The younger, rasher Frisk would have loaded a SAVE right about now. But! You’re Determined to be more prudent. Therefore, you’ve been calling Mezil non-stop.
Answer the phone already, Tsunderjudge!!!
After what seemed to be an eternity, Mezil finally picked up the call.
“Frisk? Did something happen?”
Something? There were a LOT of ‘somethings’! The Handler attacked The Lab!
Witnesses from all over the town posted videos of a skeleton army running right through the streets. Not to mention that the commotion dragged every security force into one place: from the police, to the Magi, to the Aratet volunteers, to the Royal Guards themselves…
“…In other words, the public is alarmed and aware of the attack. Are they ending the election debate early?”
You’d be more surprised if they didn’t. RESET now or later?
“Not yet. Observe them. I’m on my way.”
Wait! D-did he see Sans anywhere?
“I have. Sans Serif is currently investigating a case together with Gaelic. He’s tired, but safe.”
…Did… Did he… finish off The Handler?
“Negative. We’re not out of the woods yet, Frisk. Remain vigilant.”
Okay.
He ended the call after your confirmation. You passed the news to your mother, and she sighed in relief, not wanting any more bloodshed either.
She muttered, “Thank the heavens, his hands are not stained yet…”
You share the sentiment. Meanwhile, Tsunderjudge told you to pay attention to the election, so you’re going to do just that.
Mettaton had two live broadcasts side by side. One focused on the main podium where the candidates debate, and the other showing reactions from the audience.
The people had begun to grow worried and restless. Bad news had spread, reaching their phones in real time.
“D-did you see this video yet?!”
“Oh my god, there’s fighting.”
“That background, isn’t that Doctor Alphys’ Lab?”
“A-a-a-a-a-a-are we under attack…?”
“Again?!”
“Hide! We need to hide!”
“No, we need to fight! We can’t let them walk over us anymore!”
Trying to initiate damage control, Flowey waved his leaves and exclaimed, “Stop! Don’t panic! You’re well protected here with all these strong monsters by your side.”
Ralsei shook his head. “I agree about the not panicking part. However, the citizens’ safety still takes precedence. We should cancel the event.”
“If we cancel because of those doodoobutts, it’s like surrendering to their terror!”
“Our debates can continue elsewhere. We have MTT Studio’s excellent coverage to guarantee that.”
“Hah, are you telling me that YOU can’t protect your people when they need it the most?”
Dad, in all his wisdom, instead suggested: “Perhaps it would be better for us to ask the people? I do not wish to hold them here against their will. At the same time, they should not be compelled to leave. Consider it… live practice in the ways of democracy.”
Both Ralsei and Flowey glanced at each other for a moment.
“A fair point, Father.”
“If it makes everyone happy, sure.”
Turning towards Mettaton, the King gave his nod of approval. Your pink ghost celebrity friend went straight to work, floating over to Alphys to make a new poll.
Soon, the big screen lit up with two choices: ‘Leave’, or ‘Stay’. It had a one minute timer. You thought it was a bit short, but with danger around the corner, it may actually be considered quite generous.
The results came in. It was… a 100% ‘Leave’. Everyone in the crowd had the crestfallen gaze of defeat. They had already given up on fighting…
Mettaton announced: “D-darlings, cheer up. Our event is not over yet. The candidates will move into the protective walls of The Town Hall, and we’ll resume our broadcast over the wonderful world of cyberspace! See you at 3PM, beauties and gentlebeauties. Again I repeat, 3PM sharp~~~”
Broadcast, offline. Time to pass the news to the Tsunderjudge. You tried to call him.
…Huh? He didn’t answer. You called again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Still nothing.
Mom asked: “No luck, my child?”
You shook your head. Under ‘normal’ circumstances, you would have shrugged it off as ‘just busy’, but today was anything but ‘normal’!
“I think trouble has found him,” said Mom. “We should go and alert the leader of his special squad. The Coordinator, I believe?”
That’s right. You’re not alone this time. Their leader, Lucas Fennel, is also a Crimson Keeper. Just like you. He and his team should be able to track down The Tsunderjudge.
You held Mom by the hand and hurried your way to Lucas.
When you arrived there, you were intimidated by the sheer frantic business going around. Purple Squad was working overtime to manage the situation. Meanwhile, Lucas faced the screen with intense concentration.
A woman noticed your presence. She stopped her work to address you and your mother. “Crimson Keeper Wanderstar? Queen Toriel? Is there an emergency?”
Yes! Absolutely!
Mom added: “The Supreme Judge has stopped responding to our phone calls.”
“Could you show me your call history?”
You gave her the necessary information as fast as you could.
One glance at the numbers and she turned towards her leader. “Sir, we have confirmation of Judge Thyme’s last known correspondence. It was to Frisk Wanderstar.”
Without turning his head, Lucas said: “Helana Arboria, fill in my post for a while.”
He stood up from his chair to switch out from his colleague. You noticed that his eyes were tired from the constant monitoring.
“You mentioned that you were in contact with Supreme Judge Thyme?” The Coordinator asked.
Yup yup! He was on the line, alright. But then he suddenly stopped picking up.
“What did you speak to him about?”
You informed Mezil about the attack on The Lab, and asked if it’s time to use the Keys. He said no, and he instead told you to watch the election.
“...I see. Frisk, there’s a tracker embedded into Judge Thyme’s Psychia. It stopped responding. We should prepare ourselves for the worst case scenario.”
Could the tsun really be dead? The element of unknown bothered you.
“Are you hearing any DEMON voices?”
You cupped your hands behind your ears. Nope, nothing strange. Then you pressed your palm over the openings. No internal voices bothering you in the head, no sirree.
“I see. Then there’s still hope.”
Your phone suddenly rang. It’s Mezil! You took the phone back from Lucas and answered the call posthaste, wanting to scold the tsun for his tardiness.
“Why hello, Royal Child.”
That wasn’t the voice you expected. It was The Handler. You switched to speaker mode so Mom and Lucas could listen to the conversation.
Angry, you snapped back at the bad guy. Where’s the original owner of the phone?!? Show him to you, now!!!
“It’s not a pleasant sight. However, if you insist.”
The video feed turned on. Is that… The Tsunderjudge? Why is he slumped on the ground against some bricks in a random alleyway?
Odder still, strange flames seeped out of Mezil's breath, similar to the folktales about will-o-wisps. Slowly but surely, his hair began to bleach white. His skin took on the bluish tinge of a dying man, shrivelling.
Your mother covered your eyes with her warm, fluffy hands, hoping to protect you from the horrific sight. Alas, you had already seen too much.
You blurted out loud: Is that Karma???
The Handler said: “Crediting your assassin so soon? No, this is my special brand of poison. A different kind of karmic retribution, so to say. See, The Vampire has the ability to absorb huge quantities of lifeforce without suffering any drawbacks or illness. Except, I’ve imbued myself with spiritual incendiaries. Therefore, once The Vampire has drained anything from any part of me, his fate is sealed. His boon has become his bane, blissfully unaware of his doom until it was too late. All I needed to do was wait for the most opportune moment to pull the trigger.”
So cruel! What is he gonna gain from all this villainy? He knows your true power: every effort he makes will be for naught.
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“Little child, once you turn the cosmos, a dying dark lord will be the least of your worries. My latest actions were just a taste of what will happen should you cross me. A pathetic end is all that awaits.”
Lucas whispered into your ear. “Request negotiations. We need to buy time and get more information out of him. I’ll guide you.”
O-okay.
You told The Handler that you want to request negotiations.
“Are you being advised by an experienced Magus? Inconsequential. My proposal remains unchanged. Grant me diplomatic immunity, and everyone shall live in peace.”
“Bring up concerns about your citizen’s safety.”
You state that you can’t put the Dreemurr Nation at risk. Even if you uphold your end of the bargain, how can The Handler guarantee that he won’t kidnap random monsters off the street to continue his experiments?
“Hmmm. A fair question. The simple answer is that you should supply the materials I need from non-local sources. For example, arrange with your neighbours to take in unclaimed deceased bodies. Plenty of humans die alone and abandoned, destined to be mass-cremated. Such a waste of raw materials.”
That means he works purely with skeletons?… Does he really have no interest in other types of monsters, like dogs, cats, and planes?
“I specialise in the converts of humanity. I believe it benefits both parties to maintain that focus. The brilliant Doctor Gaster’s transcendence experiment has similar roots to Lich Conversion technology.”
“Don’t confirm or deny,” Lucas instructed. “Stall him with another question.”
Speaking of the results of that experiment, where are The Six? You know he had already absorbed the skeleparents.
“None of your concern.” The Handler ignored your inquiry. Instead, he said: “I suggest that you forget about stalling for time.”
A chill went down your spine. Those words made it perfectly clear to you that he had been watching your every move.
“Even if you want to organise a rescue team for The Vampire, there is no antidote. The inner fire is inextinguishable. Only turning the cosmos will save him. And, doing so without a favourable agreement will force my hand. I speak of open warfare against your pretty little nation. The choice is yours, puny Wanderstar. Peace or total annihilation. Those are your only options.”
You squeezed your phone and grit your teeth. This wasn’t a negotiation: this whole talk was nothing more than one big ransom demand! You must have been stupid to try in the first place!
Maybe it was the buildup of stress.
Maybe it was a culmination of bad habits.
Maybe it was just that despite everything, you’re still you.
Whatever it was, your dice rolls for composure failed. You screamed one huge profanity at The Handler and immediately regretted it.
That… was an undeniable mistake. The embarrassment fed into your rage, and you could hardly breathe. You wished you could load a SAVE to choose differently. But there was no point: The Handler remembers. You won’t have a second chance.
“Better. Much, much better. A child should remain honest, don’t you think? I’ve always treasured that trait the most in you youth.”
That praise was poison to your ears.
Then, you heard the keening whirls of magitek activating, but your eyes were still covered.
Mom? What’s happening?
“Judge Thyme…” said Mom, “…Has turned into a Red Lich.”
Hold on. Hold on. You want to see!
“No, my child. He is slowly crumbling. I… I do not want you to witness this. It is far too tragic.”
You heard the dying Mezil shoot that eyeball slug dead. He must have emptied every bullet into that thing to make sure The Handler wouldn’t come back.
“Frisk,” he said with his last remaining will. “You’ve done well. Don’t let this criminal discourage you.”
Tsunderjudge…
“I’m afraid my time in the mortal coil is running short. I must do what I must before the hourglass empties.”
“I, Supreme Judge Mezil of House Berendin, King of Magi, have found an heir! Today, the moment the light of my life ends, my crown and my Claims shall belong to my chosen successor!”
You braced yourself to hear your name, both terrified and eager to take on your new responsibility. Once you’re officially crowned, you can turn back time at your own discretion!!!
“I impose my will upon you!”
You felt your Claim over Mezil crumble into nothingness, the definite proof of his demise. You had expected to have all the power flow into your tiny little body, to hear voices, to fight back against the naysaying butterflies.
And yet… there was nothing but silence.
Instead, Lucas straightened himself and took a few steps backwards. He lifted his hand high above his head to speak the following command:
“Patience still my heart;
Integrity the truest art;
The cosmos to comply;
Chaos I shall rectify!”
“Might of a million souls… be drawn to my will!”
You wriggled out of Mom’s grip to get a proper look. You have to see it, or else you won’t be able to believe it!
The light of Ascension flared from his being, and his irises turned crimson.
He conjured a shining spiral. All power was drawn to him… and out of your own hands.
The empowered Lucas turned towards you and said: “I, acting Supreme Judge Lucas Fennel, hereby request Crimson Keeper Frisk to stand down and relinquish The Keys of Fate.”
You stared at Lucas. When you opened your mouth, you could only ask:
Why?
Why weren’t you chosen?
Lucas said, “Frisk, it’s temporary. I don’t intend to stay as Supreme Judge.”
That’s not the point!!!
You’ve worked your damn ass off every waking hour! You’ve tried so hard to improve! To change! To be better!
Is that not enough?!?!?!
Chara was right! Lucas is the usurper! Mezil chose him only because he’s his nephew! Nepotism! This must have been the plan from the beginning! You’re an idiot to think that you had Mezil’s trust at all!
“It’s not about that,” he tried to reason. “I’m the head of the intel network. I know what’s going on throughout the whole Association.”
If that’s the case, give that info. How the hell are you gonna make the right decision if NOBODY tells you anything???
The Queen of Monsters spoke up, “I did notice you have been rather quiet to us, Supreme Judge Fennel. Will you be willing to divulge?”
Lucas responded, “I… would rather not.”
“…The situation must be worse than expected.”
You pointed a finger at Lucas. See? SEE? THIS is the problem! How many people are already dead? One? Two? Three? More? It’s time to rewind and fix this shit!
“Not now,” he said. “We haven’t devised a foolproof counterplan yet. More intel is required.”
And then what? Wait until the slimy slug eats the whole bloody town?
………………
Fine. If he refuses, you’re gonna take matters into your own hands. You’re tired of sitting around and being useless!
Your mother objected: “Frisk, no! Please, hold on for a moment. Let me try something.” Turning to Lucas, she asked: “You value the chain of command, do you not?”
He paused to listen to her. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Would you accept a mother’s authority over her child? I trust Judge Thyme’s decision. In extension, I trust you as well.”
Mom!? If you remember right, she rejected the Magus’ Association’s offer as Queen of the Dreemurr Nation.
“I know this old goat’s stubborn track record,” said Queen Toriel. “And perhaps I was wrong to be that mistrustful. The current situation is partially my fault, therefore I shall share the responsibility. You do not need to go through this alone.”
No! You refuse: this problem is not for Mom to solve. This is a time-traveller’s dilemma, and you need to contest your new rival fair and square!
Activating your own Ascension, your Determination levels shot way up. You have to FIGHT for control of The Keys of Fate, then you can SAVE everyone!
You tell him that you’ve already beaten worse enemies: Sans, Persona, even Mezil himself! You’re not going to lose to a Budget Copy of The Tsunderjudge!
You’re Determined to claim your rightful power!
A star spawned on Lucas’ chest and the battle of wills began. The air rumbled from the competition.
Ugh… he’s pretty immovable. Not even a single flinch! That was to be expected from a person of Patience and Integrity. They’re both very grounding colours.
“Rightful power, huh?” he smirked. “Tell me, Frisk, are you a team player?”
What a weird question. Of course you are! You’ve teamed up with your friends to kick so many butts.
“I have my doubts. Your outbursts tell me that you’re used to being the one in charge. If Cenna were here, she would have called your behaviour ‘Main Character Syndrome’.”
What did he just say?! Leave your sister out of this!
“Main Character Syndrome. The thinking that you’re the protagonist, and that events revolve around you. Except, in my eyes, you’re the antagonist who stole my uncle’s power. And yet, he chose to spare you. Elect you. Encourage you. Train you. Trust you. Is that not enough? Have you ever trusted him at all?”
Although you’re determined, you found your conviction wavering. Lucas was undeniably correct: the tsun had been less and less tsun to you in recent times.
Wait a minute. If he’s been that good to you, then why didn’t MEZIL trust YOU? Instead, he gave the power to a dude you only met yesterday! Lucas is supposed to help you, right? So why is he being stubborn now?!
Your mother spoke up: “My child, can you not see that Lucas is not celebrating his new position? He does not want this result either.”
Despite your frustration, you considered your mother’s words. It’s true that Lucas didn’t seem very happy or boastful at all.
Suspiciously squinting, you asked him why he insists on holding The Keys if he doesn’t want to be The Supreme Judge?
“Do you remember the timeline where a riot completely destroyed your town? Do you remember Cenna and Queen Toriel dying to protect you from the mob?”
…You heard about it, but you don’t remember any of that personally.
“I do,” he said, “I remember everything. From the genocide of monsterkind, to the unlawful arrest of Judge Thyme, to the Magus Association’s downfall.” He pointed an accusatory finger square in your face: “It all began with you, Frisk Dreemurr. You and your determined greed.”
G-greed?!…
“The Grandmaster taught me that greed is about more than money. It’s about an intense and selfish desire for anything, such as love, fame, and authority. I fear that your Willpower locks your mindset onto a single goal. And you won’t be persuaded until you get what you want, no matter the consequences. That’s a surefire fast track to becoming a DEMON. Is that what you really want?”
O-of course not! Don’t be stupid.
“Then get your head out of your ass for once! Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme deemed you worthy of becoming a Crimson Keeper despite your vague answers and multiple mishaps. Has The Trial of the Crimson Hall taught you nothing? For Heaven’s sake, please don’t disappoint my uncle any further.”
Hey! You’re not the one who decided to erase your memories in the first place! If this lesson is so humbling and important, why didn’t Mezil use his fancy Red Magic to preserve or restore them???
“It was essential to the proper proceedings of The Crimson Hall. Or so I was told upon my promotion to Crimson Keeper. An accurate assessment at the time. Though I’m afraid the same cannot be said about the conclusion of the Trial. Answer me this: what did you mean by ‘Be Determined’? Care to explain your oath to me?”
Oath?
“The Oath of Ascension.”
Oh. That. You remembered telling Mezil that deep down, you wanted to save monsterkind. Then, it was saving Mezil himself. And now… You just want to save everyone. Humans AND monsters.
The adult was not impressed. Folding his arms behind his back, he asked in an almost scoffing manner, “That’s it?”
You acknowledge it’s not a satisfactory answer. Unfortunately, that’s all you have…
“I see. Your heart does seem to be in the right place. There’s a strong sense of Justice within you. Kindness even. However, that’s exactly why I need to know if you’re a team player. Can you cooperate with someone even though you don’t know the full story? If you can’t, you’re a liability to the mission.”
Are you? You thought about it earnestly. On one hand, you trusted your friends. Even Flowey!
On the other hand…
…Sans betrayed you, didn’t he? No. You betrayed Sans first… You kept trying to solve everything alone in the dustiest way possible. That is, until he offered the pinkie promise. And even then, you asked him for the impossible.
The strength of your star waned. A profound, prickly sense of guilt deflated all of your Determination. Your Mark extinguished, announcing an end to the battle of wills. You hung your head low and stared at your feet.
Satisfied with the outcome, Lucas loosened his shoulders. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said. “One moment please.”
He turned aside and began muttering a whole lot of things to himself. He seemed to be thinking very, very, very hard. The way he pinched the bridge of his nose reminded you of the Tsunderjudge. For a moment, he channelled his uncle’s mannerisms and thought patterns.
At last, he asked: “Crimson Keeper Wanderstar. You want to save everyone, right?”
Yes, you wholeheartedly want that. The future shouldn’t involve the murder or torture of anyone, good or bad.
“Including The Handler?”
He’s a big doodoobutt asshole. You hate him very much. But, you don’t want him to die either. He needs to face REAL justice! Capturing him alive is the only way he could face fair prosecution in a court of law! You don’t want anyone to stain their hands with his filthy dust. Not Sans, not Mezil, not even Lucas.
“I’ll keep that in mind. My uncle is known as the Gambit King for a reason. I think your oath is what helped shape his most recent decisions.”
Okay…?
“Frisk. Whatever happens, know that you won't be responsible for any direct orders. And, at the same time, know that you don’t need to bear the guilt of the unknown and the unexpected. That burden is not yours to carry.”
Mom furrowed her brows. “May we know what you are planning, sir?”
“Confidential, sorry. Too many prying eyes.”
Both you and Lucas exchanged awkward stares. You were too salty to speak, yet too high-strung to leave.
The Coordinator rubbed the back of his head, ruffling through his hair while glancing to the side. “...Look, Frisk. I understand you’re frustrated. To be honest, I am too. So… let’s both try our best. All I ask is that you trust me and my uncle from here onwards.”
…Thinking about it, these latest fiascos were also Lucas’ first jobs as a Crimson Keeper. The amount of pressure on his shoulders must be crazy.
You took a deep breath. Very well. You tell Lucas that you’re willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.