"I can hear the bullfrog callin' me."
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Fi-
Chance was starting to believe that the flat side of his nail was more effective than the blade itself.
The formation of shrubs and leaves encasing the small grub-like creature collapsed as he smashed his nail against it. The grub bounced away almost comically, before falling over a ledge and splashing into the pool of acid below them.
The flat side was easier to use anyway, Chance thought as he and Tusk stalked the halls of another colosseum-like structure in Greenpath. There was no need for precision or skill. Why spend countless hours training to slice a monster clean in half when you could bash their face in with no training at all?
He didn't get any training anyway, aside from about twenty minutes of form practice and sparring with Iselda. After that, Tusk butted in, and here they were. Whether or not it came back to bite him in the ass, he wasn't sure, but for now, he was doing fine. Besides, it wasn't like he had the time for any real training; he was already against the clock.
It was a weird, lop-sided balance of things. His only real goal was to cure his Infection before it overtook him. He didn't care what it took, as long as he got there in time. More training maybe would've made things go faster, sure, but would the time saved from being well-trained be worth the time lost by actual training?
But with this revelation, their romp across Greenpath became a tad easier. Well, that, and the masonry, as cracked and broken as it was, was still superior to the natural cut paths that wove throughout the Greenpath. Not to mention that the creatures that ordinarily stalked the undergrowth were hilariously exposed without their leafy environment. Though, that still didn't stop some of the fauna.
Take, for example, the lesser "Moss Charger" he had just destroyed. They were surprisingly good targets to practice his new method of smacking the buggers around. Almost like playing an odd game of basebaitcher wound back, only to snap the ball forward in a streak of fire.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Chance dropped into a compact stance, winding up his nail.
Fi-
A perfect hit!
A small chuckle escaped him as the grub was forced off the platform. He could get used to this.
"H-Hey! Could we please just- just talk for a-"
The Huntress ignored him, shooting off again.
"...Dammit."
The hand he had reached out to her, as if he could magically pull her back, flopped down to his side. Why'd he care, anyway? It's not like she'd help them at all. Avoiding her was a good thing.
And yet, he couldn't help but feel a strange curiosity bubbling in his gut, frustrated at being denied. Some irrational part of him wanted to go closer, wanted to put his neck to her blade and ask, "What's your name?"
He wanted to follow but he wanted to keep his distance but he wanted to follow but he wanted to keep his distance.
He sighed, looking down at Tusk. They said nothing, of course, but stared at him as if to say, "Make up your damn mind."
Even Tusk must have been feeling that stagnant frustration, but they didn't even chase her as they had the last couple times. But regardless of how they felt, they had to keep going forward. Maybe their fortunes would change, but he had been saying the same thing for ages now; it only felt more and more unlikely.
Chance clambered up to where the Huntress had just been, stretching out with a yawn as Tusk effortlessly jumped up with him. They must've been going for a few hours now, his exhaustion was starting to get to him. They may need to find a place to rest soon-ish. He slung his nail over his shoulder, like a hobo-stick, sighing as they staggered on.
The room ahead had far more thorny vines than normal, including what looked like a massive one in the middle, bigger than any tree Chance had ever seen. ...That he could ever recall seeing. Either way, there was probably a way around it, as Tusk ran forward to survey the area. If they couldn't go around, maybe they could just cut through-
Goosebumps.
Every hair on his body standing on edge.
His sixth sense was practically going haywire.
Something, some one , creeping closer.
From behind.
They were behind him
She was behind him.
Closer.
Her breath on his neck.
A sound so petrifyingly soft, laced heavy with venom.
"Hissssssss~"
-something snapped in Chance, like he had just been injected with cheetah adrenaline, and he spun around, gripping his nail in a vice, only to see nobody there. His body was tense, and he felt a cold sweat coming on. The Huntress. She had gotten that close to him, and he almost didn't notice. He could be dead right now, if she wanted him to be.
(...If she could've killed him then and there, some part in the back of his mind silently wondered why she didn't , but it went ignored in his hysteria.)
Tusk had just about found the way through, but turned around when they heard Chance scrambling up a wall, trying to follow a path neither of them had noticed before. It was a good few feet higher up than he was, but he had somehow managed to get a foothold, and his fingers were just grazing the hidden platform above.
He didn't even know what he was doing. But this path couldn't be a dead end, right? The Huntress had to have gone somewhere. And again, there was that boiling curiosity; something red in a world of green, it stood out too much. Like a big neon sign just begging him to follow it. An hour or so ago, he would've been begging her to not follow him .
Just when he had gotten an arm up on the platform, he began to pull himself up when he glanced up, and noticed Tusk already there, three steps ahead of him as always.
Son of a-
What? Where did-
Oh, there they were.
Whu-
How'd they-
How was he -
His hands hurt.
Oh, for God's-
His whole body hurt.
Chance hated climbing now.
He had hoped that "secret path" he had found, courtesy of the Huntress probably trying to kill him, would act as, like… a trapdoor or something. Just a gap in the ceiling that led to a secret floor above for them to explore. Of course it wasn't that easy, because he had gotten up on the platform. And up the next one. And up the next one. Almost fell off of this one. Barely managed to get up that one. And up the next one.
It wasn't even fun parkour, just endless, grueling mountain climbing.
Tusk, an acrobat to rival most Olympic medalists, had no issue getting up. They'd also helped take out several of the huge hostile bugs swarming the area, but not without them all managing to make Chance's life even more of a living hell than it already was.
When they got back to Dirtmouth, he was checking with Sly to see if he sold any pesticides. Hell, he would be happy with bug spray. Though, he supposed that was the Hallownest equivalent of a black-market cyanide deal.
But finally, finally , the shaft ended. Moss turned to brick as Chance heaved himself onto a solid platform, free of those giant demon bugs, with a weary laugh. A break. Someplace safe. Someplace warm. Someplace that-
"-costs 50 Geo to open?!" Chance groaned. It wasn't a huge payment, but the fact that he had to pay anything at all was ridiculous.
Part of him wanted to turn back the way they came out of spite at the toll. But equally, they had worked so hard to get up here in the first place… the bug who designed this place was a devious bastard, that much was certain. Still, a toll booth after a shaft, what was the point?
But, he supposed they could gain the Geo back at a later date. Ugh, it was going to be a slippery slope if he kept that thought up. What was next, paying like, he didn't know, 150 Geo just to sit at a bench?
That was neither here nor now though. Grumbling slightly, he paid the toll, opening the iron gate. Some cynical part of him half expected it to be a dead end.
Tusk tugged on his hand, dragging him to the bench. Yeah, yeah, a rest actually did sound pretty good right now.
The two sides of Hallownest builders. They were insidious capitalists with their tolls, but their idea of putting benches all over was starting to grow on him. Well, that, and how they were able to build things in such inconvenient spots. He had to respect that.
Regardless, it was nice to sit down after such a grueling climb. Heck, he was practically melting into the cold embrace of the steel, as hard and impersonal as it was. Tusk, meanwhile, had snatched up the map and quill, making neat additions to their new map. He couldn't help but look over their shoulder as the quill flew across the paper.
Methodical outlining, markings, done with unparalleled precision. No mistakes made, no redos. Tusk worked with near perfection. Were they an artist? If not, maybe he'd try getting them some paint sometime. Though, did Hallownest have paint? Or even a good palette of colors? Even with his weird amnesia, he had the feeling that color pigments and the like were hard to replicate with Hallownest's apparent technology level.
Though, on the other hand, if they had the technology to scam him out of 50 Geo just to sit on a bench, maybe they could make paint after all, but he was certain it'd come at a price. Maybe if he just gave Tusk some charcoal…
A light tapping on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Tusk was holding the now updated map up to him for inspection.
"Yeah, it looks nice. You know you're freaky good at this, right?" A proud nod. Honestly, it was only getting easier and easier to interpret Tusk's little body motions. Or he was just ascribing emotion that was wrong or didn't exist to them. But back to the map.
...Huh. They really had gone quite up from that stone colosseum, if Tusk's map was accurate. Spatial perception felt so twisted in these caves; distance was so hard to judge. Though he had a feeling that was more of a "him" problem.
They sat there for a spell, content with their rest. But all good things had to come to an end. Tusk, who had the appearance of dozing off, lifted their head up, and jumped back onto the ground. They shot him a look.
"Alright alright, I'm up." He stretched a tad, getting back to his feet. Tusk's bottomless enthusiasm made him feel like an old man sometimes.
The upper portion of Greenpath certainly was less tame than the area they had left behind, if tame could even be applied. The rubble and ruins below did curtail the plant growth to an extent, or at least provided an easier path. Suffice to say, the same didn't apply here.
Though it wasn't like they cramped, far from it; the issue was instead the rioting jungle that had sprung up in the free space. While by no means impassible, it certainly was no walk in the park either. He and Tusk had even resorted to using their nails like machetes, cutting through the worst of the brambles. They were surprisingly effective for the job.
But sooner than later (and after a fight with a tall lanky, green knight; a leafy knight of all things), they cut through into an area devoid of plant life. Apparently, even the flourishing greens of Greenpath had their limits. Back to a place as barren as the Crossroads. And colder, too. Not to mention windy.
At the very least, it wasn't like they could be ambushed as easily now. And without all the greenery to impede them… yeah, it wasn't too bad. Though after the vibrancy behind them, the path did feel rather desolate and devoid of life. Part of him just wanted to turn back to Greenpath proper, but their strategy of wandering aimlessly had not failed them yet. So forward they went.
...Through the desolation, through the dark. Cutting down the few pitiful bugs that wandered here.
"Gah! Stupid gnat!"
Huh?
"I will smite you!"
Was… was someone…?
"Um… you hearing that too?" Chance asked Tusk. A nod.
Though it was a bit difficult to follow the voice on account of its incessant echoing, they found the source soon enough. In the center of a spacious cave, a very, very large Vengefly (Easily as large as the False Knight, Chance thought with a shudder) was hanging from the ceiling, with a… another someone stuck in its mandibles?
"Accursed beast!" came from the figure in the Vengefly's clutches. A rough and whiny voice, at that. Though that didn't deter Tusk from running up to engage this large Vengefly. Jumping high, even by their standards, Tusk sliced the monster's hide with their nail, releasing the thing's prey from its oversized mandibles.
"Oh shi-!" Chance yelped, running forward to catch the falling figure, but was far from succeeding. The bug, whoever it was, flopped to the ground in a pathetic display, yet didn't seem at all injured. Were all bug-people resilient to falling? Chance set the question aside as he scooped the light bug up.
Pride.
Doubt.
Conflict.
Desperation and Desolation.
Raised voice, scratched wood.
A mask. Lonely wandering.
He blindly clutched the figure quite tightly, running away from the battle. Tusk could handle themselves.
"Just what do you think you're doing?! You dare to come between me and my prey? Is it a habit of yours to scurry about, getting in the way and causing bother?" The indignant bug all but shouted from his arms. Chance winced slightly at the tone. Behind them, Tusk was still fighting the oversized Vengefly.
While this new bug certainly looked plenty like Tusk, sans a droopier, sad looking mask of bone, he certainly wasn't mute. And judging by the voice, male.
"Wha-"
"And let me down! You dare lay your filthy hands on my knightly visage!" The bug barked, cutting him off. Chance stood speechless from the outburst. Shocked too, in fact, so that when the rude bug squirmed out of his arms, he didn't resist.
"What is wrong with yo- Gah!" Chance tried to say, but exclaimed in pain instead. Did he-?
Yes, he had just been whacked in the shin by a wooden stick. Was this guy 5 or 50?
"And who the hell-" Chance ducked down as a smaller Vengefly soared right over his head towards Tusk, while ignoring him completely. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Chance grunted, rubbing his shin.
"I am Zote the Mighty, meddlesome cur!" he exclaimed, "Such ignorance to not know of my glorious name."
Chance did know of his "glorious" name already. He still wasn't sure how or why, though, and wasn't about to give Zote the satisfaction of knowing this.
"Wh-... are you serious?" Chance said in disbelief. Behind them, way off, Tusk plunged their sword into the Vengefly's head, effectively killing it. Chance didn't pay any attention as Gathering Swarm quietly emerged from his clothing, fluttering to the fresh corpse.
"Horrid beast! You dare question me!? Do so again, and you'll learn why my blade is named 'Life Ender'!" 'Zote' brandished the wooden nail, the very same he had been smacked in the sin with, threateningly. Chance would have called it pathetic, but he really didn't feel like getting smacked again.
"Um… s-sure, whatever…"
"What was that? Need I entertain your childish games?" Growled Zote, "For such a Mighty Knight to stoop so low… but I suppose I must enlighten you."
So, similar looking to Tusk, but otherwise completely different in every other way. More bark than bite, though.
Zote continued, oblivious to Chance's consternation, "I have traveled the breadth of the world, slain beasts beyond your comprehension, performed great acts of heroics! I am a warrior, a philosopher, an ace!" Zote exclaimed, swelling with pride.
...Yeah, he was just going to fetch Tusk and get out of here. At least his wallet was about… erhm, well, a bit heavier, at least.
"...And that is Precept 47. Now onto Precept 48! Be careful with fire! Fire is a type of hot spirit that-" And that was when Chance tuned out Zote yet again. He had spent the past hour going on and on about his backward "precepts", of all things. Chance was starting to wonder if it was really worth it to follow this guy.
"Uh huh," Chance nodded absentmindedly, focusing more on their surroundings, instead of the prideful bug next to him. Tusk was right next to Zote though, hanging on to every word coming from him. How they could stand it, he wasn't sure. Perhaps Tusk was starved for interaction? Or maybe bored? Was Chance that bad of a companion that Zote was more interesting?
"-nd now onto Precept 50! Don't linger on mysteries! Some things in this world are-" They were on 50 now? It was a wonder that this bug hadn't talked himself out yet. By far, he had to be the chattiest person they had come across yet.
But, he supposed it was something they were going to have to put up with for a while. They were, ahem, "accompanying" Zote to the local Stag Station. Or, as Zote had put it, "I will gladly extend my heroics to even the likes of you." It was annoying and mind-grating, but knowing the location of another Stag Station would be valuable. So, here they were.
"So uh, how far are we from the Station?" Chance quipped, cutting off Zote's speech.
Zote scoffed. "Insolent… thing! I'll have you know we're close. Just a few more minutes, impatient thing!" Zote barked, briefly stopping.
Normally, Chance wasn't one to antagonize people, but Zote's word choice was just too tempting.
"Thing?" Chance began, "The Almighty Zote doesn't know what I am?" While they still needed Zote, that didn't mean he couldn't mess with him a tad.
"Wha- Of course! " Zote exclaimed, bravado evident, "You're a… ah… cryptid!"
Cryptid? ...He wasn't too far off, actually. Well, by Hallownest standards. His "normal" was probably "sheer insanity" here.
"And what type of cryptid am I?" Chance prodded, bumping Zote slightly with his knee. He couldn't help but let a little grin cross his face, though Zote and Tusk probably couldn't see it on account of their dim surroundings.
"Well… you're… um…"
"Really? Such a well-traveled explorer such as yourself hasn't encountered one of my kind?" Chance smirked, hamming up his speech. He may have been enjoying watching Zote squirm a little too much.
"Of course I have! The name just eludes me! Truly, no one is perfect, though I have nearly attained it! ...Though, could you please refresh me?" ... Ugh, at least he said please.
"Well, we call ourselves 'humans', you got that. Humans." He repeated slowly, stressing each syllable. "Not hughmann, or whoman."
"Ah, humans. Yes, I remember now!" Zote proclaimed, performing yet another little stance. Little shit…
"What was that?" Zote asked, sounding offended. Shit, did he say that out loud?
"No, no, it's nothing." Chance had his fun, and Zote still had to lead them to the Stag Station. After that… he wasn't quite sure. By hell though, they were leaving Zote there.
"And are we getting any closer?" Chance asked. They had been walking for what felt like an hour now, and for all intents and purposes, it felt like they were no closer than they had been previously.
"Incessant gnat, patience!" Zote barked, "It is a great virtue! One you would do well to learn! ...But yes, we are close."
"Good, good." Chance nodded. Even if Zote was pretentious of all hell , it was almost over. Almost over .
Shrie- Crash!
Both jumped at the noise, Chance in particular wildly looking about, breath coming quickly. From a cursory glance, there wasn't anything out of place, except… oh .
"Where's Tusk!?" Chance nearly shouted, though managed to keep his voice quiet.
"Gah! Stay quie-"
"No! They must have wandered off somewhere! Help me look!" Chance broke off in a reckless run, following where the noise had emanated from. It wasn't that he thought of Tusk being unable to handle themselves; rather, it was the untold destruction that Tusk could potentially unleash. Or setting off whatever kinds of traps this place had, for that matter. Greenpath may have seemingly been mostly untouched by civilization, but he wouldn't put their luck to run into the one remaining trap that functioned. Or those bulbous, man-eating plants that could swallow both of them whole.
Breaking out into a somewhat small area, he witnessed Tusk doing battle with another one of those Leaf Knights. A gate was set against the back wall, presumably the source of the disturbance. Behind it was another one of those glass jars holding a grub.
Chance ran in, nail already drawn. The Leaf Knight was still occupied with Tusk, leaving itself exposed…
Crunch!
That was all he needed. Two truly was stronger than one.
And apparently, the knight's friends agreed. While Chance was distracted by the Gathering Swarm ripping a nice amount of Geo from its now dead body, two others crawled up from the leaves.
Zote scoffed, "Are you two done now? Ugh! So rude to run off!"
"Well, excuse us," Chance muttered, walking back to Zote with Tusk in tow. The grub gave off a happy chirp, before burrowing underground. The last of the white wisps from the Focus healing process had already dispersed into the air.
"Oh, I see. You believe yourself to be heroes based on your meager deeds. Well, aren't you good Samaritans?" Zote grunted, turning back. Bastar...
Wait.
" Good Samaritan? " Chance blurted. Something about that phrase stuck out to him. It sounded distinctly... human .
Zote scoffed again. "Uncultured herb! Have you not read the cultured literature of this kingdom? I knew you were an uneducated ruffian, but to the extent you show? Disgraceful!"
"But where does it come from? What's a Samaritan?" Chance questioned, trying to keep his temper under control.
"It's… uh… a good bug!" Zote exclaimed, "Like myself!" This was going nowhere.
"Ugh… just, can we get to the station?"
"Patience, grasshopper!" Zote snapped. "We are approaching our destination. In the meantime, however, I shall finish educating you on my Precepts. You clearly need them. And now, onto Precept #51…"
Oh, fuck this guy.
"...And here we are! Did you doubt my memory?"
He did.
Greenpath's Stag Station was in about as good shape as the Forgotten Crossroads; that was to say, fallen victim to time. Though granted, the sealed room kept a fair amount of the creeping greens out, so it wasn't all bad.
"No," Chance lied. Tusk had left to sit on the bench, "I… have to thank you for your help." Annoying little prick or not, Zote did save them plenty of trouble of wandering about aimlessly. Though that didn't cancel out the idiocy they had to endure.
"Save your thanks, peasant. It is the chivalrous duty of us knights, after all!" And exclamation, another puff of the proud bug's chest.
"Yeah, yeah," Chance wearily said, already making his way to sit by Tusk. While he was still remiss that Tusk was, for all intents and purposes, mute, a bit of silence wouldn't be too out of place. If he ever heard the word "precept" again...
Though his rest was quickly interrupted by a near-shout from Zote, "Don't think I do not require compensation! I think 140 Geo should suffice!" He was right next to the pay toll.
"Let me guess; travel money for the station?"
"...Yes." Zote said plainly.
"What's the magic word?" Chance crooned, adopting a lackadaisical tone.
"Magic word? Have you lost you min-"
"Is a simple please too much to ask for?"
"...Ugh, fine! May I please receive compensation?" Zote held out his bony hand.
"Sure." He was going to have opened the station up anyways.
A second of ruffling in his Geo pouch yielded the correct amount, which was promptly handed to Zote. While Zote walked off, his head returned to his hands.
Clang!
Rumbling increasing, silence, grumbling, rumbles receding. And just like that, Zote was gone.
Finally.
He'd saved the pitiful coot.
No, they had saved him.
Together, as one.
Why?
A Vessel held no emotion, no sympathy, no desire to help. Their kind were nothing more than hollow pests.
Pests, to be purged.
Then what of the Outsider? He still had a soul, and yet, seemed to almost be bonding with the Vessel.
...Perish the thought.
Vessels were nothing. They felt no pain, no fear, no sorrow.
They couldn't feel.
Because she wasn't sure she could live with herself if they could.
Chapter name and summary are still a reference to Green River by Creedence Clearwater Revival.
This chapter was an even bigger struggle than Part 1. Like in Part 1, I fell into another slump and couldn't focus on writing for a long time. Also like in Part 1, I want to give a huge thanks to Piston for staying on top of things while I was stuck.
Zote's here now. Cool, I guess. I'm still uncertain as to whether I want to flesh out his character more, give him some more emotional depth, or if I want him to remain the annoying comedic relief punching bag so that I don't feel as bad when he inevitably gets his ass kicked.
As well as a teaser for the next chapter, featuring poor Chance getting curbstomped by everyone's favorite spider. We've been waiting for this for a long time, and we're sure you have, too. If a chapter as fun as the next one doesn't pull me out of my slump, I don't know if anything will.
Back to this chapter, though, we were expecting it to be shorter and easier but we're starting to learn that these exploration filler chapters are just draining to write. We're thinking about ways to cut down on these, without leaving out too many important bits along the road.
And another thing, so far we've read comments and loved every word, but from now on we're gonna try to actually respond to them when applicable. That said, please leave a review, and we'll be seeing you soon with the next chapter!