Toriel Dreemurr had lived a long, long life. She had seen countless generations come and go, from their infant days to their aging deathbeds.

Never would she have considered getting roped up in a mad adventure of fantastical proportions.

‘A secret admirer on a quest to switch realities for the sake of avoiding the apocalypse’?

If this was all a mere dream, Toriel would be more than thankful.

The wyrm continued to rampage through the cityscape. Lasers, bones, and spears clashed, leaving a trail of spectacular destruction wherever they went.

Undyne’s heart raged along with her desire to right what’s wrong.

Toriel shook her head. “Dear me, what a mess.”

She noticed Asgore beamed with pride. Smiling at a time like this? That man needed a good poke.

And poke she did. Elbow to the rib. “Asgore! What ARE you doing?!”

“Oh, sorry Tori,” he replied. “It’s Undyne. She… she grew up so wonderfully. Look at her. I’ve not seen anyone fight with such ferocity and skill since The War.”

“Ah… That’s right. You were like a father to her.” Toriel could relate.

“Mom! Dad!”

That’s her son’s voice. Although… he sounds much more forceful: not anywhere as gentle as she remembered.

“Paging skelly lady, we found them.” said Chara. The human, however, hadn't changed a single bit since the day they died.

The two planes scooted up close.

“You’re alive.” said Asriel. “I’m glad.”

He then switched straight back to his ‘Flowey’ mode. “But this isn’t the time to dilly dally! We gotta regroup with Frisk.”

“We’ll protect you.” Chara replied, “Let’s keep moving.”

“Thank you, dear children…” said Toriel.

Asgore led her by the hand. Traversed through the maze of danger. All the while, the roars of battle rumbled against the flashing sky.

Run away?

Is that all The Queen of Monsters could do?

When was the last time Toriel felt this weighted gloom? A long time ago. So long that she had almost forgotten the details.

Her memories brought her back to a board room. There, a wise Lich taught her the intricacies of human warfare.

The Red Sage. Lord Mezil Berendin. She wouldn’t know his true identity until the viewings of the past. And even then, there’s no guarantee he still lives today.

“Sir, if I may ask…”

“Certainly, Your Majesty. Questions are the foundation of learning.”

“Will all this intel-gathering help us survive?”

“To a certain extent. We can formulate much, but there’s always a chance that your opponent may outsmart you.”

“So. It’s futile in the end? We don’t have anywhere else to run should the human forces continue to grow. They’re just… stronger than us.”

“Queen Toriel,” said the Sage. “Nothing is more fatal than ignorance. Knowledge is imperative. More so in a disadvantageous situation.”

“Soon, I won’t be here to guide you anymore. But I believe you have a sound mind for strategy.”

“Always remember:”

“Ignorance about yourself and your foe spells certain loss.”

“Ignorance about your foe is as good as a gamble.”

“Knowing your foe, as well as yourself, victory will be yours to claim.”

Toriel pulled her hand away.

“Tori?” asked a puzzled Asgore.

“We will not meet up with Frisk.”

The flower children protested, but Toriel put her foot down with her classic glare.

“Lady Lucidia,” Toriel continued. “I need to discuss with you.”

The Magi’s Tactician replied: “Warning: Sans Serif can eavesdrop on our formulations.”

Smiling, she reassured the younger woman. “If he’s truly omniscient, he would know anyway. I, on the other hand, will end up being blind about our current predicament. It’s a bad place to be.”

“…Affirmative. Flowey, Chara, please guide the Dreemurrs to this updated coordinate.”

It’s the remains of a children’s playground, far removed from any collapsing skyscrapers.

Toriel tried to calm herself down with deep breaths.

“Please transmit our conversation to the others.”

“…Task, complete.”

Onwards to the next question.

“What’s our situation?”

“Poor. The team is scattered. I had hoped that Frisk would have had the opportunity to use their Mark to boost their allies’ monster magic to maximum synergy. However, that is no longer possible.”

Toriel could only think of one reason why Sans prevented it outright. “Perhaps if that happened, we would have already won.”

“Hypothetically.”

Chara huffed an annoyed grumble. “Trashbag.”

“What could you tell me about Sans?” she asked. “I… was his friend for so long, and yet I knew nothing about him. Nothing more than what he chose to reveal anyway.”

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“Certainly,” said Lucidia, “We shall begin with The White Eye. It is a combination of all seven ‘Psychia Aspects’. You may know them more as ‘SOUL colours’. The Red Eye does not exist in nature. Therefore, my data on its influences are limited.”

“The following had been observed: One, perceiving the shape of Determination beyond the levels of standard Truesight. Two, reading people’s dreams and curses alongside the extent of their influence on predetermined fate. Three, the ability to observe timelines outside of this realm’s possibilities.”

The information flew over the queen’s poor noggin: too technical and foreign. Perhaps she had overestimated herself. The presentation of information had changed much over the past millennia.

“I-I’m sorry, dear. I don’t think I understand.”

Asgore then suggested: “What if we are more specific? For example… Lady Lucidia, can Sans read our hearts?”

“Yes.” She replied.

“Thoughts too?”

“Limited application. He has no training in the field of mind reading and lacks the computing power to decipher brainwaves. Even for the natural born, the process is difficult.”

Toriel understood what her husband meant. Left on her own, Lady Lucidia will drop all information at once. She needed some guidance to make bite-sized portions.

“Could you read Sans’ mind?” It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot.

“Negative. The minds of Living Victories are guarded by their extreme quantities of Determination. Sans Serif stopped being a mere monster, for better or for worse.”

“I see.”

Those knock knock jokes would never be the same again. They’re now separated by a different kind of door.

“Hmm… Could you tell me more about his wings? How do they work?”

“Each individual ‘feather’ is a false Seer’s Eye. They’re semi-autonomous processing units connected to a central command.”

“Your Majesty, please imagine a room full of computers. They each act independent of each other, except the user can alter their executing program at will.”

Good information. Although, Toriel still felt that she had yet to identify all the missing puzzle pieces.

“You mentioned that Sans’ body is filled up with ‘Karma’. What does that mean?”

“The poison known as Karma acts as a disintegrator. It breaks the bonds between atoms, separating matter into its base particles, hence the sand-sized remains. The destruction is thorough and complete. Entropy in practice.”

“However, anything with the conscious will to live can resist its finality. The target will survive despite the torment, for life is the antithesis to entropy.”

Asgore raised his brows. “The resolve to keep living… That’s ‘determination’!”

“Warning: the afflicted target remains in critical condition. Karma may not deal the final blow, but other factors will. For example, the destruction of key internal organs such as the heart, lungs, brain--”

Toriel felt her gut twist from hearing that grisly list. “W-we get the idea, dear. So. Sans is full of this deadly poison of his own creation.”

“Affirmative. Furthermore, it has turned against him. Sans Serif now bears infinite lifeforce, which leads to infinite fuel. He burns both inside and out.”

“His sense of pain has not dulled with his ascent. Resisting this internal conflict will slow down his movements. It would be in his best interest to rid himself of Karma whenever possible.”

“Observation: his teleporting magic is limited to his base humanoid form. All auxiliary limbs will be sliced off should he otherwise try, spilling liquidized Karma at his opponent while relieving him of strain.”

“The liquid form must not be underestimated. Its rate of decay is… terrifying.”

In other words, getting up close and personal would be too dangerous. Almost unthinkable.

“Lady Lucidia…” Toriel frowned. “You are a Tactician just like Sans, yes? If you’re in his position, who would be your next target?”

“The King and Queen of Monsters.”

That confirmation made her heart sink.

“Queen Toriel. His training as an assassin makes full use of his swiftness. Despite your great strength, you and King Asgore are the slowest in terms of footwork. This puts you at a severe disadvantage. In addition, eliminating The Royal Family will lower morale more than it already has.”

It’s a painful reality to accept. But, she can’t let that get the better of her.

“There’s something I don’t understand, dear,” said Toriel. “If Sans is so powerful, why string us along? Why not destroy us right away?”

Chara’s plane swayed around, expressing the owner’s inner child. “She’s right. I would have done the deed already.”

“You idiot.” Flowey grumbled back. “He’s a trash! Traaaaash! I refuse to believe that he could just blow up the universe with his junky fakes!”

Asgore stroked his beard. “Hmmm, but his combat abilities are more than sufficient to get rid of us. Like, spraying insecticide on garden pests. Wait, that’s not a good analogy.”

Toriel tilted her head. “Why not?”

“It’s never a one-off deal. Life can be quite stubborn. Any treatment requires multiple applications over time.”

The Legendary Hero came to mind. Papyrus had confirmed their status as a Living Victory. So vulnerable to age and disease, yet outright invincible in battle…

“The Legendary Hero. I mean, Genocider. No, The First Persona! How many times did they… lose? How many times did they reset?”

Lady Lucidia began her count.

Long ago, two races ruled the earth: Humans and Monsters.

One day, war broke out between the two races.

After a long battle, the humans lost… again, and again.

Yet, with every reset, the Legendary Hero intercepted the monster’s plans:

Backup, hindered.

Tactics, overturned.

The mighty, cut down.

A union of fire, denied.

“Verdict: Innumerable.”

Thanks to the Hero, Humans obtained victory. Such was the power of the Keys of Fate.

Yet, Sans Serif did not use it. Was it a ‘did not’ or a ‘can not’?

Toriel didn’t get any sense of dejavu. There was no reaction from Frisk either. If time did rewind, there would have been a sudden change of behaviour from her Living Victory child.

In other words…

“Do you think something is preventing Sans from making these ‘SAVES’?” asked Toriel.

“Possible. Frisk’s competing levels of Determination put the Keys of Fate in flux, denying access to both parties.”

There’s hope. This was not the Sealing War. Far from it.

Thus, the Queen of Monsters laughed.

“Tori…?”

“Mom?”

“Oh that sly, cunning skeleton,” said Toriel. “No wonder he refuses to engage us.”

Then, distant rumbles of fighting ceased. And… Gaelic seemed to have slithered away from the battle.

“Huh?” Toriel wondered. “What happened?”

Flowey and Chara groaned together in sync.

“I hope he doesn’t come this way.”

“Great. Nice jinxing it, Azzie. He’s gonna roll in our direction now.”

“Oh c’mon, Chara! You jinxed it DOUBLE by saying THAT!”

“Children, please.” Toriel shook her head. “He’s still far away. I’m sure Lady Lucidia will warn us if we are truly in danger.”

Lucidia remained silent for a moment. Then, she said: “This. Is rather bizarre. Sans Serif has splashed ketchup on Undyne.”

“What…?” said the little prince.

“Confused by the stronger scents, Gaelic now thinks that she’s his target. Undyne is fleeing towards the ocean to wash off the sauce… before she becomes an accidental tasty snack.”

Flowey flipped out. “THAT IDIOT!!! See? This is what happens when you don’t use your brain! Isn’t he a Seer?? Why is he acting like a smell-centric dog???”

“Azzie, hold your temper.” said Chara, “If that oversized snake isn’t gonna steamroll us, it means that the Trashbag is gonna show up anytime now. Do we have a plan?”

“Does we look like we have TIME to cook a plan?!”

“Okay. Fine. We’ll think of something. Uh… I can’t think of anything.”

“Let him come to us,” said Toriel. “Your father and I survived the War for a reason. Besides. Sans is my friend.”

Toriel had a history. A positive one. They exchanged jokes. Puns. The little ignorant joys of life.

Her husband was the thorn. Sans was the flower.

Everything’s reversed now.

No, rather, it’s all been put back in its rightful place. Toriel had pledged a bond with Asgore a thousand years ago. It’s about time she upheld it.

Sans floated down to ground level. Those massive wings prevented him from touching the earth. Too cumbersome; they’re not meant for it.

Asgore stood in front of Toriel, trident at the ready. He became the ‘door’ that separated Toriel from her former joke buddy. Firm and unmoving.

“Knock, knock,” said Sans.

Toriel replied, “Who’s there?”

“Lady.”

“Lady who?”

“Ladies, mind if ya stop handing out my secrets?” Sans chuckled. “Jeez. All of that, exposed in a couple of minutes? That’s shocking. Super shocking. Chill up my spine and all.”

He continued: “I know you guys are trying to force my hand by taking risks. Gambling. Delaying my search. Well then, you succeeded. What are you gonna do now?”

The edge of Toriel’s mouth curled upwards. “Knock knock, dear.”

“Huh. Who’s there?” Sans replied back.

“Capri.” The Queen steadied her feet. Conjured the flames of life all around her.

“Capri who?” Bones circled behind his head.

“‘Capri’talizing on our opportunity, of course. Like the stubborn goats we are.”

“Heh, nice one Tori. Don’t mind me being a bonehead then.”

Who will have the last laugh? She wondered.

Toriel was determined to make that last laugh hers. It doesn’t matter if she stood or fell, as long as she paved the road for the next generation.

After all, that’s what mothers do.