It’s the night of the 10th Wednesday.
You set your alarm clock to 5 A.M. so you could try to prevent Gaelic’s escape. It’s dangerous out there, and you have a promise to keep.
…………………………
Shuffling noises woke you up next Wednesday morning. The eleventh one.
A thief?!
You laid low. Jumping right now might startle the intruder, or intruders. You want to at least get a good look on their faces before kicking them out of the house.
With the aid of your blanket, you slowly shifted your head…
The thief was a… skeleton? Gaelic?
He had arranged your lockboxes in a straight row. Whenever he opened a box, he would stick his head inside to sniff them.
A spy assignment from Tsunderjudge? Or, his instincts compelled him to investigate?
The glow of his Eye lit in one of the boxes. He’s picking up a scent, and you had a good idea what that was.
Bingo! Snakeface pulled up the tutu. He rumbled a soft growl of disgust. After putting it down, he moved on to the content of the final item.
Chara’s Heart Locket.
Your phone’s alarm went off. Dang, talk having the WORST possible timing!
The sudden noise spooked Snakeface. He dropped everything and scurried out of your room, kicking over the lockboxes in the process.
You leapt out of bed posthaste. When you rushed downstairs, you found your living room tinted in a violent mixture of Orange and Purple.
Snakeface had his back against the wall. His loud hissing made your hairs stand on end. Hostility exuded from every part of his being.
What’s more, that Eye burned so bright… it’s a torch.
“PER-SONA…” he muttered.
“DEMON… DEMON! KILL!”
…You retreated up the staircase. What just happened?
Meanwhile Garamond tried to no avail to calm his cousin down. Snakeface bolted around him and leapt straight out into the dark.
His cousin sighed and pulled the curtain. Though patient, he lacked perseverance: he had the look of a man at his wit’s end.
You asked Garamond if he knew what’s happening to Gaelic.
“He… He’s not well.” Garamond replied. “Excuse me, I need to settle my nerves.”
You heard a slight tremble in his voice.
Garamond ran to his bag and took out a flat case. It contained all the necessary tools to light a fancy cigar.
He had second thoughts.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be watching over you.”
It’s alright. But… P-please don’t light it in the living room. You’ve got smoke detectors.
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s still early. Perhaps you should return to bed.”
You frowned as he left for the backyard.
…‘This’ Wednesday is going to be an awkward one.
* * *
No pigeon meat for you today. Garamond still shopped for groceries, however, so at least you had some decent food.
After breakfast, you had a video meeting with Lady Lucidia. She came up with an idea to help you, though it may take the whole day for Doctor Alphys to develop a working proof of concept.
Garamond asked: “Could you tell me what happened earlier today?”
Maybe it’s easier to show than to tell.
You led him to your bedroom. Everything other than your clothes cabinet was left untouched since.
After explaining the event, Garamond launched his investigation. You watched him scan each and every memento.
“Frisk,” he asked, “Have you borrowed their power?”
Borrow? Like, EQUIP?
“Yes. Reds of both Majors and Minors can enhance their personal artifacts with their Psychia. The closer the connection, the stronger their power.”
Oh. If that’s the case… Yes. You had EQUIPPED all those items in at least one timeline before.
“I see. They’re all contaminated with your Determination. Useless for detailed time investigation.”
Whaaaaaat?!
“Nevertheless, it’s not a total loss. Lady Lucidia has identified a number of living links to some of the children. There’s also forensics to consider. You will need to return these items to their families anyway. Isn’t that what you wanted to do from the very beginning?”
You apologized. You hoped that the Six’s original possessions could become more than mere tokens.
Then… there’s the locket.
You need to get that back to its original owner no matter what.
You closed the boxes and set them by the side. Sure, they will reset tomorrow. But you don’t want to stub your toe. Pain is still pain, no matter the timeline.
Say, that was Truesight, right? Why not scan you for traces of Chara? You thought that the Tsunderjudge had purged you clean, but there might be traces left behind.
His dual Aspects lit up again. Shaking his head, he said: “My Eyes do not detect any signs of demonic possession.”
Huh?! Why would Snakeface call you ‘Persona’ otherwise?
“I think there’s a misunderstanding. The ‘Persona’ he knew was the ultimate Gungnir warrior. Not a living vessel.”
You’re confused.
“The troublemaker that harassed Judge Thyme had set himself up to begin a new line of possession. He used his title to conceal his True Name. On the other hand, you became a ‘Persona’ to Chara. It’s different.”
You still don’t understand how Gaelic got so spooked…
Maybe Snakeface freaked out because he smelled your DT on all those incriminating items? Blue’s set in particular. It’s stained with death.
“A logical assumption,” said Garamond, “But…” He crossed his arms to contemplate.
After a while, he asked: “Could you perform the Gungnir knife dance for me?”
Is… is that a good idea, given the circumstances? Isn’t that like a spiritual ritual of sort?
He stifled a cough. Almost laughed at your silliness. Almost.
“Eherm. No. It's nothing spiritual. Besides, Gaelic won’t be seeing it. You’ll understand once we complete the exercise.”
Okay? Whatever floats his boat.
You brandished a chopstick as a knife-replacement. Chara had a set 92-step regiment. Think of it as musical scales to practice for the real concerto.
The training happened at your backyard. You danced under the morning sun, slashing imaginary leaves in the air. The fluid movements swirled against the wind of your own making.
And--
“Stop.”
You froze. In martial arts, this is the time when the master corrected the student.
He repositioned your foot. Straightened the angle of your arm. Tapped your lower back.
“What’s the number of this step?”
Uh. You don’t know.
“Hmm. As I suspected. You lack proper form. Repeat that move, please.”
Okay! …Did you do it right this time?
Nope. He corrected you again. Dang. You’ll need more practice.
“That’s all I need. Please, rest for a while.”
The both of you sat down at the porch. He’s smoking his second stick for the day.
“…Frisk,” said Garamond, “I have good and bad news for you.”
Shoot. That’s why we’re here.
“The good: you’re neither possessed, nor the ultimate Gungnir warrior.”
Yay!
“The bad: you’ve yet to make Chara’s fighting skills your own. You’re relying too much on your possessor’s inheritance.”
You groaned out loud. He’s saying that it wasn’t a perfect download like what you see in the movies?!
“No. In addition to that, Chara was far from a master. What skills they had pale compared to an adult’s. The possession may have imparted you all of their skills, but also all of their mistakes. It’s pure rote memory, lacking in personal history.”
How does he know so much?
“Studying the Gungnir is part of my job. Sometimes, their members leave the cult in fear. They’re willing to share their arts in exchange for refuge.”
Dang. Learning that your awesome moves are actually lackluster… dampened your spirits.
“Don’t despair,” said Garamond. “You’re young and talented. With study, you’ll go far beyond Chara in the future.”
He blew out a puff of smoke. Made doubly sure that it didn’t fly into your face. Even a kid like you knew that breathing in direct tobacco smoke was outright unhealthy!
“The effectiveness of a Martial Arts school depends on the body.” he continued, “It’s no different for the Gungnir.”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“For example, your knife art is divided between two styles: the Sun and the Moon. Male and female, respectively. The routines vary.”
Why does it matter?
“Biological differences. For example, a man tends to be larger and taller than a woman. The Moon Style would put him too close to his opponent. A woman with the Sun Style might always fall short.”
Hmmm… if size matters, wouldn’t that mean a small-sized man should keep to the Moon Style? Or a tall woman would do better with a Sun Style?
“In terms of reach, perhaps. But there’s more to it than that. Men develop greater upper-body strength. On the other hand, it’s more advantageous for a woman to focus on her legs.”
Whoa. You wouldn’t have believed that looking at Undyne. But then again, Undyne is special.
“I usually caution against mismatched styles. But in your case, don’t waste what you have. Masters are expected to know both anyway.”
Hmm. How then did Chara end up with only one side?
“Age. It’s best to start training one of the styles as a foundation before branching out to the other.”
And since they died young… their training was incomplete.
Your mind swirled with excitement. Say, does Garamond have a speciality? Snakeface was totally Snake-style!
“No, not quite,” he replied. “My moves are rather generic. I try to not engage in close-quarter combat. Too much physical contact may expose my skeleton identity.”
True, true.
Garamond seemed a ton more relaxed than this morning. Though there might still be some stress, it's no longer to the level where it’d crush him.
Heh. If Garamond smokes as a limited treat for his break, what about the Tsunderjudge? He doesn’t look like the smoker type.
“Judge Thyme doesn’t dabble with the usual vices. No smoking. Moderate drinking. No tomfoolery with anyone that’s not his wife.”
“He does have one unusual taste, though: Jungle Curry. There’s a place where they maintained an authentic recipe. Untailored for local tastes.”
Nothing unusual about a favourite food. You have Mom’s pie!
“Do you spend an agonizing hour in the toilet after having your dessert?”
That much suffering?! That long?! No wonder Doctor Gaster wanted to cook up a non-lethal version of that curry.
After drawing in one last puff, Garamond extinguished the cigar in a small tube-like device. You tilted your head in interest.
What’s that?
“A cigar snuffer. It cuts off oxygen with minimal wastage. Removes the fire hazard as well.”
That’s so cool. Science wins again.
“Thank you,” he said. “For letting me be myself for a while.”
…You understand. He’s been on the job with zero breaks. Sleeping on the couch doesn't make for the best rest either.
Consider today a holiday. Or at least a weekend. Doctor Alphys will definitely make an AWESOME tool!
Garamond smiled a bit. “I hope so.”
* * *
About 8.30 PM, Doctor Alphys rang your phone.
“Frisk? Are you alright? I heard about what happened to Mister Gaelic.”
Yeah. You’re alright. You wish the bad turn didn’t happen though.
“D-don’t worry! I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of the matter in the next RESET. Stay determined!”
Thanks. You will.
“I’m going to send an app to your phone now. It’s still super untested, so there might be bugs.”
Will it break your phone?
“N-nothing that major! You Marked the device, right?”
Yes. You had it Marked.
“Good. But, um, I don’t know how your OS will maintain the date without glitching out. Lady Lucy assured that it won’t be a problem, though.”
“O-oh, one more thing! I won’t remember anything about today, let alone my own app. So. You’ll have to remind me if there’s any issues. I-I’m sure I’ll catch up once I read the logs.”
Can’t the Tsunderjudge just preserve Alphys’ state--
Nevermind. Scratch that. You’re not prepared to face him yet.
You heard a nervous chuckle from Alphys. She understands.
“The instructions are included. If you have any questions, just call back. I-I don’t think I’ll be sleeping anyway…”
You asked Alphys about the others.
How’s Mom? Dad?
From your perspective, you’ve not seen them for ages.
The forced timeline vacation was fun at first, but you’re starting to miss everyone.
“Aw Frisk…”
“Asgore and Toriel are fine. Grillby too. Mettaton returned to his studio yesterday. So, he’s not stuck at the hospital with us. Undyne… she… she’s very upset. None of us know what’s going on with Papyrus. Or Sans for the matter.”
Maybe in the next timeline, you’ll call everyone for a chat.
“That’s a great idea, Frisk! I’m sure they’re worried about you too.”
You nodded. Sorry for cutting the convo short, but you gotta beat Mezil to the punch.
“Okay! Good luck.”
Thanks. You ended the call there. Hmm, what could this special program be?
You ran the installer and…
The graphics were taken straight from Mew Mew Kissy Cutie. It earned a skeptical brow-raising from Garamond.
You had to reassure him that this wasn’t a joke.
Oh, it’s an Arcanagram drawing pad.
There’s a first-timer’s tutorial. You played it.
Mew Mew herself read the instructions for you.
“Welcome to Mew Mew’s Arcanyagram class, nyan!”
…Yup. It’s Alphys’ handiwork alright. All her skills writing fanfiction were put to good use.
“Pens and crayons are great for purrtending, but they're not going to make myagic! They need a fuel source, a machine, and some nyanstructions. It’s basically a compyooter.”
“But don’t fret, even an utter nyewbie like you could build one of those fancy-shmancy stars, nyan!”
“First, you need to write your code. Tell the compyooter what you want to do. Most of the nyanstructions will be inserted at the points. If you need more data, just add those to the intersections of your star.”
“The simplest Arcanyagram’s the Pentyagram, nyan! Five points. The bigger and more complex the spell, the more points it requires!”
“What happens if you use less? You get squares, triangles, and circles. Basic geometry, nyandanyan!”
‘4’, ‘3’, ‘0’… where’s ‘2’ and ‘1’?
Garamond explained, “Those would be a line and a dot. They’re only useful in advanced Arcanagrams and are not detailed in introductory courses.”
Ahuh. You don’t quite get it yet, but you nodded along anyway.
“Mreow~~ Triangles represent the myagic of monsters. Anything placed inside a triangle will affect only monsters, nyan! Ain’t that mysterious?”
“Squares represent hyoomans. They require an extra point to bypass the physical body. If you need a spell to work only on hyoomans, you must have squares in mind! Otherwise, the spell will bounce off into nyothingness!”
“Circles contain other Arcanyagrams in their boundaries. Without them, you get lots of cross-wiring. That’s BAD! They’re also used to transfer external components such as reagents and catalysts.”
“Remember your BODMAS? Circles functyoon just like your brackets, and they must be solved first!”
“This App will only go up to nine-points. Anything beyond uses too much memory. So, do your best to keep it clean and simple, nyan!”
“That’s all. Good luck! Mew Mew believes in you~~~!”
And that’s it.
You rubbed your fingers through your hair.
This is pure programming!
Math!
THE WORST!!!
You have zero comprehension in that stuff. Sans, Lady Lucy, and Goopdoc made it all look so easy!!!
“I have some knowledge of Arcanagraphy,” said Garamond. “If you let me know what you want, I can try to help.”
Thank goodness for saving your poor noggin!
Okay, here’s the plan…
* * *
Wednesday Number 12. You were stirred awake by your bodyguard.
The plan worked! Your night’s worth of hard work paid off.
Alphys and her genius amazed you. The concept was so simple, yet you had never thought about it.
She already had an interdimensional storage device installed in your phone. All she needed to do was to link it with the Gram-writing app.
Based on your phone input, the app would draw a Gram in the storage space. That same system would then digitize your Aspect input and combine it together in that common room, parsing the result before returning the data to your ultra-handy device.
Red for permanence, Purple for data tracking, Cyan for focus… and some more that you can’t quite remember. You might have used a combination of eight or so Marks.
With that, you made a Gram that tracks your Determination. Snakeface still has your Mark. It’s going to stay no matter where he is in the world!
Then, set it over your satellite maps and… bingo! You have a signal!
Let’s see. Saturated red dot. That’s you.
Much smaller faint dots nearby. Probably the lockboxes.
Gotta zoom out first. Ah. There we go! Heh, he’s still within the region.
You suited yourself up for the morning cold. Also, you bagged up some cookies from the cookie jar. According to Cenna’s ‘Snakeface Survival Tips’, packing treats whenever possible is your best bet.
With the invisible Garamond by your side, you began your chase.
Wow. Gaelic’s zipping all over. Does he have any teleportation powers?
“No,” Garamond replied. “He’s not Sans Serif. Your area IS filled with portals, though.”
Oh. The ‘shortcuts’. That made sense.
The trail led you down a suspicious line of felled trees. Midway, the town’s construction workers stopped whatever they were doing to look around.
“Whoa! Did you feel that sudden gust of wind?”
“I think I saw something ran past us!”
“A purple and orange light, I think?”
Snakeface had been here alright. You approached them to ask some questions.
“Frisk! A-are you supposed to be out here?”
You explained to them that you’re trying to chase a friend.
“So it WAS a person after all! That’s dangerous. We’re hard at work here, salvaging.”
What prompted them to check this place?
“It got really noisy one night. Next morning, my team peeked over and we found a lot of broken trees.”
“Not to mention that there was an INSANE amount of sawdust. More dust than wood!”
One of them tapped at a log. “Check this end here. It’s like they got buzz-sawed at weird angles.”
You took a closer look. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s something off about the texture. It seemed too clean? Like a… disintegrating laser?
Your mind raced back to the night you had fried chicken. A strange earthy-smelling motorcycle helmet fell in Dad’s garden. Not long after that, Sans teleported off into the night.
Your breath stopped for a moment. This trail of damage was inflicted by SANS.
“Frisk?” One of the workers asked: “Is something the matter?”
Uhh. Now's not the time for controversial reveals.
You coughed a bit and said that the ‘weirdness’ made you feel uneasy.
“Don’t worry your noggin too much. We’re the experts here. If this log is contaminated, we’ll throw it straight into the furnace.”
“Yay for free heating!”
O-okay. You tell everyone that you got to go.
Keep up the good work in the meantime!
“Bye Frisk. Watch your step! It’s slippery from yesterday’s rain.”
Thanks for the warning.
You checked your phone again. The blip made had made its way up the mountain…
Following the dot, you soon found yourself standing before a familiar cave.
Long, long ago, you stood before this very same opening.
Your naive self believed that caves were the beginner’s dungeon. ‘An adventurer is you’ was the thought on your mind. So, in you went, carrying aspirations of fun.
It was an adventure alright; more than you ever bargained for.
When you peered at the seemingly bottomless depths in wonder, that was when the edge crumbled beneath your feet and your undertale began.
Your life would never be the same again.
In the present time, someone had tried to block the entrance of the cave with some planks. A smashed signboard lay flat by the entrance. Reading it, you recognized King Asgore’s handwriting.
‘DANGEROUS CAVE’ it read. With a smaller ‘do not enter’ underneath it. That’s about as Dad as it gets.
“The damages are fresh.” Garamond noted when he decloaked, “I hope he’s not hungry. Please let me enter first.”
Yuuuuup. A hungry Gaelic is a deadly one. That’s why you came armed with cookies.
You stayed close behind Garamond, inching deeper and deeper into the cave.
You arrived at the big hole. There, you found the person you’re looking for. Snakeface huddled in the shadows on the other side.
Right now, he’s a ball of tearful whimpers and troubled mumbling. A pitiful sight to behold.
As much as you wanted to go over there and hug him, Cenna’s Snakeface Survival Tips included the words ‘no surprise touches’ in red, underline, italics, all caps, and in bold.
“Gaelic?” Garamond called.
Snakeface glanced at you. He shuffled away.
“Don’t,” he said. “I hurt you.”
A negative response was better than none. At least it showed that he could be communicated with.
“Did you have a nightmare?” asked Garamond.
You noticed how Snakeface tensed up. He tried to hide behind his arms.
“They touch me. No. No. No. Ah don’t wanna. No. Stop. Go away. Me body not fer ye. Begone!”
The rest of the speech was drowned by incoherent mumbling.
…More brain bleach? Maybe. Though at this rate, Gaelic might need it more than you.
You rustled the bag. You told him that it’s moist, chocolate chip cookies. Mmmm~~~ sound delicious, right?
He’s resisting the irresistible. Peek. Hide. Two steps forward, one step backwards. In the end, he retreated even deeper.
This isn’t going to be easy, huh?
You recalled that one time when Mom drank wine with Sans. She started tossing pizzas as frisbees. The cookies had roughly the same shape, so…
With your best aim, you tried tossing your cookie like a frisbee.
…It veered off course and plunged into the Ruins below. Dang! Even aerodynamics are working against you!
Maybe you need to get nearer and throw the whole bag. Let him eat whenever he wants. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.
The previous collapse had narrowed the path, though. Falling down right now will definitely trigger a RESET. Still, if an adult can get there, so can you.
“Frisk, stop!” yelled Garamond.
You heard a snap under your foot. The path had started to crack from your… weight?
WTF! You’re heavier than an adult skelly monster?!?!
Fear prompted you to hurry back to Garamond. He’s reaching out an arm.
Gotta. Grab. That!
Then -- just when you thought your luck couldn’t get any worse -- you tripped over a stray tree root.
You landed chin first onto the earth. It hurt. A lot.
In your daze, you remembered how Chara fell into the Underground.
Foot, to root.
Root, to hole.
Such was history, ever repeating.
“Frisk!!!”
The ground gave way right beneath your body. Before you could react, darkness encroached your body.
You passed out.
Soon, you’ll hit rock bottom.
GAME OVER.
“Stay dee-toor-min, Aye? Cannae give up.”
Wait a minute. You’re not dead!
Blink, blink. It’s… Snakeface? He’s covered with dirt. Does that mean… he saved your life?
You tried to sit up, but Gaelic stopped you.
“Wait,” he said. “Test.”
He took off your shoe and poked you at the sole. “Can feel?”
Aha! You got it now. You told him that you can. Also, you wiggled your toes to show that you have full motor control.
“No pain?”
Just sore as heck. Nothing serious.
“Good, good. More tests?”
You let him check as much as needed. To be honest, you’re amazed that he acted as a medic even in his half-feral, head-messed state. It’s as though he had those skills drilled into his subconscious.
Once satisfied, he helped you sit up. “Nothing broken. Just scrapes and bruises.”
Thanks a bunch.
Gaelic had brought you to the corridor beyond the Ruins’ entrance.
Wow. There’s a lot of dirt. And rocks. Your drop had triggered a collapse. A genuine cave-in! If Snakeface hadn’t protected you… you’d be buried alive. Shudder.
You stuck your hand into your pocket. Maybe you might still have reception. Maybe not. Either way, you have to try.
…There’s nothing there. You held your breath.
Oh no. No no no no no! Anything but your PHONE!!!
Gaelic, has he seen your phone?!?! Wait, does he remember? I-i-i-it’s a rectangle with a glass screen!
Tilting his head, he asked: “Small machine that smells like ya? Star?”
Yes! That’s right!
“Ah go.” Off he went to dig in the giant pile of loose rock and dirt.
Meanwhile, your mind chanted a desperate prayer.
Phone. Please be intact please be intact please be intact--
After much digging, he found your most ‘precious’.
And… the screen was a shattered, spiderweb mess. Great. Just great.
You tried to boot it, but it refused to awaken. Your phone had slipped out of your pocket and died.
Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!
Your twelfth Wednesday had just gone from bad to worse.