In the deepest basement of the Hub, the Chronographer’s Laboratory lay hidden. Other than a select few, guests were not privy to its existence. Not even Papyrus had clearance during Chara’s exorcism.
Before she put on her visor, Lucidia heard the sounds of cheerful laughter echo from above. She recognized the voices as belonging to Cenna and Frisk.
Curious, she summoned a screen to investigate.
Oh… they’re having quite some fun together.
Hmm. I never understood the appeal of this genre. There are way too many things to keep track of on screen.
Despite her initial protest, Lucidia ended up watching their play session.
She watched…
And watched…
And watched some more. The spectacular fireworks of multi-coloured bullets hypnotized her into a daze.
“You could join them if you want, dear.”
Startled, Lucidia yelped a high-pitched squeak. She turned around to see her husband Mezil.
She asked: “…Do I want to know how long you’ve been standing there?”
Mezil replied, “Do you?”
“No. Knowing you, it’s at least ten minutes.”
“I’m serious, though. You could take a break. I’m not a slave driver.”
“Thank you, but… shmups are more your kind of material,” said Lucidia. “Besides, I’m not in the mood for fun. We have a case to solve.”
Mezil straightened his coat. “Likewise, I too would rather work. Let us begin.”
The real work started here. Lucidia put on her visor and ignited the fire in her Eye.
[WELCOME, SEER LUCIDIA]
[ESTABLISHING CONNECTION]
[BLUE: READY]
[GREEN: READY]
[PURPLE: READY]
[VITAL SIGNS: ALL CLEAR]
[EXTERNAL VISUAL OVERLAY: ACTIVATED]
[COMMANDS WILL NOW DISPLAY OVER VISUALS]
[PROCESSING CLAUSES…]
[CALIBRATING TO SUBJECT: FRISK. HUMAN. MAJOR: RED, MINOR 1: RED, MINOR 2: RED]
[EXTRACTING SAVE DATA]
[SELECTING LATEST TIMESTAMP]
[INITIATING TERRAIN RECONSTRUCTION]
Miniscule cubes of mimicry emerged from thin air, filling the blank space of the Void. They radiated outward until the system had created a life-sized diorama of the crime scene: the Ebott Town Border.
Despite its seeming realism, both husband and wife were not quite satisfied with the results.
Mezil tapped his cane. “Hmmm… it’s limited. Too limited.”
Lucidia further commented: “Frisk has yet to reach full adult height. Their lower eye level in addition to their diverted focus has reduced the base rendering distance.”
“Hmm,” he pondered. “Gaelic should have scoured every nook and cranny of Ebott Town. Try to patch in his scouting results.”
“Affirmative. Attempting to verify the age of data.”
[READING MEMORY DATA OF SUBJECT: GAELIC BLANC. MIX, RIGHT (PURPLE, ORANGE)]
[NARROWING SEARCH TO SELECTION]
[ERROR: SELECTION OUTDATED. PROCEED ANYWAY?]
Lucidia relayed the details to her husband. “Gaelic’s memory is over three months old. And, it’s from the second timeline since the Dreemurr Nation left the Underground.”
“So, we’re stuck with a white winter…” Mezil muttered. “Plot that terrain on a separate layer. It may still have some use.”
“Acknowledged. Generating terrain on Layer 2.”
The diorama expanded into the thick of winter. Only Frisk’s immediate data had the green foliage of spring.
“This will do for now,” said Mezil. “First, let’s examine ground zero.”
Looking out from Ebott Town, the forest stood on the right and meadows on the left. Frisk’s frozen copy was being whisked away by two bodyguards. The rest of the personnel had their guns drawn and on the lookout, defending the entourage.
Mezil took the time to check the faces of the staff on scene. “I recognize the bodyguards. Draw their profiles from the database and do a cross check.”
[MATCHING MEMORY WITH THE MAGUS ASSOCIATION REGISTRY]
“I did not find anything suspicious about their profiles,” Lucidia reported. “Would you like a copy?”
“Yes please. I’ll check them later.”
Lucidia spawned a tablet with the requested profiles and set that aside.
Mezil moved away from Frisk’s model and proceeded to check the cars. “Where was the Grandmaster?”
“Unknown,” Lucidia replied. “I was unable to confirm his location before Frisk quit the scenario. However, I am certain that he’s not in the frontmost vehicle: ‘Car 1’. Cenna knows the safety procedures: she will not disclose his location to possible enemies.”
“So he’s either in Car 2 or Car 3…”
There was a half-rendered image of a truck behind Car 3. “What’s this vehicle for?" Mezil asked.
“Number plate confirmed,” said Lucidia, “Source: Magus Logistics. That truck is carrying the Grandmaster’s gift for the feast. He arranged for one earlier today.”
“So it’s a part of his entourage, huh.”
That concluded the initial examination of the border’s immediate surroundings. The investigation resumed on Car 1, the victim of the crime. It suffered one large bullet hole at the backseat window.
Mezil requested Lucidia to render the interiors of Car 1. But the Chronographer ran into yet another problem.
“Error: Frisk is unable to see beyond the vehicle’s tinted glass.”
He said, “Then we extract the data from Cenna’s Proxy Mark instead.”
The sentiment brought up the unmistakable disgust. “Do we have to do that? She’s the victim…”
“Even better,” Mezil replied in a deadpan manner.
Peppered with crankiness, Lucidia complained: “Are you forgetting that the carnage will go straight through my mind? It’s more invasive than merely looking at the results.”
Blinking twice, her puzzled husband said, “But you’ve handled autopsies for almost three decades?”
“I know, I know,” she sighed. “It’s just. Nevermind. Please disregard my unprofessional whining.”
And so, she loaded the data before she made a further embarrassment of herself.
Then, she took off the visors and rubbed her eyes.
“It’s done…? Except, I am not bothered? Does the Chronograph require maintenance? I must examine this without any peripheral equipment.”
Lucidia hurried over to open the car’s damaged door. When she did so, she did not encounter a grisly mess of what used to be a human being. Rather… white glitch-squares censored Cenna’s remains. Blood was absent as well.
Exasperated, Mezil yelled at the false sky: “FRISK!!! You showered in the dust of countless monsters, yet you can’t render ONE human being?!?”
The technical difficulty was an amusing welcome to an otherwise grim investigation. Chuckling, she commented: “Dust is sterile by comparison. Even I, as a monster, admit to such. Nonetheless… your suggestion was not a total loss.”
She pointed to the condition of the back seat. “The window is riddled with small radial cracks. The cushions are torn apart in a similar manner. Furthermore, I see holes in the ceiling as well. They appear to be particles launched in a high velocity from a single point. I suspect that we’re dealing with a shrapnel shell. Every shot is guaranteed lethal.”
“Illegal war-grade equipment…” said Mezil. “Is it Gungnir gear?”
“Unable to confirm query. I must first analyze the fragments to determine the bullet’s make. Furthermore, the black market does not care about affiliation.”
“Which means we could be dealing with a mercenary as well. I won’t be surprised if some rich sod paid this person to sow chaos. Still, it’s still too soon to speculate motives. The ‘how’ matters more at the moment.”
Mezil faced the forest. “At least we know the attack came from that direction.”
“Is it an ideal place to hide, is it not?” asked Lucidia. “The forest provides plenty of cover.”
“Hmm… depends. It also blocks line of sight. Mobility may be an issue, as well. Could you generate a sniper rifle, a laser pointer, and a tripod for me?”
The tools were generated as requested. Mezil slung them over his shoulders and began trekking into the false forest.
“Do you need to change into hunting gear? Your coat might get caught in the shrubs.”
“No. It’s fine. Snow aside, it’s easier to walk than I thought.”
Test one, sniper gun only. No tripod. Mezil tried to adjust his aim with the guide of the red laser. He tried standing. Kneeling. Lying down on his front.
Frowning, he said, “To get this aim, you’d have to peer between the narrow gaps of the underbrush. There’s nothing to see beyond a tiny opening. And I expect worse visibility in springtime’s foliage. It’s an utter crapshoot.”
Test two, sniper gun with tripod. He adjusted it to match different height levels… and he still ended up dissatisfied.
“Still the same problem.” Mezil furrowed his brow. “Also, going back any further would put me in the trees. And beyond that, it’s Ebott Town… but, firing from a building doesn’t match either. The angle is wrong. Too low. The shooter must have been at ground level.”
“Between visibility and distance, it appears that this clearing is the best site. The shot must have rung from here.”
“Come to think of it…” Lucidia crossed her arms. “No one mentioned anything about gunfire sounds. Not even the most silent guns are completely inaudible. Someone should have heard something from your current position.”
“Perhaps it was masked by the engines of Gungnir’s entourage. However… if I’m that sniper, I would have preferred the meadows. More space, better view, and I could have fired from a much greater distance. Escape could be easier too. One just needs a sturdy off-road bike.”
Mezil dispelled the test guns. “Nonetheless, we have enough to work out a plan. Frisk will handle the border, while Cenna will attempt to ambush the sniper from the woods. Have Garamond investigate the alleys in that part of Ebott Town, but leave Gaelic on standby. The sniper could retaliate and I want him to be able to assist at either point.”
“Orders acknowledged. Relaying tactics to Crimson Keeper Frisk…”
Lucidia, however, didn’t want to interrupt the Wanderstars. They just started and didn’t have much opportunity to spend time together.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“…After their gaming session,” she added. “I shall summon the Blancs instead. They should be in Room 6.”
A door materialized. Opening it revealed that the cousins were keeping themselves occupied playing a game of cards.
Gaelic’s face lit up in delight. “Work be calling?”
Lucidia nodded. “Yes. Or, do you want to complete your game with Garamond first?”
“Nay, nay!” He tossed the cards aside without a second thought. “‘Twas but a trifling timewaster. Starting to grow mighty bored, aye.”
“Likewise,” said Garamond. “This was the tenth round.”
Looks like she will have to tell them about the Wanderstars’ jolly sidetrackings later. “I shall then explain to you about the mission details. It will require your cooperation.”
* * *
The next loop ended worse than the last.
Frisk writhed on a bed in the Hub’s Medical Bay, determined not to scream. A phantom pain lingered despite their survival. Their body may be fine, but their Psychia had yet to catch up.
Their elder sister did her best to console them. “Frisky! I’m here, Frisky! Everything will be okay!”
“Incoming injection,” said Lucidia.
She held the child down with Blue Magic and inserted a needle into their arm. The relief was almost immediate.
Panting, Frisk asked: “What in the world just happened? Time was RESET! Why did it STILL hurt like heck???"
Cenna patted their head. “Your SOUL hasn’t caught up with the fact you ain’t bleeding to death yet. I hate it when that happens too.”
Sitting up, the kid’s attention diverted to the Supreme Judge.
“Tsunderjudge,” they pouted, “I really could have used a warning.”
“Well,” he shrugged. “I wouldn’t know that you’re so unlucky. The chances are slim, and when it does happen I just tough it out. The pain never lasts too long.”
Frisk glared back in disbelief. “When you lose an arm, a leg, an eye, and half of a face, even one second is too long.”
“Then you now understand the dangers. Illegal weapons are illegal for a reason.”
The child slumped forward and breathed a huge sigh. “I’m so glad I have time travelling powers.”
Lucidia tucked them in. “Frisk, you should rest for the time being. Cenna will take care of you. Meanwhile, Mezil and I will investigate the crime scene.”
“You sure?” they asked, “I feel fine.”
“The medication might cause some drowsiness. It’ll hamper your judgement.”
“Can’t you dispel the meds with magic?”
Smiling, the Chronographer shook her head. “Negative. I do not want to edit your body at such an invasive level. It is better to let biology run its course.”
“Yay, more hangout breaks!”
Oh, what an adorable child they are.
Husband and wife then left the Wanderstars to their rest. The siblings began chatting, and anything was loud in this silent Hub.
Cenna asked, “So Frisky, colour me curious. Which is worse: Sans’ Karma or getting blown up?”
“HMMMMMMM!” Frisk pondered. “Neither! Drowning takes the cake. It’s pure terror incarnate. That happened during the ‘Chara Exorcism Arc’ and it was the WORST!”
“Huh. I expected Karma. Gael described it as ‘soul fire’, but to me it looked more like some acid from hell. Remember his angel mode? That stuff ate through everything!”
“Normal Karma is not Super Karma. I could still fight with Normal Karma coursing through my veins, so not so bad I guess? Have you drowned before, sis?”
“Nope! Records state that I never got killed by an environmental hazard. I only remember certain stabs and shots. Hate to admit it, but Ol’ Mez really took care of me.”
Ah… Lucidia sighed. Living Victories and their morbid sense of humour. It’s part of their coping strategies, I suppose. I’m not immune to them either.
Mezil leaned close to his wife. “Are you trying to spare Frisk?”
In response, Lucidia tapped her husband on the tip of his nose. “Let the child keep whatever innocence they have left. Not everyone is as hardboiled as you are.”
“It appears that my wife is growing sassier since that silly livestream session. I wonder why…”
“Do you have a problem, Judge Thyme?” There was a slight hint of mischief to her tone.
“No. Not at all,” he faked a cough. “In fact, I think I prefer it that way.”
“You better keep that to yourself, Mezzy. Otherwise the cheeky children will tease you to no end.”
“A fair assessment.”
Mezil tapped his cane three times at the end of the hallway. The floor descended in segments, forming a flight of stairs down to the Chronographer’s Laboratory. It’s designed to recognize only his cane or Lucidia’s heels so no rambunctious visitor stumbles into the sanctioned zone by accident.
At the base of the steps, he tapped his cane another three times to reverse the process. It’s back to work for the two veterans. Lucidia put on her visor again and they reconstructed the most recent failed border attempt.
In this turn of events, the following changes happened:
Car 1 was not shot. Instead, King Asgore suffered a direct strike to the chest, causing him to explode into a cloud of dust and shrapnel.
Captain Undyne, Frisk, and every other person who were near Asgore suffered collateral damage. Humans or Monsters, adult or child… the laws of physics made no such distinction.
Again, the white squares censored any death and gore.
Mezil’s cane brushed against a scarlet ponytail lying on the road. “Captain Undyne is not dust yet, but she wouldn’t have survived for long. The shrapnel ripped through her vitals.”
“As for Frisk, if the injuries were as severe as their description, they were doomed as well. A child has less blood and therefore will exsanguinate sooner.”
Lucidia muttered, “They were closest to King Asgore…”
He asked: “What happened at Cenna in the meantime?”
“I will update the forest with Judge Caraway as the anchor.”
She shifted their positions to the forest zone.
Cenna entered the woods as they had planned. Everything within her line of sight transformed from white snow to spring foliage. So far, so good. Her path was unhampered and she was not reacting to any danger.
When she arrived at the presumed shooting grounds… she found nobody. Left, right, up, down, she searched, yet she could not find her target anywhere.
Then, the chaos at the border happened. That concludes her scenario.
What a troubling development. Lucidia frowned with worry. “Error: like Judge Caraway, I am unable to detect evidence indicating the presence of our assailant.”
“Which means…” said Mezil. “This time, the attack came from the meadows instead. Tsk, what a pain!”
“Judge Thyme. After we analyze the ballistics, we should discuss our findings with the Wanderstars. They may know something we don’t.”
The findings were explained over butterscotch pie and tea. It’s Frisk’s favourite dessert in lieu of their memories of Queen Toriel.
“According to my analysis,” she said, “The shots from Loop 2 and 3 came from the same gun. I could not find evidence of magical enhancement or trace it to any known source. We also noted that it only fired once. It’s possible that the perpetrator is trying to leave behind minimal evidence while staying mobile. The use of shrapnel shells suggests that the goal is to inflict maximum damage per attempt.”
Mezil added, “Note that we’re dealing with a single gunman. Had it been a squad, Lucidia would have found two different samples. However, given how quickly they moved from the forest to the meadows, I’m inclined to think the enemy has a Living Victory on their side. Whoever they are, they can’t be older than a teenager.”
It saddened Lucidia to think about it. As far as she could tell, only young children like Frisk escaped the Year of Judgement. Add ten years and these Reds still wouldn’t be full-fledged adults.
After listening to the explanation, Frisk raised their tiny fork in epiphany: “Aaaaaaaaah!”
“What is it, Frisky?” Cenna asked.
“I forgot to tell you something super important,” said the child. “I heard from Dad that one of Aiden’s sons is a Red.”
“Serious?!”
“Yeah, serious. But Sans is the one who told him, and he couldn’t see which.” Frisk pretended to tug an invisible cloak over their shoulders. “They’re wearing special clothes that block magic.”
“Strong enough to deter SANS?!” Cenna rubbed her temples. “Damn. I guess some of our material ended up in their hands too.”
Frisk cut another slice of their pie. “I still find it a bit ironic that Aiden is using magic to fight magic.”
Lucidia explained: “Without magitek, the materials that interfere with Seers are few and cumbersome. Aiden appears to be more pragmatic than he lets on. Judge Thyme, which of the two sons do you think fits Sans’ analysis?”
The man finished his cup of tea. “The elder prince Dayton is too skittish and reckless, unbefitting a Red Major. He would be a Red Minor at best. Which leaves us with the younger prince, Niton. An amicable stoic, seemingly innocent…”
Frisk pouted. “Was Sans being vague again? He really should stop that.”
Lucidia responded, “Negative. Sans Serif protected King Asgore’s interests. He didn't have a concrete answer to risk the peace talks.”
“Hmmm… I can see the point,” said the child. “Aiden would freak out if the King of Monsters knew which of his sons was a Red.”
“Correct.” It’s quite a relief to see Frisk catching on the fine nuances. It will help in their future job.
Mezil contemplated out loud. “Then, if Niton -- the second prince -- is their Living Victory, what purpose do they gain from disrupting the feast?”
The Vanquisher crossed her legs over. “Maybe they’re trying to trap us. Make us look bad and incompetent.”
Nodding rapidly, Frisk added: “I agree with sis. He tricked Papyrus into cooking the impossible. Without Aiden’s favourite dish, it’s just a normal dinner. Doomed to fail.”
The old judge set his cup on the table. “That might have been the case if both of us didn’t reveal our respective secrets. But now, he should have a vested interest to obtain his father’s spirit and to determine your true nature as a possible Persona.”
“I have another counter,” said Lucidia. “A sniper attack is suboptimal for Aiden in every scenario. It’s difficult to coordinate with so many eyes watching him and his people. Plus, it fails to do any permanent damage as Judge Thyme still retains the Keys of Fate.”
“Honestly, if I wanted to use the feast as a means to set up a trap, I would have Niton enchant a potent poison. Then, I would have sent a spy as Papyrus’ kitchen aide to add the solution into his cooking. I would let the Magi and monsters eat first. When the poison takes effect, I could even accuse them of attempting to kill me.”
“Even if the sniper is of Gungnir origin, we cannot rule out infighting. This Aratet Welcoming Feast is controversial on all fronts: both of magic and of blood.”
“Wow,” Frisk commented. “You might be right. W-wait. What’s stopping them from doing that anyway? What if this sniper hoo-hah is just a distraction from the poison plan?”
Which the Tactician responded: “Your hypothesis is a definitive possibility. I see no reason why they would not attempt it regardless.”
The child stared at the remains of their pie. After a while, they put the dish on the table. “I think I lost my appetite…”
“Suggestion: we should replicate Loop 1 in full. If our enemies actually have a Living Victory, they will recognize this as a trap. If not, then a repeat will happen. There is a third option that they will repeat themselves despite knowing it’s a trap… but doing so only puts themselves in range of Gaelic’s fangs."
Mildly annoyed, Frisk asked: “Does that mean Cenna has to die again?”
“Depends,” Lucidia answered. “Stick to the plan and Gaelic may be able to ambush the attacker. Cenna would survive in that scenario, allowing you to complete your mission on the third loop.”
That morsel of hope was enough to fire up their determination.
“Okay then. Let’s do this!”
* * *
The fourth loop ended prematurely. Gaelic’s life was snuffed out while he travelled around town. There were no witnesses to explain what happened, other than the victim.
…If only they could catch him first.
For the past fifteen minutes or so, the Wanderstar siblings had tried to coax Gaelic out from the garden’s jasmine bushes. Yet, he continued to dart around for cover.
When they went left, he fled right.
When they went right, he fled left.
Frisk tried throwing some hot dogs on the grass. That just chased him further away.
“Why is he running away from food???” Cenna exclaimed.
An equally perplexed Frisk said: “I don’t know either! I thought you’re the Snakedog expert, Cen!”
“This is new for me too, Frisky! Just don’t use any DT okay???”
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Been there done that.”
Mezil sighed. “Calm down, you two. Your antics are only adding fuel to the fire. Why don’t we try putting down some blankets?”
“Try these instead,” Lucidia conjured a bowl of tiny boiled quail eggs and handed it over to her husband. “His favourite of favourites.”
“Come to think of it… we haven’t had these in a long while.”
The three humans thus started a quail egg picnic to prove to Gaelic that they were not enemies. He had yet to accept their offer.
“Won’t you join us?” Frisk asked Lucidia.
“Negative,” said Lucidia, “I need to cross reference something in the Chronograph. Besides, my presence might create a group too large for Gaelic to be comfortable.”
“Okay…” Though dejected, the child accepted her excuse. “It’s just… he seems to like you the most.”
They had a point. Her staying might have helped Gaelic recover. After all, she was his oldest friend.
However, she had a hunch that his testimony would be too traumatizing for him to recall. And it probably wouldn’t be coherent either. It was better for her to gather the cold, hard data straight from the Mark of Proxy’s recollection of events.
Then there was the other thing that she wanted to confirm. It’s a hunch that gnawed on her bones since The Megalovania Incident…
On the way back into the mansion, she met Garamond. He had an unlit cigar in one hand and a screen in the other. The device displayed a map of Ebott Town.
With a hand over his chest, he saluted to the Chronographer. “Lady Lucidia, how is Gaelic?”
“My husband and the Wanderstars are still attempting to coax him. Do you have anything to report?”
“Yes Ma’am. The streets of that section of Ebott Town are all clear. However, a word of caution: the Mark of Proxy on us Blancs was not properly maintained. While it’s strong enough to bring us into the Hub, you may encounter complications in the extraction process.”
The child’s lack of experience had shown their cracks. “I see. The warning is much appreciated. Also, I shall add your findings to the database.”
After a small bow of gratitude, she continued on her way.
However, she couldn’t stop thinking about the unlit cigar. The scent of tobacco always makes her cough. Over the years, he knew not to smoke around her. Void or no Void.
Turning back to Garamond, Lucidia then said: “You may smoke to your heart’s content. I will be in the basement and not within your immediate vicinity.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
She heard the lighter’s click right before entering the mansion proper.
[WELCOME, SEER LUCIDIA]
[ESTABLISHING CONNECTION]
[BLUE: READY]
[GREEN: READY]
[PURPLE: READY]
[VITAL SIGNS: ALL CLEAR]
[EXTERNAL VISUAL OVERLAY: DISABLED]
[DISPLAYING DATA ON PATIENT 01: GAELIC BLANC]
[COMPILING RESULTS]
[GENERATING LINE GRAPH]
The results confirmed her worst suspicions. Gaelic’s recovery was slow and unstable, with a clear decline.
…Unleashing his Armament worsened his condition more than anticipated. Sans Serif’s ruthless assault further added to the mental strain.
I shouldn’t have given him that energy potion. Why did I authorize that?
I… I should have known better.
Regret, regret, regret. Lucidia took off her visor to shed a tear. As much as she wanted to break down and cry her heart out, she could not allow herself to fall.
What good is there for me to mope? I should make the most out of this situation.
Putting the medical data aside, she moved on to official business.
[CALIBRATING TO SUBJECT: GAELIC BLANC. MIX, RIGHT (PURPLE, ORANGE]
[INTEGRATING PROXY MARK]
[PROCESSING CLAUSES…]
[PARSING…]
[PARSING…]
[PARSING…]
[EXTERNAL VISUAL OVERLAY: ENABLED]
[GENERATING PLAYBACK]
The scene began with Gaelic traversing the forest. He hopped, ran, and climbed in the shadows, making sure that no one followed him.
The journey continued until he reached the clearing: the site of the first shooting. As expected, there was no one to be seen.
Gaelic discarded his helmet. He burned his Eye to scout his surroundings far and wide. Lucidia tried to sync with his sight, but the Chronograph failed to connect. It likely was due to the weakened Proxy Mark as Garamond had warned.
From the way he scanned, it seemed that he found no one at the meadows either. He looked back to town. No one there either.
Then he flicked his tongue to taste the air. His stance snapped into one of alarm. He turned towards a tree… and dashed straight into it at maximum velocity.
There’s a portal there? This confirms Mezil’s test trajectory.
A series of hops took him far away from the Ebott region. It’s one of the defunct train tunnels that came to be a crossroad of portals.
A downwind breeze blew through the tunnel. Gaelic immediately ducked low on all fours to maintain his dash.
Gunfire rumbled across the tunnel.
That sounds like… a bullet?
Lucidia paused the playback. Bit by bit she rewound… until she had a crystal clear frame of the bullet floating in midair. It was almost right in front of Gaelic’s face.
Model and type confirmed with ballistics. It’s a match!
Gaelic dodged last minute and continued to run on all fours, using his Seer’s powers to leave inaccurate afterimages of his location.
This forced the sniper to fire a second time. Again, Gaelic avoided both the primary fire and the secondary shrapnel blast. The tunnel’s cacophony further masked Gaelic’s true position. This attacker won’t have the same advantage as Sans Serif had.
There, at the end of his run, was none other than the elusive enemy. The answer to the mystery:
A Seer Sniper.
Right Eye. Yellow. Cyan. Orange.
The Fire of Humanity burned bright.
Then their Eye went dark. Instead of firing for a third time, the opponent took something out of their pocket.
That was the last coherent memory. What came after was a rippled mess of twisted colours.
A sharp pain buzzed through Lucidia’s skull. She felt her body tumble backwards. Her arms reached forward to grab something. Anything. Yet she sank deeper and deeper into a realistic nightmare.
[UNKNOWN ERROR!]
[ATTEMPTING TO ABORT SESSION]
[WARNING! UNABLE TO ABORT!]
[ERROR]
[ERROR]
[ERROR]
[SYSTEM FAILURE DETECTED! ERROR CODE 666: INITIATING EMERGENCY PROTOCOL]