‘Determination’, once known as ‘Willpower’, had a strange tendency to resonate with those perceptive of it.
The imposement of wills comes in many ways. At the most basic level, it’s physical force: brutish, unrefined. Those who depended solely on it were of the lowest denominator.
A level above stood the persuasion through words. Why trouble oneself with fists if one could acquire a new ally? From mystics to politicians, their tongue was their blade.
At the highest level, it revolved around direct transfer of the mind. Hopes and dreams. The power to change fate. It could either become the greatest comfort, or the most surreal disturbance.
Nightmares now plagued the ‘vampire’.
He dreamed of a world where the Gungnir’s god had won the war. Persona thought it would be nice to gloat a little. Torment his nemesis with the result of his failure.
However, what pained him the most was not the expected bloodshed… It was the solitary loneliness of his wife.
She became part of a machine, bone and steel melded as one. Bound to the immense circuitry of The Bastion, her Eyes burned day and night to keep countless lives afloat in the sky.
The heart of the nation… was also her coffin.
Where did her ferocious knight go? Mezil wondered.
Gaelic. Did he survive at all?
Lucidia? Lucy dearest?
The husband tried to hold his beloved’s face. Talk to her. Reassure his love. Treat her as a person, not as an automaton.
But at the last moment, he was drawn away by the sounds of an alarm.
Mezil Thyme thus woke up.
What time is it?
He checked his phone. Realised that he had slept through seven earlier attempts at waking. Not to mention that he had a killer migraine.
…My nap was supposed to last just twenty minutes.
Tapping on the weather report app revealed that it’s a cloudy night. The sun had already gone down.
The room was dark. He tried switching on the lights, but none of them worked except for a low-energy emergency bulb.
Still running on backups, I see…
Mezil got out of bed. Found himself limping to the bathroom. He’s dizzy. Lightheaded. Kept the door open to let some light in at least.
Persona’s dark shadow meanwhile loomed in the mirror.
At least he wasn’t visible in full human form. That’d be a sure sign of takeover.
“You again?” Mezil grumbled.
The spirit laughed. “Typical Winston greeting right there. Aren’t you glad I’m still with you today?”
“Tsk. If not for young Frisk’s mercy, I doubt you would be.”
“Hah! Nonsense. I’m a god and you’re a vampire. Unlike your ilk, I dare stand within the rays of the sun.”
Again with his egoistic tripe.
Mezil shook his head and went about his business. He’s in a rush to meet up with the Grandmaster. Perhaps ask the elder to strengthen the prison.
Noticing something wrong, Mezil opened the mirror cabinet for a thermometer. Rinsed the tip. Stuck it in his mouth.
‘39C’, it read.
“What the hell?” Mezil blurted.
“If you actually bothered to get out of your comfort zone, you would have gotten your answer already.”
“I’m no moron. This has to be Sans Serif’s doing. Transferring the World’s DT through me and burning it for his schemes.”
“You know, that new world of his… it’s quite beautiful. Pity your wife continues to be a thorn in my side. Without her, humanity can finally move on to the next step.”
“You don’t care about humanity, Persona. You only care about yourself.”
“Isn’t that the same for you? For all the other Supreme Judges? You tout about greater ideals such as altruism, yet in reality you act the same as us Gungnir. At least we’re honest about it.”
“…Please burn together with your pathetic philosophy.”
Upon finishing his routine, Mezil staggered out of the bathroom. Picked up his phone again to check the news online. The worst always happens whenever he is forced to rest.
Mettaton continued to hog the proverbial spotlight with his overly flashy self. For heaven’s sake, he hoped that Lucidia’s preparations provided that glam celebrity with ample information.
So far, so good. No one hounded him for anti-human sentiments yet.
Then…
“You know what? I invite all you beautiful darlings to come watch my upcoming Spring Concert! You, and you, and you there too~. Yes, the gorgeous cameraman in the back as well! Of course I appreciate the sound crew. My cousin’s a musician.”
The reporters were stunned. One of them asked if it’s not a security risk.
“Terrorists want us to fear.” Mettaton answered, “They want us to cower. To cry. Well baby, we’re not giving in to them. We shall answer their brutish actions with a stadium full of wondrous smiles! My show shall be the most glamourous, fantastical, and dashing event of the season! Ooooh yes!”
“Monsters. Humans. Everyone’s welcomed to participate~~! Seats are limited, but my broadcasting channel is free to register. Please call in the MTT Hotline at--”
Page, closed. He had heard enough.
“…This is a mistake.”
How the Persona laughed. “A mistake indeed! Crowded zones are always best for maximum casualties. I’m sure my remnants will be eager to answer that call.”
“I need to calm that bot down…”
The grandmaster would have to wait.
Mezil grabbed his cane. Searched through his drawers for a folded list. Inside, it detailed the Spire’s many portals and their respective rooms. He needed to find the one that would lead him as close to Mettaton as possible.
“Portal ID: 0F-03W,” he muttered, “That’s the… third portal on the ground floor of the West Wing. I… I think I know where it is. It’s the exit facing the police station.”
So began his journey.
Whenever he passed a light, as faint as it may be, the shadow of his nemesis appeared on each reflective surface. Haunting. Taunting.
“That skeleton… not only did he overturn your entire operation, he nailed everything about you. Your weaknesses. Your eventual doom. A wonderful asset.”
“Forget it,” Mezil scoffed. “He will never be loyal to a false god like you. Nor can you earn his trust by pledging allegiance with his deity.”
“Shame that he’s born of toxic bone. Had to put him out of his misery.”
Sans alone could perceive the composition of the Abomination at a glance. That’s why Mezil wanted to keep that man alive as much as possible.
But, if he does fall prey to evil… they will have to figure out an alternative.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Sigh.
…It’s difficult to walk. Mezil could feel his face getting damp from sweat. The nausea rumbling in his weak stomach didn’t help either.
West… west…
Where the hell is west?
People may laugh if he confessed that he doesn’t remember every nook and cranny of his own house. They didn't realise that it’s a mansion that once served as a school. There are too many rooms for him to use regularly, if at all.
He arrived at the living room’s stairwell.
From here, I need to go down and--
An assault of the mind added to his list of woes. His head hurt from the weight, and his vision drenched in crimson.
Mezil felt his being knock against the railing. He caught it for dear life.
Voices rang between his ears. The hearts that the vampire had claimed resonated from the back of his mind.
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They said:
‘I should have this power to save others.’
‘I wish I am more determined.’
‘Why did he rob me of a better chance at life?’
‘Who is he to judge me? Who gave him that right?’
‘He has no right!’
‘It’s his fault I’m a mess.’
‘It’s his fault!’
‘It’s his fault!’
‘It’s his fault!’
“Quiet!” he yelled.
The voices dissolved into incomprehensible murmurs. He didn’t need to understand their words to know they’re cursing him.
It's uncomfortable. Disorienting.
Mezil continued navigating down the steps on the basis of touch alone. As long he kept to the railings, he shouldn’t slip.
“Did you hear that?” said Persona. “The bitter cries of those you’ve robbed. Each one of them once blessed with the power to change the world. But you nipped them in the bud. Denied their bloom.”
“You’re detestable, Winston.”
“Tsk. As short-sighted as ever. I left behind enough Determination for them to lead fruitful lives. Nothing stops the Claimed from becoming successful human beings. They themselves choose to waste it on obsession!”
“If it's such an ideal, why not surrender your own power? Monitoring the world must be an exhausting job.”
“Says the source of the problem. I swear to never let the Keys of Fate fall into the hands of your kind. Gungnir. Magi. Human. Monster. Extremists are all the same.”
Flat ground, at last. Now… to make sure he doesn’t bump into any furniture.
“I know your game, Persona. You’re trying to weaken me for possession. Futile.”
Persona’s shadow reflected off a polished table. He had his arms crossed, shaking his head in mocking disapproval.
“So paranoid. How do you even enjoy life?”
“Hmph. I don’t need to tell you.”
“Have you ever honestly spent a single day without worrying about the schemes of others?” said the Persona, “When was the last time you took a vacation? I don’t think you had any since the mountain monsters broke free from their confinement.”
Mezil’s cane thumped against the ground. He resisted the urge to lash out. Any response would become ammunition to further beat him down with guilt.
He has always valued the quiet moments with his friends and family.
Don’t miss them.
Don’t forget them.
They’re a treasure to never let anyone sully.
By a miracle or otherwise, Mezil managed to drag himself to the West Wing. This was the lounge where he had discussed many a recent affair with the authorities.
“Finally…”
A small Arcanagram over his heart shone bright. Once invisible portals rippled into view.
There were more of those than he remembered. One on the floor. One on the ceiling. Two on each wall. It’s always a marvel of how Lucidia knew every path like the back of her hand.
The portals appeared black and ominous due to his disturbed vision. Where do they connect to? None looked familiar.
“…Great.” He muttered. He read the list again. “Which one is it?”
It’s a 1 in 10 chance. Mezil chose and committed. Doesn’t matter which.
I can always turn back anyway.
The sudden change of air temperature was very noticeable.
It felt…
Warm? Wait a minute. The sun has long gone down. There’s no heating anywhere, except--
His other senses soon caught up with his thought.
He heard the nearby rumbles of a backup generator. Smelled the scent of gardening equipment and the fumes of burning biodiesel. Saw the silhouette of plant life.
It’s the Greenhouse: far, far away from Mettaton.
When he tried to turn back, that’s when Mezil realised that his body refused to listen.
Step by step, he’s helpless. Not enough ‘determination’ to defeat Persona’s will.
“You--!”
Persona burst into a laugh.
“This is hilarious. Again, I have to thank that Lichborn for this opportunity. You’d really think that I’d let you accomplish your objective?”
“Since when were you the one in control?”
Wherever Mezil turned, Persona’s shadow walked. He haunted the glass walls. The high ceilings. Off anywhere where what little light would touch.
So the DEMON taunted. “I feel fear flowing through your veins.”
Mezil clicked his tongue.
“Only fools don’t fear you. Caution is what kept me alive to this day.”
“Well of course. I suppose by now you’re the only one who knew me at an intimate level.”
The thought disgusted Mezil. But, he couldn’t deny it. Most of Persona’s closest kin were either dead, imprisoned, or one foot into the grave from age.
Then there was that one loop… some scars remain regardless of time.
“One more word, and I will turn you into an Ebott Goldenflower. Be that damn DEMON plant for all eternity!”
“I’d love to see you try.”
Mezil then heard a hinge turn. Right after, an intense flood of light almost blinded him.
The Magus shielded his eyes. It’s an artificial sunlight lamp repurposed for use against intruders.
“You?!?”
That high-pitched ever-bratty voice. He’d recognize it from a mile away.
“Flowey, get that out of my face this instant.” Mezil grunted.
“What the heck are you doing here?!” said the flower. “…Whatever. Chara needs me.”
Flowey flipped off the switch before leaping back into the darkness from whence he came. The rustling led Mezil and Persona to a different compartment of the facility.
“We have our next destination, it seems.”
The involuntary walk continued.
Mezil tried to calm his mind. Think. Decide what his next plan of action should be.
Flowey’s life may depend on it.
He spotted the ex-prince at the seedling area, moving one of the trays aside and replacing it with a potted Ebott Goldenflower.
It had to be Chara. But, they lacked their distinctive rosy cheeks.
A worrying turn of events. Mezil noticed that the flower children always kept their faces, even when they sleep. For Chara to have none meant they could either be in coma… or worse.
“C’mon Chara,” Flowey whined. “Wake up already. I’m so sick of waiting! You already made me wait since… since FOREVER!”
The child turned around to the taps of Mezil’s cane, and broke a cold sweat. Uncertain. Unnerved.
“Uh… there’s… there’s this weird aura coming out from you. It’s like static electricity.”
“Hah! The puny plant recognizes my presence.”
“Step aside, little one. Let me pay my respects!”
The sudden boom of an unknown voice startled Flowey. “W-w-who the heck are you?! What’s happening???”
“Flowey, listen.” Said Mezil. “Sans stole my powers. As a result, I don’t have enough Determination to fight Persona’s ghost.”
“WHAT?!” the boy exclaimed. “I thought he’s DEAD! I mean, deader than dead!”
“I wish.”
Mezil lifted his clothes, showing Flowey the glowing bolt of lightning. “The Grandmaster’s magic is preventing a full takeover. However, I’m weakened to the point where I’m no longer in control of my own legs.”
The plant straightened his stalk. “O-okay. What does this stupid ghost mean by ‘paying respects’?”
Pointing at Chara, Mezil explained: “He desires to meet his ancestor.”
It immediately put Flowey on the defensive.
“NO! I’m not letting that idiot get ANYWHERE near Chara! He might hurt them.”
“Hurt?” Persona snickered. “This is too heartwarming.”
“Little flower, I don’t mean any harm. On the contrary, I’m here to help. Don’t you want your friend returned to you in good health?”
Mezil furrowed his brows. Whenever the Persona grants a favour, he expects something in return one way or another.
“What are you up to?” asked the Magus.
“It’s Gungnir matters. Go on, explain like the good teacher you are.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Flowey. The Gungnir exalt the elders they deem worthy. For some reason, your friend demands enough honour to drag me all the way here.”
Flowey asked, “Why? What do they have in common?”
“Both belong to the original Ebott Mountain Sect. It won’t surprise me they’re related in some manner.”
The boy muttered to himself, struggling between suspicion and hope.
In the end, he inched Chara’s pot forward.
“Do whatever you must. Before I change my mind,” said Flowey. The boy didn’t drop that glare at all. Understandable. It were the Gungnir who had killed him all those years ago.
Persona nodded in approval. “Good, good. Now Winston, stretch your hand over their head.”
Despite the deep reluctance, Mezil did as he was told.
“I -- The Persona of Mount Ebott’s golden fields -- command you to live!”
His entire left arm sparked. The intensity increased until it burst out into a small bolt of electrified Determination.
The shock zapped Chara wide awake. Even at its friendliest, that Mark never ceases to provoke extremes.
“Ack!” yelped Chara. “W-what’s happening?! Where? Why? …Azzie?”
Flowey wasted no time to give his friend a big scolding.
“YOU IDIOT!” He ranted. “We’re supposed to be in the plan TOGETHER! Then you refused to wake up when everything went sour! Were you going to leave me alone again?”
At the end of his rant, he hugged Chara close with his tendrils. “Golly, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Azzie… I…” The rosy-cheeked one turned their head away from guilt. “I thought you’re better off without me. I was a failure in life. I was a failure in death. And I’m still a failure in post-death… I can’t even be a proper dumb flower.”
“You’re too entrenched in the old generation’s narrow ways, ancestor.” Persona said.
Chara narrowed their gaze, as Flowey had done. “You… You have the same power as the Legendary Hero.”
“Indeed. I am the most recent Persona. Or as the Magi would prefer to call me: ‘The Last’.”
“…You’re here to gloat about your success?”
“If I thought you’re a reject, I wouldn’t have troubled myself to come. I’ll cut to the chase: the Gungnir of old were all hopeless fools. No wonder they produced nothing of value.”
That statement surprised everyone.
Persona bellowed: “They deserved to be purged. Eradicated in the flames of truth! An end befitting their blindness.”
“You -- Chara of Mount Ebott’s golden fields -- had sacrificed your life to achieve a greater goal. That’s the true essence of Gungnir. You didn’t grow soft. You didn’t choose comfort. You gave it your all, transcending into godhood!”
“The previous useless Persona? He should be the one to drink his poison! On that day, the people should have gone on their knees in recognition of your radiance!”
“You’re the underdog who reached the closest to our original founder. That should be the ultimate proof of your worthiness as the next successor.”
Chara snapped back: “I was planning to kill them, idiot! Everyone! I didn’t care about that succession shit anymore.”
“I hated humanity so much, I’d rather have the monsters win!”
“And you’d be absolutely right. Our sect claimed they’re ‘the original’, but they had become entrenched in traditions of their own imagination. If tormenting your family merely served to puff up their ego, they were the true weaklings.”
“I too would hate humanity if that’s all I see.”
If Mezil must be honest with himself… he had a warped view of people before meeting Lucidia as well. His own family was dysfunctional: populated with liars and addicts. Conscious or otherwise, he did detest humanity in a way.
The Magus sighed. “…Such reasoning is just fertile soil for further bloodshed.”
“You’d do the same if you were in the minority, Winston.”
“Through terrorism? Targeting a stadium full of innocents just because the singer is a monster?”
“The Magi too have their sins. Don’t play coy with me.”
“But do you see me eradicate pro-Gungnir tribes like the Aratet? No!”
“Ah, yes. Instead you sanctioned the government of their oppressors.”
“Limited by their constitution! If I didn’t stop the war, the whole region would have collapsed into anarchy--”
Flowey interrupted the argument with a concerned question. “A stadium? In spring?”
“Yeah, what’s this about a stadium?” Chara added.
“It’s THAT show, isn’t it?”
Mezil wasted no time to explain: “Yes. Mettaton plans to turn his Spring Concert into a celebratory event for peace. That’s the Gungnir’s next target.”
Both flowers erupted into an uproar. Frisk had built a relationship with those two. They won’t stand by if that child’s life was at risk.
“DO! NOT! TOUCH! FRISK!” yelled Flowey. “You moron! They’re attending that concert too!”
Chara was so infuriated, their eyes glowed crimson.
“Listen here, descendant! If you don’t tell your people to stay the hell away… I will disown you!”
“You want a reason why? Because Frisk became my Persona at one point. If you honour me, you have to honour them too. Disobey, and feel my wrath.”
“I’m the only one allowed to hurt them. Heh. I’m sure they’ll put up a great fight anyway.”
The other flower nodded. “Same goes for me!”
Persona was outright shocked.
None of that annoying arrogance for a full minute, that’s an achievement in itself.
The DEMON chuckled. “This ‘Frisk’ truly is a golden child, hm? Very well. I will accept the command of my fellow god.”
That resulted in a better fortune than expected. If this message could reach the Gungnir’s current leaders, maybe he didn’t need to worry about Mettaton after all.
Alas the question of ‘How’ had to wait for another day. Urgent matters first.
“Are we done here yet?” grumbled Mezil. “We need to tackle the matter of Sans Serif before he breaks the world in half.”
“Of course, of course. Lead the way. Have your precious legs back.”
The human’s knees relaxed, almost dropping him face first. Luckily his reflexes were still quick enough.
“Thank you.” he said.
Uttering words of gratitude to the god of Gungnir? Unthinkable.
Then again, recent events had upturned all preconceptions.
Mezil was just about to make his leave when vines coiled around his arms.
“Wait,” said Flowey. “You gotta bring us.”
Chara nodded. “We have personal business with the Smiley Trashbag.”