The Mask Maker was quick, and soon all three masks were sewn.
"Is this a Vessel?" Simon asked.
The Mask Maker suddenly realized that the mask on his face had been removed at some point, and he hastily picked up a mask from the cluttered workbench and put it on.
He breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile, "Not quite, but the missing step isn't essential."
"What step is missing?"
"The White King's will!" the Mask Maker recalled, "That was in the past, my elders were conscripted to participate in that great plan, and the mask-making techniques were passed down. The last step was to imbue a powerful will to bind the body beneath the mask!"
"So this step can be completely omitted?"
"Yes, there's no need. Wyrm's creations are outstanding, but ultimately they go against nature's instincts."
Simon had heard of Wyrm, an ancient god on par with The Radiance. The drifting fluff at Kingdom's Edge was debris shed from his corpse. And the King of Hallownest was said to be Wyrm's reincarnation.
Past history was hidden in the mists, and those in the know were often unwilling to reveal details.
Simon asked curiously, "Who is Wyrm?"
The Mask Maker shook his head, pushed the three masks to Simon, and remained silent.
Under the faint light, the three masks reflected a lustrous and gentle glow, yet their styles were all different, even vastly divergent.
The one on the left was shaped like an inverted melon seed, with two eye holes, a classic alien face.
The one on the right was perfectly round like a moon wheel, with two pairs of circular eye holes arranged in a grid, looking very strange, more like a colander than a mask.
The one in the middle was the most peculiar and grotesque, rectangular like a tombstone, with countless dense eye holes of various sizes that made the entire mask exceptionally transparent, like a net, like a hollowed-out tree trunk, like a rotten canvas shoe.
Just by their appearance, they had nothing to do with masks, but those hollowed-out eye holes were not translucent, genuinely serving to conceal.
Simon felt helpless. He pointed at the middle one and asked, "Why is there such an ugly mask?"
The Mask Maker spread his hands, his long arms extending to touch the walls on both sides, the sharp carapace scraping against the rock, making a hissing sound.
"This is determined by the root you brought. Since you said you didn't require a specific style, I made it according to the root's most natural form. From this root, I saw countless warriors, roaring, fighting, under the dazzling sharpness, they died and lived again, facing death to live, like the shadows of flames, scorching and oppressive."
Upon hearing this, Simon immediately felt a sense of familiarity with this strange mask.
But before taking the masks, there was one more thing he needed to clarify.
"Do you know you've been corrupted by the Void?"
"Of course! This is a wonderful thing!"
Simon was startled.
The Mask Maker seemed to be in the mood for conversation. "The Void has projected many terrifying images into my mind, and these are all inspirations for my mask creations! Look," he pointed at the scattered masks on the ground, reached out and picked up a few like flipping through a book, and held them up for Simon to see, "These shapes! How beautiful! The meaning of a mask is to add an extra layer of decoration to a natural face. Look," he handed over the exaggerated and bizarre masks one by one, "These horns, these eyes, all have special symbolism…"
"A bug can use a mask to add or subtract features from itself, what a great tool! How beautiful it is, and how elegant a sight it is for the world!"
Simon saw black tears dripping from the lower edge of the mask on the Mask Maker's face, but the mask still maintained its original appearance, not distorting due to its owner's emotional fluctuations. This perfect disguise, beyond its aesthetic meaning, served a more realistic purpose.
Simon interrupted the Mask Maker's lengthy discourse, "Hey! If you need it, I can help you get a white root system. You can make a Vessel mask for yourself…"
The Mask Maker shouted, drowning out Simon's words, emitting agitated pheromones. His long arms swung, scraping the ceiling with a rattling sound. The lightfly lanterns were hit and began to sway wildly, and the shadows in the room suddenly seemed to come alive, lengthening and shortening, moving back and forth, the atmosphere abruptly becoming extremely tense.
"No need! The master of Deepnest has fallen into slumber, and what we need to do is wait…" He spoke incoherently, then suddenly realized his impropriety, his tone softening, "I apologize, I'm not very good at controlling my emotions right now, I often get very agitated, it's unrefined, please forgive me." He sighed, "As for a Vessel mask, I don't need one. Void corruption is nothing to worry about. On the contrary, it protects my dreams; without a unified will, the Void is very safe."
Simon gently released his grip on his Nail, then stepped forward and took the three masks. "Hearing you say that, I'm relieved. Well, it's getting late, I should leave now. Please take care."
The Mask Maker's true emotions were hidden beneath his mask, indiscernible. He nodded to Simon, waved his hand, then picked up his chisel and paintbrush and resumed making masks on his own. He wanted to turn all the sparks of inspiration that contradictory emotions—beauty, fear, gentleness, tyranny, conservatism, repression—clashed and burst forth in his mind into masks.
Clicking, muttering, the place was often filled with noise. Simon tucked the masks into his geo pouch and slowly left.
…
Next, he would return to the Forgotten Crossroads, give the masks to Nati and Paya, and then perhaps after a short rest, he would have to find a way to enter the Abyss.
The gate to the Abyss was sealed and required the king's brand to open.
This was where Simon found it troublesome.
He could go look for the king's brand himself, but he would likely face obstacles. This obstacle was the Princess of Hallownest—Hornet, known in the Jianghu as the Little Sister.
Simon certainly didn't want to be hostile towards Hornet, not only because she was the protagonist of the Hollow Knight sequel, but also because she was inherently a very likable character. Her fighting style was like a butterfly flitting through flowers, pleasing to the eye, her small body bore a heavy mission, and later she sacrificed family for the greater good, even dedicating herself. Such a resilient and tenacious character is hard not to be impressed by.
So there was only one other path.
Wait for the Little Knight to open the gate.
Simon pondered that he could relax during the time the Little Knight had not yet obtained the king's brand. Always running around, it was time to enjoy life. He could go soak in the hot springs in the City of Tears, listen to songs, or find the Nailmaster in Dirtmouth to exchange sword techniques, which would also be a great pleasure.
The more he thought about it, the better it seemed, and Simon happily rushed towards the Crossroads.
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