Once the flowers returned, they put together a hand drawn map of all the known locations of the people you requested. You snapped a picture of them on your Marked phone as reference for the future.
Everyone was accounted for except for Jacob. Curious.
After a ten minute walk or so with Flowey’s map, you arrived at a giant dark blue tent pitched in an open field. Police and Magi worked in rotating shifts. While one team returned to resupply and rest, another team moved out to replace the gaps. It’s a non-stop operation.
Sans surveyed the surroundings. “Huh. Talk about returning to a familiar place.”
What about it?
“This was where I fought Doctor Gaster when he first returned from his exile. Back then, everything was still covered in a thick layer of snow.”
Huh. So it appears that you’re standing on quite a historic site. Does he feel nostalgic about it?
“Sorta. I wasn’t as mature as I’d like to think. I honestly dunno if my current self would still dive into the sea to let my magic go wild.”
You half-jokingly told him that he sounds like an old fart.
“Heh heh heh… Maybe that’s better for everyone.”
Lots has changed since the beginning of your adventure. And you’re still not done yet. Hopefully, future developments will keep pointing towards a positive place.
To your surprise, nobody tried to stop you from entering the tent. By now, everyone seemed to have recognized you as the pint-sized Crimson Keeper. It didn’t even matter if Sans seemed suspicious; they trusted your judgement.
Hmmm, could this be what being a boss feels like? The Tsunderjudge always carried himself with a sense of confident clout, even when he wasn’t welcomed.
Right when you entered the tent, you were greeted by some good old angry Copman ranting.
Sans leaned closer to you and whispered: “Check the time, hurry.”
You quickly whipped out your phone. It’s 11:32 AM.
“What in the blue blazes are you bloody on about?!” Roger yelled, “I DO NOT need to be rescued! Who’s the daft wanker that told you I was kidnapped??? I drove all the way to Goatsville of my own free will! My! Own! Free! Will!”
He paused for a moment to listen to the reply. “Tell those cheeky bastards to keep their eyes square on their own rotten stations! And that’s an order!” With that, he ended the call.
After chugging down some good ol’ water for hydration, he grumbled: “No wonder the Old Thymer warned me about those dipshits. Talk about a mountain of humbug...”
In other words, Roger would receive an aggravating phone call from his headquarters at roughly 11:32 in the morning. You made a mental note and pocketed your phone.
Copman Roger soon noticed your group. “Welcome to Command, Tiny Keeper! Sorry for the lack of escort. As you can see here, shorthanded is the understatement of the century.”
You asked him how the defenders lost most of their forces.
“Gosh, last night was bonkers. Right after that goopy mad scientist made his damn broadcast, every Tom, Dick and Harry tried to barrel through the border for some fisticuffs!”
Pointing to his right, he said: “Our neighbouring field hospital just hit max capacity. Lacerations, bruising, concussions, burns, smoke inhalation, you name it, we have it. The real serious, life-threatening cases were already air-lifted outta here. But I expect more by the evening.”
Then, he pointed at Edmund and Victor studying multiple printouts of the town map. “Those two are at least putting their volunteer badges to use. Glad some buggers still know how to read a map. Cartography is the heart of tactics!”
You walked over to the map table. It’s… shockingly low tech. You expected a computer projecting on a screen, at the very least.
“Considering you guys already had one heck of a massive blackout, I came prepared for another one. Which means sticking it to good-old fashioned physical objects! Makes it a lot more convenient to move those pieces around too.”
Simple plastic toy models were positioned in an approximate equivalent of reality. If used by a child, they would be for make-believe. That wasn’t the case here.
You picked up a simple dark-blue model truck from the edge of the table. Blue for police?
Cenna confirmed your assessment. “Ahuh. Blue for police. Roger also uses yellow for Magi, green for military, white for civilians, and red for enemies.”
Conveniently colour coded for clarity. It’s both fun and practical!
Edmund and Victor paused their work to check on you.
Patting your back, the cool grandpa asked: “Feeling better, kid?”
Yup. Pretty healthy.
“Even after such an insane battle?” Victor chuckled. “I must be getting old if I’m jealous of a child’s resilience.”
It was right then when Roger’s walkie-talkie started to crackle. He picked it up and started listening. Immediately, his brows furrowed.
“All hands on deck, ladies and gents!” Roger yelled out loud. “We got a breach at Point Gamma! I repeat, we got a breach at Point Gamma! Move your asses everyone!”
W-W-WHAAAT?!?!?
“Hey Ed, babysit the kiddo! I’m getting backup to Captain Undyne!”
Lucas and Cenna started to get ready as well. Since they’re on active duty, they too must answer the call to action.
Ack, wait! Please bring you along--
Too late. Roger left the tent with Lucas, Cenna, and a whole bunch of law enforcers. You’re stuck here with the tactical toy models.
You checked the time again. Undyne contacted him at 11:40 AM.
Leaning over your shoulders, Edmund let out a curious hum. “You know, it doesn’t happen every time, but when it does everything seems to fall into place a little too perfectly. I always suspected something was strange when Mezil constantly checked the clock.”
Victor chuckled. “Like how Seonbae knows the ins-and-outs of a completely new device in a matter of seconds?”
“Or how he predicted all those ambushes?”
“Or how he knows the map in more detail than both of us combined?”
Annoyed, you pouted and answered: yes, yes, and more yes! Are they done fawning over the wonders of time travel?
“Alright, alright,” Edmund smiled. “What do you want to know?”
What is this ‘Point Gamma’ Roger spoke about? And where is it?
He pointed to the packed clusters of models. “See those, Frisk? They’re the designated protest spots.”
Upon observing closer, you noticed that all four parties were accounted for in those locations: police, Magi, Royal Guard, and ‘protesters’.
“Well, the people of this country have the right to protest. And it’s not like Doctor Gaster didn’t fan the flames. In order to reduce casualties on both sides, the police announced that they should air all their grievances in one of these three zones.”
Pointing towards the border itself, he explained: “That’s Point Alpha.”
The location corresponded to what you had seen from Alphys’ Lab. With that much open space, it’s easy for people to start fires.
“Over here is Point Beta.”
That's the library, otherwise fondly known as ‘Librarby’.
“As for where Roger went…” Victor pointed to the remaining site. “Point Gamma. I believe it’s your town’s open-air market.”
All three zones were the most spacious public sites you could think of. Your town lacked the usual embassies and monuments for such gatherings, so these were the next best options.
Was this what Mezil wrangled with the whole night? You imagined all the work he had to do to organize this.
Sans traced the roads with his finger, his eyes zipping back and forth as his gears started moving. “…Point Gamma is the zone closest to the Town Hall. That’s their target: the nation’s political heart.”
“We think so too,” said Victor, “That’s why Eldin is giving it his all to stop them.”
Pulling up his hood, Sans said: “I’m gonna go scout. Be right back.” He vanished in a blink to go where he needed to go.
And now, you were left alone with the seniors. Oh well. It’s probably best that you stay out of trouble for the time being.
The silence allowed Victor to destress a bit. “…Some things really don’t change.”
His comment caught your interest. What does he mean by that?
“Seonbae. Ah, well, he slips into his Harbinger mode sometimes. Last night, during the briefing, both Roger and Seonbae had the same idea to create designated safe zones. But they communicated that point in completely opposite manners.”
You’re interested in hearing it.
“Well, Seonbae said…” In the best Mezil impression he could muster, Victor quoted: “‘Anyone who steps out of bounds shall be considered invaders, and their life will be forfeit’.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
You gulped in fear, remembering how he threatened you in his DEMON mode.
“But Roger smacked his forehead and said…” This time he mimicked Copman. “‘Goddammit you socially awkward edgelord! You wanna provoke them or what?! Tell them that as long as they stay inside these zones, the police can guarantee their protection!’”
You blinked a few times. Then, you pointed out that they mean exactly the same thing. Charging out of the zones burning, looting, and screaming might as well be an invasion. The Royal Guard can’t stand around letting any scumbags destroy their town, so of course they’re gonna get whacked!
“But the public don’t see themselves as invaders. Quite the opposite. They consider themselves as defenders of humanity. Commissioner Eldin’s choice of words would appeal to their perception better.”
Does that mean Mezil’s biggest weakness is his lackluster communication skills?
Edmund shook his head. “I wouldn’t call them lackluster. Rather, he prefers to warn about the consequences instead of sugar-coating the situation.”
That… That does sound like him.
Since you’re waiting for your crew to return, you had some time on your hands to ask Edmund about the Winston curse. After all, Rosemary went spouting about Vlad Dracul and the Grim Reaper like they were real.
“Rosemary oh Rosemary… Mezil’s youthful appearance is just throwing her for a loop. She might call me a Vampire Lord too if she grasped my real age.”
You tilted your head, confused. What’s so vampiric about being 60-ish and active? Many humans are like that.
Edmund shook his head and chuckled. “I’m turning 79 this year.”
Three whole seconds passed before the fact sunk into your skull.
W H A T?!?!
Almost 80?! And going strong?! With colour in his hair?!?
“I know, right? Most of the Winstons lived to their late eighties with few health complications. Adding to that, my mother is also alive at a ripe old age of 110. She’s a candidate for the oldest-living person of this generation. Maybe it’s the combination of both sides that’s slowing my aging.”
But… but Tsunderjudge… He’s fully grey at 50…
“Actually,” Edmund made himself comfortable by sitting on the edge of the table. “That’s not a natural phenomenon. I heard from Lucy that he lost all colour in one month, right after his big showdown with Persona ten years ago.”
You recalled that he trapped Persona and himself in a DT-burning Arcanagram, then set that on fire. Sans and Papyrus call it the WESS. Something like… a Weaponized Seer’s Seal?
“If it weren’t for that incident, I think he would still have a full crop of a black top. For some reason, he refuses to dye it. Hey Victor, do you still have that photo edit?”
Victor the Junior took out his phone. “Give me a moment, boss. Let’s see… There. Take a look.”
He passed the phone to you. On the left was his latest pre-WESS photo. No wrinkles. Able to pass as a person in his mid twenties. Such biseinen.
On the right was his post-WESS self. You immediately recognized the silver hair. Yes, this was indeed the Tsunderjudge from when you first met him. Over time, the additional wrinkles made him look more senior than his age suggested.
Right below it was an edited version of the same picture. You squinted. What is this photo wizardry? He barely looks any different from how he currently looks, half a Philosopher Stone and all.
Pointing at the picture, Edmund said, “For us Winstons, our natural appearance always belies our real age. You’re used to the reverse because of that terrible night. I’m theorizing that Mezil mostly undid the damages he suffered then. Temporarily patching the cracks, so to say. It’s not like he could use that power to live forever. Now that’d be a real curse!”
Huh. Why would longevity be a curse, though? Isn’t that a blessing?
“Well… Let’s try this.” Clearing his throat, he deepened his voice and declared: “You who consumed the lives of countless innocents, may you never be marred by senescence or disease, so that you may live to grieve the loss of your peers, your sons, and your sons’ grandsons.”
…A mild shiver crawled across your skin. That’s one way to turn something good into something horrific.
Victor let out a loud, disappointed sigh. “Please don’t confuse our young Magus. Seonbae is not a soul-stealing Vampire Lord…”
“Well,” Edmund shrugged. “I realize he’s not. But let us entertain Rosie for a moment. After all, absence of proof is not proof of absence. There’s always been this anecdote about how every man descended from the Winston bloodline winds up in unusual circumstances of bad luck.”
Like?
“Getting caught on the occult side of a global war, impulse-buying an overpriced junker that broke down before it even left the driveway, getting plunged into a Magus conspiracy…”
William, Connor, and… Mezil Thyme.
…In other words, the real ‘curse’ would be the Winstons’ tendency to be an adventure magnet?
“I would think so. And after what I’ve been through, I’d say there might be a grain of truth somewhere. Otherwise, my wife wouldn’t be buying me a new cross necklace whenever I take on a Magus mission.”
Victor let out an even bigger reluctant sigh. “I’m not going to debate about the validity of divine protection against needless superstition.”
We live in a world where magic is real, and yet Victor thinks curses are just make-believe?
“No. It’s the opposite. We know what genuine magic looks like. If the whole ‘Winston curse’ was true, wouldn’t the Vanquishers have found it already? Yet we have no confirmation beyond Persona’s parasitical spell.”
True…
You told Victor that you’re quite surprised that he’s the skeptic in this situation.
“That’s because I know what it’s like to be hounded by false rumours.”
“See, shortly after I defeated the original Harbinger, I was framed for a crime. Even though I was released over a lack of concrete evidence, no one would believe my innocence. Because of that, I lost everything. My day job, my friends, my esports career, and my family’s trust.”
His voice turned sombre. “With the remaining money I had, I went to Jacob’s bar for a farewell drink. I was ready to end my life on that very night. The person who served me at the counter was none other than Mezil Winston.”
The original Harbinger…
“That’s right. He must have heard the news and recognized my face. Quite an amazing feat since I was a complete mess. I almost couldn’t recognize myself. Either way… we had a chat. I was surprised to hear that someone was willing to listen to me without prejudice. Then again, good bartenders are known to lend an ear. So I told him my side of the story, happy that I met a kind soul before I died.”
The sadness was replaced by a fond nostalgic chuckle. “His sense of justice must have burned with his determination, overriding his patience. Mezil grabbed my arm and dragged me to Edmund’s office. Without so much as a hint of doubt, he declared that he believed my story. He also chided me on the notion of suicide. ‘Why are you forfeiting your life to your foes after defeating the undefeated?’.”
Knowing the Tsun, he would have done his own research the moment he had heard the news. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made that declaration with such confidence.
“Haha! Isn’t that right? On his request, Edmund called The Barfellows to help with my case. They had a really good lawyer on the team, and he was willing to give me a discount for his services.”
Is… that why Mezil made Victor his successor? So that he could earn money to pay the legal fees?
“Yes. Honestly, he could have stayed in the game. One death is not the end. But, he wanted me to be able to rebuild my life. If it weren’t for his influence, the company wouldn’t have the confidence to hire me either.”
“Since then, I call him ‘Seonbae’: Senior. And he’s the only one I would crown that as a formal title.”
Victor clenched his hands. “That’s why I refuse to believe he’s a cursed vampire. That image is a mutation of false rumours, just like my perceived guilt. I won’t abandon him after everything he’s done for me.”
…There’s something you don’t understand in this scenario.
If Mezil had that many friends on his side, why did he always act as if he’s alone?
Both men lowered their heads in helplessness.
Victor was the first to answer. “The past ten years had been especially harsh on Seonbae. Like a heavy snowstorm, it clouded and chilled his perception.”
Edmund added his testimony: “Mez walks a different path of life. And, like it or not, he had to maintain a certain distance to protect us. Too many times I’ve had close shaves with his foes. Especially with that son of a gun, Persona.”
Shaking his head, the grandpa added, “…One of the biggest regrets in my many years is my inability to get Mez out of that do-or-die mentality. That, and watching Connor’s family fall apart year after year.”
It’s still possible to be lonely even with people all around you. That’s a feeling you know too well.
Sans teleported back to the tent. To your shock, he returned soaking wet, covered in splotches of half-washed soot. Your nose picked up the unmistakable scent of salt.
“Welp,” he wiped some droplets from his brow and flicked them aside. “Looks like the sea came diving for me instead.”
What happened? Did someone dunk him with seawater?
“Nah. It’s ‘holy water’. Glorified name for a solution of sodium chloride.” Chuckling to himself, he added, “You should have seen how many buckets of this stuff was thrown at me when I showed myself. Made extra potent too. Could float an egg in it.”
Salt crystals had already started to form at the dryer spots of his clothes. Looking at Sans’ messed-up condition, you could understand why people thought he was an extra spooky skeleton.
What about the stuff Vanquishers use then? Papyrus told you that they had used a lot of salt and olive oil during your own exorcism.
“Those were used in an Arcanagram charged with magic. Without the engine, the fuel just becomes regular cooking material. Honestly, it could be worse. Cenna said that if we’re in the wrong parts of the Far East, the ingredient of choice would be the blood of a black-furred dog.”
W-what?! They’d actually kill a dog to get rid of a ghost?! How is that fair???
“Different cultures, different strokes. Don’t worry, we’re not keeping this timeline anyway. Cenna and Lucas already have a plan in mind for the next loop. To summarize what had happened, those who’re anti-magic and those who’re pro-magic flared up into a giant clash over at Point Gamma.”
Huh? That doesn’t add up. The anti-magic group had blocked off all the roads to town. How did the pro-magic group travel at all, let alone join the protests?
“We ain’t got town walls. Besides, the roads started to unblock themselves when the police declared the safe zones.”
In other words, the pro-magic group slipped through the cracks. Understandable.
“Your parents are currently at Town Hall for official business. This caused a large gathering of monsters, waiting for their King to make a decree. When the angry mob started rolling towards that direction, humans who’re on the side of the monsters rushed in to protect them. Tempers flared on both sides, and the next thing you know it’s pandemonium with a capital ‘P’.”
That’s the WORST outcome!
“Yup. Got that right. So, our main mission is to keep those two sides apart. Then we’ll see what other wrenches fly in our way.”
Alright. It’s time to use the Keys of Fate...
A spike of anxiety stabbed your heart. You started to doubt that you could do the job well.
In the middle of your wavering, the two senior men patted you on the back.
“You can always ask us for help,” said Edmund. “Nobody is expected to go through this ordeal alone. Not even an experienced adult.”
“The boss is right,” Victor added. “Come to this tent right away. We’ll believe you.”
That’s true. Your world has expanded, and there are many other people who can help.
You have an idea! Why not come along for the ride? It doesn’t sound like Mezil made them proxies before.
For some reason, Victor started to get nervous. “W-what? Lucas and Cenna are already taking care of it, right? I think we’ll be redundant. At least, I would be redundant.”
Edmund let out a hearty laugh and nudged his colleague. “C’mon, take the offer. I’m sure it’s the experience of a lifetime!”
“I… I was hoping that I’ll forget that I had shared my past…” A flash of sadness fluttered on Victor’s face, conflicted. “It’s a bit heavy for a kid. I feel awkward telling it now.”
You reassured him that he’s fine. You’ve already heard worse stuff from Gaelic anyway. Maybe those two can bond over the ‘Indebted to Tsunderjudge Club’.
“Excuse me? Gaelic?” asked Victor. “I think I’ve heard of that name before, and I don’t mean the language itself.”
Isn’t that a deja vu? Since Victor is a Red Minor, you’re not surprised if it is.
Sans agreed. “Yup. Frisk is right. Sorry Victor Mister. Even if the kiddo turned back time, a part of you knows that you’ve already let the cat out of the bag. Better to own up to the consequences than letting a vague anxiety eat away at you from the inside.”
Poor guy. The man slumped his shoulders and muttered, “That just made me feel worse.”
Still, despite his initial hesitation, he soon changed his mind. With more certainty, Victor said: “Okay, I’ll join you.”
Awesome. Having their full approval, you planted your Mark on the two men.
Current number of proxies: 3.
“3?” Sans raised a brow. “Sure about that, kid?”
Uh, yeah. Edmund, Victor, Cenna. Sans and Lucas didn’t need it.
“As far as I can tell, you haven’t dispelled the ones you’ve placed on three others: Papyrus, Grillby, and Aiden.”
That’s true. Usually, you would clear your Proxy list at the end of a successful scenario. It’s good practice, otherwise your friends may get stuck in an unnecessary Groundhog Day loop. In this scenario, however, you have yet to get a breather…
So, you summoned your MENU. There’s a tab called ‘PROXY’ and ‘CLAIM’. Huh, the CLAIM was new. Your natural curiosity compelled you to poke it.
You see Mezil’s mugshot and name on it. Fancy. Though you wonder why there’s a little arrow next to his picture.
Wait. It’s a folder? You selected it.
A giant list of faces and names scrolled past your eyes, from A to Z, going a mile a minute.
Your head started to hurt just from trying to comprehend the details. It’s too long! Abort! Abort! You cancelled the operation before you collapsed. That was all the names of the Claimed Mezil had under his name! How does he even manage those?!
Sans shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe he never checks. Or his interface is just more efficient overall?”
That settles it. You’re never gonna touch his folder again. You backed out one screen to navigate to the PROXY tab. After clicking on it, the screen indeed displayed six portraits, names, and their known stats. Six. Not three. Sans was right yet again.
Current number of proxies: 6.
“Since we’re here,” He pointed at the adjacent ‘PARTY’ tab. “That should list your current party members, Marked or otherwise. Always keep track of them, kid.”
Selecting PARTY revealed your current posse. Sans, Edmund, and Victor’s mugshots were lit up, while Cenna and Lucas’ were dimmed to indicate their current absence.
Wow, this is a handy way to keep track of things! You’re glad Sans brought it to your attention.
The support of your new allies fills you with determination.
* MENU
* LOAD