Dad thought that he needed to return to his humble home for a quick bath. He said that it’s improper for a King to handle official matters while soiled by biological hazards. The political battlefield is not the same as the Sealing War, or so he said.

Thus Mom left to escort Dad back to his home. Knowing the amount of fur he has, his bath would be anything but a quick splash. It’ll take a while. A looong while.

Mettaton and his TV crew meanwhile had gone back to the Lab, alongside Doctor Alphys. It’s for the best, especially when they needed to prepare an emergency announcement over what befell their tragic livestream.

As for Princess Cenna, she replaced Grillby’s duty to watch over Snakeface. He’s… having a mighty bad time at the moment.

You’re now the only one with the appetite to have a proper dinner. You thus went to the kitchen to acquire a nice, warm bowl of spaghetti meatballs. After a quick intermission to the toilet, of course.

On the way back, you wondered if Papyrus made any headway with his mission. It's been a while.

The ambulance sirens could already be heard moving further and further away. Good. They had done their job. Terrorists or not, doctors were bound by oath to treat anyone, even The Gungnir.

A ‘surprise’ awaited you at your classroom. By now, you’re kinda used to situations like these. What does one call the expected unexpected?

Two battle-hardened men sat face-to-face, separated by the length of two student tables. If they got any closer, it might become a fist fight.

On the left, it’s Tsunderjudge.

On the right, it’s Aiden.

You skirted around the room to sit in your chair and slurp on your spaghetti. Ah. Nothing beats a good portable bowl of warm noodles and meatballs on a cold, rainy night. The aroma of the sauce overpowered the otherwise unpleasant scents of blood and antiseptic. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Darn, Aiden's one tough cookie. Here he was, sitting in your class wrapped in bloodied bandages. You bet he insisted to stay behind, delaying his leave at the risk of his own life. He sure cares about his people.

…C’mon Papyrus, come back already. This is getting awkward.

You made a SAVE in your 5th and last slot. Just in case.

The tsundere huffed in all his old man tsundereness. “Don’t blame me if you drop dead on the spot. Go to the hospital already, you fool!”

“So you can run away, Vampire?” Aiden retorted. “I’m not letting you.”

“Tsk. Don’t you care about your wife and your surviving children?”

“None of your concern. I’m here for Niton. That innocent child had nothing to do with our conflict, yet things turned out as they did…”

Mezil countered, “‘Nothing’, you say? You used his musical performance to gain entry into this country. That’s as good as being complicit.”

“Baseless accusations! I could have entered your country in many other ways. The performance was just a coincidence!”

“And you’re going to claim it’s also a ‘mere coincidence’ that he knows how to dress your wounds? Sit for the talks? Attend this feast despite its dangers? Sang a lament for you and your elder son?”

“That’s his tribute of filial piety. A concept I find sorely missing in your decadent society.”

“Except your son is a ‘Chosen One’. I witnessed his very Psychia shatter in Queen Toriel’s hands. And you’re telling me that he didn’t help you in any of your operations at any time?”

Mezil leaned forward, menacing. “I was not born yesterday, Aiden of Aratet.”

You nodded as you munched on a meatball. Yep. Aiden may not be able to escape with any Diplomacy dice rolls here. Niton may not have hurt anyone personally, but you can’t see him being fully innocent either.

Mezil’s phone rang. By that alone, you knew the bad news was going to get worse. It’s just a matter of ‘how’.

He listened quietly. Intently. You stared at his face to try and read his emotions. For someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s quite stone-faced.

After he ended the call, he placed his phone on the table. The tsun treated the device like an incriminating photograph of a crime scene.

You sensed a dark menacing aura from Tsunderjudge. Oh boy, he’s triple serious.

“A music note,” he began. “The Mark of sound. Enchanted on a device capable of recording messages. That explains every mystery surrounding you and your ilk. You’ve been using your second son’s power to elude me. Do you dare insist on his supposed non-involvement?”

Come to think of it, Mezil had issues tracking down the Gungnir last Wednesday. If they didn’t have methods to record a RESET, they should’ve been arrested by the second or third loop. But… they kept eluding.

Mezil Thyme then pointed the top of his cane towards Aiden and proclaimed: “You’re the cause behind this mess.”

Aiden slammed his fist down. “Absurd! I call this is a Magus scheme! Why would I issue such an order against my own flesh and blood?!”

“Two observations, Aratet. First, you didn’t deny that musical Mark. Second, you immediately presume that this attack was intended to target The Gungnir. For you to make that conclusion, it means you know the true story.”

Ooooh. A trap! Talk about getting busted! You could see Aiden tensing up under Mezil’s ever-stronger pressure.

Since you finished your meal, you wiped your mouth clean and moved to the table. There, you put down an extra chair at Mezil’s side.

You tell him that you’ll handle this one, as Monsterkind's Ambassador.

“Fine by me.” The Tsunderjudge huffed.

Okay. The first thing you did was to present Tsunderjudge in all his entirety. You admit to Aiden that he’s hard-boiled, hard-headed, and an absolute pain to deal with. Plus the 24/7 dark 5 o’clock shadow doesn’t make things any easier. C’mon, the dude looks like an actual vampire! It’s understandable that Aiden mistrusts this image. But! You know from experience that he’s actually a pretty fair guy.

Tell the truth, and maybe everyone can work something out. Or go to the hospital first, because you don’t want Aiden to bleed to death in your classroom. That’s all you ask.

Aiden groaned from his physical wounds and his heart’s inner conflict. You’re determined to be patient.

At last… he gave in. “Fine. I will disclose one secret, and only one. You have yet to gain my trust for anything more.”

That’s a good start. So, what’s the story?

“Niton’s blessing is given only to two devices. One of those is mine.”

And the other…?

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Aiden remained silent. Drats.

The Tsunderjudge then said: “The other device would be in the hands of his second-in-command, or a direct relative. Either way, there’s a reason Aiden wanted to control this information. Niton’s Mark embodies absolute authority. Every message recorded under that symbol must be obeyed without question. For that to end up in the hands of an assassin that Aiden did not employ…”

…It means a traitor exists within the Gungnir ranks. Isn’t that right?

“Yes. And it also means that Aiden and his sons were indeed the Sniper’s true targets.”

What?! Not the Grandmaster? Not Mezil either? Not even you and your dad?!?!

“We were nothing but pawns for the ideal outcome.”

You clearly remember Aiden mentioning that the loyalty of his people was his strength. What happened to that?

“Universal loyalty is impossible.” Mezil explained, “I presume having this feast in the open -- with me as a main guest -- goes against the interests of the wider Gungnir community.”

Let’s get something straight. The Gungnir traitors teamed up with the traitors of the Magus Association to hire an assassin to kill AIDEN, of all people???

“You’ve summarized it well, Frisk,” said the Tsunderjudge. “Except in their eyes, Aiden and his Aratet are the true traitors. Every accusation he had heaped on my head is now his current reality. Such massive irony.”

Aiden tried his darndest to hide. You’re sure he’s dying from shame, anger, and betrayal. Figuratively, you hope. You REALLY don’t want him to drop dead in your classroom.

Anyway, if that’s the case, the answer is straightforward: make sure nothing happens to Aiden next loop. Let’s turn the tables! Besides, the both of them now have a common enemy.

“Don’t you think it would be prudent to question why Aiden wants this feast to proceed, despite the risks? He’s playing with fire to sit at the same table as the ‘heretics’ he demonizes.”

That can wait until after the crisis. Though, it would be nice to know right now too.

Aiden sighed. “Royal Child, I still doubt the King of Monster’s ability to rule. But, he told me a story that I won’t forget: it was about life under that cursed mountain. We Aratet live close to the sky, yet the results are the same. We are prisoners in our own land. Confined. Suffocating. My goal is to make my people free again. No matter the cost!”

In which the Tsunderjudge was far from impressed. “Free? Free to do what? The main tribe chooses to live on the plateaus either way, secluded from larger society. Self-exile is as good as imprisonment.”

Woah there! You objected to those statements! You bet that there will be folk who choose to migrate out. They shouldn’t fear genocide just because they’re genetically related!

The old Magus clicked his tongue. He’s reaching the level where he couldn’t contain his irritation.

“We don’t need a rickety tower of ironies stacked on top of each other! In case you had forgotten, HIS entire organization is dedicated to the obliteration of monsterkind! Your pity will be wasted.”

It doesn’t have to be that way! Maybe Mister Lord Vampire could stand to be less antagonistic for once!

Next thing you know, two intense gazes locked at you. They’re filled with doubt and suspicion.

Mezil remarked, “Is your immaturity catching up with your physical age? …It’s almost as if you’re trying to bite the hand that feeds you.”

And Aiden questioned: “Whose side are you on? You claim to be a Crimson Keeper, yet you know the Gungnir Knife dance. You are like a reed in the wind.”

No and no.

You have your own stance, and it’s this: both the Magi and Gungnirs are being big fat doodooheads! In case they forgot, there’s an apocalypse happening in less than three weeks! This is not the time for digging down heels and headbutting each other.

You want both sides to establish at least a short-term truce. You know Ebott’s Monsterkind will be happy with any decision as long as there’s no immediate danger at their doorstep.

Mezil said, “Your mother, the Queen, still refuses to provide the necessary aid.”

All the more why the truce needs to happen. You know Mom. She won’t budge unless she feels safe. Maybe this is the peace of mind she needs.

“It is more than that,” Mezil said. Showing the numbers on his fingers, he explained: “She gave us three conditions. One, that you decide your fate in life. Two, that your father -- King Asgore -- will lead his people in the Ocean Battle. Three, a universal pardon for all his citizens.”

…You’re guessing that the third clause is the most difficult request.

“That goes without saying.”

Aiden grunted, trying to clear his throat. Despite being bandaged, he’s still losing some quantities of blood. It’s starting to make him thirsty.

You asked him if he wanted some water.

“No,” he declined. “I’m not that weak.”

Okay, if he insists.

“Look, Royal Child,” he glared at you. “Convince the Vampire to save my son, and you don’t need to concern yourselves over the missing children. We won’t interfere any longer. You handle your own mistakes.”

W-wait, he’s talking about The Six, right? Those who got lost on the mountain?

“Yes. Six children in exchange for one. Perhaps two, since I don’t know if Dayton will survive the night.”

You started to think. It would be a lie to say you were not enticed. The matter of The Six had been a metaphorical skeleton in the closet for ages! Considering how The Gungnir had a grip on the media, having Aiden off your back may--

Your thoughts were interrupted by Mezil Thyme’s angry tap of the cane.

He stood up. Why did he stand up? You didn’t think anyone said anything wrong.

“Son of Persona,” Mezil said. “What a blatant con. I can’t believe you’re making us waste our time on a mere puppet!”

A puppet?

“Yes, a mere puppet. Aiden can’t keep any of his promises either. He and his people have history and lineage, but they have no real power. No territory. No riches. He’s in the same position as us, if not worse. His command is enforced only per the agreement of the larger Gungnir community, which has betrayed him. In other words, he’s a puppet king.”

N-no way…! He was a fake? But the attack on the Spire was real. You AND your friends ended up in the hospital because of the whole ordeal!

If all of that was done by a fake leader, then what will a real attack look like?

“Don’t fret about that, Frisk. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve already won. We didn’t lose any personnel. Meanwhile, Aiden’s organization fell into further disarray. There’s no need to rewind.”

This time, Aiden was the one who stood up. From your angle, both adults seem to tower over you.

The younger adult demanded: “Return my father! Once I ascend as a true heir, you can have whatever you want. Name your price!”

Mezil huffed, “I doubt that. Bargain as much as you see fit, but I know you will not offer anything worthwhile.”

“Fine! Since you’re such a monster lover, let’s start with their ancient artifacts. Did you really think the relics of the lost ages vanished along with the dust of their original masters?”

You spotted a slight twitch of disgust on Mezil’s face. “Of course you and your ilk glorify the looting of the dead. What else should I expect?”

“Like it or not Vampire, you know your collection is not complete.”

“Unfortunately, yes. The relics we have recovered did not tally to what was lost in the Sealing War. We have long suspected that the ‘Legendary Hero’ had a hidden vault in your people’s land.”

Aiden reached his hand out and gripped it into a fist. “Correct. The most precious treasures were locked away, sealed by the symbol of Asas Asal Ara. Since its inception, we have guarded this vault for the arrival of the Chosen One of prophecy.”

Mezil shook his head. “Aratet. The Artificer’s works have long since exceeded the relics of old in quality. These ‘treasures’ will more likely end up as mementos for surviving descendants. It’s a low priority matter.”

“True. But they are still useful to me. I can mount an effective attack with their aid. What about land? Territory? I’ll give you the strongholds of our common enemy.”

“What good is land that cannot be defended? Declined.”

“Then what of riches? Your funding will be spent after your war in the ocean.”

“Ridiculous,” said Mezil. “I swore to never accept tainted or laundered money. Begone with that notion.”

“What about manpower? My people are strong and skillful. They’ve infiltrated even your ranks! If their expertise is desirable, you may employ them free of charge.”

“And worsen my security issues? Use your head for once.”

Frustrated, Aiden slammed the table. “Then what do you want, Vampire???”

“You.”

Both you and Aiden stared back in speechless silence. Did you hear that right? You sensed Determination radiating from that statement too.

“What…” Aiden muttered, “What did you just say?”

“I have mentioned this before. Son of Persona. There is only one thing I want from you.”

Mezil uncapped the top of the cane, unsheathing his hidden sword.

You protested. Why did he draw his weapon?! What in the world is he thinking???

The old man ignored your outbursts. He pointed the tip of the blade towards Aiden’s shoulder. “Your freedom for your son’s life. Bend your knee to me.”

You held your physical body tight to the seat. There’s only one thought flashing through your mind right now:

‘YOU OLD IDIOT!!!!’ Full on Flowey mode. Maybe this was how Flowey felt about you!

Gosh. This is not the time for that! What the heck is Mezil thinking?! What are you supposed to do? What could you say????

Your heart pounded as fast as your mind. Think, Frisk! Think! You’re so stressed out, your hair is standing on end.

…Wait. That was supposed to be a metaphor.

‘Supposed’ was the word, but you noticed that your hair actually DID start to stand on end.

You were reminded of Halloween. There was a curiosity vendor with a plasma ball. Touching it caused Mom and Dad's fur to defy gravity, fluffing them into a huge puff.

You were the puff now.

And there were no plasma balls here.

Aiden’s brown irises had turned a golden yellow. What’s more, that same shade shone through his clothes in the shape of his SOUL.

The air grew thick with magic. Streaks of magical electricity -- powered by Aiden’s raw emotions -- coursed through the walls and the ceiling into every lamp, every switch and every outlet. Including the school computer on the teacher’s desk.

Each flashed with Aiden’s Mark: the Gungnir’s Legendary Lightning Bolt.

Oh CRAP!!!!

Mezil pushed you down. Even though your mind had yet to catch up, your body acted. You dove straight under the table and covered your head.

The next thing you knew, Aiden unleashed his will in all its fury. It was utter chaos. Mayhem! A blinding light struck your eyes and a loud crack smashed your eardrums.

Before you could even think to RESET, the sheer thundering force knocked you out cold.