Chapter 8: A Dance of Shadows
As Yami stirred awake from their dream, they noticed the Godseeker emerging from her sarcophagus, glaring at them with a fierce intensity. Unable to resist their mischievous nature, Yami couldn't help but taunt the Godseeker. "Aww, can you stop with the death stare? It's making me all squirmy~" they remarked, a playful smirk playing on their lips. The Godseeker opened her mouth to respond, but instead, no words escaped her lips. Frustrated, she huffed and turned away in annoyance.
Shaking off the amusing encounter, Yami's focus shifted to the task at hand. They mentally compiled a list of the formidable bugs they needed to eliminate, enlisting the aid of their fellow voidlings:
Vengefly King
Gruz Mother
Kankara (A/N: A modified Arabic term meaning Insect Scorpion)
Massive Moss Charger
Elephantine Dirtcarver
Gorb
Sturdy Elder Baulder
Brooding Malek
Brobdingnagian Primitive Aspid
As Yami planned their upcoming journey through the kingdom, they absentmindedly approached a stake embedded in the ground, pulling it out for inspection. The object was long, sharp, and robust, clearly crafted for piercing through tough carapaces. With a mischievous twinkle in their eye, Yami effortlessly snapped the stake in half, their gaze fixated on the two resulting pieces. The realization struck them that these double-edged stakes could prove superior to their previous method of throwing nails like kunai. Not only were they designed for throwing, but Yami also relished the fact that they wouldn't have to worry about losing these sturdy weapons easily.
Deciding to take full advantage of their newfound resources, Yami ventured over to another stake submerged in water, retrieving it and repeating the process. Now equipped with a pair of dual-pointed stakes, they emerged from the water, ready to leave their mark. However, an idea sparked in Yami's mind, causing them to promptly sit down and begin scribbling phrases and words, reminiscent of the first time they had crafted a complex seal.
The Godseeker stood there, watching the intruder intently as they crouched over what appeared to be a mundane piece of debris. Hours passed, and the trespasser's fascination with the object seemed unwavering. The Godseeker couldn't help but question the intruder's sanity. Were they truly out of their mind to engage in such peculiar rituals, defying the very gods themselves? Such recklessness would surely lead to their own downfall.
Suddenly, the trespasser raised the object to their face, now adorned with inexplicable markings and intricate designs. The Godseeker's curiosity piqued as the creature's claws began to glow, accompanied by an ethereal radiance emanating from the debris. The markings on the object came alive, swirling and transforming into an abstract yet symmetrical pattern, with the original marking at its center.
Whispering something under their breath, the intruder flung the object with impressive precision, piercing through the hard shellwood of a nearby chest. In a swift motion, they pulled their hand towards their chest, and as if pulled by an invisible force, the object returned to their grasp.
Eagerly placing their left hand on the seal left behind, the trespasser removed it after a moment, the design now on their hand. The same process took place with the other hand but on the blank side of the object, It left a similar design to the first one. They repeated with the other three objects, each time leaving two seals stamped on one object.
What happened next caught the Godseeker off guard.
The void creature tossed one of the objects into the air, then swiftly teleported to its location, hurtling it back down with such force that it created a crack in the ground, spidering out in all directions. In an instant, the intruder teleported back to its crouched position beside the object, then rose to its feet, turning to face the Godseeker.
A smug grin spread across their face as they asked, "Impressed?~" in a deliberately irritating tone.
The Godseeker's initial response was one of defiance. "Thou art mistaken, mortal. I am not one to be swayed by petty tricks and displays of power. Though I may acknowledge thy skill, it pales in comparison to the grandeur and might of the-'' Before the Godseeker could finish her retort, she was abruptly cut off by the intruder's grating voice.
"THANKS!" the trespasser screamed, seemingly seeking nothing more than praise for their actions. The Godseeker considered delivering a biting response, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the effort.
The Pale King was overwhelmed by the entire situation. Not the Vessel plan, which was progressing smoothly. The Vessel had been showing promising development in its training, and would have made a formidable warrior if it were alive.
However, the issue at hand concerned the voice. The voice had a childish quality to it, making the Pale King initially assume it would be easy to identify its source. Yet, there were no reports of any incidents beneath the castle or on the bridge that could be linked to it.
This meant that something had occurred down there. But the Void is mindless, only striking out when provoked, and it lacks the capacity for coherent thought or making such noises. Could it be one of the flawed Vessels? No, that couldn't be possible. The Pale King had designed them to be voiceless. So it couldn't be them.
A soft knock resounded from the door, and an equally gentle voice followed, "My Wyrm, may I come in?" He recognized the voice and beckoned her to enter. It was his Root—a being that was not a bug but a Root. Her face was round, with blue eyes that seemed to shimmer like jewels.
She entered, the branches on her head swaying with each step. She stopped directly in front of him, casting her gaze downward slightly. Though slightly taller than him, she could grow larger if she wished. However, she chose to remain small to appear less intimidating.
"My Wyrm," she said, her words drawn out as if carefully considering what to say, "I will soon depart, accompanied by Drya, to my private Gardens." He mentally winced at her words. His Root always sought solace in her secluded sanctuary when she felt stressed or angry. And knowing that he was the cause of her departure, even for a short while, pained him. She added, "So, my Wyrm, have you discovered anything about the voice?"
"No, I have not," he replied, feeling perplexed. "It cannot be coming from beneath the kingdom or beneath the bridge, nor from the darkness down there. Given the context, I am at a loss."
She hummed thoughtfully and continued to study his notes. He knew he should say something, but the words escaped him. All he managed to utter was, "Well... I... stay safe, alright?"
"I will, my Wyrm," she assured him, and walked out, gently closing the door behind her. He noticed just how gentle she was, as his wife stressed cleanliness and other matters to prevent her emotions from manifesting through her roots. Most people failed to notice, but he did, and he mentally chastised himself for being a deagus.
(Note: deagus is a bug PP)
The Hollow Knight was accustomed to a life of simplicity and obedience. Its purpose was clear: to exist as an empty vessel, devoid of thoughts and desires, ready to carry out its duty without question. Breaking free from the monotony of its past routine would imply having a mind of its own, a will of its own, and that was something it couldn't allow. Disappointing its father was not an option.
Every day followed a predictable pattern. It would rise, execute the morning orders with precision, undergo rigorous training sessions with Hegemol, fulfill the evening tasks diligently, and finally surrender to sleep. This was the life it was designed for — a life of unwavering obedience and selflessness.
But beneath the surface, a flicker of curiosity stirred within the Hollow Knight. Although it was meant to be empty, there were moments when a spark of individuality threatened to ignite. It yearned to explore the mysteries of the world around it, to question its purpose, and to experience something beyond the confines of its predetermined existence.
Yet, each time its mind ventured into forbidden territory, it was reminded of its duty. "Do not think, Do not think, DO NOT THINK," the relentless mantra echoed in its consciousness, extinguishing any flicker of rebellion. It couldn't disappoint its father, the one who had crafted it for a specific purpose.
The Hollow Knight wrestled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, it longed to break free from the shackles of its predetermined life, to embrace its own desires and aspirations. But on the other hand, its loyalty to its father, its commitment to its duty, held it back.
In the depths of its being, it knew that venturing beyond the known would come at a great cost. It would mean forsaking its father's expectations, risking the disappointment and wrath that would surely follow. And so, it resigned itself to a life of obedience, suppressing its desires and burying its own individuality, all in the name of fulfilling its purpose.
The Hollow Knight continued to tread the familiar path, its steps void of hesitation. It remained a vessel, empty and obedient, denying itself the chance to embrace its own journey. Its existence was bound by duty, and it clung to it, convinced that it was the only way to honor its father and avoid disappointment.
Yami flopped down onto the ground, a mischievous grin playing on their shell. The thought of taking on the beasts right away seemed tempting, but they knew better. They needed to devise a plan, to fine-tune their skills before diving headfirst into battle. Concentrating, they closed their eyes and let their imagination run wild. After all, there was no time like the present to practice and perfect their techniques.
With a playful glint in their eyes, Yami's mind raced through the realms of Naruto. The five basic elements served as a solid foundation, their creative juices flowing as they brainstormed ways to harness their power. Lightning release immediately caught their attention. Its speed and efficiency were ideal for their strategy, and they couldn't help but envision the exhilarating thrill of insta-kills with the Chidori technique. It was a move that required finesse and practice, but Yami was up for the challenge.
As they mused about the wind element, Yami's mind shifted gears. No longer confined by literal interpretations, they delved into the realm of Naruto fandom, where their imagination knew no bounds. They reveled in the iconic character phrases that once occupied their thoughts, relishing the coolness they brought. The wind element held the promise of cutting and slicing, but Yami sought a touch of uniqueness, something that would make their techniques truly stand out.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, a certain phrase sparked in Yami's mind: "This is not the power of your creation!" Their grin widened, and excitement coursed through their veins. The thought of wielding a massive Warfan, channeling the essence of Madara, sent shivers of anticipation down their spine. Just imagine the look on their adversaries' faces as they faced the wrath of such a stupid weapon!
But Yami's thirst for power didn't end there. They yearned for another element to accompany their chosen path. Water seemed appealing, but the idea of controlling acid or splitting it ignited their imagination even further. Their mind wandered to Isma's tear, a potential source of this unique power. They brushed aside any concerns about the Pale King, convinced that Isma wouldn't mind if they borrowed a single fruit. Surely, such a small act wouldn't alert the kingdom's ruler.
Eager to embark on their journey of self-improvement, Yami shook off any lingering doubts. There was no time to waste on dilly-dallying. They needed to get to work, starting with the basics. Drawing inspiration from the world of Naruto, they decided to approach their soul control training with the same discipline as chakra control. But first, they needed a leaf. No way were they going to embarrass themselves in front of the Godseeker by failing to run up a wall. That was simply not an option.
With a determined glint in their eyes, Yami declared, "I will die before that happens."
The Godseeker's laughter echoed through the halls as she witnessed the trespasser's unfortunate flight and subsequent confinement within a chest. It was a sight that brought tears of amusement to her eyes. The voidling trapped inside added to the hilarity with its incomprehensible screams. With a burst of raw power, the creature shattered the metal chest, sending its lid soaring several meters into the air. Yet, even this display of strength couldn't dampen the Godseeker's enjoyment.
Between fits of laughter, she couldn't resist taunting the trespasser. "Ahahaha! What a spectacle thou hast provided, mortal! Thy daring flight ended in the confines of a chest. Thy feeble attempts at grandeur have given me great amusement. The gods have truly blessed me with this delightful comedy. Take heed, for this humiliation shall teach thee the insignificance of mortal endeavors in the face of divine whims. Continue thy futile training, but remember: fate sees thee as naught but a mere plaything."
Yami, refusing to be cowed, scoffed at the Godseeker's words. "As if! I'm just testing something out, that's all. You act like you know everything, but sometimes you gotta make mistakes to learn, you know?"
The Godseeker, her pride stung by Yami's words, bristled in response. "Hmph! Thy arrogance and defiance know no bounds, mortal. Dost thou dare lecture me, the Godseeker, on matters of wisdom? Thy presumptuousness is astounding."
Yami, rolling their eyes, cut her off. "Yeah, yeah, no need to lecture me either. Honestly, who talks like that anyway? I can barely understand a word you're saying."
Unfazed by the trespasser's interruption, the Godseeker fixed her gaze on Yami and retorted, "Thy insolence knows no bounds! Dost thou dare mock my speech and dismiss the wisdom I offer? Such disrespect shall not go unpunished."
Yami leaned closer, a mischievous smirk playing on their shell. "Shhhhhhh, do you hear that?"
The sound of dripping water filled the air, accompanied by a low gargle. Yami grinned and continued, "Yeah, it's not the sound of your voice ringing in my... horns."
The Godseeker, huffing in annoyance, resigned herself to the role of an observer once more, knowing that engaging further in this banter would be fruitless.
Yami had spent hours practicing their skills, diligently honing their abilities. They had accomplished wall-walking, mastered the challenging Chidori technique (which proved to be quite difficult and time-consuming), and even completed their training with the new seal called "String of Bonds." This seal was designed to immobilize opponents by entering their soul reserves, effectively paralyzing them without causing harm. However, Yami understood its limitations, knowing that it could be broken and might not be as effective against higher beings or gods.
There were still areas they needed to perfect, such as water-walking and water release techniques. Yami acknowledged that these skills were not as useful in Hallownest, where bodies of water were scarce, but they saw the value in mastering all elements. Water required a calm and flowing approach, while lightning was a display of wild and untamed power. It amused Yami how they had chosen such contrasting elements to work with.
Stretching their back and cracking their knuckles, Yami stood up, catching the attention of the Godseeker. With a hint of mockery in their voice, they spoke up.
"I will be departing now. I hope you enjoyed my little show," they said, bowing mockingly.
The Godseeker, taken aback by the trespasser's sudden departure and mocking gesture, responded with a mixture of surprise and disdain.
"Hmph! Impudent mortal! Thy audacity knows no bounds. Though your little show may have contained fleeting moments of skill, it matters not to the divine. Depart as you wish, for your presence is but a speck in the tapestry of eternity. Remember this, however, mortal: no matter your displays, you shall forever remain insignificant in the eyes of the gods. Your futile attempts to seek favor or amusement are but a mockery of true power. Go forth and revel in your fleeting glory, for it shall fade like a whisper in the wind."
Yami, seemingly unfazed by the Godseeker's words, simply replied, "K, BYE, SEE YOU LATER!"
With lightning release enhancing their speed, they dashed towards the wall, leaping high into the air and landing firmly on its surface. Using the soul within them, Yami stuck to the wall and began running upward, throwing their newly crafted stakes from one platform to another with precision and fluidity.
As they disappeared through a noticeable hole in the side of the junkpit wall, Yami couldn't resist a playful shout, "MISS YOU!~"
The Godseeker, despite her outwardly stern expression, couldn't help but secretly appreciate the trespasser's audacious antics. For a fleeting moment, her facade softened, harboring a hidden fondness for Yami's spirited nature. In a whisper that could easily be mistaken for the wind, she uttered, "Thy words may be audacious, mortal, but I shall not deny the flicker of amusement they bring. Depart now, and let our paths remain forever diverged. Perhaps, in the tapestry of destiny, there exists a thread of connection between us. Yet, such thoughts are but fleeting whispers in the realm of the divine. Farewell, though it matters not, and may thy journey unfold as it will."
The Pale King, like many of his kind, carried a sense of anxiety within him. The Wyrms, known for their cautious nature, would meticulously examine and analyze their surroundings, seeking to discern any potential threats. It was a cycle of observation and reincarnation, where they gathered knowledge until everything was deemed non-threatening.
One of the remarkable attributes of the Wyrms was their ability to glimpse into the future. However, each Wyrm's interpretation of foresight differed. In the case of the Pale King, his visions immersed him fully into the projected reality. He perceived each alternate outcome as a delicate thread of silk, and when he touched it, the thread would bring him into that reality as a third-person observer.
While this ability provided him with immense insight, the Pale King refrained from utilizing it frequently. Each venture into foresight exacted a substantial toll on his Godly soul—a potent fusion of regular soul and godly essence. Recovering from such exertion would typically take him several weeks before he could employ his foresight once again.
However, since he had heard the voice, the matter had been consuming his thoughts. His anxiety had been mounting, compounded by his Root's departure and the responsibility entrusted to Dryya as her sole protector. Fear of the future gnawed at him, apprehensive that instead of witnessing a brilliant light, he might behold his entire kingdom in ruins, rendering all his efforts in vain.
He shook off these distressing thoughts, reminding himself of his regal stature. As a King, it was his duty to uncover any potential mistakes he might make and prevent them from occurring. Determined to confront the truth of what he had possibly done to harm the future, he made his way to his throne. Clearing his mind, he visualized the interconnected strings of possibility. Gradually, he felt the familiar burn in his abdomen, signaling the activation of his foresight. With closed eyes, he entered a state of deep meditation, prepared to delve into the enigmatic realms of fate.
The Pale King's gaze fixated on the solitary string before him, devoid of complexity or divergence. An overwhelming wave of worry washed over him as he pondered the fate that potentially awaited Hallownest, his eternal kingdom. Was it his own insolence that had brought them to this point? If only...
But the Pale King couldn't allow himself to be consumed by such thoughts. He needed to unravel this vision, to find clarity amidst the confusion. With a determined tap of his finger, he steeled himself for whatever lay ahead. The world around him shifted, alternating between blinding flashes of white and moments of engulfing darkness. Gradually, a faint illumination replaced the darkness, accompanied by the distant sounds of rumbling, cheering, and the unmistakable chaos of battle.
Slowly raising his head, the Pale King's suspicions were confirmed—he found himself standing within the Colosseum of Fools. The vibrant hues of tan rock and contrasting navy cloth assaulted his eyes, forcing him to blink rapidly as he adjusted to the brightness. It was then that he noticed a bug sitting on a bench nearby, their attention focused on a window overlooking the arena.
This bug carried a massive fan on their back, adorned with intriguing markings and captivating designs. The fan's silk-wrapped handle extended, connecting to the bug's wrist. Curiosity piqued, the Pale King shifted his gaze from the weapon to the bug itself. The bug's silhouette seemed to tear a hole in reality, making it difficult for the Pale King to discern their features. Yet, he could make out their two prominent horns, curving back and inward, reminiscent of the Pure Vessel's.
As the bug perked up and their glowing white eyes locked onto him, the sound of clinking reached the Pale King's ears as they turned to face him. It startled him slightly, but he couldn't deny the uniqueness of this foresight experience. The bug patted the spot next to them, urging the Pale King to join them. Bewildered, the Pale King turned to see nothing but a door, momentarily confused before realizing that the bug's invitation was intended for him. With a mixture of intrigue and uncertainty, he complied, settling beside the bug on the bench. Their smug expression hinted at hidden knowledge and wisdom.
"Sit down," the bug beckoned, their voice a blend of whispers resonating with depth and power. The Pale King's eyes widened in surprise—how could this bug see him? It defied logic. Chuckling, the bug quipped, "Quit having a mental breakdown over there and come sit." The King, captivated by their presence, mindlessly obeyed, taking his place beside them. "Since you're here, you can ask me one question," the bug continued, adjusting themselves for comfort. "Make it count. I'll reveal the fate of your kingdom in this timeline and offer a warning."
Shaking off his initial astonishment, the Pale King focused on formulating a question. One concern rose to the forefront of his mind, an inquiry he rarely had the opportunity to address. "Is my Root safe?" he inquired, realizing that this might be his only chance to seek knowledge about his Root's well-being through this foresight connection.
The bug responded promptly, offering reassurance that alleviated his worries. "Ah, the White Lady? She's fine. She returned to the palace a few hours ago." Relief washed over the Pale King—a glimmer of solace amid the uncertainties. "And the kingdom," the bug continued, "is currently celebrating. The Radiance has been vanquished, and al-"
"She what?" the Pale King exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice. The Radiance couldn't be defeated. He had attempted toend her existence before, but all his efforts had proven futile, leading to her eventual sealing. "Yes, she perished. It was a magnificent sight, and I was there," the bug replied, a hint of excitement in their voice.
The Pale King's mind raced, struggling to comprehend the implications of this revelation. "What do you mean you were there?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and confusion. The bug turned to him, their gaze intensifying with seriousness. "Do you know what truly makes a vessel, a vessel?" they inquired, seemingly ignoring his question.
The Pale King hesitated for a moment, recognizing that there might be more to the creation of vessels than he had understood. "Well," he began, gathering his thoughts, "they are created from the union of two pale beings. The mixed soul within the egg gives rise to a shell strong enough to contain the power of the void."
The bug chuckled menacingly, their laughter starting low and gradually growing into a full-blown, manic outburst. The Pale King's irritation surged. How dare this bug claim to know more about his own creation? He was about to voice his objections when the bug abruptly ceased their laughter. Their glare pierced through his shell, and their tone turned flat. "No, that's not how it works," they stated matter-of-factly. "The creation of a vessel is much more complex, far beyond the grasp of your little wyrm brain."
Infuriated, the Pale King prepared to assert his beliefs, but he was swiftly interrupted. "A vessel is composed of four essential parts," the bug continued, their voice carrying a weight of authority. "The Pale seed grants the shell the ability to withstand the corrosive effects of the void. The Pale wyrms ensure that the vessel remains immune to the desires of the void. The void within restricts them from possessing a voice, and finally, the egg gives the vessel a mind."
The Pale King's eyes widened, his heart quickening at the revelation. He hadn't fathomed the complexity of his own creation. It shook the very foundations of his understanding. "My children," he murmured, his voice laced with both fear and disbelief. "They are angry, consumed by a desire to tear you apart and leave nothing behind," the bug continued, annoyance tinting their tone. "But I have convinced them that there is another way. You are fortunate, for this is not a war," they paused, heading toward the building's window. The clanks and billowing of their armor and cloak echoed in the room, but the Pale King paid them little heed. "It is a fight," they declared cryptically.
Without further explanation, the bug leaped out of the window, swiftly unstrapping the fan from their back. The silhouette expanded, but the Pale King's focus remained fixated on the tempest of thoughts raging within him. The world around him began to glow, and a brilliant light enveloped his vision.
As the luminosity subsided, the Pale King found himself back in his throne room, gasping for breath. His mind whirled, struggling to process the enigmatic encounter he had just experienced. None of what the bug had revealed should have been possible, should it? It made so much sense, and yet it shattered everything he thought he knew.
The Pale King hurriedly left his throne and slithered his way down the hall, making his way to his personal chambers. He knew he would need time to contemplate the weight of this revelation, to piece together the fragments of understanding that had been unveiled to him.