"Deliver me from reasons why /
You'd rather cry, I'd rather fly."
Chance's house door slammed open, dust and harsh wind swirling around his legs as he scrambled past the couch and into the kitchen. His frantic, thudding footsteps were the only sound in the house. The bedroom was empty, save for rustled sheets and a half-empty cup of water on the dresser. He rushed out and threw open every door, screaming Jeremy's name as he rushed out of his house, only barely remembering to slam the door behind him. The house was cold, and anyone who was once here had long since left.
When Chance threw Iselda's door open in a frenzied panic, for a terrifying moment, she thought he had finally succumbed. That he had failed. She reached for her spare nail-
"Iselda! Have you- H-Have you seen-"
Chance wasn't approaching, only standing in the middle of the room like a manic idiot, eyes darting around as if looking for something. Putting her nail away where he wouldn't see it, she quickly circled the counter and grabbed Chance's shoulders, trying to get him to calm down.
"Chance, what happened? Breathe, focus, just- just talk to me."
"I-" Chance tried to wrestle himself out of Iselda's arms, turning to look out the doorway. "J-Jeremy. They took him-"
"Jeremy?" Iselda raised a brow, confused. Who is 'they' and what did they want with this 'Jeremy' figure? "A friend of yours? I'm afraid I haven't met any-"
She clutched her head, seething in pain as she doubled over. Chance held her up, his breath hitching in concern. "I-Iselda! Are you okay?"
She shook her head, focusing on her breathing. "Y-Yes, sorry, I'm fine. Must be lightheaded for standing by that counter for so long." She took a long breath. "I… I think I remember a cloaked figure going down the well, saying he was headed for the Peaks. Is that your Jeremy?"
Chance gulped, his throat feeling dry. "Y-Yeah, that's him! Thanks!" He turned and sprinted out of her shop before Iselda could move to stop him, slamming the door.
She sighed, confused. She turned around to the glowing pink crystal on her countertop, the once Chance had given her. The Crystal Peaks… that's where the rock came from, isn't it?
She eyed it, its pink neon Light illuminating the otherwise dark shop.
I hope he stays safe up here.
Right as Chance ran out of Iselda's shop, Quirrel was there to grab him. "Chance, stop and breathe!" he said as they wrestled for a moment. "What's wrong?"
Chance froze, trying to listen to Quirrel's advice. Deep breath in, deep breath out. "J-Jeremy, he was-" He took a second to collect himself, "I think he was kidnapped."
Quirrel's eyes widened. "What?!" He looked up and down the street they were on, as though expecting someone to overhear them. "By who? And where was he taken? And what makes you think it was a kidnapping?"
He tried to stay composed under Quirrel's questioning. "He was taken to the Peaks. W-Well- I think he wandered there on his own, but was taken once he was there."
"By who?"
Chance's throat clogged up. "I… I-I'm not sure who, exactly," he choked out, "but Jay never runs off like this. I-I told him to wait here while we went down into Deepnest, so I don't… I-I dont fucking know!" He felt like breaking down. He didn't know what this stupid game was, but at this point he didn't care. He just wanted Jay to be safe.
Quirrel took a deep breath. "Chance…" He obviously didn't believe him. "I don't know what the situation is, but panicking won't help anyone. Focus for a moment, and we can work this out together."
Focus. Relax. Breathe. He could do that. He was good at Focusing. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as he let his fists clench and unclench in rhythm. Focus. Focus.
Once he had calmed down, Quirrel patted his shoulder with a smile. "We'll trek up to the Peaks together, and we'll search for your friend. I'm sure we'll find him in no time!"
Chance sighed, a faint smile on his features. "Y-Yeah… you're probably right." Despite everything, Layla wouldn't have anything to gain from hurting Jeremy, right? Though… he was probably terrified right now. Even if she wouldn't lay a finger on him, it didn't make the situation any less urgent. He had to save him.
"Come on. If there's nothing else we need here, Lightfoot and Tusk are already at the well."
Compared to Deepnest, being back in the Crossroads was refreshing. Chance actually knew his way around, and they had a mostly-complete map to follow. It was well-lit enough, familiar, and straightforward. Their route was short, too: just past the Black Egg Temple, and then a little down, and there they were.
(Chance eyed the Temple as they walked past it - it gave him the creeps. Was it true that the so-called "Hollow Knight" was sealed away in there? What did it "sacrifice"?
Was it worth it?)
As they descended, and the blue ambience turned pink, Chance remembered Myla, the little miner. God, it felt like it'd been ages since they saw her; he and Tusk promised her a dance, didn't they?
"I'm gonna fix this. I'll cure myself, we'll come back here, and all three of us can dance through the night. How's that sound?"
Myla looked doubtful, but slowly, a sad, small smile crept onto her face. "Promise?"
"Promise," Chance confirmed without hesitation.
Through the dull vibration of the crystals around them, he could almost hear her voice just up ahead. He smiled; hopefully Lightfoot and Quirrel wouldn't mind if they made a quick pitstop. (The Mantis and pillbug in question were already preoccupied anyway, gazing at the massive pink crystals around the cave in awe.)
"...Bury my body... c-cover my shell…"
Chance approached the hole where Myla usually was, a grin on his face. "Hey!" He waved down, climbing into the pit. Tusk followed wordlessly, while Quirrel and Lightfoot shrugged at each other before hopping down.
"B-Bury… W-What meaning in darkness? Yet here I remain…"
Chance approached Myla from behind, frowning. "Hey… Myla? It's us again… are you alright?"
She hiccuped, freezing.
"I'll wait here forever...till light blooms again…"
She turned around, staring at Chance.
Her eyes were glowing orange.
Chance felt his heart sink into his stomach, before the little miner lunged at him with her pickaxe in hand. Caught off-guard, he didn't have enough time to move out of the way, and the pickaxe plunged straight into his thigh.
He screamed, blood oozing out of where the rusty metal dug into his leg. Reflexively, he punched Myla away, yanking the pickaxe out with a cry of pain.
Lightfoot and Quirrel darted forward, blades at the ready, aiming to kill her. "NO!" Chance shouted, grabbing Lightfoot by the waist, keeping him from cleaving the little miner in two. Quirrel hesitated when he saw Chance, and only just moved out of the way to dodge another pickaxe that was thrown through the air.
It landed on the ground near Tusk, trying to hit them. They were paralyzed, shaking at the sight of Myla's infection. The miner herself was almost frothing at the mouth, her mind gone.
"KILL IT… DANGEROUS…" Her eyes turned from Chance and instead bore into Tusk's as she readied another pickaxe. "KILL THE EMPTY ONE…"
Chance jumped out to grab Tusk and move them to safety, but his injured leg made him collapse to the floor in pain, his arms around Tusk. As Myla's pickaxe sailed through the air, he rolled over, pulling Tusk with him out of harm's way.
Quirrel hooked his arms under Chance's and began pulling him towards the exit. "Help!" he called out to Lightfoot.
The Mantis's head darted from Chance to the rabid miner, and he grabbed at a barrel full of crystals before knocking it over, keeping Myla away for the precious moments it would take for him and Quirrel to pull Chance and Tusk to safety.
They could still hear her insane howling as they dragged themselves away from Myla's hole and onto an elevator, which hoisted them upwards to safety. Quirrel set Chance down on the rock floor, the human still holding onto Tusk.
Scholar and warrior sat down on the cold stone floor, catching their breath. "That… that miner was Infected. Why didn't you want us to kill her, Chance? There's bound to be others like her down here that we'll need to fight."
Chance didn't respond. He was still trying to catch his breath, reeling from everything that had just happened. Myla was perfectly fine before; did her Infection progress that rapidly?
In his arms, Tusk was shaking uncontrollably; inky black tears rolled down their pale mask, staining Chance's shirt black. He choked back a sob; he wanted to cry, too.
Because that was him down there. That was him.
"...Let's not go that way anymore."
The sunlight was blinding. The small boat gently rocked beneath his feet, only a thin layer of wood between him and oblivion.
He stood still, staring up at the sun overhead in the golden sky. It blazed down onto him, turning the clouds tangerine and the waves a deep orange. It hurt his eyes, but he couldn't look away.
Jeremy was alone, standing on a boat in an endless ocean.
Was this death?
A creeping feeling grew from behind. He couldn't turn around to see. He wasn't strong enough.
Hands on his shoulders, inching up his neck. She whispered into his ear.
She spoke to him.
Jeremy's eyes widened in horror, tears rolling down his cheek. She was lying, she had to be. He wanted this to be fake. He wanted to go home. He wanted to wake up.
The blinding sun filled his orange eyes.
Light-
Chance spun around, eyes darting behind him. Nothing was there, nothing except more crystal.
Quirrel paused, looking at him. "Is something the matter?"
He shook his head. "N-Nah, just… thought I saw something. Must be nerves," he tried to laugh it off.
The Crystal Peaks were beautiful. Massive, glowing pink crystals covered every surface, some of which were larger than he was. They didn't just refract light across the grey stone, they emanated it, seas of crystal far below in pits that looked like seeing a pink sun from straight through the Earth. The Peaks were by far the brightest area they'd been in yet, the crystals more than illuminating every dark corner of these caverns.
He could see why these crystals must've been coveted in Hallownest's prime, as well as the sheer scale of the mining operation that took place here to sate the old Kingdom's desire. Wooden support beams covered the walls and open space like webs, large barrels and crates full of broken-up crystals were laying around in corners, and there were shelves displaying unique samples of the crystals as well.
There was even the endless roaring of machinery, large conveyor belts moving mined materials and depositing them in barrels. Though, it made Chance wonder who was mining all this stuff and keeping the machines working, if the Kingdom was dead. There couldn't be many miners left, judging from how most of the belts were empty, rolling on to no use.
Still, for an abandoned mine, the Peaks were one of the most gorgeous places he'd seen yet, maybe only challenged by the natural allure of Greenpath. There was something wondrous about the mysterious glow of the pink crystals everywhere he looked, something that a lifetime could be spent studying.
So what was this feeling of anxiety creeping up his spine?
They came across a chasm filled with sharp crystals, the beauty turning into a fatal hazard. They had to jump across a row of conveyor belts, being mindful of the direction and speed they were moving, as they precariously made their way to the other side.
Quirrel and Lightfoot got across almost effortlessly; Tusk took a few seconds longer but was just fine. Chance was the one who was lagging behind, of course.
In his defense, bugs were stupidly acrobatic! Any loser from Hallownest could leap this whole chasm without breaking a sweat, but even the most well-trained humans would struggle to make it across like this. The Mantis Claws were the only reason Chance didn't fall to a horrible death, being able to grip onto the edges of the belt and claw his way there.
He collapsed on the other side of the chasm in a heap, the other 3 standing over him. He felt fucking pathetic. This was his journey, fighting for his life, but he'd been dragging his ass ever since Deepnest. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he just bitten off too much?
"You alright, Chance?" Quirrel asked, lending a hand. Chance took it, pulling himself up with a groan. He felt somehow kicked.
"Yeah, I just…" He looked around this new space. It wasn't much different from what they'd seen so far. Same wooden supports, same Infected monsters, same giant crystals. (He must've been really dragged through the mud at this point for the wonder to be wearing off this quick. 'Same giant crystals' his ass, where the hell did all that awe go?)
But something was off. Wordlessly, he power-walked through the tunnels, orange eyes staying forward as the other three had to jog to keep up with him.
After a minute or two, he'd circled back to the starting point, at the edge of the chasm. He looked left and right, pursing his lips.
"We're at a crossroads."
They could keep going forward, or they could climb up. Neither one seemed very promising, but they had to go somewhere. Quirrel snapped his fingers, which Chance wasn't aware was possible with chitinous hands.
"Why don't we split up? We may find your friend much faster that way." Chance fought the urge to groan, having to remind himself that this was a perfectly logical conclusion to come to and that they weren't living in a horror movie.
"I mean, I guess that works. You and Lightfoot can keep going forward, Tusk and I can go up." It occurred to him that these tunnels were running at right angles; the fact that they were most likely man-made was his only comfort that they might meet up again further down.
"Alright. Stay safe!"
"Y-You too…"
...Why did he pick this route? He hated climbing.
"Tusk, c'mon, it's a straight wall up and then we can keep going. I don't know why you want to-"
Tusk wasn't listening. Instead of taking the easy, direct path, they wanted to take the path that looked like something from a wall climber's nightmare. There were spikes and tight crevices everywhere, and Chance knew he wouldn't last a second going up that way.
"I- Alright, fine, you go that way, I'll go the easy way, we both know I can't follow you."
Tusk nodded, jumping up through the hole like a tiny Santa Claus up a chimney. Chance groaned, trying to pull his weight up his own path. The Claws definitely helped, but he needed to get in shape. It felt like a scam that all the "fighting for your life" shit didn't give him even one cool muscle. Maybe it was because he was still flailing everywhere like a scared child, but he still felt like a helpless bag of meat.
Meatbag. Huh. He hadn't thought about the Hunter in Greenpath for a long time. They still had his journal, didn't they? Maybe he should take another look at it; for all he knew, Tusk had been updating it without him noticing this whole time.
As he finally pulled himself to the top, a metal door on the other side opened, surprising him. From behind, Tusk stood next to a jar, a large green Grub trapped inside.
"Oh… so that's why."
Tusk smashed the jar with their nail.
After Chance's panic at seeing "Myla's" state, Lightfoot almost felt bad about decapitating other Infected miners, orange blood and viscera spraying across the crystals.
Almost felt bad.
Quirrel seemed disturbed at his "less than graceful" execution methods. By contrast, he kept to quick piercings and carefully-placed slashes, always needing to wipe the Infection from his blade after every enemy they took out. But if the Hallownestian scholar had any complaints, he didn't voice them.
So much for multiculturalism. The savage and the prude.
Quirrel held out a hand, motioning for Lightfoot to stop. Beyond them, the machinery ran much heavier than before, massive crushers pounding against the conveyor belt, meant to grind crystal chunks into fine powder. Lightfoot didn't think he and Quirrel would look so nice under that pulverizer.
Was this really the way forward? Did the miners in Hallownest's prime have to go through here? They were literally walking over broken glass, this was insane.
"Well," said the scholar who was clearly the insane one here, "Watch your step, I suppose."
"Oh, hello there, Chance! Come to scale the mountain? I've heard tales of a summit way up there. Too far for me, though, and I'm not really one for heights."
"Cornifer, please. Can you teleport. I'm begging you."
Chance was beginning to wonder if he really was going insane.
First off, apparently Cornifer was omnipresent. No matter where he went, the cartographer always seemed to be there first. Crazy bastard might be sketching his ugly mug in this very room, for all he knew.
Second, lasers. The bugs had lasers. Actual, Star Wars-type laser beams that could - and did - sear his hand and left burn marks on the rock. Even up in this rich mine, Hallownest was dreamt up by a fucking wackjob. The medieval bug kingdom has lasers from some kind of sci-fi action flick. He almost made the mistake of thinking he was getting used to Hallownest's bullshit. And here he was now, rendered completely speechless by little crystal bugs with lasers shooting out of their backs.
And third was just a feeling. A feeling of goosebumps, like he was being watched from every corner here. He was creeping around in a dark cavern, but he felt like he was on a stage under a spotlight. Or maybe more like a tiny ant under a microscope? The crystals here stared into him like one, after all. Thousands of microscopes glittering on every wall, boring into his soul like he was a sick lab rat. He could barely see his own warped, filthy reflection from the light they gave off.
He just wondered who was watching from the other side.
He sighed, trying to pretend that train of thought didn't happen. Reclining on a bench they'd happened across, he winked at Tusk, "Wanna take a short break?"
Tusk didn't move. They were staring just beside him. He turned, and slowly realized that there would be no breaks just yet.
A hulking bug, their head and arms encased in heavy pink crystal, was sitting on the bench next to him. They weren't moving, and he couldn't see their eyes through the crystal. Were they sleeping, or dead? Either way, he didn't want to be the one to wake them.
"Uh… hi," Chance blurted out under his breath. Probably from some dumbass human instinct to crack a joke out of everything.
HELLO
Chance recoiled off of the bench and to the floor. "What the fuck?!"
From within the crystal on its head, two glowing, orange eyes awakened. It rose from the bench, and impossibly through the crystal, unleashed a mighty roar that shook the whole cavern.
It leveled a crystal arm at his face, and as it began to glow brighter, Chance realized with horror that it was aiming a fucking laser at him.
He rolled out of the way just a split second before it would've blasted his head off, the explosive outpouring of energy incinerating the earth below him and making his ears ring. He was pretty sure it caught the tail end of his scarf, from the embers that danced off of it.
Tusk had flown into action. Like a tiny superhero, they leapt at the Crystal Guardian's face and slashed at it, leaving heavy scratches on its glass-like helmet. Its vision impaired, it shook its head violently, as though trying to get the scratches to fall off
CAN'T SEE CAN'T SEE
Chance sputtered, "Shut up! Get the fuck outta here!"
STOP YELLING WANT TO SLEEP
"You stop yelling, you fucking pebble! Go find a quarry to sleep in!"
Tusk stopped, looking at Chance, expressionless. They tilted their head.
The Crystal Guardian leapt, high into the air. When they landed, the resulting quake seemed to shake the dirt off of several crystals in the walls and floors, all of which were beginning to glow. Faint wisps of charging lasers filled the room like a high-tech bank vault.
Chance wanted to go home. He scrambled for some kind of cover, trying to duck behind a barrel of crystal fragments, only to accidentally tip it over in his panic.
Its contents spilled out across the floor in a mess, reflecting and refracting the light of the incoming lasers.
"...Oh, no."
The floor seemed to turn into a sun. The lasers that already covered most of the room hit the tiny crystals, and hundreds of smaller lasers exploded from the pile on the floor. The room had turned into an oven, and Chance could barely breathe, all his senses vaporized in this homemade thermonuclear bomb.
As the lasers died down, Chance was dazed, feeling several burn marks on his clothes and skin that seared. If he didn't have Focus magic, they'd probably be permanent. He tried to pull himself up on the bench, only to flinch back from how the metal burned his hand.
He looked around, seeing Tusk on the ground, collapsed. Their pale porcelain mask sported dark burns and cracks, like they were a ceramic jar that had been left in the kiln for too long. He couldn't even see what injuries they had on the rest of their dark body from here.
"T-TUShcK!" Chance hacked, his throat dry. The Crystal Guardian turned to him, orange eyes feeling like another laser firing straight through him.
TOO HOT?
"Fuck you!"
It raised its arm again, aiming another, single laser at him. Chance ran, limping on his burns, but the targeting beam followed him wherever he went. His only option was to take cover.
He ducked behind another barrel of tiny crystals, this time not knocking it over. He held one hand on the rim and another near the bottom, using the Mantis Claws for grip.
The beam was charged up, and with a destructive glee Chance could see through their glass mask, it fired straight at him.
Chance tilted the barrel over, not spilling it, but catching the beam inside.
Between the hundreds of tiny crystals in the barrel, the laser reflected, refracted, bounced, multiplied within its containment. It wasn't strong enough to pierce the metal barrel, but the sheer blazing energy within was enough to heat it up red-hot. Chance screamed, feeling like he was pressing his hands against a frying pan, the smell of burning flesh making him sick to his stomach.
And then, the laser erupted out of the barrel, taking the path of least resistance: right back out, directly towards the Crystal Guardian.
It was worse than a mirror; the beam that launched out of the Guardian's arm was like a pointer-laser compared to the overwhelming energy that exploded from the barrel like a cannon. It was almost large enough to envelop the Guardian's body completely, and bright enough to blind Chance.
The Crystal Guardian was obliterated. Only a pile of ash remained, the wall behind them having been turned to glass.
The source of the laser gone, the energy in the barrel started to fade, cooling back down. Chance dropped it; he couldn't even feel his hands anymore. He kept the metallic Mantis Claws up, maybe for some form of protection. For all he knew, his normal hands were burnt right down to the bone.
He needed to heal his hands. Using what little energy he had left, he managed to heal most of the burns from where he was grabbing onto the red-hot barrel(which looked half-melted when he turned to see it)
At least with his hands healed, he could carefully lift up Tusk's body, mindful of their burns and injuries, and carry them over to the nearby hot springs. There, they could heal up and replenish their soul; not to mention, he needed water right about now.
He stuck his arm in, hissing as he recoiled; warm water and burns did not play nice. This might actually be worse than the fight itself.
"...What do you think it's like?"
Lightfoot paused, turning to Quirrel. They hadn't said anything for a few minutes since they'd freed that grub in the strange jar, the scholar apparently in deep thought. He could still fight well enough despite it, and it wasn't like Lightfoot wanted to babble all day, so he hadn't said anything either. It seemed he had finally sorted out the daydreams in his head.
"What is what like?"
"Being Infected."
Lightfoot's breath hitched. He grunted, turning and storming further down the tunnel. Quirrel only matched his pace.
"I-I know it's an awful thought to have right now, with Chance's condition, but…" He groaned. "Oh, forget it all. I'm worried about him, is what I am trying to say."
Lightfoot sighed. Proper Hallownestians were always like this, trying to hide their true thoughts behind what seemed "correct" to say. Always about appearances. Lightfoot didn't give a damn either way, so he decided to humor Quirrel.
"It attacks the mind, mostly. Twists your sense of self… subsumes it. It drives you mad." Quirrel had stopped and was listening with rapt attention, so he continued. "Seeing things that nobody else sees, having memories that aren't yours... talking to people who aren't there."
Lightfoot spun around, staring at Quirrel. "Well? Does Chance seem crazy to you?"
The trance that Quirrel's academic mind seemed to be in had snapped, and he shook his head, holding out his hands placatingly. Because Gods forbid a proper scholar use language as crass and vulgar as calling someone crazy. "N-No, of course not! He's as sane as sunset, I tell you, he-"
"Be honest."
Quirrel and Lightfoot stared at each other for a long moment, both of them internally debating themselves in their heads. They knew they weren't necessarily talking about Chance Chance; only what the Infection had done to him. The "real" Chance was a different matter. After a minute, Quirrel's gaze fell to the floor as his shoulder slumped, defeated.
"He's… not quite sound of mind," the scholar confessed. Lightfoot didn't smile.
"The first step to solving a problem is recognizing it," he said. "I'm not saying he's an enemy. But with his senses put through this lens that we can't see, we can't always trust what he says, even if he believes he is telling the truth."
"I know," Quirrel said. He looked pained to say it. The Mantis wasn't enjoying this, either; he wanted to trust Chance. But they had to be honest with themselves.
"We're trying to help Chance, not fight him. And if trust goes on the line for that, then so be it."
Quirrel didn't meet his gaze, a deep conflict in his eyes. He was probably tearing himself up on the inside over this. Lightfoot knew his own gut was churning, so they were in the same boat.
A buzzing filled the air. Lightfoot blinked, on edge. Quirrel grabbed his nail.
Just ahead of them, a swarm of Crystal Hunters were closing in, small flying bugs with that shot expanding crystals. Mantis and scholar prepared to fight.
Chance and Tusk had crawled into a dark tunnel, and only Chance came out on the other end.
Well, no, Tusk had gone in first, and Chance tried to follow, only for the small Knight to be gone once he popped back out. Don't panic, he told himself. Tusk probably just kept running ahead of him, expecting him to catch up.
"Tusk!" he called out, jogging ahead. Dammit, they were gone. Did they sprint off without him? He climbed up a nearby ledge, hoping it'd serve as a vantage point, but sadly the concept of "vantage points" didn't work as well when you were underground and surrounded by refracting crystals. His voice carried, but nothing responded. Were they already that far ahead?
He paced back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. He stopped, noticing a table and a shelf nearby. Walking closer, he immediately noticed a large, ornate key sitting on the table. What kind of security was this? Stupid thing was asking to be taken.
On the shelves, he could see some attempts at using the crystals as gemstones, the pink crystals embedded into silver necklaces and adorning earrings. Chance didn't know much about jewelry, but one in particular caught his eye: a seemingly golden ring cast around small pink crystals like diamonds, a larger pink crystal in the center of an intricate vine pattern.
On a whim, he found himself pocketing that, too. He sped off to find Tusk before they got into trouble.
Quirrel was starting to struggle. There must've been a dozen of the hunters, and their expanding crystal shots, while broken easily, were starting to cover the area. He and Lightfoot didn't have a lot of breathing room.
He couldn't even think of anything they did wrong. They didn't poke at any hives or kill any broodmothers. They just stumbled across each other and the buzzing little things arbitrarily decided, let us wage a full-scale war on two bugs.
He stabbed through another one, aiming for their fleshy bits rather than wearing out his nail by hitting it on their rocky undersides. Luckily, it looked like they were just starting to let up. The floor was littered in Crystal Hunter corpses, dribbles of orange Infection seeping out of their bodies. He absently wondered if that had anything to do with this attack.
Finally stopping to get a break, Quirrel turned to see Lightfoot. The Mantis was standing amidst a pile of corpses, all diced into small pieces, crystal and all. He almost looked triumphant for a moment, before he looked at Quirrel, his eyes widening.
Quirrel didn't get the chance to raise his nail as Lightfoot charged him, knocking the pillbug to the ground in a heap. Did the Infection get into his mind? Would he need to kill him?
Quirrel stood up, lifting his hat off of his head. He was just in time to see Lightfoot aiming for a lone Crystal Hunter that would've killed Quirrel otherwise.
Before he could land a killing blow, the Hunter shot a bolt at Lightfoot, hitting him square in the chest.
Within a split second, it expanded, entombing Lightfoot's entire body inside of a massive pink crystal.
Quirrel could almost see his body inside.
Chance - Jeremy
Today 4:26 AM
Chance: i forgot you had a phone too
Chance: are you ok? Where r u?
Jeremy: Chancdimatthepeaskeplease,, hlep
Chance: Jay
Chance: i'm at the peaks already
Chance: do u know where I can fidn you? any landmarks?/
Jeremy: ushdhkm
Jeremy: crystal
Chance: thers a lotta crystals
Jeremy: wwindowwindowdiwndndowwin dow
Chance: window?
The crystals were getting denser. They had grown large enough that Chance could see his reflection in them, the light from his orange eyes dancing on their surface.
He felt like he was in a maze of mirrors. The crystals covered every wall and surface, and everywhere he looked, his own reflection glared back at him, accusing him of some sin. He couldn't escape from their judgement, no matter how far into these caves he ran.
Liar, their gaze said. You're a liar.
He left Claw marks on every crystal he passed, and tried to tell himself that it was only so he wouldn't lose his way, that he wasn't just trying to block out the faces in the mirrors. He thought about the "bug under a microscope" feeling again.
He wasn't a bug, he was a microscopic speck, a single cell under the all-seeing eye of something he could never hope to comprehend. Something beyond him, or maybe within him? But what was a cell to a human? What was a human to the sun?
What was a human to a god?
There weren't any microscopes. There wasn't a lab. He began to wonder, what if there's nobody on the other side of the crystals? What if the thing watching him is the crystals themselves?
Their otherworldly glow came from an otherworldly power. Their Light was just the reflection of another Light. These crystals, this mountain, they were alive. The mountain was a massive sleeping giant, and every tunnel he set foot into was a mouth, lined with sharp, crystal teeth.
He spun around in place, eyeing every crystal in frantic paranoia. The thousand humans on every crystal stared back at him, and he felt like he was in a panicking crowd. All too close, too claustrophobic. He felt like he was suffocating.
This mountain, this Light, would swallow him whole.
-his breath caught in his throat as something hit his chest, embracing him.
It took Chance several excruciating seconds to calm down and come back to himself. A soft, warm green cloak had its arms wrapped around him, its face buried into his neck.
"S-S-She's lying, she's lying she's lying she's lying it's a lie Chance, none of it's true-"
"J-Jay…" Chance breathed, his eyes wide. He returned the embrace with shaking hands. The moth-human was crying.
"C-Chance, we have to go," Jeremy choked out. God, he was shaking. So was he. "T-This place… It's not safe here. We have to go before she-"
The lights went out.
Quirrel should've turned back. He should've gotten to safety as soon as he smashed Lightfoot free from that crystal. The Mantis was limping, barely awake, but still breathing.
He kept his arm under his, helping him stagger along. "T-There must be a bench nearby," he grunted out. He didn't know that. He was telling himself that more than anything. "How are you feeling?"
Lightfoot's expression looked pained. Quirrel couldn't even begin to guess at the side effects of being encased in crystal. "My head… aches…" He furrowed his brow. "I-I think I can stand."
Quirrel carefully helped him stand upright. The Mantis wavered, but could put one foot in front of the other. They would need to begin avoiding enemies rather than fighting them, at least until Lightfoot recovered. He wished Chance were here; he could probably patch Lightfoot up right quick. Gods above, why did they think splitting up was a good idea? This whole place was a death trap, and they'd found one suitable resting place at the start of the Peaks.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lightfoot faintly noticed the crystals glowing.
Lightfoot took a deep breath. "I'm beginning to feel better," he said. Being stuck in a crystal felt like being buried alive; he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't move. He could barely even think. But the disorientation was fading away, and he felt his strength returning.
Quirrel nodded, but still gave him a nervous look. "Well, be careful regardless. Overexertion will only hurt you more."
"You think I don't know that?" Lightfoot grunted. The only part of him that refused to take a blow today was his pride. "Just be careful not to-"
One of the crystals grew blindingly bright, and a searing laser launched out and struck Quirrel in the back of the head.
It was only for a second, but the pillbug collapsed immediately, a burn hole boring through his hood and leaving dark marks on his neck and head.
Lightfoot could only stare, stunned.
He needed to find Chance. Now.
It was dizzying, the way the music was pounding in his eardrums.
In this large windowed alcove, the crystals flashed in a technicolor harmony, some of them firing off harmless colored lasers that danced throughout the room. A brilliant, spherical crystal was on the ceiling, cut into the shape of a soccer ball, slowly spinning. Its lights danced lazily around the room, serving as some kind of magical Hallownestian disco ball. Chance didn't know a room could be simultaneously too dark and too bright.
They were both standing near the door. Jeremy was still shaking, though his fear had been momentarily drowned out by confusion. He shuffled a bit closer to Chance, his pawed hand grabbing onto his jacket sleeve, not sure what was happening but having decided that they weren't safe here.
Chance's shoulders were slack, his expression deadpan as his glazed-over eyes looked throughout the room. At this point, the theatrics only bored him, and he just wanted to get this over with.
Also, Her music choice sucked.
Some techno beat blared through this corner of the Peaks, probably loud enough that the people in Dirtmouth could hear it. Even through the blinding lights and deafening music, Chance felt like he was drowning. And standing under the crystal disco ball, elevated on a small platform, were the last two people Chance wanted to see.
And they had the audacity to ignore them. Rio, several miles from where she should be, was having the time of her life. She smiled and laughed, dancing to the rhythm of the music that made his head throb in dull pain.
And she was dancing around a moth, whose orange stare seemed brighter to Chance than any of the electric lights in this room.
As Rio twirled around her, Layla flashed him a wink. Chance wanted to vomit.
"...What the hell are you doing?" Somehow, he didn't need to raise his voice over the music, and the apathy in his tone carried easily to Layla's ears. She just laughed.
"What? Never seen a girl dance before?" She smiled his way, before taking Rio's hands and leading her along their dance, fluid and smooth, yet somehow keeping up with the erratic beat of the music.
She stopped spinning for a minute to face them, but still kept moving her body to the beat, swaying and tapping along. "Say, Chance, Jeremy, is this our first time being all together, the three of us?"
Chance spat on the ground. "Not exactly."
Layla ignored him, returning to her passionate dance with Rio. Her hands danced over the Mantis's chitin, around her waist and down her back, not touching her but pulling her closer all the same. Rio's arms hung over Layla's shoulders, orange eyes staring drunkenly into orange eyes.
A small, impish smile grew across Layla's face. As they spun across the dance floor, she stared into Rio's eyes with a possessive hunger. "You mortals... so frail, so helpless, so… easily consumed with desire. Such cute little things you are."
The moth wrapped her arms around the Mantis's waist and pulled her close, leaning into a searing kiss. Their bodies, once only glancing off of each other, were now pressed tight in the embrace. Rio seemed to melt in Layla's arms, holding her face against hers longingly as lips met mandibles.
Jeremy's breath hitched in his throat, a deep blush visible on his face even in the dim lighting. His grip on Chance's arm tightened, suddenly feeling all too hot. He wanted to run, but some part of him just couldn't tear his eyes away.
Chance didn't outwardly react. His expression only darkened.
Rio broke the kiss, playfully pushing Layla away as she danced with a laugh. "Come on!" she smiled, waving to Chance. "We'd love to have you up here, too!"
Jeremy was still frozen to the spot, beet-red, but Chance just sighed. He swung his arm around so that Jeremy was holding his hand, instead of grabbing onto his sleeve like a lost boy.
Jay made a small, embarrassed yelp at the movement, but only gripped onto his hand tighter as Chance pulled him along. "We don't have time for this. Let's go, Jay."
As they stepped toward the exit, the music faded out, and the lights cut.
Chance stood still, refusing to turn around. Jeremy's hand was shaking. He tried to pull him along, risking glances back at the two on the dance floor as if they'd come charging at any second.
"C-C'mon, we gotta go-!"
"Do you know what it's like to be a god?"
Chance didn't know why he humored her. Maybe he was worried about Rio. Maybe he thought She couldn't let them leave so easily anyway. But, knowing damn well he'd probably regret this decision for the rest of his life, he raised his voice over his shoulder.
"I dunno," he said. He turned around, glaring back at her. "What is it like being a god?"
Rio and Layla had stopped dancing. Rio's gaze was jumping back and forth between the Radiance and Chance, twiddling her fingers nervously. At Chance's question, Layla simply stepped back, gesturing to the large, wall-sized window behind them.
With an unsurprised huff, Chance begrudgingly walked up. He wouldn't let Layla stand behind him, so he stopped just at the edge of the platform, staring out of the window.
It was pitch black outside. He never could figure out why Hallownest was stuck in an eternal night; either even the surface itself was just under another sky-high layer of rock, or something was deeply wrong with the cosmos. Chance could see that this alcove poked out near the top of the mountain, a seemingly endless slope of rock beneath them easing out into a dry wasteland. Far, far below them, a microscopic spec of light twinkled in the black and grey sea of rock that was this desolate kingdom. A distant hopelessness escaped Chance's breath; even from this high up, Dirtmouth was the only civilization that could be seen?
Everyone dreams of exploring fantasy worlds and old kingdoms with ancient magics and wonders untouched by human hands. Chance had those dreams of escapism, too. And while Hallownest, on some level, fulfilled that childish fantasy, this wasn't what his younger self would have wanted. No sprawling plains, no great dragons to slay, no kingdoms to save. Or maybe he could've been this kingdom's hero, had he arrived a few decades earlier. But the childhood hero he always dreamt of being arrived too late, and this was all that was left. A ghost of a village, marking the grave of a kingdom's rotting corpse.
He had nothing to do with this kingdom, didn't want to be anywhere near it and didn't owe it anything. And yet, he felt like he had failed it already.
"Do you see what I see?"
Chance decided that he actually liked the techno music that was playing earlier, and Layla's presence just made him too bitter to enjoy it. He wanted it back now.
He spoke slowly. "...I see the dark nighttime sky. It's endless in every direction. I look up, and right in the middle, there's a single star. The only landmark in the heavens." He wanted to look away. "...Only this time, the heavens are beneath me."
"The heavens are beneath me," The Radiance breathed. She meandered around the platform, like an animal stalking its prey. "You see the world now as a god does. Standing so high above mortals, that they look like nothing but a meaningless speck in the distance, far, far below…"
"Well, that 'speck' I'm looking at has a whole kingdom underneath it," Chance said. "I guess 'specks' can have a lot more deep down than what they look like from a distance."
If the Radiance reacted to his comment, he didn't bother to turn and see. "To be a god is to live atop a mountain. Standing so high above all other things, and yet…"
He could see her in the reflection of the glass. Her expression was pained.
"It's so cold, Chance. Us Higher Beings are so few and far between. So few we can share comfort in, so few we can be honest with…" She gave a shaky sigh. For once, the goddess almost sounded vulnerable. "It's lonely at the top."
"So… what?" Chance turned to face her. "Are you complaining about being immortal?"
"Far from it. The lives of a god and a mortal are nothing alike; sociability is an aspect of mortal existence that I… covet, I suppose."
He stared at her for a tense moment. Rio looked like she wanted to say something, but closed her mouth. Jeremy had his arms wrapped around himself, looking ready to bolt at any second.
"...And what are you gonna do about it?"
Layla didn't respond for several seconds. He could only imagine what words she was piecing together in her mind, what she would omit, how she was testing the sound of it in her mind.
"...If I cannot exist physically within this world, then I will create my own. One tuned exactly to my liking, designed to accommodate every diverse and boundless desire in Hallownest. Hunger, poverty, heartbreak, depression, pain and fear- all of it would be in the past. Everyone in the kingdom, loaded onto a grand, crystal ark, and shipped off…"
She rested a soft hand on his shoulder.
"...to Heaven."
Chance jerked away, backpedaling as he shook Layla's hand off of him. Why could he hear his heartbeat in his throat? Why did his throat feel tight?
("'s kind of a big jump in logic," Jeremy mumbled to himself. "Why don't you just try making friends?")
Rio stepped forward. "Chance, I know it sounds crazy, but… Her 'Heaven' is real. I've been there. You have, too. This Infection doesn't kill, it isn't even an Infection. It's a blessing. It's the only thing keeping me alive."
Layla nodded at Rio's words. "From this window, you view the world as a god, Chance. Don't you want to make this view last? To reign atop the mountain together, you and I, side by side…"
Chance stared at her, his expression conflicted, slack-jawed. Slowly, unsteadily, he began to shake his head, walking backwards away from Layla. All he had to do was keep his breathing under control, and he'd be fine. Just walk away.
"I'd like to keep my head outta the clouds, thanks."
With that, he stepped off of the platform and grabbed Jeremy's hand, maybe a little more roughly than he would've liked, and stormed off to the exit.
'Heaven' didn't sound like paradise, it sounded like a prison. And Rio made it sound like a fucking drug. (Keep your breathing under control.) And God damn him if he ever ruled over that prison of dreams, especially alongside her.
Just before they walked out, a sharp, choked gasp came from behind them. Chance wanted to keep walking, but the noise made every hair on his neck stand on end. He turned around.
Rio stood on the edge of the platform, wavering. A golden blade had impaled her through the chest, glowing orange hemolymph oozing from the wound.
The Radiance tore the nail from Rio's chest, and the Mantis fell off of the platform and collapsed in a blood-covered heap on the ground.
Chance wanted to scream. He wanted to run, he wanted to shoot her, he wanted to fight back, he wanted to-! It didn't matter what he wanted. He was glued to the spot, throat dry, his eyes growing unfocused as he stared at Rio's body.
He wasn't here. This wasn't fucking happening.
The Radiance swung the nail around, pointing it straight at Chance. "You don't seem to understand the position you're in, Chance."
Jeremy was mortified, his expression contorting in horror as he tried to back away. "S-She… She killed her, she-!"
Chance held an arm out, shielding him from the Radiance as his eyes bore into her. The goddess stepped off of the platform, circling around them, pointing her glowing nail his way. It was a beautiful blade, golden and glowing as though forged from pure sunlight. She was probably imagining how it'd look buried in his skull.
"You would throw away everything you've worked towards, everything you love, your very own happiness…" She shot him a death glare, her blazing fury hitting him like a heatwave. "You would discard an ETERNITY of GODHOOD, and for WHAT?!"
Chance spoke through gritted teeth, his voice strained, "What... the hell... did you do that to Rio for?"
Layla's glare lightened. "Rio…?" She turned to see the Mantis's corpse face-down on the stone floor in a puddle of Infected blood. She turned back to him with a smile, "What about her? Mortal lives are so fleeting. We can always make more, if we need them."
"You're a monster!" Jeremy cried, terrified tears running freely down his face. The Radiance flung her nail in their direction, barely missing Jeremy when he was pulled aside by Chance at the last second. The golden bolt exploded on a nearby wall, rock and dust cascading down on them. Chance grabbed Jeremy's shoulders, shielding him.
When the dust settled, Chance pulled out his gun with a yell, leveling it with the Radiance's head. He could feel the blood pumping through his trigger finger.
She stared at him for a minute, another golden nail having formed in her hand. Her expression was blank. "...Do you want to know a secret, Chance? These bugs, these denizens of Hallownest, living out their sorry lives… Every single one of them is a traitor. They betrayed me, betrayed my Light, all for that bastard of a Wyrm."
Chance's finger pressed slightly on the trigger to remind himself it was there.
"But you…?" The Radiance's glare softened, and she gave him the sweetest, warmest smile. "Humankind is the only species I hold no vengeance for, the only ones who never turned their backs on me. That is what separates you from all the lesser beasts of Hallownest, Chance."
She walked closer, her arms spread wide, as though she were open for a hug.
"That is what makes you my King."
Jeremy tried to stand as far away as he could. Chance's thumb rubbed along the grooves on the gun's hammer. "So that's what this is about? Petty fucking revenge?"
"Not revenge. Their lives will be better because of my actions. All I'm doing is taking back what has always been mine."
"What you're doing is genocide."
She swung her nail around her hand in a performative arc. Chance would've found it funny how it sounded like a lightsaber swinging through the air, if heart wasn't beating out of his chest.
"Those who writhe in my grasp only hurt themselves. All that remains are those who know better, and my Heaven."
He said nothing. Jeremy was struggling to breathe. Layla changed the subject.
"I could do everything for you, Chance. Everything you're fighting for could be satisfied by my Light. I have everything you want."
Chance slammed his thumb down on the gun's hammer so hard it nearly hurt, cocking it with a click.
"What if I wanna be cured?", he said, his voice rough like gravel. He stepped closer. "What if I want Rio back? What if I want my goddamn memories back?"
Her nail was lowered, even as Chance's gun was pointed right at her. Layla just gave him a sly smile, strolling towards him, her every step calculated. "The deepest recesses of the mind are my domain," she explained. "I don't think you'll turn down my offer for much longer, if doing so means you'll never find your memories again."
She was almost right in his face now, a wicked smirk playing her features. "I know what your true name is.And I won't let it be spoken until its owner wears the crown of Heaven."
"Chance" closed the gap, pressing the barrel of his gun against Layla's head. "I'm not gonna live a lie in your fucking fantasy land!" he shouted. He was holding the gun so tight in his hands, it was shaking. It felt like the grip might shatter between his palms.
"You don't want to live a lie!" Layla threw her head back, howling with laughter that echoed off the mountaintops. She turned away from him momentarily, as if smiling with amusement at some invisible audience, before she swung back around and grabbed Chance's gun, pressing it against her own head.
"How rich," her voice dripped with venom. "Everything you think you know is already a lie, Chance. You've unwittingly been playing the fool in a grand lie ever since you set foot in this dead kingdom. You've been lied to. You've lied to yourself. You've even been lying to everyone around you."
She looked past him. "Isn't that right, Jeremy?"
Further back, Jeremy had his arms wrapped around himself, shaking his head in terror. "N-No! You're the liar! N-None of that's true!"
Chance reached out and grabbed Layla by the fluff, yanking her closer. "What the HELL did you do to Jay?!" he screamed, pressing the gun into her face. Raw, primal hate boiled through his veins. "I swear to God, if you touched him-!"
"I did nothing," Layla smirked. "I only told him what he didn't want to hear. Soon enough, you'll hear it, too. And when that time comes, you'll be begging for me to fill your ears and drown your mind, so that you never have to bear it again."
She raised a hand and gently caressed Chance's face.
The gun went off with a sharp bang. Layla disintegrated into golden dreamcatchers before the bullet hit her. Chance's shot kept going backward, hitting the window and fracturing it in a glass spiderweb. Rio's body turned to gold dust and vanished as well.
A low, sultry laugh echoed through the caverns, shaking the entire mountain range in its weight. She spoke through the air, through the crystals, from a world beyond that Chance had only grazed before.
"We'll meet again soon, my love~"
Chance threw his gun to the ground with a cry.
...
...
...Jay?
O-Oh, yeah?
Are you alright?
I-I'm fine, yeah!
...
...Um... Thank you. For... saving me, I mean.
She didn't hurt you, did she?
N-No... It was just... scary, that's all.
...What'd she say to you?
Nothing! Er... Nothing.
...
I-It was just a bunch of lies anyway. It couldn't be true, right?
...
I mean, you can't trust a word she says. She must've been lying about it. S-So.. it doesn't matter, right?
...Jay...
Uh... I-I've been meaning to ask. W-Where did "Jay" come from?
Huh? Oh… I guess I just kinda came up with it.
…
Do you want me to stop, or-
No! No, I… I like it.
…
U-Um. R-Rio, she…
I'm… sorry you had to see that, Jay.
...Is she really…?
...I dunno. I mean… You saw the way she vanished, right? That wasn't her real body. Maybe a visage o-or a projection of her, but… I dunno if she'd really… do that to her.
...I hope you're right.
…
…
…Tusk! Where were you?!
…
…"Deep Focus"? Huh… good find, buddy.
The bandages were useless.
Lightfoot knew this. He tried wrapping them on Quirrel anyway.
He wanted to take his hood off for it, but it had cauterized into Quirrel's wound, practically melting the two together by the seams. He considered cutting the hood off where he could, but he didn't want to risk hurting Quirrel any more. He just wrapped the bandages over the hood; it covered up the part that was hit by the beam, so it worked well enough, he thought.
Lightfoot had just found a bench, finally, and placed Quirrel's unconscious body on it. He looked over the bandages; no blood was seeping through, which was about expected with a burn wound. But then what else was he supposed to do…?
A commotion came from the cave entrance. Lightfoot looked up to see Chance and Tusk walk in, looking a little worse for wear. He stopped tending to Quirrel's wounds to stand up, waving them over.
"Chance! Are you alright?! And-" Lightfoot's vision blurred, a sudden headache taking over. He groaned, but it quickly subsided. He squinted at the cloaked figure standing beside them. "W-Who is this with you?"
"This…" Chance huffed, out of breath. "T-This is Jeremy. He's the guy we've been looking for." The cloaked figure, Jeremy, anxiously waved at Lightfoot, shuffling to hide behind Chance.
Lightfoot huffed. "Oh, good. We should get out of this horrible place soon, then." He knew what he himself said about trusting Chance, so a part of him was surprised to find that Chance had been telling the truth about Jeremy's, well, existence.
Remembering Quirrel, he quickly gestured for Chance to come closer. "But Quirrel, he was struck by one of those beams of light. Can you…"
Chance nodded, kneeling next to the unconscious scholar and undoing the recently applied bandages. He grimaced when he saw the burn that went straight through his hood and turned the shell on the back of his head an ashen black. He let his Soul dance at his fingertips, Quirrel's burnt chitin gradually turning back to a healthy blue, and then his hood began to patch itself up. Soon enough, he was good as new.
Even after witnessing the marvels Chance had performed with his healing magic, all the way up to restoring the Traitor Lord's throne, his Focus still amazed Lightfoot. Such magic was practically unheard of. He wondered just how far Chance could really push it…?
Chance furrowed his brow when Quirrel didn't wake up, though. "He's still breathing," he pointed out, "so he's probably fine. Maybe just, I dunno, passed out from shock?"
"Either way, we can't guess when he'll wake back up," Lightfoot said. "It may be best to simply carry him back until he wakes up."
Chance nodded. For some reason, bugs were a lot lighter than humans tended to be. Carrying Quirrel out of the Crystal Peaks wouldn't be too much of a challenge, as long as they stayed away from any enemies. "I wanna get outta here as soon as possible."
"Agreed."
Lightfoot heaved Quirrel's sleeping body on his back, and began to saunter off with the scholar. Chance almost moved to follow, but his expression looked conflicted. He raised a hesitant hand out to the Mantis.
"...H-Hey, Lightfoot? I-"
Whatever Chance wanted to say was cut off by Tusk tugging on his pant leg, trying to pull him in the opposite direction from the exit. They hopped anxiously from one foot to another, for some reason very excited to explore the blank spot on their map. Chance tried to pull his leg back.
"...Tusk, no, we're done exploring."
Tusk pulled again, this time with both of their tiny arms.
"Tusk, we have to bring Quirrel home safely! We can come back later!"
Tusk wrapped their arms around Chance's leg, hugging him. They looked up, their big black eyes staring into him.
Chance… caved. He pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking himself for letting Tusk convince him to do something so stupid when they couldn't even speak. "Okay fine," he said. "Fine. We can make a small detour while we're making our way back down. No doubling back or going any higher up than we need to, alright? And Quirrel's well-being comes first."
Tusk flapped their arms in excitement, nuzzling their face into his thigh as they hugged him. A faint smile played at his lips, one he couldn't fight. He knelt down and picked them up, the small knight still waving their arms as he held them close to his chest.
"C'mon, change of plans, we're headed this way."
Lightfoot tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"
Because I let this little punk talk me into things.
"Just a short roundabout. We'll make it back in no time," Chance lied. He had no idea where they were going, but he figured they could just go… down and back? Except down a different elevator shaft than they were planning to use. So they'd be headed back to Dirtmouth while still satisfying Tusk's need to explore.
"C'mon," he said. "Let's get the hell outta here."
As they walked down, Lightfoot caught up to Chance. "Was there something you wanted to ask me earlier?"
His upbeat smile quickly fell, stopping mid-stride to consider his words. He almost didn't want to say it. No, he just flat-out didn't, but he also knew that he had to. Chance's stomach was churning with sick as he spoke.
"Lightfoot… Don't take this the wrong way, but… I think you should get back to the Mantis Village as soon as possible."
The Mantis looked appalled. His eyes glowered with rage as he stared down Chance. Quirrel being on his back was probably the only thing keeping him from flying at him. "What?! Why?!"
"I-I-It's not you!" Chance said quickly, trying to placate Lightfoot into letting him finish his thought. He wasn't trying to get mauled today. The sick feeling in his stomach returned tenfold, and he could feel his hairs stand on end.
"I-I can't really explain it," Chance started, "But… I-I'm worried about Rio. I just… I think you should check on her. I've just got this awful feeling…"
Lightfoot tensed at this, but seemed to ease his hostility. "Mother? I… I admit, this is the longest time I've been away from home, and certainly the farthest away." He looked somber for a minute, as if the realization of that sentence was only just now setting in.
"...Very well. As soon as we find a Stag, I'll head back to the Wastes and see how Mother is doing. Afterwards, if all is well, I intend to find you again."
Chance nodded. "That'd make me feel better, thanks." He almost added 'Tell your mom I said "hi!"', but decided against it.
"What the hell?! Since when were these things here?!"
Lightfoot turned back, shrugging at him. "I don't know. These crushers were here when we passed through. Did you not go this way?"
"NO?!" Chance stared at the path before him with overwhelming dread; how the actual fuck were they supposed to get through here safely? How were the supposed to get Quirrel through here-
Oh, Lightfoot was already on the other side. With Quirrel safely with him. Of course. Tusk was bouncing next to the Mantis, making him the last one who needed to cross. Dragging everyone behind as usual. Maybe this kind of path was actually perfectly fine for bugs to cross, but not for humans because they were less acrobatic?
Chance took a deep breath, remembering that he was full on Soul, and stepped onto the conveyor belt.
…
Seven seconds later, Chance tripped on a chunk of crystal, and a piston came down right onto his leg.
His screams echoed across the mountain.
"A-Are you sure you're okay, Chance?! That looked…" Jeremy pursed his lips, as if even describing the carnage in the smasher room would make him sick.
If only he knew what it made me feel, Chance thought, and then immediately felt bad for thinking. "I'm fine," he lied. The pain had been blinding; it was only thanks to Lightfoot and Tusk's quick acting that he managed to get off of the conveyor belt before it crushed any other part of him.
(If it had flattened his head, where would he be now?)
Thankfully, he kept his Soul reserves brimming full, so once he was out it, it was nothing but an easy Focus spell. Mixed with some hyperventilation, bleeding all over his comrades, holding his own flesh-turned-paste in his hands, vomiting-
Stop thinking. His leg was fine. Keep moving.
As he staggered forward(from exhaustion, rather than an injured leg), he looked up, noticing something new he could use to change the subject. "What's that?"
Lightfoot, Tusk, and Jeremy all looked up to where he was pointing. Suspended above them was a giant metal golem, with a round head and four arms attached to a disproportionately large body. It looked ancient, but didn't seem to have a spot of rust on it. He couldn't remember which metals rusted and which ones didn't. None of them probably existed naturally in Hallownest, anyway.
"I dunno," Jeremy said. "It's… It's dead, right? It's not gonna come alive and attack us?" Chance shuddered at the thought; he did not need False Knight Two right now.
"Look ahead," Lightfoot called them over. Chance turned to where he was pointing, and his eyes widened. A massive ocean of crystal in the ravine beneath them, glowing like the sun.
"It's so bright, it's… hard to look at," Chance said, squinting.
Jeremy nodded, pulling his hood over his head. "It's sharp, too. The last thing we want is to fall in."
"Obviously," Lightfoot said. He set Quirrel down in a corner where he could rest safely. "So what do we do? Cross it, or turn back?"
Chance frowned. It was unmarked territory on the map, so he wasn't about to die making his way across just for some cute little trinket. Plus, according to the parts of his map that were filled out, it went in the opposite direction of where they were headed. "I think we'd better head back. I don't even see a good way across-"
Tusk, of course, made the decision for them without anyone's consent.
They had scouted out a small pathway leading across the ravine, constructed of conveyor belts and unstable platforms. The whole thing was barely kept up by flimsy wooden support beams that probably weren't meant to hold the weight of anyone bigger than a small bug.
They had already started on the dubious parkour course before Chance spotted them. "TUSK!" he shouted, barely thinking as he immediately went to follow.
Lightfoot and Jeremy tried to stop them, but Chance had too much of a head start and was already on one of the conveyors. "Chance, get back here! It's too dangerous!" Lightfoot shouted.
Chance didn't listen. He struggled to keep his balance on one of the conveyors, wavering. He swept some of the crystals off with his foot so he wouldn't trip, the tiny shards falling off of the belt and far,
far,
below.
...By the time he realized how insanely stupid this was, it was too late to turn around. Shit.
He could hear the wood of the support beams groaning. Looking ahead, he could see Tusk widening the gap between them, bouncing from platform to platform like it was second nature.
You already made your choice. So unless you wanna fall to your death, then keep following them, dipshit.
He leapt from one belt to another, almost falling over. The impact was enough for one of the beams to crack, a dark line appearing on it that was quickly growing.
"Dammit, MOVE!" he could hear Lightfoot shouting from further behind.
Chance started running, building momentum to take a leap of faith from the belt to a small metal platform.
Just as he steadied his footing, it began to shake. He jumped, and it flipped over, revealing sharp crystal spikes on the underside.
Holy shit, who the FUCK designed these?!
The next platform he jumped to also began to shake. With a shout, he began to jump as fast as he could manage.
With every leap he took, the platforms behind him turned to death traps. Looking ahead, he could see Tusk's platforms switching as well.
Wait, shit! If I move too fast, I'll catch up to the platforms Tusk was just on that have already switched!
He couldn't run on spikes. He was following Tusk step-by-step, so the platforms they stepped on must've switched back automatically on their own after a few seconds, like some kind of security system.
He looked down into the pit, like he was staring into the sun below him. But if I move too slow, then I'll..!
Tusk had managed to make it to some more conveyor belts, now with crystal laser beams searing them. They weaved in and out expertly, like they'd run this stupid obstacle course a hundred times.
On the last switching platform, Chance's footing slipped.
"CHANCE!" Jeremy screamed as he fell.
He just barely managed to dig into the conveyor belt with the Claws, catching himself so that it would pull him up as it moved. As soon as he caught his breath, he pulled himself to his feet and kept running.
Tusk jumped from platform to belt to platform, moving like a little black blur between the lasers. They were too fast for this course to be a real challenge, good for them.
Chance could nearly see the other side of the ravine from here. He wasn't sure what they were hoping to find over there, but he'd gotten this far. He didn't have a choice but to keep moving, anyway.
As he was about to jump from a belt to a platform, a crystal laser shot out just ahead. It wouldn't have hit him anyway, but it was enough to startle Chance into hesitating with his jump.
Conveyor belts don't have the capacity for hesitation.
Chance's jump lagged, and he barely grabbed onto the edge of a switching platform with the Claws.
It began to shake. He didn't have enough time to get up and across, he realized with horror.
The platform flipped, taking Chance with it. He hung from the underside of the metal plate with the Claws digging into it as tight as he could.
He stole a look below him, regretting it. Only sharp, blinding infinity awaited him below if his grip slipped.
"Chance, STOP!" Lightfoot was screaming too, now.
He could see a light growing brighter to his side. He turned, and the blood drained from his face as he was face-to-face with a laser crystal.
He couldn't run. He couldn't even duck out of the way.
He was pinned.
"STOP IT, DAMMIT!"
The laser grew brighter. The targeting beam was aimed straight at his neck.
Chance felt like he was staring down a gun barrel.
He took a deep, shaky breath as he dug his fingers into the metal.
He slammed his eyes shut.
"I SAID STOP!"
Lightfoot swung his scythe-arms in a great arc. A green whirlwind spun around them, seeming to cut through the air as they launched forward and soared across the ravine like rockets, fueled by Lightfoot's desperation.
Lightfoot's Wind-Blades smashed through the laser crystal with surgical precision, the light blinding Chance going dark.
Chance opened his eyes, unable to comprehend what the hell just happened. Far behind him, Lightfoot was staring at his own arms in confusion and awe.
"I've…" he was breathless. "I've never been able to do that. I've never heard of anyone but the Lords using that technique." How did he do that? And… could he do it again?
Jeremy stared at him for a long moment, before hugging Lightfoot and shaking him aggressively. "That was AWESOME!" he laughed. The Mantis was taken aback by this, not used to such casual physical contact, but he… found he didn't hate it.
Chance doubted he'd see it from this distance, but he shot Lightfoot a thumbs-up anyway.
"Tusk, I swear to God, if you ever run off like that again, I'll-"
The small knight only tugged on his pant leg again, pointing forward. Chance looked up.
Another one of those giant metal golems, except this one was on the ground. A great glow shined out of it, something within having sat here for ages, waiting for someone to come along and free it. Within its chest, an overwhelming energy was surging forth, pounding to escape its prison.
It hammered into his eardrums.
The mountain's heart was beating.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
The mountain was alive.
The rock was its bone, the window high above was its eyes. The crystals were its flesh and blood, light and energy pumping through its body as if through arteries.
And this metal golem before him was the mountain's heart.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
So this was what it was like to stand before a god.
Ba-bum.
What did the mountain think of him? What judgement would this god pass on his soul?
Tusk hopped up on a platform, gesturing Chance to follow. He blinked out of his stupor, walking closer, anxiety in his step. He clambered up, on his hands and knees to reach down to the hole from where the light poured out in waves.
The mountain's heartbeat grew faster in anticipation.
Babum. Babum. Babum. Babum. Babum. Babum.
Tusk gestured to Chance. He pointed to himself, confused, and they nodded.
Leaning down, Chance had to squint; the light from the golem's heart was stronger than anything he'd seen yet.
Slowly, he reached his hand into the hole…
Babum. Babum. Babum. Babum. Babum. Babum.
Babum-
Lightfoot had to resist the urge to scream when Chance and Tusk came flying - yes, flying - across the crystal ravine, a manic grin plastered on the human's face.
Crystal energy erupted from behind him as he soared through the open air, like a living rocket. He held Tusk close to his chest as he shot towards them, and over the sound of the crystal rocket, he could barely make out Chance's insane laughter.
Chance was a superhero. He felt electricity running through his veins, an energy so raw his body could barely contain it. He didn't even know what happened; he felt a jolt of energy run up his arm like he just grabbed onto an electric fence. Then, something melted into him, not unlike how the Mantis Claw fused into his hand. It seeped through his flesh, weaving up and around his bones, clawing along his arteries like a ladder directly to his heart.
Some gaping void in his chest, one he didn't even know was there, had been filled. He felt energized in a way he hadn't in ages. He felt like he could take on a hundred Crystal Guardians with his bare hands. The taste of lightning ran along his tongue, like he'd just been injected with cheetah adrenaline and adderall.
And then he realized that eventually, he had to stop flying.
He managed to stop the Crystal Heart's effects mid-air, and came to a rolling stop on the hard earth, arms wrapped around Tusk to protect them until they came to a slow stop. He groaned, feeling the rock dig into his sore body.
The energy had faded. Or most of it had, anyway; there was still that lingering static in his lungs that told him the Crystal Heart was raring for more whenever he was ready. He was not ready.
So his manic high only came while he was in-flight. Huh.
Jeremy was cheering over him, "You're like a real superhero now, Chance!"
Chance figured he'd eventually give the Heart to Tusk, but for right now he was having fun messing with it. He was starting to love the feeling of drawing onto its energy in quick bursts, adding an intense energy behind punches that made his fists glow. That kind of thing was something you only saw in video games or cartoons.
"Could you calm down? I don't need to see your obnoxious martial arts," Lightfoot huffed.
Chance paused mid-kick to look at him, before lowering his leg sheepishly so they could keep walking. He did probably look like some stupid kid on a sugar high right now.
"Y-You don't have to be so cold!" Jeremy smiled. He was still wearing his hood and cloak, but looked comfortable around Lightfoot already. "I mean, those Wind-Blades you did were amazing! I've only ever seen the Mantis Lords use those!"
Lightfoot looked down at his own arms for the umpteenth time, his resting glare softening into confusion. "I… I don't understand. As far as I'm aware, only our Lords have ever been able to use that ability. They are our Lords for a reason, of course." He furrowed his brow, "I've never done it myself, and not for a lack of trying. What changed…?"
Jeremy looked like he wanted to say something, but he just shot Chance a cheeky grin. Did he know something that Lightfoot didn't? Or did he just want to say something cheesy like, "Oh, the power of friendship unlocked your true strength!"
Chance just sighed, a soft smile playing at his lips. So this detour wasn't entirely fruitless. Good call, Tusk.
"So!" Chance turned around, admitting to himself that he was feeling a little giddy with optimism, "What's the way forward from here?"
Lightfoot looked up. "The way forward? Tusk had wanted to check around this last tunnel before we turn back."
"Turn back?" Chance asked, still smiling. "What's the point in that?"
"Uhh… 'Cause that's the way back to Dirtmouth?" Jeremy said, tilting his head in confusion. "Unless you know about a different way to get home?"
"Well, the only way to get anywhere in life is forward!" Chance grinned, marching further down the tunnel. "What good is there in regression?"
Lightfoot was caught enough off-guard that all he could say was, "What?"
"Moving backward, instead of forward. Ha! How absurd," came the words out of Chance's mouth. "A people should strive for a greater collective happiness, rather than tear each other down in spite. And this kingdom is spite incarnate; down here, spite lives in every rock and every creature."
"C-Chance?" Jeremy stepped forward. He and the others had started to lag behind while Chance kept marching ahead, putting a gap between them. "W-What are you saying?"
"The truth," it spoke. Chance's mouth was speaking, and his eyes were staring at them, but these words weren't his. "You know all about that, don't you?"
Jeremy shuddered, backpedaling. "N-No! Is this a joke? What did you do to Chance?!"
Chance blinked, and his smile fell, looking confused. Some trance over his eyes had snapped away.
"...Huh? Jay, what's wrong? What are you-"
He hiccuped. He shuddered, coughed, spat, and then choked on the air. He clutched at his throat as he doubled over, eyes foggy with tears. Orange Infection dribbled out of his mouth, over his chin, and down the front of his neck.
"The power you wield… So simple, and yet, I've not seen anything like it before. Admittedly, it's not one I'd expect someone such as yourself to be using, of all people."
As he stumbled, Chance realized his Infection was only getting worse. He was running out of time.
He felT like his gut Had kicked itsElf. He wanted tO vomit. He wanted to vomit and get this horrible squirming CreaturE out of his gut. He wAnted to bleed it out of his veiNs, he Wanted to drAin the bubbling puS out of His pores. SomEthing was inside of him. Something was alive insiDe of him.
He wanted to force it out, claw into his Own stomach and rend through his own Viscera until hE could kill whateveR was inside of him. He could tell he was Yelling by the air ripping thrOugh his throat, bUt he couldn't heaR himself anymore. His brain and ears were cloGged with an inhuman sludge that coRroded his flesh. He wAnted to go home. He wished he neVer came to this dEad kingdom.
"C-Chance?!" Jeremy shouted, trying to help him up. "What's wrong? L-Let me-"
"STAY BACK!" Chance screamed, throwing a glowing, Heart-fueled punch through the air to keep Jeremy away. His eyes were frantic, his whole body shaking. Lightfoot realized that this was the same thing that happened to Chance in Deepnest. But why now?
"...I wonder, is that power born from kindness? From forgiveness? Is it born from a desire to return to what once was, or perhaps from a hope for the future?"
Chance sTumbled back, trying to keep away from tHe others. HE had to stay away frOm them. He Couldn't tEll if they were threAts, or if he was a threat to them. It was safer to stay far away. He couldN't think straight, it felt like he Was sepArate from his body. He felt like he was Stuck on the inside, watching Helplessly through his own eyEs as the boDy that was Once his thrashed. Was this another Panic attack? Or was his disEase seizing control agaiN?
His friend's faces blurred, the dark cavern suddenlY all tOo bright. His senses tUrned against him, tRying to kill him. His own body was tryinG to kill him. Some pRimal instinct hAd taken oVer, tElling him to run, get out, get out, get out-
Chance blinked. The electricity that had turned his senses to static had receded, and he could see the world around him again.
In his mindless panic, he had activated the Crystal Heart, and was now in midair above a massive, dark pit.
No. Your Pure Focus isn't so pure.
It is easy to be kind when you have known pain.
It is easy to be forgiving when you long to be forgiven.
Gravity took hold, and Chance could only see a glimpse of his friend's terrified faces before he went tumbling deeper into the abyss. He bounced off of a rock wall, scraping his side as he fell.
The power to return to what once was.
He spun uncontrollably in mid-air, and he could hear Jeremy crying out his name at the top of his lungs, and a glimpse of a small, dark figure jumping down after him.
The power to try again.
He didn't know if he passed out, or if the darkness of the tunnel had subsumed him, but Chance's vision went black.
The power of regret.
Chapter name and summary are a reference to The Crystal Ship by The Doors.
[breaks out of Infection-induced panic attack]
snap back to reality
[falls down bottomless pit]
ope, their goes gravity
first of all, happy Halloween! or at least, it's Halloween today for me.
this chapter was about 13k words long, making it our longest chapter yet. the last chapter was also the longest chapter yet. I decided that if any chapters reach 14k words or longer, i'm gonna split it into two different chapters. having a cap is good. i mean, i've seen fics with 50k word chapters but i'm not gonna do that
i hope i'm doing a good job at making Radi less horny and more evil, gradually. i hope her characterization is doing good overall, too. i wasn't really sure what the fuck i was doing for a long while, but now I have a direction I wanna aim for. it feels good to have a plan, even if that plan usually goes out the window over time
WE GOIN BACK TO MR NEXT CHAPTER WOOO! sorry for the cliffhanger, but with how fast I get out MR chapters, i promise it wont be too long :)
please leave a comment! and our discord server code is PYXCv9tUPg