The thought of Sans Serif made Gaelic’s spine shiver. It sickened him more than a rotting, maggot-less corpse.
Of all the skeletons in the world, that pudgy city slicker had to be his direct comparison.
Disgusting to look at.
Worse to tangle with.
And yet they shared too much in common.
The labyrinth stretched on. Its twists and turns made traversing more time consuming than it should be.
Floor above.
Ledge below.
Stairs. More stairs. Always more stairs.
Undyne had to lift poor King Asgore on her back, lest he gets left behind.
Groaning, she said. “One more fucking STEP and I’m gonna NGAAAAAAH!!”
It’s a sentiment shared by everyone.
I’m being useful now, aye?
Silly, silly thought. Ah be doing what M’lord and M’lady wishes. Of course!
Leading the gang through the maze made Gaelic happy. Perhaps a little bit too much.
At least he felt as if he had some sort of purpose. Nothing’s worse than having none.
In the midst of their traversal, the chambers began to shift.
“What now?” Queen Toriel exclaimed.
The walls slid away.
The stairs levelled.
The ground straightened.
The world of Megalovania transformed into a white, flat plain of nothingness. It stretched on as far as the eye can see in an almost truly empty space.
Disorientating.
Fortunately for the team, Gaelic had the eyes and senses to keep them on the straight path--
His remaining pride was then dashed to pieces by the sudden formation of a gigantic biscuit statue of… Doctor W.D. Gaster. His gentlemanly form provided a towering, smug landmark.
“Gaster-sensei?!?!?” Alphys gasped. “How did he? When did he? Oh, right. We, uhm, used him as a glorified radio.”
Lucidia commented, “It appears that he’s aware of our plans and had obtained the means to assist us.”
“THANK YOU SENSEI YOU ARE SO COOL!!!”
Whether or not he realised it, Gaelic slowed down while Undyne charged right ahead, with Asgore involuntarily tagging along.
A memory floated by. An echo.
Gaelic remembered the day when he first laid his eyes on the legendary princess of the sky. She was fourteen and he was nine, and the mere vision of her enough to seal his love beyond a fleeting infatuation.
The youngster moved Heaven and Earth for her attention. Climbed up a chestnut tree to shake some of its fruit loose. Showed off his skill in making a fire with nothing more than a stick, a branch, and the chestnut’s fallen leaves.
Delighted, she was. They shared the snack together, while having an engaging conversation about the nutritional qualities of chestnuts and the importance of their lumber.
Both kind and smart: how he wanted to live with her forever.
The elders, however, told him that she’s destined to marry a man outside of Lemuria. Even without the future insight, he had neither name nor fortune to court her.
He agreed.
Years later, he sold all to have his face remade. Gave his remaining wealth to Garamond. This new look is a ‘more suitable’ one, the naysayers whispered.
He agreed.
What else should he be than a beast? After all, he mauled a schoolmate for insulting his mother. Bit off fingers. Ripped the flesh with his teeth. Surely he doesn’t belong in normal society.
He agreed.
So he abandoned the life of a person: to embrace the wilderness once limited to the novels in his parents’ bookshop.
It’s exhilarating as it is harsh. Addictive, one might say.
The deep, degrading hunger never ended, dragging him further down the rocky waves between sanity and depravity, toward the realm of unadulterated instinct…
That concluded the tale of Gaelic Blanc.
…Until he saw the man whom Lucidia was promised to.
He fell in love all over again.
Back then, Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme had taken office for only a few months. Gaelic came to him upon the private request of Lady Lucidia.
The couple had two distinct reactions to his pledge of service. One of confusion, the other of alarm.
“Shackles? For me? What am I supposed to do with these?” the human asked, unintentionally innocent. Mezil had yet to know the full scope of magic history.
On the other hand, Lucidia was a learned scholar through and through: “Young man, I’ll have you know that slavery is illegal! Even if it’s voluntary.”
He remembered how he refused to let the opportunity pass by. Offered his entire being to the wedded Berendin couple. It didn’t matter if his methods were questionable or dangerous: he had nothing to lose.
The couple discussed in private. The wait was long and agonizing.
Will they accept? Or will they reject?
The lack of answers gnawed at him more than what the future may or may not bring.
At last, they returned. Lucidia carried a paper folder, while Mezil brought a box to keep the shackles.
Thus Mezil said: “My wife and I have come to a decision. We will accept your offer, but we will not keep you chained as a beast. You had saved me from the clutches of Persona before. I refuse to let those talents go to waste.”
Lucidia handed him the folder.
“If you sign these papers, you’ll become a Knight of House Berendin. Of course, we will provide all the necessary training for your newly assigned role.”
In print, he had read the promised words: lifelong employment as a ‘Tracker’, one of the many specialist classes of the Magus Association. They focus on wilderness survival, scouting, and hunting down targets.
Gaelic remembered crying out of joy, kissing both their feet and the ground they stood on. It’s a twisted loyalty, befitting him, like a pup bowing down before its master.
That cinnamon roll had once asked if ah be a dog, that mangiest o’ scallywags. Hit me heart so close. Too close.
And what did ah do? Brag. Hoot meself as this fearsome snake. Independent. Cunning. Vehemently denied any trace o’ those eternal-juvenile dumbfook wannabe-wolves.
What the fook was ah thinkin?
Snakes care fer none other than themselves. Ah care too much.
‘I’ be Berendin’s huntin’ hound. Nothing more. Nothing less.
In the midst of his reminiscence, they arrived at the South Pole.
Toriel’s strange fluffy canine companion ran straight right up to the Gaster statue. It jumped around, barking and growling at the towering man: ready to sink those tiny teeth into its oversized prey.
The Queen of Monsters picked up the dog and tried to calm it down.
“Shush, you naughty dog. There’s nothing to fight.”
Undyne set her King down on solid ground. One could see the caution in her movements as she surveyed the surroundings. “Ooookay I'm getting creeped out by this,” she said. “Is this a trap?”
Gaelic slapped a hand on his skull.
“No offence, but ya should have asked that question before ya ran all the way here.”
Doctor W.D. Gaster, huh? Ain’t that the criminal who supported war? If he ever was a foe, the bounty on his skull will be great.
But he be on our side now… Along with the rest o’ this chummy gang.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He switched on his Eye. Scanned the sky, the land, and the rock beneath.
Good news: no traps. All clear. No hidden scumbaggery, characteristic of Sans Serif.
Furthermore, the False Barrier’s mechanisms didn’t change positions, remaining firm at the entrance to the labyrinth.
Bad news that might invalidate the good: Sans had buried the mock Aspects deep beneath multitudes of stone-hard annoyance in true lazy yet resourceful fashion. Sealed by the stolen Determination of Gaelic’s master, nonetheless.
What weaselry be this?!
Damn ya through the grinder, Sans Serif. Be trampled plant food fer eternity!
If it weren’t fer yer thieving tricks, the goopy doc would have brought up yer infernal machine in a jiffy.
If only he had his steed to dig through. Gaelic’s sharp phalanges tried to claw into the Mark on his chest.
This curse o’ mine, how wretched it be.
If only ah could tear out me Psychia and live.
If frowning had a sound, it would have come from Alphys. “I-I don’t think we can manually tunnel down. The ground regenerates too fast for any attempt.”
Lucidia then said: “We may not need any extra tools. According to my estimations, we have all the manpower required to destroy The Barrier in a single strike. Doctor Alphys, care to assist?”
“O-of course! What do you need?”
What followed after were a whole lot of math and physics. Gaelic’s mind tuned out from the numbers.
He was more of a language person. Poetry. Prose. Lyrics. Scriptures. The deeper they express the heart, the better. Read many works of Romance in his lifetime.
Did ah feel the frustrations o’ M’lady?
He sensed a scratch against the drawing board. Lucidia’s current temper was much like the undercurrents of the ocean: calm on the surface, roiling underneath.
“Is there something wrong?” Asked Alphys.
“Yes.” Lucidia declared, “I am unable to ascertain a satisfactory success rate. There are factors that are either missing or below par.”
“M’lady, what impedes us?”
“Please allow me to summarize.” Said the woman. “We are agreeing on the following setup: first, a heat drill to burn away the blockade and expose the false Barrier. Second, Captain Undyne’s ultimate spear to dive straight into the hole.”
“For the setup, we need two power cells, a focused amplifier, and a targeting system. I have my fullest trust in Gaelic’s scouting capabilities and Captain Grillenn’s Champion strength. However, since King Asgore is still under the influence of local anesthesia, I’ve been trying to estimate if Queen Toriel could provide the necessary backup…”
Gaelic understood the context now. He had served Lady Lucidia long enough to know her train of thought.
“Should the King fail, it might be too exhausting for Queen Toriel to carry the weight. She may not be able to deliver the proper output.”
“If that happens, we won't drill nearly deep enough for Captain Undyne’s spear to reach target. And none of them have enough stamina for a second attempt.”
All it took was one moment, one snap,
One wrong move… to put the lives he cared for in danger.
If King Asgore was at his peak, they wouldn't have this conversation.
How Gaelic’s heart ached with guilt.
The people under his care focused on him. Their worried expressions further added pressure.
What can he say?
What should he say?
Where should he even begin? That the plan might be doomed because of his poor response to Sir Latinoros, the exemplar of right living?
Because he failed to detect the fallen angel before that filth descended upon Judge Thyme?
Because as lowly a creature as himself masqueraded under the guise of ferocity and skill?
Gaelic felt his bones shiver. His instincts wound tighter and tighter, wanting nothing more but to hide from these… faces.
Who were they again? The confusion crept in.
“Gaelic Blanc!”
Lady Lucidia’s command snapped him back the right way.
“Recite your identity.”
Those words…
His lord Mezil used the same phrase many, many times before. Always brought him back.
Gaelic breathed in deep. “Me name be Gaelic Blanc, House Berendin’s Tracker. Me purpose be to hunt me Master's prey and to ensure the survival o' the lost.”
“Recite your current mission.”
“Ah be yer eyes and ears, a messenger to relay ye plans.”
“Good.” Said Lucidia. “Please explain the circumstances and prepare them for the operation. We shall take the risk. Perhaps King Asgore’s ‘will’ can overcome this predicament.”
Gaelic’s emotions calmed down. At least, for now.
He did everything as he was told. Not a single detail missed or rushed.
The Ebott folk stared back with wide-open eyes. They’re amazed. Baffled, even.
Undyne pointed at herself, asking: “Dude. Seriously? We have enough power to turn ourselves into some epic awesome weapon that pierces the earth?!?”
“Aye,” the snake nodded. “Ah know what yer history books say: that we monsters be weaker than men. ‘Tis was true fer us too, until the rise o’ science. Since then, those who remained on the Surface learned how to refine our magic.”
“That’s so scary cool!”
Toriel shook her head at the comment.
Meanwhile the rhythmic glows of the false Barrier continued to taunt.
Gaelic conjured the simplest of Grams: a mere triangle within a circle.
For as long as he could remember, he had no talent in the art of Arcanagrams. Never quite progressed beyond the rudimental elementaries, far below the minimum standard for Seers.
“Right in the centre here,” he said.
The man of fire nodded to the instructions. “…Noted…”
Gaelic recognized those clothes ever since Sir Grillenn entered the picture. He donned Mezil Thyme's bartender uniform, complete with the scents he had come to love.
Interesting. ‘Tis knight o' fire carries himself well. Quiet and courteous. Methinks the Lord and Lady might consider him a good friend.
Aye, how fates twist and turn. Pity M’lady banned his establishment fer M’lord’s sake. Ah can see him having to visit the place in the future on the grounds o’ honour.
………………………
Ah wonder…
How does M’lord fare now?
Is he well?
Is he in pain?
The royal couple and the captains began their discussion. Gaelic kept watch, but it's nothing that he didn't already know.
Queen on the far left. King on the far right. Knight Bartender in the centre.
His senses remained sharp despite the wandering. The wild favours the alert. He noticed that Captain Undyne stood a little too close to ground zero.
Gaelic asked, “Anything else yer need to know?”
“Me?” the fishy captain grinned. “Naw. I’m just prepping for the big strike!”
Lady Lucidia marked a note of caution on Undyne’s profile. Reports suggest that the ‘uncommon sense’ sometimes get the better of her.
“Forgive me fer ruinin’ yer dreams, but if ya stand there yer gonna be a roasted fish on a stick.”
“Oh…” The flash of disappointment lasted for only half a second. Then, with all her gusto she proclaimed: “Then I’ll just JUMP from a safe spot! Yeah! I think I can do that!”
Gaelic didn’t need to be an educated scientist to realise that said distance was too far away to strike in time. But any nearer and she’d only end up getting herself killed.
An impasse…
Then, the adorable Doctor Alphys spoke up. “Mister Gaelic? Will you help me pass a message to Undyne?”
He replied, “Aye, sure thing.”
“Instead of jumping from afar, make a heat shield! Y-you see, heat travels upwards. All she needs to do is to brace the initial impact. Like… the rival from that most recent anime we watched! Yeah! It’s that battle against the fire woman! Tell that to Undyne. She’ll know what I'm talking about.”
Cenna’s guilty pleasure, aye? She’s a huge nerd with media.
Gaelic had watched some of that spunk’s recommendations before. Fun, but a bit too taxing on his nature-tuned senses.
“Okay…” He’s not sure what will come out of it, but it’s not his place to question.
The moment he delivered Alphys’ tip, Undyne had a twinkle of inspiration in her eye.
“Holy hell, she’s right!!” Exclaimed the fish. “Alright snakeface, tell me where I should stand!”
Gaelic planted a bone stake at the most suitable distance.
The captain went straight there. Used her spear to cut out a big, rectangular slice of the ground and charged it up with Kindness.
The whole thing was then piledrived straight into the reverting cracks. It healed around the base, turning the piece into a sturdy wall.
Undyne had the sparkle of a kid who completed her first crafts project.
“Is this good enough?”
Bony brow, raised. “Colour me impressed!”
Good synergy. Doctor Alphys be the brain and Captain Undyne be the brawn.
Oy Cor blimey, this couple. They be giving me cavities. Lovable dorks.
…Wish me love fer M’lord and M’lady ain’t so tainted…
“Well then, ‘tis be the cue fer me to skedaddle far away.”
But consequences decided that his due had yet to be paid. The King lost balance once again, setting himself on the floor so that he doesn't hurt himself in a fall.
The worst had begun to unfurl.
Gaelic rushed over to Asgore.
“Yer Majesty!” he yelled.
“Sorry to trouble you again, good sir.” The king replied. “I can’t seem to lift my arms. Could you hold them up?”
“Won’t ah be cinder, dust, and ash in thy presence? If that be the cost fer me penance…”
“Oh no. My wife and I decided to conjure the sun directly above Sir Grillenn’s head, far away from us. Though I apologize in advance should it still sting.”
“It be fine, Yer Majesty.”
At this rate, Gaelic wouldn't mind dying. Perhaps the naysayers were right…
But he had yet to complete his duty.
Gaelic stood behind Asgore and lifted the mighty arms up high: intimidating compared to his own scrawny limbs. Boss Monsters project a sense of awe, whether they realise it or not.
The King said his thanks. Steadied his feet. Asked if everyone was ready for the final step.
They confirmed. Lo and behold, the Dreemurrs showed why they’re the bosses.
A great white sun then hovered over the knight of fire: its glare shone so bright, it reflected off the plane of white.
Sir Grillbz Grillenn lifted both arms towards the flaming orb. He consumed it whole, turning his being into a radiant elemental power. No signs of his bartender outfit remained intact.
“D-d-d-did he just lose all his clothes?!--”
Oh sweet, awkward Doctor Alphys. Of all the possible questions, it made Gaelic laugh.
“What’s wrong?” he snickered. “The body itself be fine. Born in our skinnies and all. ‘Tis nothing to be ashamed of. Better than being clothed in humiliation.”
The champion Fire Eater bent his knees, careful to not slip in the wake of so much power.
He made a fist. Leaned forward. Raised his arm in the air for a single precise strike.
A huge boom followed after, accompanied with a blinding light.
The blast of heated air slammed against the exposed bones of Gaelic’s being. It definitely stung. The osseous surface felt sore, but not charred nor ablaze.
In contrast, Undyne’s makeshift shield melted at the edges. Her green magic only prevented it from instantly breaking apart, doing nothing to cut the temperature’s relentless assault. She braced the blast of superheated air by a lot of psyched up yelling.
Was it a success? Gaelic couldn’t see past the glare of Gaster’s wheaty burning effigy.
The fire soon ascended, dissipating the light along with the heat. What’s left behind was a deep hole with molten remnants gnawing at the edges.
The fishy Captain leapt out from her hiding spot. Her famous weapon formed in her hand, armed with a spearhead gleaming red.
“NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
She used all her strength to throw her weapon down the hole.
Regeneration then started its battle for supremacy. Growth threatened to overpower destruction. It smothered the flames and the path began to shrink.
How deep did he really punch?
Gaelic scanned the abyss for a confirmation.
Sir Grillenn’s attempt stopped a few layers above the target.
In other words, King Asgore had failed to summon enough power to make a breakthrough.
He squeezed his sockets shut. Pressed his forehead into Asgore’s cape. Wept in sorrow for the oncoming doom. They’re trapped beneath this Barrier forever.
“‘Tis all me fault,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry. M’lord, Mlady. Everyone.”
Asgore heard it, and said: “Good sir. I think… it’s a bit too early to surrender.”
“How’d ya know?”
“I can sense things, remember? Call it ‘trust’, in others and oneself. Undyne knows what to do.”
Right on cue, when the King of Monsters finished his little speech…
…A geyser of magic erupted from the depths.
It struck the pulsating sky, causing the celestial prison to crack.
The spread started slow. Then, it sprawled in all directions. Faster and larger until the whole structure cascaded under its own weight.
The dissipating shards of the Barrier fell like rain. White shining fragments fluttered down before they evaporated into invisible energy.
“I suppose this was what Frisk had witnessed,” said the goat. “It’s beautiful.”
Gaelic spotted a flake of destabilized Determination. He stretched out his gloved hand to catch it before the bit consumed itself in a tiny ember.
“WE DID IT!!!” Undyne cheered. “We did it,we did it! Fuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu! Sans got nothing on us! NOTHING!!!”
The snake grinned.
Ah. Gladness fills me heart. They be fine folk.
Perhaps when this be over, M’lord and M’lady dinnae need to depend square on me alone. Ah can finally do what they always wanted of me: to build me own life.
………………
Aye. ‘Tis fer the best.