades the first time you came here, you and your Vessel friend have become much stronger in the short while you've been away. I, for one, am honored to have witnessed your growth. Even without this… sudden change of events, I feel strongly that this fight has ended in your favor."
She raised her hand over him. "I declare you to be pardoned of all crimes, and from this day forth, welcome within our home."
The crowd erupted in cheers and protest, the latter much stronger. Chance felt… numb, yet tingly. He felt like something was fluttering around in his stomach. What… was happening? Was this real?
Did they just… win?
A shudder. Chance turned to see Cecilia dropping her spear on the ground to approach a distraught Rosanna, who was shaking.
"W-Why… Why is our brother so cruel?"
"...I don't know." She embraced the other Mantis Lord, who jumped at the contact.
"I-I'm still covered in this disgusting-!"
"Sh, I know. Forget it."
Rosanna, stiff and nervous, collapsed into her sister's embrace.
"...I miss him so much, Cici."
"...Me too, Rosa."
Chance smiled at the scene, the pain and fatigue of the battle still rendering him numb. He glanced over at Tusk, who was jumping up and down triumphantly, like a little kid who had just won the lottery.
Chance smiled. He felt light. He felt weightless. He felt…
He collapsed on the floor, unconscious.
...
Cecilia, her clothes now stained with residual kebab marinade, jumped up next to Oasis to whisper in her ear. "S-Should we call the healers this time, too, Sister?"
Oasis shrugged, lounging in her throne. "Eh. Just get him a bed, I'm sure he'll be fine."
Chance fell forward into the ground…
…
...Chance kept falling forward into the ground…
Chance was falling….
Falling…?
He was still falling. But… forward?
No, he was falling… in a circle?
Wait, he was spinning.
Spinning in mid-air.
He flailed, trying to grasp onto something, anything, for stability. His whole body felt weightless, everything was a rush of white. He kicked and reached, but didn't find purchase on anything. Like he was alone in the universe, nothing but himself, spinning endlessly like a record…
...Okay, he was getting nauseous now.
With a desperate lunge in a random direction, his fingers grazed on a solid surface, and with a few more tries, he managed to grab onto it. His legs kept spinning from the momentum, but he eventually managed to come to a complete stop, still floating.
He ran a hand over his eyes. Everything was so blinding, and his head was still spinning. He groaned, rubbing his gloved fingers over his temples to massage them…
...Wait, why was he wearing gloves?
Blinking, he turned to look around him. Almost everything was a stark white; loose wires floating in the open air, mind-boggling arrays of switches and buttons, small lights flashing, monitors reading out information he could scarcely comprehend.
Everything was both too cramped and too open, but most of all, too… cold.
"Is this… a spaceship?" Chance mumbled to himself.
The area was some strange blend of old, messy spaceships, and a more sleek and sci-fi design, somehow achieving both looks simultaneously without looking fragmented or too chaotic.
Looking down at himself, Chance was wearing a spacesuit that matched the ship. It was less bulky than those old suits the astronauts from the 70's used, adorned in some decorative(?) blue stripes. It also had one of those heavy backpacks, though it was also smaller and lighter than old suits he'd seen in pictures.
He couldn't seem to find a helmet anywhere. It was around, surely.
Chance pulled himself through the spaceship, still disoriented from the lack of gravity. There was no clear up or down, everything felt too relative. He flew through the labyrinth of tunnels and wires and soft beeps, unsure of what he was looking for or expected to do, if anything.
It was lonely, he realized. There didn't seem to be anyone else on this ship, and if that was true, he was probably anywhere between a few miles and a few hundred million from the nearest person. Floating endlessly all on your own through the cold dark, nobody to support you; it's inevitable when you stray from the main voyage for some romantic "self-made greatness." It's arrogant, is what it is.
Oh, was this is helmet? ...Yeah, it fit all right. A complete set.
Chance finally managed to find a small window, and pressed his face against the glass to peer into the world outside. Or lack thereof; all he could see was inky blackness. No planets, no moon, not even any stars. Only the horrible despair that awaits him should he continue down this path; a despair that I would do all I could to keep him safe from.
He shook his head, accidentally shaking up a terrible idea in it. He had a full suit. What if he went outside?
By all accounts, it was stupid. He didn't know how this ship worked, he didn't know how his suit worked, he didn't know what to beware out there. But something, be it curiosity or a death wish, possessed him to find the nearest airlock. He didn't even want to follow the path of his own ship…? What do you want, then, Chance?
And here he was, in the… airlock. Right, the airlock. He would need to be careful here, to make sure everything went smoothly. He fastened his helmet on his head, taking a deep breath. Oxygen seemed to work, if he could still breathe in a big fish bowl.
He pressed his hand on the most obvious-looking button. It bared a bright-red warning at him.
He was deafened by an explosion.
No sound. He didn't even have a scream leave his lips. He was rocketed outwards, debris from the blown-off section of the ship flying with him. He flailed, feeling nothing. There was nothing to feel. Nothing to grab onto, nothing to keep him stable, nobody there to guide him and teach him and help him grow.
He tried to steady his breaths, not sure how much oxygen he had, but couldn't focus. Was he hyperventilating? Out here, stuck floating through the endless Void of space, he was lost. All he needed was someone to lend him a hand, or maybe a wing.
Why was a spiderweb following him through space- Oh, God, his helmet was cracked-
But he wouldn't have to worry about that much longer. I was there to comfort him, to guide him back to the light.
Chance spun around, feeling suddenly warm. A golden light washed over him, and he had to squint and cover his face with his arm to handle the intense glare.
Colossal in a way no mortal could ever fully comprehend, the brilliant glory of the sun itself flooded his vision with light. I shone unto him like an unimaginable spotlight, for he was the only thing left in his universe, except for empty despair, and me, his guiding light.
The beauty and might of the entire sun, and he had my full attention.
Please, Chance. Don't be like this. Come back to me, and I can offer eternal life and happiness, together. All of us, together. All the world's hearts beating as one, our minds and bodies in unison.
And you will be their king, you sly liar.
Wider and burning brighter than Earth, in a heartstopping scale that put Jupiter to shame, two great, holy wings expanded out from the mass of the sun, like a fiery embrace, just for him.
-shallblazefree-
Do you even realize the blissful lie you've been living? It's only been possible because of me. Follow my Light, and I can help your little white lie become reality, along with any other lies that you see fit.
Leave my generosity behind, and your lies will fall apart, leaving only cold despair.
The overwhelming heat cracked Chance's helmet, the spiderweb growing, until it shattered. Chance's throat felt tight, and his head felt like he stuck it in a dry-ice box; freezing to the point of being numb. The only warmth left in his body, was from me. He owed me that much.
-dawnshallbreak-
He couldn't breathe.
He spun around, trying to scramble away from the planet-scorching fire, trying to escape, somehow, anyhow. Despite his better judgement, I'd hope.
He couldn't breathe.
Chance, I'm here for you. Just come to me.
He couldn't feel.
I won't hurt you.
He couldn't feel.
I'll make sure you never feel pain ever again.
He couldn't feel anything.
He couldn't feel anything anymore.
He couldn't-
…
...He curled up on himself, covering his eyes to blot out the light that threatened to sear his eyes, and screamed.
Screamed into the cold void. There was nothing left.
He paused. He was still alive.
The sun was gone. There was nothing left.
Nothing except… weight.
He stumbled, but slowly, he stood. He was still in his spacesuit, helmet attached but shattered, a ring of broken glass around his neck where it once was.
He could breathe something again, but it didn't seem like air. It felt like he was trying to breathe under an ocean, water rushing into his lungs, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The world was empty, yet felt so close.
A tap. He turned around, and nearly fell back in surprise.
A giant bug towered over him, chitin black as night and mask as white as freshly-fallen snow. It was as thin as a twig and its horns were almost taller than his whole body. They donned darkened, rusted armor, and a filthy green cloak draped over their shoulders. A cold visage, but not an unwelcome one.
They leaned down to meet his gaze, their dark eyes boring into his, expressionless, yet with an unreadable emotion behind it. Chance, hesitantly stepped forward. They raised out a hand to placate them, and they leaned into his touch.
Their Soul, Chance could feel it… It was so full, as full as any other Soul he'd ever read, but it wasn't conveyed through words or memories or hallucinations. It felt more like suggestions, like he was seeing subliminal messages in the dark. Shifting, turning, pointing at him, swirling around itself. It wasn't silent, but it didn't "speak" in a way any human had ever experienced before.
Chance stepped back. "You're…" His voice echoed so far. "I know you. I saw you… in the City. You're the statue. You're the Hollow Knight."
The Hollow Knight raised a hand. Chance reached out, slowly, and pressed his own hand to theirs. They couldn't interlock fingers with him, but they closed their fingers around his hand anyway.
"You… You look kinda like Tusk."
And then they pulled his hand closer, having balled it into a fist. Chance stumbled, but walked closer.
The Hollow Knight brought their fist up to their chest, and tapped the outer side of their fist to their chest.
Chance stared, not comprehending. "...What…?"
The Hollow Knight tapped their fist to their chest again, more firmly this time. The way their hand was angled, as if they were turning a doorknob on their chest, it wasn't some kind of salute or show of respect, but…
"Tap… Tap your fist? Punch? Hit? Strike?" Chance tried playing charades, only for the Hollow Knight to shake their head every time. They put their fist out, and almost slammed it into their chest.
"Your chest… Put something in your chest? Put… insert?"
They nodded. Chance noticed inky black tears running down their porcelain face. Chance raised his hand up, running his thumb on the underside of the mask, wiping a tear away. Their whole body was shaking.
He didn't know when the darkness consumed him; all he could hear was the tapping of a fist against a chest.
...
Hollow Knight… Who are you?
Why do you look like Tusk?
And… What are you trying to tell me?
What are you asking of me?
I don't understand…
I don't…
…
..
.
Chapter name and beginning notes are a reference to Don't Bring Me Down by Electric Light Orchestra.
We considered splitting this 13k word chapter in half for a double upload, but decided against it. Hopefully not to much of an inconvenience. A chapter this big is bound to have a slew of errors so I hope it's not too bad, despite our editing runs.
Anyway, the space chapter. In space. In a story about apocalyptic medieval bugs. space. yep. i do what i want.
i tried to worldbuild a bunch on Mantis cuisine, i was talking in servers and with my coauthor about the stuff they'd make; communal stews, salads, alcohol, all the good stuff. but for some reason i ended up hyperfocusing on the kebabs. a catastrophic and unforgivable failure on my part.
also yeah i turned the Spider-Man gag into a plot point. sue me. i do what i want.
Honestly I'm not as proud of this fight scene as I was of the Soul Master fight; something about it feels slightly off but I can't name it and thus can't really fix it. Maybe it's with how I handled the characters of the individual Mantis Lords. I hope it's still enjoyable regardless.
Extra note from Piston: "That one scene, y'know, that one with Rio and Chance, I had nothing to do with that." He's right; It was me. I was responsible. i do what i want.
We hope you enjoyed; please leave a comment and consider joining our Discord server (Code is PYXCv9tUPg), and we hope to see you next chapter! :)
