Lost.

It’s the worst situation in enemy territory. Being injured was still not as bad if one knew his way of escape.

Lost.

Garamond tried to focus his Truesight to find a way out. He knew that his Dichromatic set was not made for pathfinding, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

Lost.

North and south.

East and west.

Up and down.

Directions had no meaning in The Void.

His only clue -- the trail of Mezil’s DT -- faded fast.

Fatigue gnawed on Garamond’s bones. He’s been flying about in absolute darkness for too long.

His Yellow feedback returned strings of gibberish data that he couldn’t translate. It’s tiring to read, let alone comprehend.

Gaelic’s armaments also demanded stamina that matched its original robust owner. It’s the kind of energy Garamond couldn’t maintain for long stretches of time. Yet without this borrowed ride, he cannot survive.

What a terrible, terrible situation.

“Lost?”

It’s the voice of Sans Serif, The Seraphim.

Garamond switched to high-alert. He charged his arm-mounted skull cannon. Its singular yellow eye maintained a dim, glow: ready to fire upon the slightest threat.

“Maybe you need to loosen up a bit.”

The source of the sound came from ontop of the snake’s skull.

Without hesitation, Garamond aimed there and opened fire. A thin laser punctured a clean hole through the roof.

Sans reappeared at the snake’s left socket. He stood sideways, peering through it as though he’s looking into some interesting pothole in the garden.

Garamond fired again. Sans teleported to the opposite end.

“Shoot first, talk later?” The short one commented. “Guess you’re as humourless as Judge Thyme.”

Aiming square for Sans’ forehead, the quiet one responded: “I can see your ill-intent.”

“‘See’, huh? Guess we have our ‘true sights’ on each other then.”

In a blink, The Seraphim summoned a row of bones.

Garamond put all his magic into the controls. Ramped up the ‘turn’ function of the bone snake as sharply as he could.

The whole vehicle swerved to the side. It threw Sans off his feet. Along with it, the dangerous set of bones.

High flow magic. Down on the mental pedal. He must escape no matter what.

Despite the distance, he could still hear Sans. Not surprising since he hijacked Judge Thyme’s systems.

“Jeez buddy, you really don’t have the guts to hear me out, do you? C’mon. I just wanna have a quick chat.”

Garamond refused to listen.

Two centuries of dealing with danger taught him plenty. He knew he’s not in the position for any talk. If death was not Sans’ intent, he will either turn him into a hostage… or worse.

Neither were desirable options.

“Welp, I guess I should have known that you Surface Seers will always choose the hard way.”

The Dichromatic Seer then heard the chants of his kind.

Invasive code threatened to spread through the main nervous system.

And once it does, Garamond will lose control over a behemoth loaded with an arsenal of poisons.

The man tried to fight back. He conjured a mixture of bones and Grams, pinning them onto the spinal cords to block the overwriting codes.

It worked for a while.

Then, came the flood of Determination. The augmenting factor smashed through the defenses with nary a resistance.

Lost.

A synonym for ‘defeat’.

Such is the current fate of Seer Garamond Blanc.

* * *

Cenna didn’t like waiting. Patience was not her trait. At the very least, she perseveres.

Though, she’s not as dogged as the ‘loony bin’ squatting at the edge of the hole-in-the-wall. That wannabe snake stared into the dark nothingness with enough intensity to drill through steel.

The chinchilla monster scurried up on Cenna’s coat with little effort. Perching on her shoulder, the shy creature whispered: “…Judge Caraway… is he alright?…”

“You are…?” She needed a name.

“…Miss Chinchinchan, Jury Number 4…”

Cenna responded, “Ah. Right, you’re asking about Gaelic? He’s on hyper alert search mode. Just don’t touch him. Getting startled ain’t fun for anyone.”

“…Can you keep his jacket?… It’s on the ground…”

She looked down, and behold it’s a rolled up bundle of Gaelic’s denim jacket.

It was the tool used to prop up Mezil’s feet. Number 4, Chinchinchan, took the effort to drag it along despite her small size.

Gaelic may not care about clothes in general, but he can’t strut around like a Halloween prop all year round. It’d scare too many people. So, Cenna bought this set for him, along with the biker’s helmet. Thought it’d fit his sensibilities while maintaining a modern touch.

“Hey, thanks Chinny! You’re sweet.” The Magus picked up the bundle and slung it over her arm. “I’ll deliver it later.”

The not-Undyne hopped over. She’s also curious about that purple-orange Seer, but she’s too afraid to step out of Cenna’s shadow.

“I hear he eats people. Is that true?” Tried to whisper. Absolutely failed.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Well,” said Cenna. “I got a question for ya. Are you gonna pull a Latinoros?”

“No?”

“Then you never need to worry about Gaelic turning you into a real doria.”

Her fins drooped in disbelief. “You’re not letting that go aren’t you? It’s Passidoria, not ‘Doria’!”

Cenna tilted her head upwards to let out a great laugh. How unfortunate for her to share a punny nickname with a rice gratin.

“Hey, hey! This may be the last time I can crack jokes. Gotta make the best outta it.”

She heard a loud groan coming from the other end of the Crimson Hall. It’s good ol’ Sir Latinoros, the knighted lawyer.

“Judge Caraway PLEASE be more serious!” he exclaimed. “Sir Garamond’s continued absence is great cause for concern!”

Next to him was the giraffe lady, Zakari. Also a member of the law body like Sir Latinoros, but versed in a different speciality. “Zakari wonders if it’s possible to initiate a search.”

Cenna shook her head. “Sorry madam. Gaelic can only conjure one Skull Armament at a time. Unless, you want to have my senior plunge unwittingly into the Void or something.”

“Zakari knows. But Zakari wonders if Papyrus can help. He is of Orange too.”

Good question. Gaelic did coach the bloke after all. Any Seer with the Orange Aspect had the ability to conjure and maintain a mode of transport.

She looked around. Not a single tall cinnamon roll in sight. Whatever happened to him?

The nearest Ebott folk was none other than King Asgore, accompanied by Queen Toriel and the Hammer of Justice. Cenna didn’t expect an ancient non-Boss monster to see the light of the modern era. And yet, Gerson defied all expectations.

Tipping her hat, she greeted: “Hey there, anyone know where Mister Cinnamon Roll went?”

“Oh, Papyrus?” Asgore replied, “He retreated into the Jury Chamber. Sir Grillenn is checking up on him, but they have yet to emerge.”

Oh dear. Guy with clairvoyance isolating himself? Bad news for sure.

Cenna tried to keep a neutral face.

Her attention focused on the bite marks. “How’s your affliction?”

“Fine, I think,” the King answered. “It’s hard to tell since I can’t feel my lower arm at all. This really reminds me of a dental visit…”

“Mind if ya let me check it out?”

“Please, go ahead.” Asgore offered his outstretched arm.

The Magus’ chest glowed strong. Her eyes gained a yellow sheen, an indicator that she’s focusing her powers on her Truesight.

The monsters gasped in astonishment. After all, they’re more sensitive to the ebb and flow of magic. Humans wouldn’t notice the difference from the performance arts.

Toriel said, “This power… you always had it?”

“‘Had’ is the right word, Your Majesty. I’m now in a proxy body of my prime. Lucy brand backup data. Think it’s like, when I was twenty years old? The one in the real world… it’s pretty much on its last legs.”

Once she’s done with the treatment, the glow faded. Better conserve power for the upcoming fight. She let the arm go.

“Good news, it’s just local anesthesia. No neurotoxins or other dangerous stuff. Your body cells are definitely not necrotizing. Pretty wicked dose though. You ain’t gonna feel anything for hours.”

Gerson squinted. “So… it was just a fright?”

“Nah. Gaelic really wanted to bite that guy. I call him the loony bin for a reason. Point being though, he never intended to kill.”

“That’s a relief, wahaha!”

King Asgore nodded along. “Indeed. That’s the most important part.”

Being the practical mother of the trio, Queen Toriel added: “If only I have some ingredients and kitchen equipment, I’d make him some butterscotch pie. And give some life advice.”

Sweet as ever. No wonder Frisk wished to stay with them.

Looks like I won’t need to worry about the guys I’m leaving behind.

Hmm. I think I should talk to Captain Undyne next. She’s the only one I haven’t checked on yet.

Cenna walked over. They exchanged greetings.

“Thanks for the timely rescue, Captain,” said the Magus. “None of us would be here without ya.”

Undyne grinned ear to ear. “No problem! I mean, if anime is so real… there’s no way in hell I’ll just sit behind and do nothing!”

“Speaking of that…” said Cenna. “What made you guys come charging here anyway?”

Serious mode, on. “Ready for a long story?”

Captain Undyne explained how Mettaton discovered a petrified Gaster in his own bedroom. Marked with the same symbol as the Spirit Gate’s blockade.

“…And that’s how we’re in this mess together.”

Cenna dropped her jaw. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me the freaking assassino turned an AMALGAMATE to stone?!”

Undyne nodded. “Yup. Alphys is still trying to figure out how it all exactly works. But, I trust that she’ll crack the code! Heck, in my book she’s SMARTER than Sans! She’s super brainy. Don’t let her social awkwardness fool you.”

“Speaking of Amalgamates by the way,” she continued. “I think it’s about time you Magi tell us more about that obviously-goopy-abomination under the ocean. How the heck did the bad side of anime become so real?”

The day just got worse for the Magus. “Er… who said it?”

“Papyrus.”

Sigh. The ocean. The big thorn in our side. Guess secrets can never be kept forever, huh?

“I owe ya one, I suppose. Know about the War of the Red Victory? It all started when--”

Just as she was about to get into the meat of the conversation…

…A massive bone snake crashed into the room. It smashed. It skidded. And then flipped on the side. Ceramic dust scattered everywhere.

It’s Gaelic’s Skull Armament, cracked and damaged.

Garamond struggled to crawl out of the socket cockpit. Unable to stand, the man rolled out unto the rubble-strewn floor. The mount dissolved into nothingness soon after.

His cousin Gaelic snapped out of his search and scurried over.

The event attracted a crowd, Papyrus and Grillby included. Cenna tried to make sure that folks don’t smother too much. Both patient and medic needed space to breathe.

“Mondie!” Gaelic examined his patient.

Flicks of his forked tongue tested the air around his cousin for changes.

“…Foul. Tastes o’ ketchup, steel, M’lord’s Determination, and… Cor Blimey all the way to the Sun. Yer poisoned by me own! Did that fallen angel hitch me ride?!”

He reached for a vial of antidote from his belt. It’s a potion made with distilled Kindness. Poured that straight into Garamond’s mouth.

Garamond nodded. “…That he did. Made a wormhole. Set trajectory here.”

“Aye. ‘But there be those thin thread o’ M’lord stretching into the yonder. Ever draining, ever consuming. Now that ah tasted a sample, me very being can track the false angel’s adobe.”

Gaelic’s right Eye flared. “Who here volunteers to join ‘tis quest o’ mine?”

“No! Don’t…” Said Garamond, “You’d just get lost. Like I did. Besides… The Seraphim sends a warning.”

Cenna clenched her fists. The moment she saw her senior end up like this, she could guess the contents of the message word for word:

“‘Papyrus must come by himself. Alone.’”

Jackpot.

Papyrus didn’t think twice. Maybe he did. But he’s just too kind to let others get hurt in his stead.

Sans had banked on this behaviour for certain.

Papyrus almost conjured the fruit of his tireless efforts, but Undyne jumped on him.

“PLEASE LET ME GO,” said Papyrus. His tone firm and sombre.

“Fuck no!!!” Undyne yelled back. “C’mon Paps, can’t you see what Sans is trying to do?! If you go alone, he’ll manipulate you to his whims!”

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WON’T LET HIMSELF GET CONTROLLED.”

“You don’t have to ‘let’ him! Look, he raised you since a babybone. That means he knows everything about you. Every! Single! Thing!”

Cenna thought it’s best to step in with her professional opinion. “Captain Undyne is right, Cinnamon Roll. Rule number one, never go alone. The one time Mez went alone he--”

She stopped herself a little too late. Shouldn’t have mentioned that moment. However, since she dropped that name, she had to conclude her statement in the most discreet way possible.

“…He fell into the worst trap of his life. Like hell we’re letting you get into that kind of danger!”

“Yeah!” Undyne echoed the sentiment. “Besides, we don’t even know WHERE to look!”

Papyrus lowered his head. “THAT’S FINE. I CAN USE MY SPECIAL POWERS TO ‘SEE’ THE PATH I NEED TO TAKE.”

“No! I will SUPLEX you until you quit!”

“I WON’T QUIT,” he said. “I CAN’T!”

Undyne’s Psychia turned Blue. She slipped off her feet and her entire body dangled parallel over the floor. Though she tried her best to keep a grip on the bones, Papyrus’ magic peeled off her fingers one by one.

“Papyrus!!!” Undyne screeched.

“…I’M SORRY.” That was his sole answer.

Her own weight thus sent her flying straight towards King Asgore. He caught the Captain in the nick of time within his fluffy, muscular arms.

An alarmed Cenna summoned twelve binding string drones posthaste. She knew it won’t be nice to his wishes, but she refused to let him go on a suicide mission.

They’d bind his arms and legs. Deny him of any opportunity to leave.

Except, the drones suffered the same fate as Undyne. Papyrus embedded them straight into the walls.

Her senses then detected another spike of magic energy coming from Papyrus.

She heard the people scream. All summarized as a single warning:

‘Behind you!’

Cenna leapt to the side.

Whizzing past her were the howls and roars of a high-powered engine.

At first, she thought she’s seeing things. It took a second for her to register it’s real.

The magical object that had almost rammed her at full speed was none other than a hoverbike with a cheetah skull for headlights. The choice reflected his upbringing as an energetic youngster in a modern, mechanical society.

Papyrus jumped onto the oncoming vehicle. He grabbed the handlebars with a level of accuracy and skill that would make stuntmen green with envy.

Then he blasted off straight into the yonder of the Void, too fast and furious for anyone to react.

Cenna tried to catch up on foot. A futile effort. She had no means to chase after him.

This is beyond bad…

This is really fucking bad.

C’mon Lucy, hurry up!