Sans had bought a small bucket of popcorn from Muffet right after the teleporter demonstration. It was the perfect snack for the quality entertainment that came after, one that refilled itself automatically whenever time travel occurred.
“Hey bro,” he asked, “Have you always known that the little flower prince stopped the murderbrat? Is that why you hung out with him?”
“WELL, NO ACTUALLY,” Papyrus replied. “BUT I’VE ALWAYS BELIEVED THAT HE COULD CHOOSE TO BE GOOD, NYEH HEH HEH!”
“Heh. That’s why you’re great. Though I gotta admit, watching someone else dish out some much-needed discipline on the bratty flower was peak satisfaction.”
Papyrus squinted. “THAT’S A LITTLE MEAN.”
“We have a history of picking bones with each other. At the very least, Flowey is on the right path again.”
“FOR HIS SAKE, I HOPE HE STAYS ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW.”
Further comments about the Dreemurr tyke could wait for later. There were much bigger issues at the moment. Silently, Sans opened his mental comm link to Mezil: a tool they both agreed to carry over from yesterday.
“So Thymer… Are we keeping this outcome?”
Mezil transmitted back. “Yes.”
“You sure? Here I thought you would have tossed this merry-go-round in the trash.”
“Let’s just say I wanted to try a different method. Why did you contact me, Sans Serif?”
“Wondering if you need me someplace else. My presentation for the election is long over. Not spotting Malaya’s master anywhere either. That means I’m free to move anywhere you want.”
“Hmmm….” After some pondering, Mezil replied: “By now, The Grandmaster should have escorted an important guest to Doctor Alphys’ Lab. I’ll inform her that you’ll be meeting her at the lobby. Go and introduce yourself.”
“Crimson Keeper Anya Willowherb, right?”
“…Former Crimson Keeper Anya Willowherb, that is. She resigned from the position not long after The War of the Red Victory. Given what happened, it would be best to address her as Judge Artificer.”
“Duly noted…”
Without doubt, the Crimson Keeper title would open up a ton of old wounds.
While Sans wandered down memory lane, Mezil added one more request at the last minute: “...If possible, give me an update on Rosemary as well.”
It was clear how much the Old Thymer worried about his niece. It didn’t matter that they had never talked before. That immature young lass was still his sister’s daughter. Blood ties couldn’t be so easily broken in a person’s psyche.
“Right on it. I’ll keep the audio open.”
Once everything settled, Sans gave Papyrus a quick nudge with his elbow. “Hey bro, I gotta go. Job’s calling.”
The younger brother crossed his arms and lifted his chin, proud. “OKAY, BROTHER. LEAVE EVERYTHING HERE TO ME, NYEH HEH HEH!”
“Much appreciated. See ya later.”
Sans slipped behind the Town Hall where it was nice and quiet. Once he made sure that the coast was clear, he teleported back to the rooftop of The Lab.
As he made his way down to the lobby, his thoughts churned.
What does Anya look like again? Which colour are her eyes? How about her hair? Straight? Wavy? Long? Short?
…I… can’t remember. Could my recollection of that nightmare world have started to fade? They’re foreign experiences from a different dimension, so it wouldn’t be surprising if my noggin rejects them over time.
To test the extent of his memory, he cast a spell that he originally shouldn’t know: a little bone with draining magic. Its very existence taunted him for his mistaken hypothesis. The object was dispelled before anyone else saw it.
I gotta rethink this.
The name Anya Willowherb conjures up the image of a woman hidden under a hooded cloak. The top half of her face, hidden behind a masquerade mask. Her hair, tucked into a bun somewhere behind the fabric. Her physique, equally concealed. Other than having fair skin, I don’t recall any other notable physical features. She was more like a draping shadow than a person. I guess I should at least expect the same silhouette.
Wait. No. It’s been fifty years. Her body should have undergone a ton of change. A guy like Edmund Moriarty is the exception, not the rule.
Maybe she’s become a twig? Actually, in the modern era one is more likely to end up fat than skinny. A rolly-polly grandma may be the more reasonable expectation.
Weird. I seem to know plenty about her height and frame. And yet, I still don’t remember any of her features. What if the Anya Willowherb of that world had never shown me her real face?
...It’s more likely than you’d think. I’m the type of guy who’d let someone take a secret to their grave, if they’re not important to me.
Sans stopped walking when he noticed the light of the lobby touch the tip of his feet. A mixture of nervousness and curiosity stirred in his heart.
Jeez, why am I even feeling like this? If she changed, she changed. Can’t do anything about that.
Here goes nothing.
Entering the lobby, Sans encountered a figure shrouded in black, standing still in absolute silence. That poise. That posture. That masquerade mask. It clicked in his mind right away that this was the familiar stranger he was supposed to meet.
Sans then began to notice the differences. The uncovered bottom half of her face showed many loose wrinkles. What little neck he could see was even worse for wear. And, he was sure that she had somehow become… smaller. With a slight hunch too. He had once read that elderly humans could lose bone mass and cartilage, making them shrink. Apparently not even a Magus of her calibre was immune to the decay of biological processes.
As if acknowledging these changes, she wore a long, long cloak: so long that the ends swept across the floor. It was fashion oft-reserved for ceremonial and scholarly purposes, reflecting her long retirement from front-line duties.
Sans was taken aback by her otherworldly presence. Despite being a retiree, despite being a Claimed, despite the diminutiveness of old age… his bones felt a slight shudder from a lurking sense of danger unknown.
When he tried to burn his Eye to peer deeper into her stats, he was met with those good-ole glitched white squares. It didn’t surprise him that the garments were made from Seer deterrent material.
Anya Willowherb came prepared to deal with trouble. A wise action considering the recent state of Ebott Town.
Sans tried to smooth out an introduction with his usual charisma. Did his best to sound casual without pushing too hard. “H-hey lady, what’s with the intense reception?”
The woman said, “Interesting. Most youngsters would have commented about my style of clothes. You didn’t. Does that mean you already know who I am and what I’m capable of?”
Her voice may have weakened from old age, but Sans still recognised the timbre. Her identity was confirmed a hundred percent.
If I mess this up, she’s gonna send me through nine hells and back. Gotta play it cool…
“Nothing much,” said Sans. “Just the bits Thymer and Lil’ Miss Lucy told me. I’m supposed to correspond with ya for my next science project. Judge’s orders. So. Why don’t we introduce ourselves? For formality’s sake.”
Though initially hesitant, she eventually said: “…My name is Anya.”
“First name basis already? The name’s Sans. Y’know, I thought you would be an Elizabeth, Isabella, or a Catherine. Names that fit the mature lady vibe.”
Anya chuckled. “I may be old and grey, but I was once a cute little girl to my parents.”
“I get that. Even as an adult, I’ll always be a little patootie in Mom’s eyes. Welp. Since we’re colleagues now, mind taking off that hood and mask?”
The moment he asked that, her slight cheer vanished under the coldness of professionalism. “I cannot. With your level of knowledge, revealing my face presents a security breach. I have read Lucidia’s reports and received the blueprints of your invention. There is only one conclusion that I can draw about you.”
“That is?”
“You are a very, very dangerous entity.”
Some things just don’t change, even across space and time. Sans resisted the urge to burst into a glad bittersweet laugh. Doing so may cause an unfortunate misunderstanding that would ruin his chance to rebuild the Seraph System.
The best he could do was to reduce his amusement to a snorting chortle. “Heh. You ain’t no slouch either. I got an inkling of what you’re capable of, and I ain’t tangling with that. That’s great, now we don’t need to pretend to be harmless around each other.”
“An inkling, hm?” Anya said, “What would that be, Mister Sans?”
He felt that it was so odd to have this woman call him by his proper name. In the other world, his other self, she would always use his alias instead.
“You’re an ex-Vanquisher. That makes you a master of Determination and True Name magic. And, failing that, you got a whole bunch of spirit guys right in your body, ready to defend you. Sheep can get pretty aggressive, especially when they’re rams.”
Seeing the old lady tense up, he thought that he might have pushed his luck too far. And yet… Anya regained her composure, returning a slight smile.
“I suppose if you know that much, we can discuss key details without hesitation.”
Knowing that he had passed all the charisma checks and rolls, a wave of relief washed over Sans. He had gained Anya Willowherb’s trust to proceed.
Anya then said: “Judge Thyme told me that you will supervise the reconstruction. I’m glad. Although I could assemble the parts by myself, it would only be fair if the creator gets to have a hand in it. I can also update you about the new build at the same time.”
“Let me guess… Lucy went and proposed a billion and one tweaks. With her, it may be more accurate to say that it’s a complete overhaul.”
“Indeed. In the world of science, there will always be room for improvement.”
Mezil cut in to drop a reminder: “Ask her about Rosemary.”
Sans could hear the growing worry under those professional words. It would be better to get the matter out of the way early and settle the poor Judge’s heart. “How’s Thymer’s niece by the way?”
A pause hung in the air, a sign that nothing was peachy. In the most polite manner she could muster, Anya answered: “Her Psychia is unstable. Under normal circumstances, she would have needed to go to a Magus-affiliated hospital right away.”
“Then, why is she still here?”
“Your invention is considered a confidential weapon. Still, it has a curious medical application. Lucidia and I agreed to test our theory on the patient before making any formal admissions.”
“Wouldn’t that breach some kind of doctor’s code? Experimenting without a clinical trial could present a legal issue on ethical grounds.”
“I’m aware, Mister Sans. But this is the girl’s best chance. Truth to be told, no hospital in the world has the equipment to save her. I’d rather experiment than condemn a youngling to a slow, agonising death.”
Mezil transmitted: “Sans Serif, I’m raising the priority to finish The Seraph System to the highest level. ...Please complete the construction posthaste. A life is on the line.”
With that kind of stakes, even the infamous lazybones felt compelled to move. “I get the situation now. Do you need me to show you the way?”
In which Anya replied, “Thank you Mister Sans, but Lucidia’s friends have already done so. As a matter of fact, they’re preparing the workshop as we speak.”
“Huh, so the deer and the blue bird helped ya out? Surprised they’re still awake after their all-nighter. What kind of coffee are they drinking? I want some of that.”
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When they arrived at the workshop, The Delta Lab duo were just finishing up.
Noelle greeted with a big smile and a cheerful tone. “Welcome back, Judge Willowherb. Everything is ready for you.” Though, her smile turned stiff when she looked in his direction. “And h-hello, Sans…”
After what happened last night, it didn’t surprise the skeleton that he received an awkward reception. “Relax, that Hua fellow had better things to do than following me around. I haven’t seen him all day.”
Hearing that made the deer lower her guard. “Phew. I’d rather not bump into him again anytime soon.”
“Anyhow,” said Sans, “Thanks for the prep work. Are you gonna stay to help out?”
Though haggard from the rough hours, Sir Berdly kept his head up high. “Why not? Lady Lucidia entrusted us with her great mentor, thus it’s our honoured duty to do our absolute best! So, what are we building today?”
“The Seraph System, Version 3.”
Noelle blinked a few times in confusion, then she rubbed her tired eyes and massaged her pointy ears. “B-building the Seraph System? D-did I hear that right?”
“Yup,” answered Sans, “Anything wrong with that?”
A few stunned seconds passed. Then, she let out a very confused exclamation. “....Huh????????”
“What’s wrong?”
“I…. uh…… I thought…. Didn’t Lucy……” Noelle shook her head and then bowed down. “S-sorry. I. I think we need to go and get some rest. C’mon Berdly. Let’s go and catch some z’s.”
Sir Berdly responded: “But my kindhearted Noelle, are we really going to leave a septuagenarian high and dry? Devoid of our meticulous and considerate assistance? You and I both know Lady Lucidia cannot afford any distractions. She needs full focus to use the Sera--”
“Nah, we’ve already done what we needed to do.” Noelle threw her arm over Sir Berdly’s shoulder, dragging the poor guy out of the workshop in a headlock.
That was an incredibly odd behaviour even by monster standards. Odd, but not unexplainable. Severe lack of sleep messes up the head and body more than people realise.
“It’s fine.” Anya said, “I would rather let them rest. The two of us should be sufficient for the assembly.”
She began rolling up the edge of her sleeve, tucking it into a neat fold so the fabric would not get in the way of the mechanical work. What little skin she exposed showcased a plethora of scars. Cuts, burns, scrapes… Some had healed better than others. The worst looking ones were also some of the oldest, judging by how faded they had become from age.
From underneath her long flowing cloak, she reached for her own personal Dimensional Box. This one was much smaller than the box the Lemurians smuggled in. They didn’t call theirs ‘Mega Sized’ for nothing.
The woman set the box on the table and opened the lid, bringing up a holographic screen. She tapped ‘ALL’ on the list of parts to withdraw.
And then, she flipped the whole container upside down, pouring out the contents in one go. Sans opened his eyes wide in shock as he watched the parts tumble onto the cleared workshop surface.
“……What the hell? Won’t they break?”
Slipping the box back under her cloak, the madam replied: “Just a little stress test. If an old lady can break it, that part is not going to survive combat.”
In hindsight, that made perfect sense. The new-and-improved Seraph System must be able to withstand all sorts of abuse. His first version overheated, then got blown to kingdom come, while his half-built second version was toasted by demonic lightning.
“I like how you think,” The Seer rolled up his own sleeves. “Let’s get to work then. Third time’s the charm as they say. With you helping out, we’d get this done in a jiffy.”
He clenched his prosthetic right hand a few times, trying to judge his new level of dexterity. It wasn’t as good as his original, but it was miles better than being limbless.
They started working on the machine together. Their first order of business was to sort the pieces of casing from the internal components. Sans worked with the parts of his side of the table, while Anya focused on her lot.
Sans picked them up, inspecting the textures of their mechanisms with his regular non-prosthetic fingers. So far, so good. The parts survived the rough landing.
He noticed that craftsmanship was leagues ahead of what he could dream to crank out. They made his prototype look like a quaint gadget from a bygone era in comparison.
“There’s nowhere to install a screen,” he noted.
Anya said, “Lucidia preferred to project the interface straight on the Seer’s Eye to minimise structural vulnerabilities. Tempered glass is still glass; it won’t be able to match the durability of mithril.”
Raising a brow, Sans asked: “Mithril? Ain’t that some made up RPG fantasy metal?”
“That’s quite correct. However, the name ‘mithril’ means ‘grey glitter’, and that in itself was inspired by magic-imbued steel or silver.”
“The grey glitters of silvery steel…” Sans muttered, “It’s describing the sheen of magic on metal. So, in other words, it’s an alloy made specifically to conduct magical power.”
“Correct. I heard that your mentor Doctor Gaster independently re-discovered the ancient art, although he focused on a single Aspect.”
Anya reached for a nearby pen and started drawing out a diagram on a piece of scrap paper.
“How familiar are you with Soulstones, Mister Sans?”
That question hit harder than it should have. “I’ve only seen the Red version. Y’know, the stuff folks call ‘Bloodstone’. But I know that they can be made by condensing multiple human Psychia in a mass sacrifice. That’s just the fastest and dirtiest method, though. Other ways instead concentrate raw Aspects into a gem. Glass, quartz, et cetera. The downside is that the process is way slower.”
“Then you already have the required basic understanding. Specialised mithril uses the same time-consuming manufacturing process.”
Anya drew a bubble that read ‘Mithril’, and then split the graph into seven other subcategories.
Rose Mithril,
Violet Mithril,
Aqua Mithril,
Fire Mithril,
Sun Mithril,
Sky Mithril,
Grass Mithril.
The association between the colour and the names was clear enough. Sans pulsed some magic through the parts. The resulting resonance made the metal glow bright red. “Which means I’m using ‘Rose Mithril’. Like rose gold huh? The name fits.”
Next, he examined the electronics, commenting: “Everything is imbued down to the chips. This is gonna make the Trap Harvester look cute.”
“Using the Wanderstar’s family heirloom as a battery made for interesting innovation. On Lucidia’s suggestion, I’ve incorporated that function into a dedicated internal component.”
“So no more clock face?” Sans remarked, “I could live with that. I can’t help but wonder, though… if the Magi’s Artificers are this capable, why hasn’t anyone invented The Seraph System before me? Well, whatever their version might be called.”
“Necessity is the mother of invention, Mister Sans. Brilliant minds may exist the world over, but getting the right mind with the right knowledge in the right place with the right motivation seldom happens, let alone one with marked disregard for personal safety and an unrestrained penchant for self-experimentation.”
“Besides…” A hint of sadness painted her words. “Few would want to be responsible for such a dangerous piece of technology.”
“That last bit there, you’re talking about yourself, aren’t ya?”
“I absolutely am.”
The assassination of James Pashowar by Kisei Yuzukitsui would have brought the research of False Marks to a halt. Sans remembered Mezil mentioning that Anya herself chose to abandon it forever.
“What made you come back?” he asked.
The old woman smiled slightly. “It was for two incredibly cliché reasons. First, as I am both unmarried and childless, Lucidia is like a dear daughter to me. I couldn’t turn down her cries for help. Second, your troublemaking opened an opportunity to move on from past regrets.”
“I got no bone against clichés.” Winking, Sans added: “In fact, it’s my main gig.”
Sans wanted to talk more with this woman. Find out what changed and what stayed. Make comparisons for future reference, if needed.
He mentioned: “By the way, you’re sporting some gnarly ‘battle trophies’ there. Gotta fight on the front lines to get that beat up.”
Taken by nostalgia, the old lady chuckled. “Hahaha… As usual you’re right as rain. When I was a young girl, I ran away to join the army. I was quite sick and tired of being stuck in the same old village, practising the same old traditions. Just when I thought I could blend into normal modern society…”
“All hell broke loose, eh?”
“Quite. Let’s just say I was glad to have remembered my magical training. Otherwise, my squadmates and I would’ve been dead a long time ago. Quite the silly rebel, weren’t I? I never appreciated what I had learned except when I needed it most.”
“Heh. Hindsight is 20/20, and kids will be kids. Exactly how long ago was it?”
“Hmmm…” Anya started thinking. “It should have been about 50 years ago. When was it again?”
“Christmas 2015, perhaps?”
“I think so. Yes, that’s right. It was a white Christmas, as people say. The barracks were covered in layers upon layers of thick snow. We spent all morning shovelling, looking forward to the scheduled festivities.”
“Later that day, I received an SOS from the border patrol team. Attempts to contact them were met with failure. Me and my squad thus went out to investigate. We found a scene befitting a horror movie. The sky had darkened. Creatures made in the image of Hell roamed the countryside… And the shadow of a giant floating castle loomed over our heads.”
Sans talked as he continued fixing the parts. “Let me guess. Ole’ James came outta nowhere to save the day, rescuing you guys.”
“Yes he did. The shine of his Determination alone repelled the enemy’s advance. After that, the castle went into hiding.”
“Judge Pashowar recognised me as a Willowherb, one of the oldest Vanquishing families in the Magus Association. Specialising in soul necromancy, us Willowherb rarely ventures outside of our circle. At first I feared that the army would discharge me out of mistrust for my background… Instead, they made me the main liaison between the military and the Magi.”
“Heh. And thus his dream to integrate magic into all levels of society took one step forward. Tell me more about the floating castle, if ya don’t mind. You said it went into hiding, so it wasn’t destroyed?”
“Indeed. There were no signs of activity until three years later, when registered Reds went missing one by one. Both of us knew what that meant.”
Sans understood that as well. “…The creation of Red Soulstones to empower The Celestial Calamity.”
“You certainly know your Demontology, Mister Sans. The increased activity allowed the Chronographer of that time to locate the castle, and identify that it was being supported by the three self-proclaimed ‘Dark Lords’. I went into the depths as the Supreme Judge’s proxy before any more lives were lost. Fighting one heretical Dark Lord was risky enough, let alone three.”
Anya looked at her ruined skin with a smile. “If Judge Pashowar didn’t use his Mark on my arms, they would have long been amputated. This discoloured skin is a small price to pay compared to other possibilities.”
“So, not even Ole’ James could undo everything. Damage inflicted by DT tends to stick around somehow. Been there, felt that.”
“I continue to be both impressed and terrified by the depth of your knowledge. The way you speak… it’s as though you’ve met Judge Pashowar in person. Although that’s out of the question considering your age.”
Waving his hand, Sans said: “Yup. Totally out of the question. This is just how I talk, lady. Don’t sweat it. Anyways, hearing your story got me curious. Did you ever formally join the Magus Association?”
“Only when I accepted the request to become Lucidia’s teacher and bodyguard. Judge Pashowar said that he wouldn’t entrust her to anyone else. Something along the lines of… ‘There will be many teachers throughout her life, but not all will be good for her’. And that’s how I became an Artificer.”
“Makes sense, makes sense.”
“Can I ask you a question instead, Mister Sans?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“How did you know that the incident happened on Christmas?”
“Just a hunch. Y’know edgelords, always want to tarnish the joy of others to make themselves feel better.”
There was no reason to trouble her with events that happened in a parallel dimension. The window of opportunity for change had long passed.
“That blue bird mentioned you’re in your seventies, right? Have you considered Lich Conversion? The spell returns you to your prime. Well, you’d be all bones, but prime bone is still prime. Most importantly, as a Red you’ll retain your memories and identity. Don’t you wanna feel young again?”
“I have thought of converting,” replied Anya. “But I’m not sure if I should.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know if I want to follow The Grandmaster’s footsteps. Unlike Lord Bererdin, I would be making a conscious choice: bearing the responsibility and consequences for the remainder of my Lich existence.”
“Isn’t it weird for someone of your study to not pursue eternal youth? Aren’t necromancers all about defying death and attaining immortality?”
“It is indeed quite strange. Still, I’ve learned that being human is not so bad after all.”
“I bet you had beautiful bones once, lady. It would be a shame to waste them.”
Anya paused for a moment to stare at Sans. “Look who’s the charmer here. No wonder I’ve heard rumours that you’re quite a ladies’ man.”
“Heh, unfounded stuff. I’m not the romance kind of guy. Too lazy for it.”
“A lazy man wouldn’t have secured his Queen’s position by sacrificing his own chance at love. Quite the opposite, I would say.”
Hearing that made him blush in embarrassment. “G-geez, what has Lucy been telling ya?”
“You should know by now how thorough she can be.”
“Okay. Fair point. I’m gonna shut up now.”
For the rest of the work, Sans remained quiet. He let the old woman do her part, and she let him do his. It was strange how they worked so well together, despite this being their first meeting.
After a nice and lengthy bout of uninterrupted silence, Sans heard the loud, hurried footsteps of his younger brother Papyrus run straight towards the workshop.
He barged in panting and sweating. Between his breaths, he yelled: “SORRY FOR NOT KNOCKING!!!”
Sans put his tools down. “‘Sup bro?”
The younger brother didn’t reply. Instead, he zoomed over and systematically inspected the parts under construction. Held them. Flipped them. Sniffed them too, just to be extra sure.
“IS THIS THE SERAPH SYSTEM?” asked Papyrus.
“Yeah. Version 3. From the looks of the materials given, Version 4 won’t exist for a long, long while.”
Hearing the confirmation made the tall skeleton slump down on the ground in a huge relief. “THANK THE ALMIGHTY. YOUR SUPERWEAPON IS SAFE AFTER ALL…”
Furrowing his brows, Sans got up from the chair. “Safe? What do you mean?”
Papyrus replied, “FRISK ASKED ME IF I EVER DELIVERED THE SERAPH SYSTEM TO YOU. THEY SAID I WENT BACK TO THE LAB IN THE MORNING AND APPARENTLY RAN UP AND DOWN THE STAIRS, ASKING EVERYONE FOR THE CRISPY VERSION OF YOUR MAGNUM OPUS.”
At that moment, Sans’ internal alarm bells rang at maximum volume, waving their red flags as hard as they could.
Papyrus had never left his side throughout the teleportation project.
The testimony recontextualised what happened earlier. What was it that the blue bird tried to say? Although Noelle cut him off, Sans had heard enough to fill in the blanks.
‘Lady Lucidia cannot afford any distractions. She needs full focus to use the Seraph System.’
Sir Berdly made an absurd proclamation. Lucidia had been biding her time, knowing that Version 3 was the only hope for a positive outcome. She would never, ever depend on that ruined, broken, roasted, toasted husk of a machine.
A second Papyrus, and an out-of-character Lucidia…
“Impostor,” He transmitted the first thought that crossed his mind. “Heard all of that, Thymer? We’ve got an impostor on the loose.”
“Yes.” Mezil responded. “It’s impossible to imitate both Papyrus and Lucidia with a standard disguise. Their height, body proportions, and voices are too different from each other. To appear both Monstrous and Human… it is highly likely our Amalgamate foe has the ability to shapeshift.”
“Talk about a worst case scenario. Dammit. Version 2 was definitely stolen.”
“…Does Frisk know the truth?” Sans asked.
“NOT YET,” the younger one shook his head. “I DIDN’T WANT TO MAKE THEM PANIC.”
“Good. Pretend that nothing happened. The less buzz, the better.”
Papyrus stood back up. “I SEEEEEEEEEEE. THEN, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL HELP HIS BROTHER BY BEING VERY, VERY NORMAL. I SHOULD GO NOW. IF I STAY HERE TOO LONG, EVERYONE WILL GET SUSPICIOUS. REMEMBER, YOU CAN CALL ME FOR HELP ANYTIME!”
“Stop Papyrus,” warned Mezil. “If he leaves the lab, his location will become unknown, making him vulnerable to impersonation.”
And Sans agreed. Mezil already grounded Garamond over the same issues. “Hold on a moment, bro. I do need your help. Work is pretty tough for an old grandma and a handicapped slob, y’know. Have you met Anya Willowherb yet?”
“ACTUALLY…” Papyrus rubbed his chin while looking at the cloaked woman. “NOPE, I HAVEN’T.”
“Go introduce yourself to her. Did you know she’s Lucy’s teacher?”
Just the thought was enough to make the younger brother sparkle with excitement. Gasping, he went straight into shaking her hands. “GOLLY! THAT MAKES YOU THE TEACHER OF MY TEACHER!!! HELLO, WELCOME TO EBOTT TOWN! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS, NYEH HEH HEH!”
Anya couldn’t help but to join the cheer. Few people could resist Papyrus’ sweetness after all. While she wrought, she commented: “So you’re the young man who managed to open up Lucidia’s heart. I heard many promising things about you. After all, she had never taken a student before you came along.”
Flattered, Papyrus stayed to chat. He soon began helping out with the construction under Anya’s guidance.
Sans sighed in relief. “Crisis avoided. Hey Thymer, how about I head out instead? My Red and Yellow should be enough to spot Mister impostor.”
But Mezil ordered: “Focus on completing The Seraph System first. Rosemary aside, it will also be useful as a weapon against The Handler.”
“Sure. I can focus on the build, but who’s gonna stop that guy in the meantime? All of us skeletons are grounded. And the longer we let him roam free, the more damage he’ll do.”
“I’ll have Crimson Keeper Fennel initiate a town-wide search. Once we’ve located him, Sir Grillenn and Captain Undyne shall neutralise the target.”
“The Handler is immortal, though. Do you think they got what it takes?”
“I have faith in their ability. However, should push come to shove, I will enter the fray myself. This… is personal.”
Upon hearing that proclamation, Sans couldn’t help but wipe the cold sweat off his forehead.
“Welp. I don’t wanna be in that guy’s shoes, alright. Been there, felt that.”