"I wanna wish it all away."

Chance just wanted a cure, and now he felt like he was on fire. He couldn't stop the violent shudders running up and down his body, collapsed on the stone floor in a pool of his own blood. His own blood. It seeped through his clothes and stained his skin, hot like lava and thick like syrup.

Please… is this really the future you want to fight for?

His body convulsed again, and he pulled himself inwards, trying to pull something close that wasn't there. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open or not. He didn't respond.

I can still save you. Please, don't do this.

His fingernails dug into his arms, drawing more blood. He choked back a sob.

I'm the only one who can save you from this.

I can help you escape the pain.

Silence, as the blood soaked into his hair and stuck to his cheek.

Without me, dumb luck cannot save you from a future that is already written.

His unsteady hand reached out and fell to the floor. Let me out.

Please, let me out.

Let me out.

Let me out.

"LET ME IN, ASSHOLES!"

Chance reared up and smashed his foot into the door, a loud clang! echoing through the Fungal Wastes as the muffled hisses of disgruntled mantises came from beyond the door. He could annoy them all he wanted, but they valued their security over their own patience, and wouldn't open the door no matter how much of a racket he tried to make.

Cornifer sighed from behind him. "The Mantises are a sturdy type. They don't fall to such tricks like intimidation easily. I admire your acting, however."

"Uhh…" Acting. Yeah. He was just playin' Bad Cop with them. That's all. Mhmm.

Cornifer approached the door, gently running a hand over it, only to flinch back with a small peep when he heard the bristles of agitated mantises on the other side. "It's interesting, though. From all known accounts, it seems as though the Mantis Tribe escaped the wrath of the infection through sheer willpower alone."

Chance perked up. "Willpower…?" He was already infected, so it probably wouldn't help much. But maybe…?

Cornifer flinched at Chance's airy voice. "Forgive me, I don't mean to get your hopes up, friend. It's most probable that they simply got lucky, and you…" Didn't. Yeah.

Still. Did the entire Mantis Tribe really all just get lucky…?

Tusk swung their nail at the door, but the response was even weaker now. They were growing used to them being here, shit. Chance, feeling fed up and tired, gave the door one last good, firm blow, seething as he cut his knuckles on the metal door.

"I-I'm sorry to say, friend, but if you insist on finding the Mantis Tribe, you'll have to find another way." Cornifer removed his glasses to wipe the growing sweat on his brow. "Luckily for you , one of my maps can surely help guide you on your way!"

Chance deeply appreciated Cornifer, he really did, but he couldn't help but deadpan at him. "For how much?"

"Seventy-five Geo."

God damn it.

"I'd take off my jacket if it wasn't my only way of defending myself…" Chance seethed through gritted teeth as he and Tusk continued through the Wastes. His shirt was plastered to his skin, his hair stuck to the film of sweat on his brow.

This place felt endless. Hallownest felt endless. The sea of metaphorical bullshit he had to wade through seemed endless. He didn't know if all these spores flying around were dangerous, but he's been in the Wastes for what must've been hours and hadn't kneeled over dead yet, so they were probably fine enough. Being stuck in a giant cave full of the things probably wasn't, but he was too tired to give a shit.

So far, he'd only broken several ribs, fractured his leg, had about half-a-dozen uncontrollable coughing fits, and healed more bruises than he could be bothered to count. He hoped those two giant mushroom things were wasting away in Hell now. They single-handedly dished out half of the injuries he'd suffered since setting foot in these Wastes, and all for nothing but a stupid, glowing rock that Tusk was enamored with for some reason.

And it was too fucking hot. He probably should've figured it'd get hotter as they went deeper, but it was already killing him and they barely seemed to have descended at all. They just… went in a big, vertical circle. They must've gone up , if anything.

Well I'mean, it's not that it's hot so much as it is humid , y'know? The acid's putting a bunch of gas 'n heat into the air, don't worry it won't kill you from where you are, and the heat's trapped in this cave, and it doesn't have anywhere to escape.

Huh?

Plus, those spores are like- y-y'know how greenhouse gasses work? They cover the earth like a blankety and trap heat, yeah, and so it doesn't go anywhere, it just kinda billows around, so a little heat goes a long way and it's a lot hotter than it should be.

But what about those spores?

The mushroom spores are acting basically like greenhouse gases, billowing around, trapping heat and making everyone miserable. You can't really do anything about it, but it's probably safe to take off your jacket, at least. It's not defending you from anything, anyway.

Huh… Alright, thanks.

Chance reached around, cringing at the slick layer of sweat sliding between his bare arms and the inside of his jacket, and tugged it off, throwing it all over his shoulder with a heavy flop of cloth. Tusk glanced back, tilting their head, and Chance thought absently how cute it would've looked if he didn't feel like he was being cooked alive right now.

"...What?" Chance called out. "Yeah, I wear baggy clothes, so what? 's not like I have anything else to change in-"

The earth under his feet began to rumble. The ground erupted, Chance flinching away as specks of dirt flew everywhere, Opening his eyes, a new character stood before him.

"Ah ha! The tiny steps of a tiny creature! And…" A head covered in a cloth, like an executioner's hood, eyed him up from within the sloppily-cut eye holes. "And the... medium-sized steps of a medium-sized creature."

"...What?"

The large newcomer straightened up, heaved her massive club over her shoulder, and Chance somehow knew she was smiling under her hood. "Ah, no matter! You got the look of an adventurer, so we've much in common." She let out a deep, jolly laugh that shook the cavern walls, and smacked Chance on the back hard enough to make him double over. He tried to hide his wheezes of pain from his still-aching ribs, and-

Wait.

Why didn't it do the thing?

"If you're searching for dangerous places, you're on the right track," their apparent new friend continued. "A long-necked critter warned me of a tribe deeper down. Warrior sorts, so she says and I'm itching for some serious combat."

Chance reached over his shoulder and tried to run a hand over the space where her hand was just a moment ago. Yeah, why didn't it-

"I-I wasn't hiding, you know. Just napping before I head off again." It occurred to Chance how one-sided this conversation was, especially when it wasn't happening like it should be. When'd he come to rely on magic for basic socialization?

"Bound to be facing even more deadly beasts soon, so I gotta keep me strength-"

She paused as Chance laid a hand on her shoulder. He couldn't help but hold his breath as his half-dead, infected eyes glowed back into where hers weren't. Slowly, spurred on by some ghost he couldn't comprehend, he slid his hand over her shoulder and up her neck, his finger wedging a tiny section of the fabric away, until his fingers were pressed against her club, trying to overpower her.

She wouldn't allow it.

Not for Nola's sake.

She wouldn't hide anymore.

The beast fell backwards.

She swore to herself she wouldn't hide anymore.

She leapt up, and coming down with a tremendous force, smashed her club into Chance's fucking ribsohmyholy SHITTHATHURT-

Cloth snorted. "Keep your hands to yourself, traveler. " She turned to Tusk, and her demeanor brightened. "And you keep sharp, my adventurous friend! Stay alive, and let's meet again on the road ahead!"

And with that, she burrowed under the ground again, gone without a trace.

Okay. Now he knew; in order for his "soul-reading" to work, he needed direct skin contact. It didn't work with Cloth initially because she was only touching his jacket, and not him directly. Every other time had been direct bodily contact; with the shaman, with Styx, with the Hunter, with Hornet, even.

Oh, and damn that spider-woman for stealing his phone. He still needed to track down and find that biiii iiiiaaaAGH FUCk, he could barely bREATHEE-!

Gooooodaaaaaaamiiiiiiit-

"C-Can I just, like, punch you for your Soul and heal myself with it?"

…

"I-I don't know if that'd drain from your Soul, since getting hit didn't take your Soul before. But if it didn't drain your Soul, but did give Soul to me, then if we both kept hitting each other we'd have an endless Soul reserve…"

…

"Yeah, I- I know that's stupid. I- forget it. 'said nothin'."

…

"...but like, can I still borrow some of yours?

…

"...I'm dying, Tusk."

He felt terrible admitting it, even to himself, but he was kind of starting to doubt that name.

Tusk.

It didn't count right.

TUH-uuuuuuuuusssssss- kuh. Did the T count as a syllable? Did the K count as a syllable? It stuck out enough to feel like it but he didn't know. He couldn't even say it in his head without reflexively twisting his tongue to account for the "kuh" sound he wasn't making.

And the song… Actually, nah. He could never disapprove of Fleetwood.

Though, he wasn't sure if it fully… matched up with his companion. Though, it was kind of hard to judge what "matched up" with them, since he was increasingly aware of how little he actually knew about Tusk as a person.

They were mute, they were a master at swordplay - y-yeah, okay, NAILplay, alright, I-I'll remember, Jesus! - and were just strong on the battlefield in general. They seemed curious, they were a great cartographer, they liked being close to Chance for some reason, and most concerningly, seemingly did not emote in any significant way.

"Don't say thatchu love me~!"

Hmm…

"Just tellmethatchu want me-!"

Well, Tusk picked it out themselves, so who was he to object?

A voice shattered his thoughts.

"So you continue your hopeless journey? Hpmh. So be it, should your longing for death drag you deeper into this dead kingdom's pit."

Chance spun around, only to freeze up when he saw who had called him.

The cold, unyielding blade, tearing his chest open-

Hornet glanced over, eyeing the strange archway she stood in. "It appears you near the end of this so-called 'Pilgrim's Way'. But that is not an end for you; merely the beginning of a new chapter in your death march, one far more treacherous." Her deep black eyes turned on him, narrowing dangerously. "I wonder if you will even find the strength to reach as far as-"

She bit back a yelp as Chance threw his entire nail at her, only narrowly missing.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PHONE?!"

Hornet hissed, turning on her heel and sprinting down the pathway behind her. Chance didn't even wait for Tusk to catch up before he followed suit.

"GET BACK HERE!"

Chance stumbled his way through the tunnel as best as he could, but Hornet was just faster, more light-footed than he was, and even in such close quarters, he quickly found himself falling behi-

Falling.

Chance screamed, flailing backwards until he felt himself collapse safely on the stone path. He sat up, struggling to catch his breath and his mind wrestled with the thought that he came this close to falling into that massive pool of acid below him. How did she-

Heaving, feeling shudders run through his body, he glanced up, just in time to see the Huntress on the opposite end of the lake, vanishing behind a corner. How did she-

"GOD DAMN IT!"

Chance was pretty sure there were laws against this. Like, eighty percent sure. Even in a place as lawless as Hallownest, there's gotta be some kind of unspoken rule, or some kind of guidebook somewhere specifically saying, "Hey, don't do that."

At the very least, it was probably considered rude to sneak up behind a Mantis, quickly cover their face with your jacket and restrain them before they could resist.

..Hey. Don't you go makin' that face. It was better than killing 'em, which Tusk probably would've done in a heartbeat if Chance hadn't made his suggestion first.

The unlucky Mantis warrior they had stumbled upon hissed violently, tugging harshly at their restraints to break free. He didn't know how they worked with those long blades for hands, but he'd tied the sleeves of his jacket around their "wrists", just below the blade. It was actually the perfect length to do so, by some bizarre miracle, and the Mantis couldn't break free.

Or at least, it'd keep them still long enough to answer their questions.

The question, though, what was to ask. He still wasn't quite sure what he was even looking for; he knew there was something important, something he needed to find here, but what? It was definitely around here somewhere , though. Maybe directions were a good starting place?

Of course, knowing what he was looking for in the first place would have helped. That, and his fingers were crossed that the Mantis spoke Hallownest's common tongue.

"Alright, you listen to me 'n you listen to me good , you hear?" Chance tried to sound threatening. It was easier than he expected; the Fungal Wastes, something about it had been pissing him off lately. He was kind of concerned at his behavior, but at least now, it'd lend him an advantage.

The Mantis briefly ceased their struggles. "You damn wretch ," he seethed. "You conniving savage, you thing , you dare lay your claws upon-"

"Shut up." Chance just seethed right back. "I'm looking for a place , and I know you know the way. So you're going to give me directions, or I'll…" He paused for a moment, quickly scrambling for an effective threat against a Mantis, before he settled for: "Or I'll throw you down in the acid pits!"

"Tch," the Mantis was unfazed. "What place do you even speak of, filthy trickster?"

Chance opened his mouth, only for his breath to catch in his throat. He gasped again, trying to find the words. What? Why wouldn't the words come out? He knew what he was looking for, right?

It was the, uhm…

The Mantis in his grasp shuffled a bit more, with Tusk trying to help hold him down. " Well? You did not trap a warrior such as myself so dishonorably without a plan, did you? I can't imagine you're seeking to travel within the Mantis Village-"

" With-in-the-Man-tis-Vill-age, " Chance counted out instinctively, " With-in-the-depths-will-you-en-count-er-the-test-set-for-you-think-not-of-it-as-a-chal-lenge-think-of-it-as-an-ex-per-ri-ment-"

The Mantis, frozen for a moment, jerked violently, nearly hitting Chance with one of his exposed arm-blades. "I-I'm sorry? I didn't take you for a madman , trickster."

"Wha- I'm not a madman ," Chance said indignantly. "I know what I want! And you're gonna give it to me, you hear?!"

The Mantis' voice lost its threatening edge, and took on a more morbidly curious tone. "Then what is it you want from me?"

"I just said!," Chance shouted. "I want you to take me to… Erhm…"

"Take you…" the Mantis started slowly. "To your… 'test'?"

"-test-set-for-you-think-not-of-it-as-a-chal-enge-think-of-it-as-an-ex-per-ri-"

"But what test is it?" the Mantis tried. Somewhere under Chance's hood, he could almost hear a smirk.

Chance face twisted with frustration, and he reared back, landing a firm punch on the Mantis' head. "I don't fucking know, okay?! But you do , and you will tell me. "

The Mantis only chuckled. Apparently, Chance didn't throw a very good punch. "Of course, once you're done counting syllables."

Chance paused for a long moment. Just when his captive was about to speak, Chance cut him off, "Stop spouting bullshit and tell me where it is!"

"Where what -" The Mantis suddenly yelped as Tusk, who both of them had forgotten about, struck the Mantis' legs with their nail, sending them toppling forward. Chance reached out and grabbed him to keep him from falling ever lower in the ranks as always, Lightfoot."

He only sighed. "I thought I had explained this before, Sir. I'm not concerned with the 'ranks'. I never have been."

"Well. Clearly."

Lightfoot grimaced as his superior eyed him up and down - he had a lot of superiors these days - judgement practically oozing from his expression. The Mantis Tribe was a society of warrior's pride; if you wanted to rise in the ranks, all you had to do was beat up your superior, and if you won, you'd switch places with them. If you lost… Well, it could mean a couple of things, but if any punishment were served at all, a disgraced Mantis would most likely just be sent lower down in the ranks. If you were lucky, someone could lose a fight entirely unrelated to you and the loser would be sent down to your rank, and then you would get promoted to their former position simply because someone had to be.

But again, the Mantises valued pride and strength above all. "Luck" held no place in their society, especially not for rising in their valued ranks. Although demotion was the most common punishment, it was far more likely that there wouldn't be any punishment at all. The humiliation of losing in battle was punishment enough for the Mantises.

Lightfoot couldn't fully grasp this sentiment. Whenever he lost a battle, he often just stopped thinking about it the next day. He had too much on his mind already to be worrying about "pride".

"Tch. Your non-committal to our culture is a shame to our tribe, Lightfoot. Your will to fight is weak. You are weak." He spat on the ground before hissing out, "You're just like your Infected bitch of a mother, who couldn't even resist the temptations of a dream."

...His will to fight?

Fine, he thought, lunging forward at his so-called "superior."

Fine.

He'd show them his will to fighting against the bonds until they finally snapped, Lightfoot quickly scrambled up, putting as much distance between himself and Chance as he could.

" Hah! You have guts , trickster, I'll give you that much!" He bared his blade-arms threateningly, but there was a look of amusement across his face. "You wish to challenge our Lords? Then keep going down this tunnel, for our Village lies within. But beware, the locals will not take kindly to your presence, and the Sisters will be far from your only opponents."

And with that, he flung himself away and further down the cavern, far faster than Chance or Tusk could've run, leaving them behind in unnerving silence.

He'd gone to warn the Mantis Village that they were coming, and they couldn't do anything about it. And worst of all, he'd torn Chance's jacket sleeves, cutting them off at the wrists.

"God damn it."

Whoopsie-Daisy! You Wanted To Not Die From Weird Alien Mucus And Now You're Trapped In A Room Surrounded By Giant Angry Mantises And You're Mere Seconds Away From Being Butchered Alive.

Chance rolled into the shadowy looking room he and Tusk had stumbled upon, seething as he landed on one of the many gashes across his body. Lightfoot hadn't been joking; the Mantis Tribe wasn't just inhospitable , they were pissed by their mere presence. Only through the rush of adrenaline and sheer dumb luck did he still have his head.

He'd manage to gather up a fair bit of Soul while fighting for his life a moment ago, though, and took the chance to quickly heal up his wounds as best as he could. He patched up the deepest gashes, but could only shrink down many of the smaller ones with the stolen Soul he currently had. He absently wondered if there were a way to deepen his Soul reserves.

Oh, God, he could hear them out there. Hissing and screeching, enemies and family alike all working together to hunt down their intruders. Nobody seemed to bother checking this room yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone took a peek.

...What was this room? Just as the question crossed his mind, he jumped when he heard something clatter to the floor.

The room was lined with racks covered in what appeared to be some kind of sickles, jagged edges along their blade. Or were they claws? He couldn't guess from what, or how they got so many of them. Tusk, who had followed him in here, had bumped into one of the racks and had a claw tumble to the ground.

Tusk reached down to pick it up, only for the claw to…

...absorb into their arm and vanish.

"T-Tusk? What-" Chance tried to shift over, and felt something slide against his leg. Glancing down, he saw a similar claw laying next to him. He reached out and picked it up, thinking it could maybe be a good backup weapon, but felt something waver and warp around his hand.

His arm felt numb as the claw sunk into his palm like water. Chance couldn't even force out a scream. It didn't feel like it was stabbing into his hand, more like it dissolved in his flesh as it sunk deeper. There wasn't any blood or gashes, and he felt no pain. It just merged with his hand like some bad 3D render.

He couldn't clench his fists. He couldn't grab his wrist. He couldn't even bring himself to try to tug the claw out. Chance could do nothing but sit and stare in wonder and revulsion as his hands turned into something they weren't.

Oh, God.

Then his skin started to warp around it, climbing up what hadn't already been dissolved of the blade. The skin on his palm pinched and rose, until his arm had completely devoured the blade. It didn't stab or cut, but it stretched , bending and morphing Chance's flesh in ways he never wanted to know was possible.

Soon enough, the blade was his flesh. Tiny, sharp spikes, made of something between flesh and metal, sprouted all across the skin of his hand. Where his fingernails once were, there were now claws. On his palms, a handful of larger claws stuck out, all curved downwards at the same angle the metal sickle one was before he "ate" it.

All curved downwards. Like they were meant to be…

The sound of Tusk kicking off the ground caught his attention, and Chance glanced up just in time to see the small warrior jump into a wall, grab onto it and jump onto another wall, ascending the small hole they had fallen into back into the Mantis Village proper.

Chance glanced down yet again at his twisted hands. With a bit of will, he could make the claws all retract, restoring his hand to normal. With a bit more will, he could make them grow back in a split second.

...Climbing gloves?

No, Chance thought with a manic grin as he reached out to a wall and pulled himself up with almost as little effort as walking. This was even better.

Do-do-do.

Do-do-do.

Do-do-do-dahwhaschaspiderman does~

Okay, it was fun for five minutes but now things weren't fun anymore.

Don't take it the wrong way; having weird climbing claw things, as much as it made his gut waver, was still pretty kickass for giving him wall-climbing powers. It didn't even require any of his soul. He found he had a surprising degree of control over the claws, too; He could make the claws as large or small as he wanted.

Of course, it still had its limits, too, since he couldn't make any of the claws too big without ejecting the actual metal Mantis Claw from his arm like some magic, superpower-granting CD. Reintegration was about as painful as the first time. Still, having a useful power that he actually understood and could fully control was a refreshing change of pace from "shake a stranger's hand and be forced to read into their very soul."

The claws were cool and would continue to be cool. The problem was, well, everything else.

First off, it'd be a pain if climbing on the walls and ceiling were limited to his hands. He'd just be dangling down where anyone could see him. Luckily, and disgustingly, the Claw seemed to cover this by extending the weird flesh-hooks down to his feet as well.

He could climb every surface just like a… Well, like a bug, he supposed.

Problem was, he had shoes . He didn't realize how much of a godsend having a pair of modern, thick-soled sneakers in the roughs of Hallownest was until they were suddenly frayed and scrappy.

But before he accidentally shredded his shoes with his feet, he noticed that the rubber soles also warped under the Claw's weird, inexplicable power. If he could ever fix his shoes, maybe he could learn to use the Claw without tearing them again?

But that was if he could fix his shoes. And that was also if he ever got out of here alive. That was issue number two.

Climbing on the walls like Spider-Man was cool, until you realized all of your enemies could do it too, and did it far better than you ever could. Comparing a lifetime of something that came as easily as breathing to someone who thought this was impossible not even ten minutes ago.

Not to mention, the entire rest of the Mantis Tribe was already scouring the place for their heads. Chance and Tusk's attempt at a stealthy getaway broke down in about eight seconds.

Angry hisses, buzzing wings, and razor-sharp claws surrounding them in a flurry on all sides. Fruitlessly trying to swat away the masses, Chance shouted for Tusk, who had vanished in the storm of pissed-off Mantises. At some point, Chance's nail was ripped from his body, and shortly after, he fell backwards and fell like a rock, landing painfully on his back.

And with his pained grunt, the storm dissipated. Trying to get his breathing under control, he scrambled up to his feet, glancing around him. The scene didn't look good.

Reaching over his shoulder confirmed his nail was gone. Some movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced up to see Tusk hidden just around the corner of their escape route up and out of the Village, staring down at him. They'd basically escaped, but were at least willing to stick around to keep an eye out for him.

And Chance couldn't blame Tusk one single bit for wanting to stay put. He was down here, surrounded by a small army of seething Mantises wanting his blood. But it was strange; they were all gathered around him in a circle, a circle clearly defined by a large shape on the floor. What were they trying to do…?

"TRICKSTER!"

What is it, mooooom-?

Chance spun around to see none other than Lightfoot stepping into the ring with him, baring his arm-blades with a vicious hiss. "You'll have no ambushes or plots here! A true, fair duel awaits us both here!"

A one-on-one with nothing but a tool he hadn't even tested as a weapon yet, against the only Mantis here who had a very real reason to want his head.

I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but I'm probably going to deserve whatever happens to me.

And when someone comes sprinting at you with the clear intent to beat the shit out of you, and you're already completely cornered, there's nowhere for you to run except right the fuck back at them.

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."

Lightfoot shot up from the ring, wings propelling him up to a terrified Chance. His arm-blade jammed into the ceiling, mere inches from Chance's neck, who lost his grip with a yelp and fell to the ground yet again. The crowd hissed approvingly, glad that they weren't about to get cheated out of a good fight.

Chance slowly staggered to his feet, hand clutching his probably fractured ribs. Not fractured anymore. Yeah, he definitely had all this coming to him.

Lightfoot threw a swing, leaving a long, heavy gash on Chance's arm. While Chance reeled, he threw another one, leaving a second gash along his face, sending Chance stumbling backwards with a grunt of pain. The crowd bristled as he healed himself, leaving light scars behind as he ran out of Soul just a bit too early.

Alright, if he wanted to survive this, he needed to go on the offensive, now.

Chance grew claws on his hand, and-

The crowd roared at him with such anger he jumped.

"THIEF!"

"THE TRICKSTER IS A THIEF!"

"HE SULLIES OUR VERY WAY OF LIFE!"

"END THE TRICKSTER, LIGHTFOOT!"

His opponent seemed to take a deep breath to restrain himself, straightened his back, and glared down at Chance as the crowd silenced to hear his words.

"That Claw is meant to be a gift from our people to those who have earned it. I understand that I am the last one who should be speaking of 'honor'," he raised his voice a bit, directed more at the crowd around him than Chance. Until he turned his glare back. "But you insult our entire people with your actions, something not even I can turn a blind eye to."

Less than a week ago, Chance was terrified at the mere notion of accidentally trampling Hallownest's alien social constructs. With a very angry warrior tribe surrounding him on all sides, apparently, things haven't changed much.

Out of the corner of his eye, a much taller Mantis appeared in the back of the crowd, some hushed whispers rippling around the crowd near them.

Lightfoot approached him again, not sprinting anymore, but in a firm, swift stride. No more tricks. No more luck. No more getting away with things.

Chance walked forward, too, keeping his breaths steady and calm. Keeping eye contact.

Lightfoot raised another arm, ready to cleave Chance in half-

His face exploded and the world blurred.

Gasps ran through the crowd surrounding them both as something hot and wet ran down Lightfoot's face. Chance hopped around him, bouncing up and down on his toes, his arms up to cover his face as though it'd protect him from a blade. His hands clenched into fists.

He slowly ran the tip of his tongue over his thumb, and Lightfoot's first thought was that his eyes were not his own.

"If it's not mine to use, then I won't use it."

Whispers fluttered through the crowd again. The taller Mantis in the back seemed deep in thought. The tribe bristled, anxious for bloodshed. Lightfoot seemed… accepting, of Chance's self-imposed handicap, and the two stepped forward to-

"Now hold it for just one minute!"

Lightfoot finally snapped and roared, "WHAT IS IT- N-now-", only for his breath to catch in his throat.

Stepping into the ring, unconcerned with the seemingly impenetrable barrier the tribe had formed for the two combattants, a new Mantis approached them. Slightly taller than Lightfoot was, her body looking paler and more tired than the other Mantises, yet with some kind of youthful mirth about her.

But what Chance spotted immediately were her eyes, tinted softly with tangerine.

The crowd kept on talking. "She's alive?" "How is she on her feet already?" "Is she really getting better?" "Is it safe for her to be outside?" "She's not gonna snap and maul us, is she?"

As the crowd shifted, sharing Lightfoot's brief anger at their fight being interrupted yet again, the Mantis warrior himself looked like he was about to wither and die on the spot.

"M- Mother, " he sputtered out, "You're supposed to be in bed! Why are you-"

"Oh, please, I don't answer to you, Lightfoot, I just needed to stretch my legs." She cut off her son's stammering, "Don't embarrass yourself any further than you already have, you hot-head. I'm acquainted with your little kidnapper friend over here."

"Y-You are?"

I am?

Yes, you are, you dolt, just play along.

"Chance , my friend!" She threw her arms in the air in a dramatic greeting, "I'm glad to see you here, though ah, I must apologize for our tribe's lack of hospitality." She threw out a wide glare around the crowd, who just glared right back. The tall one in the back glanced away.

"Ah, perhaps we'd best take a step out for a little while? We've gathered quite the audience here. Some basic privacy for a conversation would be splendid. "

"Mother, no! " Lightfoot protested. "You're still ill! You shouldn't even be out of bed, much less-"

"Gods, Lightfoot, can't a woman take a stroll these days? You just focus on cleaning up your own messes, and my friend and I here," to emphasize her point, she affirmingly pat Chance on the back for more, are you?

P-Please, I just-

Can't handle the stresses of everyday life? I can't blame you. Your barbaric society seems hardly liveable.

…

...Rio, was it?

I… I have to be strong. I know I have to be strong. For my tribe, for my family… for myself.

… But…?

I'm just… so tired. Tired of it all. Ever since my mate died, ever since Lightfoot's been growing older and more rebellious…

Hey… It's okay. I understand better than anyone the struggles of motherhood.

…

But that's what I'm here for, isn't it? Pour all your troubles, your worries, your woes, and wash them away in my light. If you ever have the need, I can be a good listener.

...P...Please.

...What a drag it is, getting old.

"-are just going to take a light stroll around the Wastes. ...Oh, come now, he's surely proven himself a fine warrior to hold you off long enough for me to pull myself out of bed and drag myself all the way over here."

"Tch. I'd hardly call him fair , much less fine. "

Chance blinked himself back into existence for a moment, trying to process everything. Rio patted his back again, careful not to cut him again on her blade. She suddenly took a step forward, nudging Chance to follow alongside her as they walked towards the nearest exit from the Village.

"We'll be just fine , Lightfoot. A little exercise will only help my condition, won't it?"

"Not if you push yourself too much-"

"Pfft, I know how to restrain myself, unlike you, you buffoon. Don't you worry about little old me."

Lightfoot's argument died in his throat as Chance and Rio walked away. Chance noticed that the rest of the tribe had dispersed by now, convinced any worthwhile fight wasn't happening. Lightfoot, stuck in the middle of what was once his arena, slouched as he watched the two walk off.

Once they were out of earshot, Rio leaned down and whispered into Chance's ear.

"Don't say I never did anything for you, boy."

Chance only shivered in silence.

Chapter name and summary are a reference to Yellow Ledbetter by Pearl Jam.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Gordon Lightfoot (artist)
Rio by Duran Duran

Idk why but i have a bad habit of sitting on my ass for like three weeks and then powering through an entire chapter in a matter of days just in time to get it out within a month of the last one. i try to write in that weird between time but i just keep getting stuck for some reason

anyway, here's the chapter where chance gets angry at the Fungal Wastes for existing. to be fair, that place seems like it sucks for a number of reasons. Honestly a lot of this chapter was powered by me making up some bullshit on the spot that makes no sense, like the Mantis Claw sinking into Chance's hand and giving him *actual* claws. I just figured that'd be easier to use than trying not to accidentally drop what's essentially a mountain climbing pick that's not even made for your species.

there's a lot going on in this chapter, and not a lot of it makes much sense tbh. one thing I can clarify is that Rio knew about Chance despite having never met him before because both Rio and Chance are Infected, and hooked up to the Raidance's hivemind, so our moth goddess is sharing knowledge between the two so they can more convincingly pretend they're old friends when they're actually complete strangers.

there's a lot of other weird infection-related bullshit in this chapter, and there's going to be much more to come, but i don't think i can explain too much without spoiling the plans i have for this story. all i'll say is that the next chapter is gonna be pretty important overall, and it'll probably mark the point when things start to really get interesting. which is kind of crazy to think about, since Piston and I have been working at this story almost constantly for the past year and we're only *just* now gonna get to the good bits. come to think of it, that's kind of how it'll be for the next chapter of Midnight Rider too, so maybe we'll try to work on that a bit more as well, see if we can't get a bit more out before the year is finally over.

anyway, please leave a comment, thank you for reading and i'll see you in the next chapter! :)