Chapter Text
Monomon is dead.
Though he knew it to be true, somehow, Quirrel couldn't grasp his reality.
Monomon is dead, and you killed her.
The cool waters of the blue lake crashed against the dock Quirrel sat upon. Here, he was alone with his thoughts, which probably wasn't the best idea. He appreciated the solitude, though. Quirrel had been fond of thinking and learning since he was young, and in front of him were the vast blue waters that he'd always wanted to learn about. Compared to the murky pools and puddles of rain in the City of Tears or the acidic ponds in the Fungal Wastes, the aquamarine liquid he saw now was far more fascinating.
Yet, Quirrel couldn't be bothered to ponder where the color of the water came from. Only one question whirled through his mind.
Why did Quirrel get to live instead of Monomon?
Monomon was so many things Quirrel could never dream to be. A teacher, a scientist, and a royal advisor to the Pale King himself. She had so much more worth, more value, more reason to live than Quirrel did. How was any of this fair?
Why did it have to be Monomon? Why was she the one who had to sacrifice her life for a dying kingdom?
Sure, someone did have to do it. If nobody died, then nobody would actually live. The infectious rot would make its way further and further into the kingdom, into the few lives that still remained. It could even get to a point where just stepping into the borders would get you consumed by the infection. But Monomon had a choice. The king didn't force her to become a dreamer, she did it out of her own volition. By making a difficult choice, Quirrel could live a (by some standards) easier life.
Quirrel didn't ask for an easier life, though. He didn't need to live an easier life. After all, there aren't any surviving kingdoms for regions and regions of land. What life could he make at all now? He was old, and nobody else needed him. Theoretically speaking, if he were to disappear, nobody would even notice.
Slowly, Quirrel dipped a foot into the lake. The freezing water sent a shiver throughout his entire body, and he pulled his leg back immediately. If he was going to die by drowning, he'd have to do it quickly at the very least.
The idea didn't sound too terrible. He didn't know how long it took to drown, or how peaceful that sort of death was either. All he knew is that it was possible, and any possibilities were worth a shot.
A thought shot through his head like an arrow to a target. Monomon wouldn't want me to do this. He pulled his knees closer to his thorax, and began to contemplate. It was true, Monomon wouldn't want him to do this. She would want him to go on, and keep recording the world. Monomon would want him to live the best life he could, even if she wasn't in it.
At the same time, Monomon would want Quirrel to start thinking for himself. From all his years spent with her, Quirrel had learned many lessons, and one of the ones Monomon had deemed "most important" was that you can't live a life others carved out for you. If you do, you're not living your life, you're playing a role in a theater show. So it was true that Monomon would frown upon Quirrel killing himself, but in the same vein it was true that Monomon would frown upon him not killing himself just because he knew she would frown upon it. Wyrm, was this lady difficult.
All Quirrel wanted to do is what she wanted him to do, which was to do what he wanted to do, which just led to some never ending loop of confusion and frustration that he really, really did not need at the moment.
Tangled in his thoughts, Quirrel had let down his guard. This happened to be the second bad idea of the day, because moments later a hard shell came crashing into his abdomen, knocking him onto his back. He slid against the dock before pushing up against jagged cobble that scratched at his exoskeleton.
Quickly scrambling to get on all fours, Quirrel whipped his head around scanning frantically for his nail. He saw it buried into the hard wood of the dock, but something was in front of it, and that something was moving. He squinted and tried to get a better look while simultaneously inching away out of fear. Though it did take him a moment, he was able to register the moving creature as…the vessel?
As in, the same vessel he fought Uumuu with earlier, his friend he met upon reentering Hallownest? What was it doing here, and what was with the sudden hostility?
By now, Quirrel had relaxed, but his nerves were still slightly on edge. The vessel now stood, staring at Quirrel with eyes darker than an abyss. It stepped toward him, slowly, and sent a shiver down Quirrel's entire body. Not once was it aggressive toward Quirrel, but this moment felt ominous. Maybe it was Quirrel's anxiety, but the pill bug was ready to fight if he was forced to cross that bridge.
The vessel stopped right in front of him, then it pointed at Quirrel's nail. It made jabbing movements toward it, like Quirrel grabbing his nail was of utmost importance right now. Maybe it really was looking for a fight.
"My nail?" Quirrel asked the vessel. "What about it?" He wasn't expecting much of an answer, but the vessel began to shake its head so vigorously Quirrel knew he guessed wrong. "What is it that you're pointing at, little one?" The vessel ran, its feet making the most adorable patters along the dock. It ran past Quirrel's nail and pointed past the lake, making jabbing motions again.
Quirrel brought himself to his feet and walked up next to the vessel. It was pointing toward something over the water, and it seemed that whatever it was needed urgent tending to. "Do you want me to go over the lake? What's over there?" There was no verbal response, Quirrel knew there wouldn't be one. The vessel only pointed and jabbed, soullessly looking at Quirrel.
Quirrel shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather not go over there, my friend. I've got…more important matters to attend to." This was a bald-faced lie, but what did it matter? The vessel was plenty strong enough to navigate this kingdom, to kill bugs that held more power than others. It could easily deal with some beast across a lake.
The vessel seemingly got angry at Quirrel's poor excuse, because it stomped its foot and pulled at Quirrel's arm. The latter action didn't actually help, because Quirrel was a little more than twice its size and weighed accordingly. It was, however, enough to award a chuckle from the pill bug, humored by the futile attempt to get him to move.
"You do realize you won't be able to drag me, right?" The vessel kept trying. Quirrel's discouragement didn't matter one bit to the being; it was dead set on its intentions. For some reason, Quirrel pitied the poor thing. It came all this way, it went through such a hassle, just for Quirrel to dismiss it immediately. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, joining the vessel across the lake. Compared to the rest of his travels, he wouldn't be going very far. It'd be one final adventure—short, sweet and simple; a farewell to a kingdom he once cherished.
"Alright, fine. If you do insist, I'll join you across the lake," Quirrel caved. "That is as far as I will go, however. Please don't expect me to travel much further." The vessel looked at him, then practically jumped for joy. It dived into the water, and began to swim across the lake. Quirrel followed behind, swimming a bit slower than his friend. He felt horribly cold, unsure if his body would adjust to the temperature of the water. The vessel was lucky to be as empty as it was, completely unbothered by its surroundings. Quirrel wasn't actually sure he would manage to swim for very long.
Still, he persisted, and as he got closer to the other dock, he spotted a distant figure standing idly. He couldn't make out very many features, just a slim body and a pointed head. Maybe this is what the vessel wanted to show him.
It took what felt like forever to reach the other side of the lake. Quirrel lifted himself up onto the dock, absolutely soaked and a little bit embarrassed. Surely there was an easier way around the lake, right?
At this point, it didn't really matter. He conquered the challenge, and lying before him was the figure he saw.
Though, there wasn't much else to distinguish about the figure. They were a tall, lanky bug. He wasn't able to make out what kind, because they wore a hood that obscured most of their face. Covering their thorax was a shining chest plate, with two metal shoulder guards to match. In their hand, they held a metal shield. The shield wasn't anything special, but it wasn't like the shields most bugs he saw carried. It was segmented, each plate connected at the center. For some reason, it felt oddly familiar.
Their eyes met, and they stared at each other for a few awkward moments before the bug approached the vessel and whispered something at it. The vessel nodded its head, the the bug whipped around and shouted at Quirrel.
"So you will be my guide?"
Quirrel blinked slowly, then he blinked again, at a normal speed this time.
"Pardon?" What the hell was he talking about? A guide? For what? If you've made it this far, if you bothered to swim all the way over the lake, surely you've seen everything there is to see, right?
"You're the one who's volunteering to guide me, right?" The bug only restated his question, not helping at all. He looked at Quirrel expectantly, but Quirrel hadn't the slightest clue on what he was referring to.
"I didn't volunteer for anything! What exactly do you mean by guide? Where am I to guide you? If you're here, surely you've seen the rest of this kingdom. Nothing remains, and as such there is nothing to see. Why would I guide you anywhere?"
The bug shook his head, clearly disappointed. "Isn't it obvious?" The bug asked. "You're the one who's going to guide me to the Colosseum of Fools!" The bug said this enthusiastically, like he was excited to go there. Quirrel stared, completely dumbfounded. He wanted to go to the Colosseum? He was actively looking forward to going there? That was insanity, pure madness. He truly was a fool.
"No, there's not a chance of me guiding you there," Quirrel stated firmly. He'd heard of bugs of this type, arrogant ones who thought they were stronger than others. He'd heard of their fates, too. Dying by the hands of the Colosseum's champion, sliced to bits and torn apart. It was a gruesome sort of death, the type of murder you would hear in horror stories. Sending a bug there, no matter how strong they were, was like sending an obble into a fool eater.
"And why is that? I came here looking for glory, and I'd heard speak of a Colosseum hidden away in the ash of the kingdom. If I could find glory anywhere, it'd be there." The bug spoke as if he had a noble cause, but Quirrel still believed him to be stupid. The Colosseum got its name from people like him.
"Glory will not be found there. All you'll see are ground up bug guts and bloodthirsty criminals with appetites larger than their stomachs. You'll be sure to die upon entry." Quirrel did his best to inform him, but the other bug just scoffed and made a snide remark.
"Who do you think I am? I'm not weak, if that's what you think. I'd bet geo that I'm stronger than you, even," the bug's eyes narrowed as he finished his statement. "Would you like to bet on that?"
"No, I would rather not, actually. How strong you are doesn't matter in the Colosseum. They'll pull the dirtiest, nastiest tricks on you to make you helpless. Every time you go in, it gets harder and harder, and eventually you die. That's how it works there. There's no order, no coordination. It's a vile, lawless place. I won't send anyone to their death, especially not someone I just met. Surely you can understand that," Quirrel replied, doing his best to deescalate the situation. The bug was naïve, inexperienced, and hostile. He'd feel guilty being the indirect cause of that bug's death.
"You're underestimating me, I know how to fight fire with fire," the bug snarled, "and I'll show it to you right now. A proper duel, if I win you'll be my guide, and if you win I'll quit my searching." The bug took an offensive stance. He meant what he said, he really was planning to fight Quirrel there and now.
"Hold on a second, I really don't want to fight you—can't this wait? I don't even have a nail on me right now—"
The bug cut Quirrel off. "Then use the Knight's nail," he stated blunty. The vessel waddled over to Quirrel and offered up its nail. "Go on," the bug nodded its head toward the nail, "take it."
Hesitantly, Quirrel took the nail into his hands. It was heavier than what he was used to, and also shorter and thicker. When he was young, he trained with a nail like this, but it had been many years since his youth, and he wasn't sure how well he would stand against another bug.
The vessel backed away, and Quirrel got into a fighting stance before he noticed something: the other bug didn't have a nail. He held only his shield, but he wasn't in a guarding stance. Was that how he planned to fight?
The bug charged at him, and Quirrel dodged quickly to the right. His enemy was prepared for that move, though, and as soon as he passed by Quirrel he threw his shield. The shield went whirling toward Quirrel's head, smacking right against its side. It was a hard blow, almost knocking Quirrel right over, but the pill bug was able to regain his compusure in less than an instant. Out of his peripheral, he noticed the bug flick its wrist, and watched the shield come flying back to him. It was an odd ability, but Quirrel didn't have time to think about it. His foe was charging after him again already.
Muscle memory guided the pill bug's body as he braced for impact. The bug crashed into Quirrel, launching the two across the ground. As they slid against the hard rocks, Quirrel flipped himself over so he was on top and jabbed at the bug's stomach. Then, he curled up and rolled backwards to keep distance between the two.
It took only a second for the other bug to rise once again. Once more, he took a charging stance, then ran at full speed. As he moved, his upper waist was hunched forward, his legs far behind him. Quirrel curled his body as tightly as he could and pushes himself forward, ramming into the bug like he was a bowling pin and tripping him. In a swift movement, he unfurled his body and shoved his nail into the bug's hood, kneeling above him and effectively pinning him to the ground.
"Do you yield?" Quirrel nearly barked out the question. His mind felt calm, but at the same time the familiar blood rush of battle pulsed in his body. It was exhilarating, fighting another sentient bug for the first time in ages. There was another, that he fought, as he came into the kingdom. She was a sentinel of sorts, and he hadn't managed to catch her name after she forfeited. Being able to fight like this again was more enjoyable than Quirrel had expected.
The bug glared at him, eyes narrow and angry. He let out a defeated sigh, before grumbling, barely audible, "I yield." Quirrel smirked, lifting his body off of his foe's. He pulled out the vessel's nail, and gave it to the creature. It had watched patiently the entire time, but snatched the nail right out of the pill bug's hands when it was given the chance.
The other bug got up, staring quietly at Quirrel. He looked like he had something to say, but was too shy to speak up. An odd contrast to how he was acting before, but the quietness was welcome after all the shouting he had done earlier.
"Is there something you need to say to me?" Quirrel asked tenderly. The loss must have been a huge attack on his ego, considering how upset he looked now.
"I'm guessing you won't take me then, right? To the Colosseum, I mean," his question was somber, and it nearly broke Quirrel's soul. It was a dangerous thing, letting someone go to the Colosseum, and under no circumstances would he have ever even considered it. Yet, in this moment, he felt unusually empathetic considering the scenario.
Slowly, Quirrel spoke, sounding unsure of what he was saying, "You fought well, but I'm not quite sure you carry the skill to fight in the Colosseum." The bugs face dropped, turning into the saddest expression Quirrel had ever seen. He opened his mouth, but Quirrel cut him off before he could make any noise. "I do think, however, you could fight there if you had a little more practice. You use a shield as your main form of combat, which I'm not trained in, but you clearly are. So, I'll guide you if you can fulfill two conditions, yeah?"
The bug nodded his head, eagerly. "Yeah, yeah I'll do whatever you say. Tell me the conditions, please!"
Quirrel sighed, "Number one, you have to go through some training with me first. You need to learn to use a nail, your shield won't get you very far. I'm surprised you even made it here only with that. And number two, you have to tell me your name. I didn't catch it when we first met, and I don't think you got mine, either. You can call me Quirrel."
"Ah, my name's Tiso. You better put some respect on my name, because soon I'll be the champion of the Colosseum. Don't underestimate my shield, either. You might not realize it, but I've got a deadly surprise concealed within. I'm more capable than you think!" Tiso shouted, but he was more happy than he was angry. Still, he was arrogant nonetheless.
"Don't get too cocky, Tiso. I'll believe everything you just said when I see it," Quirrel countered. "Until then, you and I have plenty of training to do. It won't be here, though. We'll rest up before we leave, and find a more suitable place for battle elsewhere. We've got a bit of a journey ahead of us, so we'll take all the preparation we can get." Tiso nodded his head, eyes shining.
He turned to the vessel, "Did you hear that? The three of us are going to the Colosseum!" He grinned, and loudly cheered with a couple of "whoop-whoops".
"Hey, I didn't say that we're taking the vessel with us," Quirrel fought back, but Tiso's voice drowned out his arguments. Seeing how happy his new ally was, Quirrel didn't dare to speak up again. If he really had to, then he would accept the company of the vessel.
For some reason, Quirrel didn't think that his last adventure would be as small as he intended it to be.