“Kakak Ikan adalah musuh kita. Guna jarak dekat. Arahan: Bunuh.”
‘Big Sister Fish is our enemy. Use close range. Order: Kill.’
“Ya, Tuan.”
‘Yes, Master.’
Undyne grimaced. “Dammit, it’s Sans’ anime weapon again!”
The female Seer dashed forward, brandishing her blade with great conviction. She zigged and zagged, darting around the battlefield to throw off her opponent’s focus.
The Captain of the Royal Guard had no problems keeping up. As the protective winds of Aegis surged, minute disturbances in the flow betrayed her opponent’s every move.
Undyne readied her spear to parry the incoming strike, from whatever angle it may come.
In her combat experience, she noticed the oddity: Wait, why does it feel I’ve done this before?
Is this… deja vu?
Then, her comm systems activated.
“Captain, disengage!” Lucas ordered in an urgent tone.
The fish leapt backwards, creating distance between herself and the girl. Malaya stabbed only empty air.
“Aw crap,” said Undyne. “A reset happened, didn’t it?”
“Affirmative. Time rewound. A counterattack plan is already underway. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to brief you from the Hub because your Psychia was not Marked. That means I must guide you through every step of the mission.”
“I bet I got myself killed too, knowing me.”
“Yes, you did. You even left a message. Quote: ‘Tell the next me to not be an idiot’, unquote.”
Grinning, the fish remarked: “Hah! That’s DEFINITELY what I would say! Okay Luc, what do I do next?”
“Retreat and meet up with my contact ASAP. Waterfall will collapse in a few minutes. I’m sending you an overlay of the terrain map with your escape route.”
“Wait, whatever happened to rescuing the girl? I came all the way here for her!”
“Your life is my highest priority. There will be no more second chances. We cannot afford to lose you again.”
Undyne tightened her grip around her spear. Fleeing now would mean certain death for Malaya, while her immortal Amalgamate master would just slink away into the darkness.
In the midst of her hesitation, Lucas suggested: “However, if you could snipe that eyeball slug off Malaya’s shoulder, you might be able to take advantage of her confusion to restrain her. You have 30 seconds.”
“30? Ha! 10 is all I need!”
One spear, one strike. The pressure was on. Any error could cost a life.
The prosthetic eye sensed her intent and began making calculations to assist her. Magic signals tickled her brain, hinting at the right amount of power and angle to pull it off. Now, she had The Handler in her scope.
Target: locked on.
She had lived with one eye for so long, she had forgotten what it was like to have proper sight, nevermind augmented depth perception.
This… is overwhelming. I haven’t trained with my new eye at all. Can I really do this?
NO TIME FOR DOUBTS! I’M GONNA GO FOR IT!!!
Undyne ground her feet, raised her weapon high, then used all her might to send the Spear of Justice flying straight towards the eyeball slug.
Bullseye! The Handler was sent flying, pinned onto the cavern wall of Waterfall.
The eyeball slug… puffed into a cloud of dust. There was no mistaking it: that creature died right then and there.
“The theories are correct after all.” Lucas remarked, “Making notes.”
“HUH?!? I thought Amalgamates were immortal!”
“In summary, the activation of the Seer’s Eye drains Determination from the body and makes it semi-solid. The slugs are proportionally smaller, so they’re much more affected by this phenomenon. Complete destruction is viable under the right circumstances.”
With the loss of her master, Malaya panicked. She screamed bloody murder, haphazardly slashing about.
Spotting an opening, The Captain of the Royal Guard blocked a slice, then whipped out the Magi-supplied trap scroll and slapped it on the girl’s upper arm. The runes activated posthaste, webbing Malaya in its reinforced Purple snare. The more she struggled, the more tangled it became.
Undyne looked at her with pity.
Dammit, at this rate she’s gonna strangle herself. I need to figure out a way to calm her down.
Hey… didn’t I manage to communicate with Snakeface when he lost his mind? He was in wyrm mode, I recall. Emotions between monsters should be universal. No stupid language barrier getting in the way!
With pure magic, the Captain extended her feelings to Malaya: like a gentle, bubbling spring of sweet water. It may not be still, it may not be calm, but it wouldn’t hurt either.
‘No harm. Protect you.’ She kept it simple to minimise the risk of tangled messages.
It worked. Malaya stopped thrashing when she understood that she was no longer in danger.
Lucas instructed: “With your translator, tell Malaya the following in her language. ‘Here. Danger. Together we. Escape.’ Add emphasis if needed.”
“Alright.” She pointed to the surroundings. “Sini. Bahaya.” Then, she pointed to both herself and Malaya. “Kita.” And made a running gesture with two of her fingers, swinging them as fast as she could. “Lari.”
The girl nodded in agreement. The translator worked as intended, and Undyne’s earlier efforts at soothing her emotions made Malaya receptive to those words.
“Captain, you have to move!” Lucas interjected. “Now! Transmitting map data.”
The interface of Undyne’s prosthetic overlaid a map with the most optimal route on her vision. Her own golden path to survival, so to speak.
“Right on it!” At the exact moment, bits of the cave ceiling bounced off her magitek armour. No time to waste, she scooped Malaya off the floor before the caverns around her crumbled.
Forget running. Forget climbing. Forget jumping. It was Aegis on full blast or bust!
With the blessings of the wind itself, the fish and her passenger flew through the confined spaces of the Underground. All the while, the massive slurry of rock, water, mud, and goodness knows what else collapsed right behind her trail.
A bright light awaited her at the end of the tunnel. Sweet, sweet sunlight was just a moment’s away. She put her entire gusto into the final push.
“NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
One bellowing war cry later, she surged across darkness’ threshold.
“I DID IT! I MADE IT--”
But, in her exhilaration, she had failed to notice that she had NOT escaped into the safety of the sun’s embrace. Rather, she had emerged above the red hot lava lake between Waterfall and Hotland.
“I DIDN’T MAKE IT!!!” she yelled back, clearly remembering the threat of toxic fumes.
“Calm yourself, Captain.” Lucas instructed. “The situation is under control. Use Aegis to draw oxygen from your suit. Then use your liquid manipulation magic to create an insulative barrier, containing breathable air around yourself and Malaya.”
“Seriously? I just need to make a bubble? That’s easy shit, man.”
Imagining the outcome, a sense of nostalgia brushed past her subconsciousness. Making bubbles was one of the first expressions of magic that water-type monsters like her practised for fun as children. To think that such an old skill would be put to use in a circumstance of life or death.
“Alright, done and done!” she reported. “What else?”
“Wait for your contact. He’ll be there soon.”
The sheer anxiousness of doing nothing in this precarious condition was downright aggravating. Her restless nature urged her to try to find an exit by herself as quickly as possible. But for once, her rudimentary logic circuits understood that doing so would be suicide.
Undyne’s history in military training was nowhere enough to prevent her from trembling out of impatience.
When is the damn contact gonna appear?????
In turn, Malaya started to squirm in the net. “Kakak Ikan… Takut… Sakit…!”
The girl’s fear and pain snapped the fish out of her funk. She seized control of her emotions and checked the translation for 'Sorry’. The word was rather awkward, and it took her a few tries to get it right. “Mah. Arf. Ma-af. Maaf, maaf.”
Feeling better again, the girl replied: “Tak apa. Terima kasih.”
Back to English, the machine translated: ‘It’s okay. Thank you,’
At long last, the wait came to an abrupt end. The lava beneath began to roil. Then, serene plucks of strings sounded from the unrest: a lullaby.
Undyne recognised the quality of those strings right away. Hey, isn’t that… a lute?
In seconds, Malaya’s once tense body relaxed in her arms, bewitched by peaceful slumber.
I MUST RESIST FALLING ASLEEP! FOR EVERYONE’S SAKE!
...But I didn’t feel anything weird. Maybe it’s tuned just for her SOUL.
A spiked formation of igneous rock rose from the superheated depths. As it grew taller and taller, tree-like branches spread outwards from its base. Soon, shimmering leaves of obsidian dangled from the outgrowth. Crystalline flowers bloomed amidst them, dotting the otherwise dark canopy with radiant colour.
Part of the rock tree had reached Undyne’s level. Perched right among its foliage was none other than Hajikami Hua himself.
Undyne raised an eyebrow. “Are you my contact?”
Hajikami replied in a most fanciful manner: “Indeed, I am the ‘contact’ spoken of by The Coordinator.”
Lucas added: “Lord Hua also knows more about Aegis than anyone. If he gives you advice, please listen to him.”
“Did you just come out of the lava? The super-duper-fish-frying hot stuff? Wait. Nevermind. If anime is real, OF COURSE you did! YEAH! Okay, how do we get out of here?”
Hajikami replied: “‘We’? You and I shall remain here. Only the girl may leave.”
“Huh?!?!? Why?????”
“It’s because you have a new mission, Captain. Follow Lord Hua to The Core. We’re expecting enemy activity at that location.”
Bowing slightly to Hajikami, she said, “Sorry about the confusion, Mister Hua. Let’s get Malaya out of here.”
A humongous seed pod grew from the side of its trunk, its valves opened wide. The insides of the plant had a smooth lining of white jade to cradle any life placed within.
“Put her inside,” Hua instructed. “I shall send this whole growth up to the surface.”
Undyne turned towards the girl in her arms. “But who’s gonna fetch her? She’ll be alone up there!” Just the thought of The Handler creeping near her again… was enough to fill the fish with disgust.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“What does The Coordinator think?”
“Sir Gaelic and Sir Garamond are inbound to retrieve her. They’re nearing the pickup point as we speak.”
“AWESOME! No objections, then.”
Just to be safe, Undyne filled the pod with some clean, oxygenated air before putting Malaya inside. Once the girl was secure, the pod’s valves sealed themselves shut.
With a wave of his hand, Hajikami commanded the stone tree to grow ever taller. Up, up, up and up, the rock tree ascended, burrowing through the cavern ceiling. The earth might as well be as fluid as water in that man’s presence.
The tense waiting resumed. Until…
Lucas reported: “Crystal tree sighted. She’s safe now. Good job, Captain Undyne.”
* * *
Time rewound.
Sir Grillbz Grillenn -- Knight of Berendin -- found himself running through the streets of Ebott Town, with Judge Thyme by his side. At this point in the past, they were in hot pursuit of Gaelic’s impostor.
But, the plan had changed. Lady Lucidia’s safety took priority. He turned around while maintaining momentum, heading back to The Lab.
Judge Thyme did the same, ramping up all the Orange-magic related Arcanagrams in his body, giving him additional strength and stamina to keep up with his knight.
The Living Victory asked: “Do you feel disorientated from the reset?”
“…A little…” answered Grillby. “…I might have tripped over my own feet… Had I not steeled my mind for the jump…”
“It takes a while to get used to it. Let’s hurry. I don’t know how long Victor and Edmund can hold their ground against a Seer Amalgamate.”
Any one of the slugs had the potential to morph into a more combat-ready body. Judge Caraway may be stationed with Rosemary, but the others in the same room were non-combatants. The risk of The Handler gaining the upper hand grew with each second wasted.
Thankfully, they were still closer to The Lab than to the skeleton brothers’ house.
Along the way, Grillby asked: “…My lord… Has that soul-burning trap truly disappeared?…”
“Uncertain,” Judge Thyme replied. “Sans Serif theorised that The Handler pooled all of his Determination in The Core in preparation for the ultimate curse. He may not have had any left to spare to make his poison permanent.”
“…That could be the ‘lucky break’ we need…”
“With my track record, I’d prefer to have unironic luck for once...”
When they arrived at The Lab, Susie -- Prince Ralsei’s muscle -- was guarding the door. The first thing she yelled was: “YOU’RE LATE!!!”
Grillby’s heart sank for a moment, thinking that The Handler had succeeded in his mission. However, Susie’s tone of voice was one of mild irritation instead of grim resentment.
Leaning on her axe, Susie elaborated: “The old grandma already dealt with whatever the heck happened in there. Hurry up and get inside before more of those sneaky buggers show up! I’ll stay here and hold the fort.”
“…Who?…” Although he kept his tone polite, Grillby wondered if this purple dinosaur had just insulted Lady Lucidia for her age.
“That person…” said the human, “Would be my wife’s former teacher. Come along, Sir Grillenn, we’ll go meet her now.”
Bidding Susie farewell, they entered The Lab and made their way to Rosemary’s ward, or rather the remnants thereof.
Grillby assessed the situation from beneath his visor. Signs of struggle littered all around, in the form of damaged walls, upturned furniture, and smashed chairs. A chaotic battle had exploded inside there: figuratively or otherwise.
The people involved fared only a little better. Each of them had fought so valiantly against The Handler, Grillby thought. Jacob suffered a concussion and Victor winced from a gash on his arm. Edmund, carrying bandages, administered first aid to his friends. However, from the way he carried himself, he might have sustained some bruising of his own. Worrisome, as the elderly healed slowly compared to their younger counterparts.
Meanwhile, Cenna wiped the sweat off her forehead, fanning herself to help cool down from the intense combat. She seemed unharmed, but that didn’t stop her Alchemist friend from fussing up and down, double and triple checking every part of her for undiscovered injuries.
Past the tired, injured people stood Lady Lucidia herself, keeping the sleeping Rosemary stable with her magic. The area around the bed had miraculously survived the ordeal somehow.
Grillby’s sights snapped towards a cloaked figure staying small in the right corner of the room. A threatening aura exuded from that person, combined with a disturbing sense of the arcane.
The flames on his body flickered beneath his armour. He shifted into a defensive position, arms stretched across Judge Thyme to shield his lord from harm.
“Oh?” The mysterious person spoke with the voice of a firm, yet elderly woman. “The Young Master has scouted yet another dangerous weapon. Still, dear Lucidia almost perished. Such misdirected effort.”
“Stand down, Sir Grillenn.” Judge Thyme said, “She’s the former teacher I spoke of.”
“...As you wish…” On command, Grillby lowered his arm but not his guard.
His lord then nodded his head towards the elderly woman in formal respect. “Thank you for your assistance, Artificer Willowherb. Or… should I address you as Crimson Keeper once more? It’s clear that you’ve retained your memory: the hallmarks of a Living Victory.”
“The former is preferred, thank you. Besides, you’re allowed to call me Anya anytime. There’s no need for you to be so cold around my being.”
“‘Artificer Willowherb’, I know you’re displeased that I’ve left your student vulnerable. Therefore, I made ample precautions to rectify my error.”
“I suppose you have done so,” she replied, “Why, the fine gentlemen here immediately jumped into action to deter the slug. Though they only managed to buy enough time for my external intervention.”
This woman was another newly-appointed Crimson Keeper, Grillby realised. Like Fennel. Like Frisk.
Irritated, Lady Lucidia cleared her throat and said: “Requesting the cessation of banter, please. I require adequate focus.”
Anya’s tone softened. “Ah, the Young Missus is getting cranky. Let’s save our disagreement for another time.”
“Agreed,” Judge Thyme answered in his usual manner. Turning to his wife, he said: “I’m glad to see you safe and sound, my love.”
“I’m glad to see you alive as well, dearest,” Lucidia replied. “This loop appears to have gone much less fatal than the last.”
“It has, so far. Keep up the good work. Rosemary’s condition will stabilise before long.”
Grillby noticed that Rosemary appeared to be peaceful. It was the complete opposite of what he had heard in The Hub.
Out of curiosity, he asked: “…Lady Lucidia… was she always this serene?…”
“Negative,” the lady replied. “Meltdown was imminent. However, the pressure decreased after the attack.”
Smiling, Anya said: “You can thank Papyrus for that. That young Seer managed to soothe her heart with his steadfast commitment to pacifism. Otherwise, she would have become a DEMON by now. There was plenty of murderous spite in her before.”
“…And his efforts carried over?…”
“The evidence speaks for itself.”
Papyrus’ surprise success filled Grillby’s heart with wonder. It was a miracle in its own right. Many others would have been tempted to consider Rosemary a lost cause… but not Papyrus: he saw the potential of goodness no matter who he met.
That made him think about Frisk. If Papyrus opened his heart to them, then who inspired who?
Did Frisk convince Papyrus that humans could be friends?
Or did Papyrus convince Frisk that they could choose to be good?
It was a chicken-and-egg question.
Perhaps Grillby was the naive fool in the end. He offered to be a mentor figure to the Snowdin youth, not realising that he was the ignorant one in the picture.
“…Judge Thyme… May I speak my thoughts out loud?…”
“I permit you to do so. Prefer, even.”
“…Ever since I spoke with Prince Ralsei, I’ve been troubled… He said I serve the greater good, but do I really?… In my entire career, all I’ve done is fight… and kill…”
Solemnly, he looked down upon his own two hands. “... If I’ve trained for destruction for my entire life… And now, wearing this armour, I’m more powerful than ever… ...How much of a weapon am I?…”
Hearing that, Anya Willowherb spoke up: “I’ve held those thoughts before. They come with being former military. Paradoxically, weapons are best wielded by a kind, thoughtful, and empathetic person, like you and that young Seer.”
“…‘Kindness without strength is nothing but weakness’…” Grillby replied, sceptical of the premise. “...That’s what my grandaunt used to tell me…”
“And yet, you have both strength and kindness. A rare combination.”
He remained silent, still weighed down by doubt.
The cloaked woman stepped forward. With control over Determination matching her sagely lifespan, her once threatening aura turned into one of peace. Calm. Soothing. Relaxing. Friendly.
Despite the temptation, Grillby continued to resist the call to surrender and maintained his guard. He would not let another Red lull him into a false sense of security.
“Good,” the woman commented. “Very good. That’s a sign of inner strength. Judge Thyme, should you permit it, I believe a demonstration is in order.”
Judge Thyme nodded. “Permission granted, within reason. Sir Grillenn, please show Artificer Willowherb your power. And whatever happens, do not dispel it.”
And so, Grillby conjured a hot, orange plume of fire magic.
Miss Willowherb removed her gloves, revealing her burn-scarred hands. The otherwise smooth skin had become a mass of gnarled, malformed, reddish webs. What a hideous sight. Just looking at them stung Grillby with the nightmare of Yellow’s demise.
Then, without warning, the woman stuck her hands right into the fire. Alarmed, he immediately cooled the output of his flames.
“…Are you hurt?…” he asked, concerned.
“Not at all, due to your swift actions. You have exceptional control over your magic.”
“…What’s so special about that?… The King and Queen can do this with ease…”
“Very few would compare themselves to Boss Monsters. I’d say you’re leagues ahead of your average Fire Eater.”
The woman pulled out a combat knife from under her cloak, and waved it ever so slightly, drawing deliberate attention to the Corrupt Determination coursing through its steel.
“This here,” She explained, “Is a cursed blade. Injuries inflicted by its edge won’t heal. Ah, it’s a simple but effective spell. Caused many a cruel death over the ages.”
Grillby dreaded to think what she would do next. Could all Reds be this insane?
Right on cue, she stabbed that same weapon through the back of her hand. Blood flowed free from the wound in exacerbated amounts, unable to stop due to the curse.
The expected action disturbed Grillby nonetheless. With his free hand, he yanked out the knife and tossed it to a corner far away from everyone else. His follow-up response was to stop the bleeding by applying pressure. However, blood continued to seep between his fingers.
What about controlled cauterisation? An injury to seal another injury. It was an inferior and painful option, but one that might circumvent the curse’s rules.
“…Sorry…” He apologised first, then focused an intense heat on the edges of the wound. The smell of burnt flesh wafted in the air.
Yet, his efforts were soon undone. The burnt bits crumbled off her hand, and the bleeding resumed.
Refusing to give up, he put every ounce of healing magic he had into his flame. Through his intent, the colour changed from orange to green: filled with Kindness.
The curse continued to resist. Reject. He could feel the corruption mock his attempts.
If Kindness alone was not enough, the most logical answer would be to bolster the fire with his own Determination. To put in strength.
Grillby decided to target the curse instead of the wound. He thought of Papyrus, and how the young man had managed to transform the heart of DEMONs.
Something began to change in ways he did not understand. The curse itself ignited. Dark red wisps burned ashen white into a puff. Then, the evil vanished into nothingness.
The wound finally began to heal and close up. Seconds later, all that remained was a faint scar blending in with the surrounding burn marks.
“…It worked…” said Grillby, having trouble believing the results. “…What just happened?…”
“You unleashed the Flames of Purification.” The old sage chuckled. “My oh my, the Young Master has indeed found a rare gem. That level of strength comes from a mixture of innate talent, steadfast diligence, and an unwavering kind heart. You’ve been building those foundations long before realising them, Sir Grillenn.”
This tangent was an unexpected but welcome outcome for Grillby. Perhaps it might take him one step closer along his very own golden path.
Judge Thyme looked towards the wounded. “Artificer Willowherb, if you could further instruct Sir Grillenn in harnessing his new ability. We have more of the wounded to treat. And I'm worried about other hidden curses as well.”
“I always appreciate getting formal authorization for live practice.” Anya smiled. “I’ll make sure to polish your diamond in the rough.”
* * *
Once upon a time, the fledgling hero suffered a humiliating defeat. To rub salt into his wound, the villain had no name, no face, no identity, and no mercy. That very existence went against everything the hero held dear.
Now, he had the chance to redeem himself. He would swap missions with Sans and be the one to chase down The Handler. Meanwhile, Sans would use the Seraph System on Rosemary first before heading down to The Core.
The condition to achieve victory was as follows: Papyrus would rescue his parents and The Six. Nothing more, nothing less. Let others play their part.
It was tempting to jump into the fray and take the spotlight. He had tasted those highs before. But, he couldn’t let his hangups bring yet another defeat.
Time rewound. The counterattack began turning its cogs and wheels.
Papyrus found himself standing in the workshop. The undone Seraph System had its plethora of mysterious parts laid out on the table, awaiting their final assembly.
Sans grabbed his hand without any words. Together, both brothers jumped to the backyard: the place where Sans’ secret lab was about to get lockpicked by The Handler.
The sudden appearance attracted the attention of their parents. Sans left as quickly as he had arrived. He had too much to do, and too little time to do it.
“Papyrus!” Roman exclaimed. “Are you here to help out?”
Helvetica added, “I would appreciate an extra pair of hands to carry these little bundles of joy. They’ve been getting heavier and heavier in these tense circumstances.”
“MOM. DAD. I… I HAVE A BETTER PLACE FOR YOU ALL TO HIDE.”
The fake Gaelic turned around, hissing and growling just like the original. “Stay away! That be the mangy cur, disguised as yer son!”
Confused and frightened, the parents shuffled further away from their son, huddling the babies close to their SOULs.
Begging and reasoning would be of no use here. Instead, Papyrus burned his Eye.
“SANS, WHAT AM I MISSING? WHAT DO I NEED TO BEAT THE HANDLER?”
“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever properly taught you how to manipulate the flow of time. It’s that little non-teleport shifting I do sometimes. Get what I mean?”
“T-THAT’S NOT ONE OF YOUR MANY SPECIAL TALENTS?”
“Nope. Every Seer has this ability, even though most find it too strenuous to use. Present company included. Still, I know you can do it, Papyrus. In fact, you did it before.”
“I DON’T REMEMBER…”
“Let me jog your memory. This happened in the earliest chapters of your story, when Cenna first showed up in town. You duelled her. We had a spaghetti meal together. Undyne almost ejected me out of the window, chair and all. Good times, good times. That’s when your Eye started to kick into high gear. Suddenly, you were on the floor, clutching your socket in pain.”
“WOWIE SANS, YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO EXAGGERATE. THAT HAPPENED ONLY A FEW MONTHS AGO. YOU TALK AS IF IT’S BEEN YEARS!”
“Welp. It does feel that way sometimes. Point being: none of us saw you collapse. You skipped several seconds, there and then. But, I think you only did so once and never again. That’s why I’m here to give you a much needed refresher. This old-new skill is gonna give you the upper hand against The Handler. After all, he can’t shut you down if you act first.”
The flow of time slowed down. The Handler didn’t seem to register what was happening in reality. Part one of the plan, achieved. Part two, however, required picture perfect execution and decisive action.
Whenever Papyrus moved, the air felt like water. The faster he tried to run, the heavier his limbs became. His ability to bend time was nowhere near as good or fluid as his brother’s. Still, he charged forward with all his might.
Up close to The Handler, Papyrus conjured a sword made of bone.
“Lad, have ye ever sharpened yer bones? Honed their edge?”
“IT NEVER CROSSED MY MIND. ISN’T THAT INSANELY DANGEROUS?!”
“Every creature has their innate tools o’ survival. Teeth. Claws. Tusks. Beaks. Even bodily fluids. ‘Tis time ye made yers. Aye, call it the wisdom o’ the wilderness.”
Against the pressure, against the strain, against his very own pacifistic nature…
…The hero aimed for the enemy’s neck. He kept his sight focused, watching the edge slowly but surely sink into the surface of the goopy bone.
That was when he shut off his newfound ability and let time flow free.
Thus the Handler’s decapitated head went flying. The skull landed on the ground with a soft thud, rolling until it came to a stop in the grass. The shock from that swift detachment caused the disguise to glitch out into the faces of his many other victims.
As for the headless body? It continued to stand there, not dusting, but melting.
Papyrus heard his parents scream. The sudden panic made the babies cry as well. His very own bones trembled from witnessing himself commit that ghastly deed.
“Papyrus, young Seer, do you know what the heretics call the Amalgamates?”
“NO, MISTER MAGUS, I DO NOT.”
“‘Deathless Materia’. In other words: immortal magical matter. The Handler will never crumble into dust under normal circumstances. Exploit this trait to your advantage.”
“THAT’S…”
“Should you succeed, you won’t just save my life, but also the lives of your parents and everyone in town. The hero’s journey… your golden path… is full of trials and tribulation such as these. I apologise for putting you in this unsavoury position.”
“I’M OKAY. WHATEVER CHOICE I MAKE SHALL BE MY OWN! YOU’RE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR MY DECISIONS.”
The Handler’s unnatural immortality was all the convincing the skeleparents needed. They bolted away from the impostor and rushed straight towards their son.
“W-what’s happening???” asked Roman.
“Did we get tricked?!?” exclaimed Helvetica.
Papyrus answered: “YES, BUT I DON’T BLAME YOU. IT WAS AN EXCELLENTLY CONVINCING IMPERSONATION OF SIR GAELIC. NOW LET US ESCAPE BEFORE HE SLIMES HIS WAY TO US. COME WITH ME, NYEH HEH HEH!”