Lucidia’s avatar -- a digital extension of herself -- sat within the mindspace of the Chronograph. This direct connection allowed her to take on tasks without being encumbered by the availability of physical equipment.
She could summon as many screens as she desired, arranging them at will.
Menu panels. Video feeds. Voice channels. Everything at her fingertips.
The usual laws of gravity don’t apply.
It’s one thing to step around a rival Tactician.
It’s another to battle against a near-omniscient angel.
Who is the one with a higher celestial ranking? The Princess of the Sky, or the Seraphim?
Analysis: Judge Caraway’s imprisonment triggered Frisk’s emotional destabilization.
A common and understandable clause for failure. Cruel. Unfair. There’s a reason why Judge Thyme prefers to test his candidates in other ways.
Sans provoked the child. Lucidia stepped to counter his statements.
“Warning: Sans Serif is engaging in psychological warfare. Your anger is what he wants. Refuse to give in. It is imperative.”
It’s worked… for now.
However, Frisk doesn’t have the integrity to withstand his silver tongue for long. Without a doubt, he will use their close bond to break their composure.
The systems picked up sound activity from Doctor Alphys’ intercom. Clatters of crashing mechanical equipment and the shrieks of a frightened woman resonated through the speakers.
Lucidia shut off all voice contact with Frisk. Shifted her communication lines to her lizard peer.
“Query: what’s going on?”
“S-sensei?!?!”
Doctor W.D. Gaster? Wasn’t he petrified by the Seraph System? How did he manage to escape? The Surface’s study on Amalgamates lagged too far behind to provide a definite answer.
“Doctor Alphys!” he exclaimed in a hurry. “Are you still online with Lady Lucidia??”
“How did you know?” she asked back.
“Of course I know what’s going on! Heard the whole drama and more. Please tell the good lady to prepare for Papyrus’ arrival!”
Meanwhile, Sans Serif attempted to talk to Lucidia.
“Look at them.” he said, They’ve lost their way.”
Sans waited for her reply. In other words, he failed to notice she had cut off contact.
Hypothesis: Sans Serif lacks the training and equipment to multitask.
‘Opportunity’, as her husband might say.
Lucidia didn’t give the two scientists time to converse. It made her feel a little rude.
“Request: Exchange intercoms with me. Assist Frisk while I coordinate backup.”
“Eh?” Alphys bubbled over in anxiety. “Us? Frisk?! Against Sans??? But but but but--”
“Experience unnecessary,” she replied. “Apologies, Doctor Alphys. I’m requesting you to become a distraction.”
“I-I understand.” Alphys replied. “Leave it to us!”
“Affirmative.”
The Chronographer rerouted Frisk’s communications to Alphys. She will monitor events, but she will not speak.
“Query: Brave Champions and Royalty, please submit your requests for equipment and essentials.”
Queen Toriel stepped forward. Waved at the invisible camera in the sky.
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Lady Lucidia, is it possible to conjure some spare clothes for our friend here?”
The Queen directed her toward the underdressed knight of fire.
Sir Grillenn had burned his clothes to cinders. Again. Thank goodness for Asgore’s cape.
“Noted. Next?”
“M’Lady, an antidote fer King Asgore. I… dinnae prepare any.”
“Do you remember the formula?”
“…Nay.” He replied with an elevated sense of shame.
Antidote for King Asgore. Formula: Unknown. Unable to synthesize. Pushed down on the priority list.
“Noted. Next?”
Undyne pointed a thumb to herself. “I need my armour if I want to kick that skellybutt! Think you could recreate it?”
“Analysis: your current gear is outdated. It does nothing to improve your abilities. I shall build a better version.”
“Whoa, you’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“Awesome!!!”
“Noted. Next?”
“Gerson…” said Asgore. “May we know if he’s well? I’m worried about the other skeleton too. Garamond, was it? We don’t know if Sans attacked them yet…”
“Noted. Next?”
The small fluffy white dog barked a few times. Spun around. And then wagged its tail.
“Yes, transport will be top priority. Noted. Next?”
Nothing else? Time to execute the tasks.
The current queue in order of priority is:
Transport.
Undyne’s armour.
New clothes for Sir Grillenn.
Updates on the Crimson Hall.
Asgore’s Antidote.
Judge Caraway said that Seal Scars have afflicted Papyrus; his strain must be kept to a minimum.
Optimum scenario: Assign Papyrus to the pilot’s role. Incentive required.
Perhaps she could make use of a familiar design and modify it to ensure success? The current ‘Papyrus car’ may be stylish, but it’s certainly not battle-worthy.
The woman pulled up a few other resources.
Blue Magic systems -- a stronger hull -- flame-fuelled boosters -- Gyro stabilizers -- and a pilot’s dashboard for three-dimensional movement, all the while maintaining regular car controls. Anything too foreign and Papyrus won’t be able to tap into his precise driving skills.
Next on the list is Undyne’s armour: Champion-class magic tends to be inefficient without technological aid. Her new gear requires electronics to regulate her casting power.
The Undying… I shall use that as a template to save time.
Lucidia pasted the exterior design over a dummy frame of Undyne’s body. Now she just had to concentrate on the internal mechanisms.
Mu’s survivors brought along their technology for powered armours. They resumed their research in their new Lemurian homes, further improving their craft long after the fall of their civilization.
It’s thanks to them that Champions can tap their full potential without suffering fatalities.
[INCOMING VOICE CHANNEL]
That particular window held the emblem of Berendin: the Ace of Spades.
She pushed the rescue team’s requests aside and answered the call.
“Yes, Grandmaster?”
“Do you have a moment to spare? It’s about the medication for King Asgore’s unfortunate ‘accident’.
“Query: What have you found?”
“The exact antidote, I believe.”
The Grandmaster submitted a handwritten page from his private research.
“As you know, young Gaelic always had the unique ability to synthesize poisons based on his consumption, provided he survives the dosage. He must have copied the active ingredient in Silvermare. The symptoms match the King’s past tea brewing mishaps.”
“To our fortune, the cure is easy to synthesize once you know the source. Though Magic is ‘magic’, there’s always rhyme and reason.”
“Thank you for the assistance, Grandmaster.”
“One more thing… Please keep my contribution silent, dear. It’s still too soon.”
“Understood.”
“Take care. Signing off.”
The Grandmaster’s channel went offline. Lucidia resumed the task at hand.
Moving up priority on antidote synthesis.
Redirecting processing power from Transport and Armour to Antidote.
Transport 23.67%. Armour 14.0%. Antidote 0.7%. Clothing 0%. Update 0%.
Lucidia sensed a disturbance in The Void.
Unknown entity detected. Initiating trace to source. Reconstructing results on screen.
Another monitor appeared.
It’s Papyrus. He’s being led by a… strange grey girl?
Preliminary analysis: a spirit-like entity.
Reconstructing sound.
Papyrus exclaimed, “I SEE THEM! UNDYNE! KING ASGORE! EVERYONE!”
“That’s good,” the girl replied. “You go on ahead. I gotta meet up with the others.”
“YOU’RE NOT FOLLOWING US?”
“None of us can fight. We’ll just get in the way.”
She then conjured a… Spirit Gate?
More grey entities appeared: a lanky cat-based monster, A talking head, and a small humanoid male.
Papyrus bid goodbye and parted ways.
Lucidia’s eyes widened at the sight.
What are they?
Where do they come from?
Threat level: Low. They appear to be friendly.
Adding profile to database. Tagging as ‘Greys’. Computing ‘Links’.
Transport 35.67%. Armour 14.07%. Antidote 25%. Clothing 0%. Update 0%. Greys 1%.
I should contact Gerson in the meantime.
She commanded a screen. Set it on The Hammer of Justice and the stranded Jurors.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
All parties stayed within The Law’s safe boundaries. The old turtle held up fine, well enough to share some tea with the others.
Status: Condition Green.
Lucidia was then disrupted by the happenings over at Frisk’s screen.
It’s the rushes of the ocean. White coral sand and coconut trees alongside flowers that bloom all year round…
The Island of Mu, where she studied the final tiers of magitek for three whole years.
Warning. Processing capacity near maximum.
A dark memory rippled through her mind: a stain on her record so early in her career.
Every bone in her being rattled. Quaked. She covered her cochlea in a futile attempt to block out the invading noise.
She couldn’t stop the Soul Stealer in Mu.
Abort memory.
She couldn’t force the generator to shut down.
Abort memory.
She couldn’t do anything to save the citizens. Men. Women. Children. Whole families.
Teachers. What few friends she had: gone.
Abort. Memory.
She couldn’t save her beloved. Kidnapped under her watch. Suffered a fate many considered worse than death.
It shouldn’t happen to him.
He shouldn’t pay for the price of her failure.
He can’t forget.
Ever.
Lucidia shut off her emotional receptors using a controversial technique she adapted from the once-proud militaristic Atlanteans. Emotions were Monsterkind’s primary weakness in battle, therefore the qualified few must be able to numb their heart at will.
She can’t let the flaws of her inexperienced days cause any more catastrophes.
Never again.
Never.
Abort. She commanded.
Abort.
Abort.
Abort.
Abort.
“Lucidia.”
Mezil’s distinct voice snapped her out of the loop. He had yanked the visor off. Let it swing on its cable, slamming it against the hull of the Chronograph with a loud clang.
Her husband pulled her close for a warm embrace. All done with that stern, stoic face.
The dam that held back her emotions broke. It flooded. Crashed.
“Mezzy!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?! You should be resting!”
“Dearest, I--”
“Don’t ‘dearest’ me! Look at you! Profuse sweating, an elevated body temperature, dipping blood pressure: all these are signs that you should be back in bed!”
Lucidia hated this. Hated it so much. Tears trickled down her cheekbones. She didn’t want to yell at him like that.
A mental marble fell out of her clutches. In an attempt to catch it, she had spilled them all.
“What will I do if anything happens to you…?”
He said: “Didn’t I tell you this already? I won’t let you become a machine. Teamwork is our forte. We can’t let anyone tear us apart. I refuse it.”
Many people thought of Mezil as a cold man, best observed from a distance. They dare not approach because his reactions frighten them.
What a wasteful misunderstanding. Lucidia understood the subtle truth: it’s just his way of being a steady rock in a tumultuous world.
She buried her face into his chest. Breathed in the scents unique to his being.
“You’re right, dear.” The wife smiled. “Thank you.”
That sweet moment was interrupted by the outraged whines of bratty children.
“Whaaaa?!” exclaimed Flowey. “Mister Meanie Principal is a mushy romantic?! No way!”
Chara covered their eyes with their leaves. “What is seen, cannot be unseen.”
“It’s so… sickeningly sweet! It’s as bad as that Nose Nuzzling Championship!”
“Worse, Azzie. Much worse. It’s a human and a skelly. Scandalous. Disgusting. Wrong on all levels.”
The old man pointed his cane at them and grumbled. “Do your job. Or else.”
That was enough to shut them up for now. The flower children used their vines to haul in a cardboard box. It held water bottles, medication, biscuits, a pair of gamepads, and some data sticks.
“Huh?” Lucidia wondered. “What are these for?”
“The children fared fairly well in certain titles. So, I thought two attack drones may put pressure on our jokester.”
Those were pre-written data. All the machine needed to do was to clone them from the database.
A vine pushed the cool bottle of water against Mezil’s head. “Stay hydrated, you idiot.” Typical Flowey statement.
Mezil accepted the drink, both thankful and irritated at the same time.
“Where do we plug these in?” Chara lifted the ends of their gamepad.
“Please give me a moment.” Lucidia picked up her visor.
“Wait,” said Mezil. “There’s something I must discuss with you first.”
“Oh? What would it be?”
He took in a deep breath, apprehensive at first. “Connect me to The Chronograph.”
The wife gasped. “I cannot allow that! The protection on the Hex is damaged. Connecting you to The Chronograph now will compromise our data. And…”
“…Above all, Persona almost claimed your life. I won’t let it happen again.”
Mezil bit his lower lip. “I knew you’d say that. But… this may be our only chance of defeating Sans Serif.”
He explained: “When I was asleep, nightmares tormented me. It’s the scenario where Sans Serif succeeded in his mad time-travelling gambit.”
“You had… a vision?” asked Lucidia.
“Yes. Straight from that damn skeleton. Furthermore, I’m starting to hear the hearts of all those I’ve Claimed. Bitter as always.”
The woman contemplated on this new information. Her mind began connecting the dots. Every event that led up to this moment… she must recall their clues.
“…Visions of Sans Serif’s hypothetical timeline. …The collective’s will. It’s reminiscent of our exploitation of Doctor Gaster’s Determination trail. Sans Serif must have expelled the Doctor from the Seraph System. That’s the main reason why he’s back in the material world again.”
“Most likely.” Mezil nodded. “The cheater is distracted. Complacent. As long as he’s ignorant of my return, we can set up an ambush.”
Lucidia asked back: “What about Papyrus? He’s adamant on preserving his brother’s life. Plus, you yourself had stated that we need Sans Serif’s expertise for the Spring Mission.”
“That’s why it’s imperative that we give Papyrus every opportunity we can provide. Otherwise his duty is doomed to fail. And us along with it.”
“You will not replace Sans Serif with Doctor Alphys and W.D. Gaster?”
Mezil raised a brow. “Do you think they’re good enough?”
“…My bias wants to believe so.” The woman glanced to the side. “But my objective analysis is uncertain of their capabilities.”
“Then don’t take the risk. It’s not worth it.”
Her husband raised a fair point. Personal grudges shouldn’t sway her decisions.
“What of Crimson Keeper Frisk?” she asked. “Their power is beyond anything we have on records. Won’t their involvement be sufficient?”
“No. That child is too inexperienced and unpredictable. Everything could go wrong in a blink.”
“That is true. But there’s still one more issue to resolve. Data security. How can we prevent Persona from pilfering or damaging our database?”
“Flowey,” Mezil opened his palm toward the flower children. “Datastick Q4-89, if you please.”
A vine placed the requested item as instructed. “Here you go, you lovey-dovey vampire you. Sheesh.”
Lucidia recognized the device. “Oh…”
“You will need to spend a day or two to revert the encryption. But, this should prevent Persona from messing with the system. I apologize for the inconvenience in advance.”
The wife chuckled in delight. “I have no more objections. Honey, you really think through everything.”
Mezil huffed. “I don’t gamble blind like my moronic brother. You should know that by now.”
“I do. That’s why I love you. Shall we commence?”
“Let’s.”
The Chronographer returned to the virtual world. She commanded the machine to open more ports for additional input devices. Plus, two physical screens for the little plants back in the real world.
“Azzie, Azzie. Psst, look at the Tsun. You can see light coming from underneath his clothes.”
“Ooh, you’re right Chara! It’s really faint.”
“Isn’t that too strenuous?”
“Nah. He’ll be fine. I can feel the magic feedback with his wife.”
“Eww. More romance.”
“Yup. Eww.”
Mezil’s avatar now walked the command center alongside her. Gone were his silver hairs and the wrinkles of age: he appeared as the youth Lucidia fell in love with. It invoked a nostalgic sense of security.
She chuckled. “What’s with the crimson eyes, dear?”
“I thought they suit me better.”
“It does. They’re… beautiful.”
A second seat spawned in response to his presence. It’s situated right next to the woman’s station.
Mezil sat down. Reached out a hand to his wife.
She accepted the support.
Together as one, they tackled the task ahead.
The first order of business was to give Mezil a quick update.
He’s of Patience and Justice. Many matters may seem important, all at once… until they’re put under the lense of discernment.
Mezil bore the judge’s mantle for a reason.
“You’re taking up too much at once.” he said, “Put full focus on ‘Transport’. No matter how complex, our first priority is to provide mobility. Undyne’s ‘Undying Armour’ can wait. …What’s these ‘Greys’ about?”
“Papyrus was accompanied by strange entities. They don’t seem to be hostile.”
“Hmm. Remove that from your queue. We can always ask Papyrus later.”
“Acknowledged.”
Lucidia diverted all her magic to constructing the transport. The Ebott crew appeared to be too preoccupied with their reunion with Papyrus to notice her brief absence.
“Please pass Frisk’s screen to me,” said Mezil.
The wife hesitated. “Will you be fine, dear?”
“Of course.”
In the transfer, she saw a glimpse of Mu’s year-end festival.
Mezil set the screen far away from his wife’s side. “Don’t let the past distract you.”
“Now, to set up the next part of the plan,” he said. “Use me to build a connection to Sans Serif. Cancel if you think we’ll get discovered. You have my heartfelt trust.”
“I’ll do my best.”
With discretion, Lucidia tapped into Mezil’s Determination. Imagined the flow as a river of strings…
She picked out a thin thread…
…And tied it to the Chronograph…
Success. A new screen came online, showing Sans Serif’s point of view.
“Are you alright…?” Lucidia asked. Just to make sure.
Mezil nodded. “Yes. Thank you. Now we can see and hear as he does. Past, present and future: it makes no difference. Don't forget to fit the attack drones underneath our transport, by the way.”
“Understood.” She launched the pre-loaded data and fixed them in place.
“Flowey. Chara.” The man instructed, “I don’t want you to put everyone in danger by flinging needless taunts at The Seraphim. You will stay quiet until you’re summoned.”
The flowers complained. But, they weren’t stupid enough to disobey.
40%
………………
41%
………………
42%
………………
75%.
………………
90%
………………
Task complete.
Lucidia delivered the finished result to the Ebott crew.
The whole team gawked in awe. Papyrus in particular. He exuded so much excitement, he’s covered in sparkles.
Undyne slung her arm around him. “Oh my god it’s a freaking JETCAR!!!”
“IT’S MAXIMUM AWESOMENESS!!!” Papyrus replied. “IF ONLY I HAVE MY COLLECTION OF COOL SHADES! I’D WEAR THEM ALL AT ONCE!!!”
“I know, right???”
Cute, though their timing couldn’t be more misplaced. “Excuse me, but a crisis does not wait.”
“S-SORRY. I’LL HOP TO IT RIGHT AWAY!”
“Don’t forget to buckle up.”
That’s one problem out of the way. Lucidia wanted to arrange the optimum seating space, except Mezil held her back.
“Let them handle that,” he said. “It’s time to finish the antidote.”
“Certainly.”
While she worked on the cure, Mezil accessed a menu of his own. Searched for the ‘Bartender’ template. Slipped the data to his wife.
“I added a ‘fireproof’ trait. Clothing damage jokes can only go so far.”
“Thank you, dear. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”
Within seconds, the knight of fire had a proper attire again. Grillby returned the cape to his King. Proceeded to tidy himself up.
Then, upon completion, Lucidia dispensed the bottled cure to Gaelic. King Asgore’s condition improved the very moment he drank it.
“Oh my, this has a nice taste. I expected it to be nastier.”
As for the Boss Monster’s request: “Good news, Your Majesty. All is fine in the Crimson Hall.”
“Ah. I see. Thank you for everything.”
The ‘jetcar’ soon launched off the planet, evacuating everyone from the crumbling labyrinth.
Sitting in the shotgun seat, Undyne checked the dashboard.
She asked: “Lady Lucidia, what’s this ‘Fire Boost’ for?”
“Oh dear, how careless of me. Please press that button.”
When Undyne pushed it, the front hatch popped open. It revealed an electronic bangle.
Lucidia explained her plan to conserve Papyrus’ powers. Divide tasks. Delegate. The Ebott folk understood it well.
‘Boost Bangle’, equipped on Sir Grillenn.
“We should give this a test run, no?” Toriel mused out loud.
“Indeed. That will allow Sir Grillenn to get used to the systems as well.”
So the Queen fed him a ball of fire. The transport zoomed ahead through the black winds of The Void, transcending all known speed limits like a breakneck rollercoaster. Screams of fear and excitement followed.
Contrary to her usual motherly self, even Queen Toriel loved the rush of speed.
Mezil blinked twice. “I’m reminded of the time when Father rode his bike down the unrestricted highway. Up the hill. Down the slopes. Over the railings. …He’s a literal ‘Speed Demon.’
“Ah, didn’t he say that a motorcycle is just like a horse? He rode a lot in his youth.”
The thought of fond memories brought a brief moment of joy.
Alas, fate decided there’s no rest to be had. Lucidia picked up a spike of Determination in the system.
“Lucidia. Look.” Mezil pointed at Frisk’s screen.
The reddest Red summoned a sky of stars, each of the Yellow Aspect: capable of mass destruction. They ripped through what’s left of the broken planetoid they had left behind.
‘Megalovania’ was reduced to little more than floating specks of concrete.
“Such power…” the woman muttered. “I pray that they can only perform this feat in metaspace. It’s too much for anyone to handle.”
The Supreme Judge then pondered out loud. “Frisk’s parents warned me about this. As a pure Red, their potential is limitless. Who would’ve thought they’d be this violent without formal training?… The Wanderstar is truly terrifying.”
A streak of orange then flashed in the far distance. It’s Frisk.
Mezil pushed himself off the seat to take a closer look at the screen.
“Tsk. I don’t see the angel. We must give chase, or else we might lose the both of them.”
“Indeed.” Lucidia agreed.
Cenna’s voice channel activated. At the same time, Mezil groaned out loud from the strain. It’s a sign that Sans Serif had reallocated large quantities of Determination to himself.
The Vanquisher paged in: “Lucy? Lucy, do you read me?”
Good news: the bubble prison had expired much sooner than anticipated.
Bad news: her Ascension got interrupted. Even at peak condition, it’ll take a while for her to muster the strength to reactivate it.
“I read you.” Lucidia replied. “Please stay put. “
Another passenger was added to the rescue entourage.
Over the intercom, she issued new instructions. “Follow that trail, Papyrus. Frisk is in grave danger! You must save them before they become a Fallen. By any means necessary!”
Everyone chipped in with suggestions. It’s a good thing that they could hatch a plan quick. Adversity breeds innovation, as some would say.
The trio of fire monsters maintained top speed to chase after the comet.
Cenna teamed up with Gaelic as a targeting monitor, making sure that they don’t stray off course.
Undyne flexed her fingers and rubbed her palms, preparing her mind and body for the task.
Papyrus drove like his life depended on it. Any delay, and someone will get killed.
The two overseers watched the events with stilled breaths.
Can Team Ebott save the day?
“O’er there! Ah see the false angel!” Gaelic reported.
The fire monsters halted, while Papyrus lifted the pressure off the acceleration pedal. The car had to slow down just enough for Undyne to grab Frisk without hurting anyone.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer…!
Papyrus turned the steering wheel. Swerved the car sideways…
…And then the fish captain frisked Frisk away.
“I got the punk!”
“GREAT JOB!”
Mission accomplished.
A huge wave of relief washed over Mezil and Lucidia.
Until…
Slow, loud claps echoed within the Chronograph’s control room. They cut the celebrations short.
“Bravo. Bravo.” Said the Persona.
His voice had no direction nor source. Footsteps of his heavy combat boots echoed all around, giving no hints to his presence.
Then from behind… his great musclebound arms almost gave them a ‘friendly’ sling over their shoulders.
“If you touch my husband, I will--”
“If you touch my wife, I will--”
On a knee-jerk moment, both doled out the same threat before he laid a single touch.
The intruder burst into laughter at the serendipity.
“Such sickeningly sweet lovebirds. No wonder you two gave me so much trouble in life. You make quite the team.”
The Persona circled around the Chronograph’s control room as if he owned the place.
He appeared as his 40-year-old self, unchanged since the day he died.
“Well,” he asked. “Can I touch these, at least? Fancy equipment you have here.”
Lucidia pulled the screens closer out of spite. She refused to acknowledge ‘his’ presence as anything more than a forced tolerance in their private sanctuary.
“Please do not meddle,” she warned. “The Seraphim is still at large. We must pay attention to his next move.”
“Might as well. I too want to know.”
Persona leaned over to witness the unfolding drama.
When Sans Serif revealed his last-resort… Lucidia wondered if she’s dreaming. Such concepts only existed in mere fantasy. They shouldn’t be real.
“Replacing reality.” said Mezil, deadpan. “Of all things, it had to be that. How ‘original’.”
Persona treated it with smug amusement. “A world without you, Vampire. Sounds great. Of course, my own existence is also on the line. I suppose this is where we call a truce?… If your beloved doll agrees.”
Lucidia clenched her fist. After all, the god of Gungnir had a long history of brutal cunning.
But… she chose to trust her husband. He would have thought of the same, yet he’s taking the risk.
So she answered: “…Acknowledged. We need all the help we can get.”