You have no idea what happened. Somehow, you ended up at the definitely-ultra-tense negotiation table.
The first order of business was helping Dad serve the cups of tea, starting with the guests of honour: Aiden and his sons. The boys sat close to each other as a pair, right next to their father.
Then you served the other senior: Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme. He’s by his lonesome, with a huge empty gap between him and the nearest Gungnir boy. What a sad stretch of nothing.
Last, the hosts. One for Cenna, one for yourself, and one for Dad.
Wait, Cenna?! Why is she sitting on Dad’s side of the table? She should be next to the Tsunderjudge as his bodyguard! Also, the Wanderstars are sorta the Berendin extended family by now.
Cenna responded with a big confused shrug.
Mezil Thyme explained: “I heard Queen Toriel had already assimilated Miss Caraway into her brood. Besides, I believe that you siblings should never be separated again. Please embrace your new title, ‘Princess’ Cenna.”
“Oi Mez,” Your sister protested with a hushed voice. “You can’t shove me off to the Dreemurrs at the last minute!”
Aww Cenna, don’t wanna be real royalty?
“It’s not that,” she sighed. “I mean, the dude’s like raised me for the past ten years! Then again, he’s probably trying to save me from his burning dumpster heap of a reputation.”
…True. You’ve heard some hot controversy.
The Aratet brothers whispered something between themselves, trying to not chuckle. They stopped the moment their father scolded them. You don’t understand a word, but you’re dang sure he said something about their manners. It’s a universal parent-child thing.
Uh oh. Today’s tea isn’t the usual Goldenflower brew. Red teas have… an annoying side effect. And, you didn’t go to the loo before the meeting started.
You asked Dad why you’re summoned here. Isn’t this a grown-up’s table?
Dad explained: “In Aratet tradition, it’s an heir’s duty to prepare for the future. This includes an observing role in important negotiations.”
“Frisk,” he said, “Though I know you’re sharp and inquisitive, may I ask for your silence? The adults will be the primary debaters here. It’s proper etiquette for the young to remain quiet unless requested.”
But what if you need to go to the toilet?
“Just let us know and you may leave at anytime. The same offer extends to any other human in this room. The call of nature can not be ignored.”
That was a HUGE relief. Thanks Dad.
Hmm. Four adults, plus you, and the two teenagers… That’s seven people total. An uncanny coincidence, considering the whole Seven Soul Barrier deal.
“Alright. Shall we get straight to the matter, then?” Dad took a sip. “Sir Aiden, do you know anything about the impending calamity?”
“Yes. I know about the creature beneath the ocean. But I don’t trust the Magus Association to handle the problem.”
“Why so, if I may ask?”
“Because they’ve yet to vanquish the monstrosity. Despite supposed ‘noble’ goals and all the resources the world has to offer, no progress has been made after several attempts. It’s clear to me that ‘The Living Victory’ lacks the strength to take it down.”
You’re hit with a twinge of guilt. Even if Mezil had won, you would have undone everything with your personal Undertale angst. You kept that fact to yourself, though. No need to give Aiden any more ammunition.
Mezil replied: “I admit to having failed to quell the threat. Infuriating, but true. However, what makes you think ‘you’ stand a chance instead?”
“Because I have something you don’t.” Aiden placed his fist over his own heart. “Loyalty.”
He continued, “My people will follow me to the ends of the earth. Unlike yours, Vampire. Your actions have caused many to turn away from your cause. They cooperate only to plot from the shadows, seeking any opportunity to sink you under the waters.”
Tsunderjudge, the Lord of Unimpressed, replied with a big huff. “Your recognition extends only to the Aratet Branch. Local Gungnir didn’t even know you existed until recently. Besides, the majority of those members don’t even fit your needs. They’re physically untrained urbanites: mere adult children tangled in their own pettiness.”
“That matter is to be resolved in the near future.” Aiden retorted. “I will not disclose what we’ve amassed, but I can say this: we can win with just a fraction of your setup.”
“Rich talk. That doesn’t tell me anything. How exactly are you going to defeat an invincible world-ending calamity? With pointy sticks and peashooters? Another lame terrorist bonfire?”
“No.”
Aiden touched the surface of the table using his uninjured hand.
“With this!”
Bright, yellow light then flashed under his palm. Lifting his hand, the glowing symbol of a lightning bolt had seared its existence into the wood.
Your eyes grew wide. By now you’d recognize this power anywhere.
It is none other than a Mark.
But, it didn’t last long. The image rippled twice before dissipating, leaving behind a smoking charred imprint.
Looking at the tsun, you notice how pale he had become. You don’t blame him one bit.
You remembered what Persona once said:
“Alas, he was not born a Chosen. Yet, I was far from disappointed; his colours are rarer than any mere Red. In my personal opinion, the marriage plan was a great success. Why? Nothing important.”
‘NOTHING IMPORTANT’ YOUR DAMN FOOT! THIS IS DEFINITELY SUPER IMPORTANT!!!!
That. Mark. It’s Persona’s own Mark. Heck, it’s Genocider’s Mark! That’s the Magi’s timeless nemesis! For Persona’s Aratet son to inherit this rare symbol… it’s the legend reborn!
No wonder he has Gungnir’s full devotion.
“A Split Aspect…” said Mezil.
Dad asked, “Pardon? May I know what it means?”
The tsun took a moment to recollect himself. “King Asgore… it means that Aiden’s Psychia has a near even distribution of colours. He is a Yellow Major with a Double Red Minor of equivalent proficiency. This enables him to conjure a ‘False Mark’: a type of hybrid Aspect magic.”
“How are you so certain?”
“The Magus Association once had a student with similar powers, but of a different colour. She was a Purple Major with a Double Red Minor. Her Mark was a pen. Anything she wrote or drew in her notebook persisted beyond time-travel.”
You… sensed a disturbance coming from Dad. Dad?
Muttering, he whispered: “A Purple Mark…? Can… can it be…?”
Dad? Is Dad okay? He’s looking rather shaken.
He shook himself out of the funk. “I- I am fine. It is a matter for a different time.”
Dad patted you on the shoulder. But, you’re worried about the squeeze at the end. It’s too tight.
You wondered if… it had anything to do with The Six.
“Sir Aiden,” said Dad, recollected. “I assume that it’s more than a symbolic crown. How exactly can your power defeat the Abomination?”
“Unfortunately, it cannot yet. Since I’m not born a Chosen, I must first receive the final blessings of the gods: the Keys of Fate. Without it, I cannot ascend into a god of lightning and smite that monstrosity.”
Mezil planted his face into his hands. Cenna also had a ‘WHAT?!’ written all over her face. You’re just as dumbfounded, to be honest.
“Gungnir’s ignorance knows no bounds,” so the old Magus said. “Some things never change.”
Aiden started to fume, his patience growing thin. “The ignorant one is you, Vampire. You think you’re invincible.”
Dad cleared his throat. “Excuse me gentlemen. You seem to be withholding vital information from each other. Would it help if you explain your case to me? Let us start with Judge Thyme, followed by Sir Aiden.”
Thanks to the power of persuasion, both sides agreed to take turns.
Hmm… You’re starting to feel the urge, but you don’t want to interrupt the conversation just yet.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“Your Majesty,” Mezil began, “The Ocean Abomination is a gargantuan mass of Determination. It’s akin to the largest, most destructive nuclear bomb one could think of. Set it off the wrong way and it will rip reality apart.”
Dad asked, “That phenomenon is ‘The End’, yes?”
“Indeed. Everything will cease to be. The Gungnir’s suggestion appears to require the powers of a Living Victory. Except, the Abomination’s very nature prohibits such. It’s a sudden death scenario. Immediate doom.”
“Thank you, Judge Thyme.” Turning towards Aiden, Dad asked, “Sir Aiden, does your plan take those factors to account?”
Aiden nodded. “Of course. The power of the gods is not a plaything. Too bad it's currently in the hands of heretical Magi who treat it devoid of reverence. That’s why we’re in this situation to begin with. The method I propose, however, should prevent the Abomination from accessing its willpower. Unable to strike back, the heart of the beast becomes vulnerable and I can destroy it from within.”
A method to stop the Abomination in its tracks…?
It appears that Dad shared the same wavelength as you. “You mean draining it of Determination? Is your Mark capable of such a feat?”
“I’m no vampire, King of Monsters.” Aiden shot a mistrustful glance at Mezil. “I have more direct, honourable ways.”
Mezil Thyme slapped the idea down without mercy.
“There’s nothing honourable about a Curse of Death!” he yelled.
Irate, Aiden responded: “You impose a universal ban on the divine, damning any mortal who crosses the boundary. Such senseless fear-mongering.”
Mezil countered. “How can we even be sure that you’ve attained the mastery you’ve professed? Do you know how to use your father’s Mark? Experience makes a huge difference. Anything less than a perfect execution is tantamount to torture.”
You tell Dad that you’re lost.
“So am I, Frisk,” Dad replied.
Cenna came to your rescue as the resident Vanquisher. She explained: “They’re talking about High Volition Marks. The Magus Association decrees that any Red caught using one will be judged as a Fallen. But the Gungnir consider it as proof that of their leader’s divinity.”
Oh, right. Those. You tell Dad this ‘HVM’ is baaaad news. It’s like an always-fatal curse. With nasty side-effects.
“More brainwashing,” grumbled the Gungnir boss. “Life and death are two sides of the same coin. If suffering is a certain outcome of divinity’s touch, how can the Persona tradition exist at all?”
Mezil’s patience started to wear thin. “Your roots are showing, Aratet, and it’s giving me a headache. You don’t even know what you truly believe.”
This discourse spiralled further and further into ‘massive nope’ territory. The Tsundere was acting extra snappy too. What’s with all that snide snark? What happened to his sense of ‘Patience’? Is he really that fed up?
“Gentlemen,” so said the mighty King Asgore. “I think we’re starting to lose focus. The world may end tomorrow. Our common goal is to defeat the Ocean Abomination. We need mutual cooperation, not argue about personal philosophy.”
You’d think an impending calamity will bring people together. Not quite, it seems. Both sides believe they’ll succeed, and therefore have their minds set to the future. Politics in a nutshell there: trying to future-proof one’s own butt at the expense of the greater good.
Dad then asked, “Perhaps you could answer some of my questions? Like for example… Judge Thyme, is it possible to loan the Keys of Fate to someone? You don’t need to agree to the idea. I just cannot help but wonder.”
Judge Thyme took a deep breath and contemplated. His intense thought process made you sit on the edge of your seat.
Ugh. The urge to pee is getting ever stronger. Gotta. Hold. It. In.
At last, he answered: “Not directly. If I just lower my levels, the next strongest will become the new bearer, and it won’t be Aiden. As for the other possible method… the Gungnir will never accept it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a proposal of utmost heresy to their religion.”
Aiden grimaced at the mere mention. “At least you know that much, Vampire. I refuse to become yet another trophy in your collection.”
Turning to Dad, the Gungnir Boss said: “King of Monsters. If you want to keep your word, then please consider this suggestion. I want the Royal Child to depart from the Vampire’s fold and be the one to lend us the Keys of Fate. If they are able to stand against the Vampire on their own volition, taking back the Keys should be an easy task.”
That meant breaking Mezil’s Claim of Conquest on your SOUL, right? It also meant breaking his trust in you. Your Trial of the Crimson Hall would be for naught.
Or, maybe not? You could ask the Tsunderjudge nicely. He can always put it back later. Maybe your involvement is the key to settle this deadlock.
What would happen if Aiden takes the lead?
But Mezil Thyme glared at you. “Frisk, do not even consider it. I am your mentor now. And, I will not let you be conned by this cultist’s suggestion. I refuse to return the status quo to the days of Genocider. That will deal an immense blow to the Magus Association, and by extension all of Magickind.”
“Think about it this way: will he even let you take it back at all? If he could vanquish the Abomination, he could do the same to you.”
You asked if that still applies to the moments where you’re at the peak of your power.
Mezil replied, “Yes. Despite everything, you’re still human. You’re not invincible. None of us are.”
“I see.” King Asgore shook his head. “In that case, I am afraid it is also too soon for me to agree. My child’s safety is not guaranteed.”
“But--”
Mezil Thyme cut Aiden of Aratet short. “Leave them alone. They have no power to decide. Again, I demand: become my Crimson Keeper.”
As you had predicted, the Gungnir boss flat out declined. “Over my cold, dead body.”
“Even if it means that you’ll abandon your father?”
“What are you talking about? You finished him off with a Vanquisher by your side! Every report I received confirmed that my father’s spirit has left this world.”
“Those reports are wrong.”
Then, the Tsunderjudge stood up. Oh no. He’s extra ultra serious.
“Perhaps this will change your mind, Aiden of Aratet.”
There he goes. Mezil exposed his abdomen, revealing Persona’s cursed Hex.
In that instant, Aiden and his sons gasped: filled with a fearful reverence at that crimson symbol.
That fear soon turned into indignation. “You are indeed a vampire.” Aiden seethed. “Draining souls to imprison a god! So THIS is why you insist on converting that Abomination into a cursed stone!”
Mezil scoffed at the idea.“Hogwash! I will never use a Philosopher’s Stone. My goal is to destroy the Ocean Abomination, ending the threat to our world!”
The elder son, Dayton, couldn’t contain his anger anymore. He drew out a blade, threatening Mezil at knifepoint.
“Liar!” He yelled. “Give Grandfather back!!!”
Cenna stood up and ejected her bird-like SOUL. It perched on her lower arm, falconer style: ready to swoop at Dayton in a moment’s notice.
Welp. This is why the kids had to keep quiet. Lack of experience and a low Wisdom check translates into rash actions. Just one wrong move was enough to create a standoff between Gungnir and Magi.
“Dayton!!!” The father commanded. “Stand down. Walk backwards, slowly.”
“B-but…” the boy responded: his words, shaky.
“Do as I say!”
And that’s what he did. Dayton retreated, putting his hooked knife back into its sheath. The adults kept their own weapons at bay.
Okay! You gotta go! Reeeeeally gotta go! Like NOW!!! Your heart and your bladder can't keep up with these high stakes anymore.
“Oh dear! Hurry on, Frisk.”
You ran all the way to the toilet. Was there anyone standing around? Sans? Maybe Grillby? Don’t know, don’t care. Onward to the ceramic throne!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
That was a big relief. Note to self: always prepare for long conversations. And limit consumption of caffeine.
Exiting the toilet at last, you noticed that a pretty long queue had amassed in your wake. It’s all the other humans: Mezil and Aiden included.
The younger boy, Niton, was up next. He said something that sounded like ‘Eks-koos mi.’ Your brain needed a second to translate it to the proper English phrase ‘excuse me’. Now that’s what you call a heavy accent. Almost unintelligible.
You stepped aside and let him enter. He also went in quite a hurry. Must have been holding it in.
Tsunderjudge doesn’t look too good. Is he okay? Did his gut protest again?
“I’ll live,” he replied.
Please do.
…You probably shouldn’t linger. Better leave before things get any more awkward.
On the way back, you heard a soft ‘psst’ from under the couch.
“Hey, Frisk. Come closer and sit on the sofa. Act normal.”
“Yeah, but don’t make a sound. You’ll only get us into trouble if you do.”
It’s Flowey and Chara. You wonder what they’re up to. Oh well, only one way to find out. You did as they said.
Flowey began: “Question time. Did you tell those lightning-heads that you became this ‘Persona’ before? Tap one for yes, tap two for no.”
You tapped the cushion twice.
“Why not?!” he exclaimed. “That’s your trump card! Even I can see this! Oh wait, nevermind. You can’t answer back.”
Chara then asked, “Are you afraid that they’re gonna flip out because of me?”
You tapped once.
They groaned. “Well figures, I was the kid who almost set off the apocalypse after all. But… here’s the funny thing. The guy haunting Mezil recognized me as his equal. A worthy god in his eyes. Somehow.”
You tapped your finger frantically, trying to tell them that you don’t understand.
Flowey explained: “See, the lightning-heads were supposed to wreak havoc at Mettaton’s Spring Concert.”
“Ahuh,” Chara added. “But I told Mister ‘Last’ Persona this: if he puts you -- my very own Persona -- in any danger, I will disown him! And you know what? He bowed to my demands!”
“Crazy, right?”
“I still can't believe that happened, Azzie.”
“Point being,” Flowey said, “If at any point those two stupid adults insist on being utter morons, call Chara. As for me? I better remain hidden. Revealing that a monster became one of their precious Goldenflowers is just gonna open a nasty can of worms.”
“Tap once for Red Kid approval.”
…You tapped twice.
Flowey responded first. “Huh?!? No??? What in the blazes are you thinking? Oh whatever, you still can’t reply. I really hate yes-or-no sessions.”
“Are you sure?” Chara asked back, somewhat skeptical. Maybe even disappointed.
You tapped once. Yes. You’re sure.
They sighed. “Alright. Have it your way then. Good luck. You better explain to us later.”
You hopped to your feet and rushed back to the kitchen, hoping to find Dad by his lonesome. There’s something you need to ask him first.
He’s staring at his cup with great solemness. Many things seemed to weigh on his mind.
“Oh, howdy… You are back--”
You asked Dad if twenty-four hours would be enough.
“Excuse me?”
Would twenty-four hours be enough to turn the tables?
“Well. I… I think any amount of time would be helpful.”
Then, let you do your Ambassadorial thing. You have an idea, but it requires Dad’s explicit permission.
Though puzzled at first, he eventually nodded with understanding. “Yes Frisk. You may do what you must. I will support you.”
Thanks Dad.
Uhm… Could he clear out some space in the meantime? You need to borrow something from the kitchen.
As you rummaged the drawers, you can’t help but groan. Ugh. Undyne and Alphys seriously need to take better care of their tools. Knives should either have sleeves, or be stored on the knife rack!
Let's see…
Dining knife? Bzzt. Not the right weight distribution.
Cleaver? No. Way too heavy.
Bread knife? Nah. Too long.
Steak knife? That’ll do.
You gave yourself a quick stretch. Can’t have your muscles cramp up at the worst possible time.
Satisfied with your impromptu warm up session, you equipped ‘S. KNIFE’.
Dad has finished using his superior strength to stack the furniture into a corner. Nice. The stage is set for your next plan.
Now… to wait.
The humans returned from their toilet break. You nodded at Dad as a signal that you’re ready.
After clearing his throat, he announced: “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. The Royal Child wishes to perform for our guests. I believe it will interest all parties at the table.”
He then smiled at you for fatherly motivation. Heh. Cenna couldn’t stop grinning either. Of course she knew what you’re gonna do.
You took in one final deep breath to get into the mood.
Three. Two. One.
You brandished the kitchen knife. You spun it between your fingers, finishing up with a swift slash.
The glint of steel flashed a pattern in the air, dancing to the rhythm of your feet. Your body became one with the blade. Deadly style points, off the charts.
You paused at the end of the first stanza to observe the Gungnir’s reactions. Aiden didn’t show much, though the boys were shocked by your abilities.
“Where did you learn that?” asked Aiden, “It’s not something the warlocks can teach you.”
You tell Aiden that if he wants to know more, he must uphold his end of the bargain: attend the Aratet Welcoming Feast in peace. He will learn everything he wants there. Perhaps he could even meet his father’s spirit. And taste a ton of good food.
The Gungnir Boss contemplated hard. You’re not sure what stressed you out more: freezing in mid-pose, or the uncertainty of men.
“I will return on Monday, ‘Royal Child’. Where does the Oracle intend to host the feast?”
At our local school. It’s the only place in Ebott Town with a kitchen big enough to cook for a large group.
For reasons unknown to you, Niton’s face lit up in the mention of ‘school’.
Interesting. Maybe this tidbit could help ease the tension. Here’s hoping that you’re right on the money.