FLAMES OF WRATH

…Why?…

Grillby’s SOUL pounded against his chest.

Fear, it compelled him to run through the broken streets.

Hope, it fuelled his stamina to leap over the ruins.

Lady Lucidia informed him of Queen Toriel’s final order: one Sir Grillenn hoped to never execute.

A suicide?

No knight worth his grain of salt will allow such. If saving their lives would make him a traitor, then so be it.

Why?

Yet, he had failed.

The King is dead.

The Queen is dead.

Their SOULS, captured.

When he picked up the trident, an intense emotion ignited. It’s not anger. Neither was it simple rage. Perhaps indignance? Fury?

No.

Those terms were too shallow to describe the depths.

Sir Grillbz Grillenn wanted to tell his King that war could be avoided. Report his bloodless victory against Gungnir’s leader. Encourage others that Frisk’s ideal for a peaceful reconciliation was more than a fantasy.

Then Sans Serif broke that fragile dream of peace.

Even if he could rescue the Dreemurrs from the angel’s grasp, their reputation would be tarnished in the eyes of the Magi. All efforts of diplomacy could end in nought.

That thought was too painful to bear.

WHY???

A crusader of wrath sprouted from the seeds of grief.

Questions, the knight had many.

Answers, he won’t receive.

It’s not that he would want to listen any more either.

* * *

PRECARIOUS TENACITY

“Is everything ready, my assistants?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Status clear, as you would like to hear.”

Doctor Gaster took a deep breath. He tried wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his sleeve, only to remember that it’s not true fabric. He ended up having black-dyed goop stuck to his face.

“Egads, of all times to destabilize.”

While the rest of Ebott fled, he had summoned his assistants from the yonder. The fog was a sign that realities blurred at the seams.

A bane to the residents. But, a potential boon for him.

The team built a massive Arcanagram on the town’s square. It’s a 3D matrix compressed to a flat plane. No doubt that Sans used a similar pattern for his gate.

The girl -- crowned ‘Goner’ by the Child of Mercy -- seemed worried. She’s the youngest of the lot. It’s understandable why she’s spooked by the impending crisis.

“Will this work, Doctor?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Gaster replied. “We’re the only experts around. If it’s not us, then who?”

Who, indeed?

“Lady and gents, get into positions!”

Gaster stood in the middle of his contraption. His assistants each occupied their respective triangles around the first inner layer.

The idea was simple: connect the Gram to The Core’s electrical network to amplify their inborn magic, then use this power to force Sans’ Spirit Gate shut.

Gaster activated the commands with the language of his kind. Lights filled the lines, and the mechanisms came to life.

Six giant replicas of the doctor’s hands conjured before the gate. They began their attempts to close the gap in the sky.

“Heavy…!” he grunted. The gate itself resisted his efforts. If he wavered or stopped at any point, it would snap wide open yet again.

“But Doctor, it’s working!” the mudhead exclaimed.

Hopes were high. Perhaps this team of brilliant minds can do the job after all.

Then, Roman’s left arm tugged at his collar.

“Yes, my friend? Is there a leak somewhere?”

Helvetica’s right arm pointed towards an approaching figure. Short. Somewhat spiky.

It’s Doctor Alphys. She stopped at the edge of the Arcanagram, shocked and puzzled by the proceedings.

“Sensei?!? What are you doing?” she exclaimed. “Who are those grey monsters???”

“I thought you’re evacuating the citizens!” said Doctor Gaster.

“We’re trapped in some weird dome!”

The doctor didn’t expect anything less; “Ugh, thought so. Nevertheless! Please keep the citizens calm and far away from this site.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Then… just when things couldn’t get any worse, their discussions were disrupted by the thunders of a huge explosion.

Both doctors witnessed the fake city burn. The light so bright that it drenched the town square in an ominous glow of orange.

War began anew.

Fires united into superheated plasma. Ripped through the landscape, chasing after their target.

“What in the nine hells…?”

Gaster used his Eyes to zoom in.

It’s his old friend, Grillbz Grillenn. He held King Asgore’s trident. Armed with new skills, he tore through everything and anything that got in his way.

…To think the mellow captain was capable of unbridled rampage.

Sans Serif, my wayward protégé. What have you gotten yourself into now? Aren’t you god-like and invincible?

When Gaster focused his attention on Sans… he froze.

Boss Monster SOULS. Captured. Sealed with a Mark.

He leaned back from the shock. If it weren’t for his assistants, he would have splatted on the pavement.

“Doctor!”

“Sensei!”

That slip was enough to disrupt the proceedings. Thus the hands in the sky vanished, and the gate rolled wide open.

“F-forgive me, everyone. Let’s start over.”

They tried again. This time… Gaster found himself in a predicament. A monster’s magic depended on their spirit. Amalgamates were no different.

“Roman? Helvi? Friends, we’ve just been witness to a horrible event. But that’s all the more why we can’t give up!”

The skeleparents were too crippled from grief. Their eldest son had committed the unforgivable. The unredeemable. Their shining youngest, nowhere to be seen.

Gaster tried to bear the weight alone. Alas, it was too much. With its main caster exhausted, the Gram lost light.

He dropped into a puddle of goop. Alphys and the assistants reshaped him back into his proper humanoid form.

“Sensei?” Alphys asked. “What happened? I-I can tell it’s something major. Like, SUPER major!”

How could he break the news to her? Would she lose her heart too?

The hesitance was enough of a hint for that smart cookie. “Please,” she said. “Tell me. I… I want to help. But I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Ah, what else is there to lose?

Gaster told Alphys everything. He had to be concise. With every second passed, the risk of getting sucked into The Void increased.

Poor girl. She’s hyperventilating.

Perhaps it was all too much for her…

At the last moment, Alphys yelled: “SENSEI!! I have an idea!”

That was a surprise. Such an Undyne-level volume. Then again, they were bound to rub off on each other.

“Please continue, dear. With less shouting.”

“Make it connect to ALL of us.”

“‘It’? You mean my Arcanagram?”

“Yes! Every child and adult, monster and human. We’ll pool our strength together as one! Is that possible?”

Gaster’s frown turned into an immediate smile. It’s always nice to have a like-minded peer, more so one who shared a sense of tenacity. Already he could feel the spirits of his friends lift.

“Of course! Doctor Alphys, I’ll handle the construction. I’m leaving the coordination and instruction to you.”

* * *

ANCIENT ONE

Things were quiet in the Crimson Hall.

On one hand, it had been a while since the rescue team departed. On the other hand, there was an old saying that goes ‘No news is good news’.

All was fine… until a strange fog crawled through the gaping hole in the wall.

Poor Gerson almost choked on his tea. The old hero ditched his cup posthaste. Readied his hammer in case the criminal returned victorious.

Garamond stood up as well, Skull Cannon equipped and prepared to defend.

“What’s that?!” Miss Passidoria exclaimed.

“Whatever it is, Zakari does not think it’s a good omen.”

Miss Chinchinchan hid behind Sir Latinoros, who himself was on a cautious edge. He would face either an amorphous fog of doom, or a trained combatant far beyond his league. Valid reasons for concern.

“Sir Garamond?” he said, “I hope you can identify this… this… thing!”

The other Seer replied, “It’s a trapping mechanism. Please do not get caught in it.”

To their fortune, The Law’s boundaries kept the fog out. They gathered around the borders with no signs of forced entry.

Yet.

Gerson turned towards the Spirit Gate. They had to choose between accidental human encounters and the gripping trap from The Void. Both a non-ideal situation.

He decided to take the risk. If they did meet any unauthorized humans, he could just pass them off as fellow Ebott monsters. Maybe.

“Young’uns, follow me! I’ll keep the nasties out.”

The old turtle straightened his back. He’s going to have to put in some serious work. It’s been a long while since he had to pave a road with The Law.

He lead, the rest followed. After a certain distance from the center, he pounded a fresh field.

Rinse. Repeat. He's working up a sweat.

Midway through their operation, the heavy stone door exit opened.

It’s full of suspense.

Who’s on the other side?

Human?

Monster?

Magi?

Firemen?

No. It was a character that Gerson thought he would never meet again.

Those clothes. That mask. That war-spade.

The old turtle couldn’t believe his eyes.

To think he had been around all the while, hiding behind a different title and an organized force.

The Jurors each had varied reactions to the appearance of this man. Miss Chinchinchan and Miss Passidoria greeted him in a respectful yet casual manner. The two lawyers, Sir Latinoros and Zakari, bowed down with their arms by the side. Formal to a ‘T’.

As for Sir Garamond, he placed one arm on his chest. If Gerson remembered right, it’s a traditional gesture of reverence among the spiritual.

“It’s you…!” Gerson muttered.

The chinchilla monster asked: “…You met the Grandmaster before?…”

“Of course!” he replied, narrowing his eye at the figure before him. “Was a lively youngun’ back then. A man like him is hard to forget.”

The design of his cowled robe had changed little over the centuries. It’s still pitch black with linings of crimson. Perhaps he had fancier outfits for official diplomatic meetings… but he’s not wearing them to a crisis.

“It’s been a long, long time, Hammer of Justice,” said the Grandmaster. “Colour me surprised that old age has yet to claim your SOUL.”

“Same here. I’ll be honest now, I have mixed feelings about ya. Helped us shore up the military and whatnot. But then, you were on the other side of the battlefield… helping the enemy.”

“I apologize. It was the lesser of two evils. Though there’s no excusing me from the suffering I have inflicted upon your people.”

The turtle burst out laughing. “At least you still have a sincere heart. Hey, it wasn’t all that bad. Better than mass genocide any day. Y’know. For the longest time, King Asgore and I agreed it was best to stay down there.”

“Is that so?” said the Grandmaster.

“Ayup. Great to know that you didn’t go down the same path as that so-called ‘hero’.”

“Hmm, I sometimes wonder about that.”

The Grandmaster walked into the Crimson Hall.

“Members of the Jury,” he announced, “The grounds are secured at last. Escorts will take you to safety.”

A mini celebration followed. The Jurors thanked the Grandmaster as they passed by.

Sir Latinoros paused. Looking back, he asked: “Sir Garamond? Sir Gerson? You’re not escaping?”

“Me? Leaving? Wahahahahaha! No way! I won’t step out until my King and Queen return. Duty calls and stuff.”

Garamond nodded. “I also must see this through to the end.”

“Understood. I’ll report in your stead.”

“Thank you.”

The doors shut once the Jury left. Gerson sighed in relief. The less bystanders involved, the better.

“So Grandmaster.” he asked, “Any ideas?”

“Spacetime has gone loose by the Seraphim’s efforts. This fog. It traps like quagmire, yet it is malleable within the trained hands of a master. Treacherous these conditions may be, they’re perfect for our shortcut.”

“Really? Good luck to you then, wa ha ha ha~”

“What about you, Hammer of Justice? Won’t you join us?”

“Nah. I’ll be holding the fort,” Gerson replied. “Can’t have that whippersnapper skedaddle out this way.”

“I thank you for that.”

The turtle sat back. He’s glad to catch a break for now, resting his old, weary body. There’s no telling what comes next in the battlefield.

Gerson watched the proceedings with great curiosity. What had this man -- the teacher of teachers -- learned over the course of millennia?

Red light shone on the tip of the Grandmaster’s weapon, so potent that it appeared like a flame.

The man thus said: “I seek those blessed and cursed with the mysteries of time. One with the Gift, the other with the Keys. Bring me to wherever they may be.”

“Let my will be done.”

The Grandmaster planted his Mark:

The Ace of Spades.