Frisk called. Mezil listened to their every word with full concentration. The child reported another layer of mystery of a frustrating, obtuse case.
“That’s what happened, Tsunderjudge. It must be a clue! Any ideas?”
Mezil replied, “I have some thoughts, but nothing concrete. Focus on your mission first. Meet up with your King Asgore and help him return order to The Town Hall.”
“Okay. Good luck!”
Call, end.
Mezil contemplated its implications.
A prismatic Mark of Hopes and Dreams… The destabilisation of The Handler’s will… And the victims’ true personalities shining through…
This is reminiscent of a network disruption. Thinking back, The Handler has too much conscious control, so much so that all his splinters act as one. The Dreemurr Nation’s Amalgamates compete for coherence, while Doctor Gaster dominated over mere fragments of Roman and Helvetica. The Handler, by comparison, has almost no material of his own, and too much stolen from others, thus defying this convention.
I initially presumed that he had been operating from a singular true body. However, Sans Serif’s Chronography raised more questions than answers.
‘He’s more of a concept than a person by now,’ so said the assassin…
…I can’t focus my thoughts. There are far too many loose ends to tie up first.
Mezil peeked around the corner towards the makeshift ward. Lucidia continued her difficult work of stabilising Rosemary behind those closed doors, not letting anyone inside. Not even the girl’s own father. The only exception would be for Sans Serif. However, he had yet to complete the Seraph System. Its construction had fallen behind schedule due to recent happenings.
I’m most concerned about my brother-in-law. His forte is in social environments, not crisis situations. And whenever he gets a panic attack…
Jacob, the girl's father, stared into space in a near catatonic-state. Alchemist Anise tried to wave her hand in front of his face to get his attention, but there was no response at all.
…It would be as though his soul had vacated his body temporarily. I’ve seen this play out more times than he ever realised, lost in the sands of rewound time.
Meanwhile, Edmund and Victor had already taken charge of the situation as proper detectives. They had their trusty notepads out, both in analogue and digital forms. They interviewed Cenna and Artificer Willowherb for their insights.
…Everyone else is capable of handling themselves. What was I thinking, jumping back into action right after announcing my retirement--
No. I shouldn’t dampen my own Determination with negative thoughts. Not now. Not ever.
Around that time, Doctor Alphys hurried across the room with a toolbox, huffing and puffing from the uptick of physical activity. Fitness was definitely not her forte.
She seems busy. Was she trying to repair something?
I heard Sans Serif took an unplanned detour to retrieve her, but he had yet to disclose anything about his reasoning.
Whatever it is, I’m not sure it’s worth going off script for.
Mezil then heard a series of light footsteps hurrying down the hallway.
That had to be Sans Serif.
The short skeleton said: “Make way, coming through.” Nonetheless, he weaved between everyone in one smooth motion. As he passed by, the red gleam of rose mithril trailed right behind his prosthetic arm. And, right on cue, the door to Lucidia’s ward opened up, anticipating the arrival of The Seraph System.
Hmm. He didn’t teleport inside. Sans Serif is prioritising the conservation of his stamina over efficient and timely convenience…
Mezil paged Sans: “Explain.”
“Nope. Gotta concentrate on Rosemary. You’ve just gotta trust me, Thymer.”
“At least tell me the reason why you brought Doctor Alphys…”
“We’ll talk later. Bye for now.”
Dead silence. Sans Serif had already cut him off. A long, drawn-out sigh failed to encapsulate the fatigue of dealing with that enigmatic pile of bones.
Refusing to idle away, Mezil phoned Lucas for an update. “Fennel, overview report.”
“Sir Gaelic and Investigator Blanc are almost back at base. All’s clear. Meanwhile, Papyrus successfully secured Times Roman, Helvetica, and the Six. But, he insists on not heading back to The Lab. His Seer’s Eye is warning him against it.”
“Where is he now? Do you have a visual?”
“Affirmative. I have a drone in his vicinity. Seems there’s a large quantity of slugs stalking his trail. I believe they’re remnants of the decapitated body, dissolved into its base components. Fortunately, Papyrus has retrieved his car and managed to stay mobile by driving around town.”
“Maintain contact and provide assistance whenever necessary. Tell Papyrus to go airborne should the situation on the ground deteriorate. Though watch out for long-range magic. Armaments especially.”
“Message, relayed. Sir, incoming transmission.” Lucas paused for a moment, then reported with a newfound sense of urgency: “I’ve received an update from Captain Undyne and Lord Hua: slugs are overrunning The Core as we speak! They’re doing their best to cull their numbers.”
“The Handler is trying to pressure us into throwing ourselves into danger unprepared.”
“There’s also a message from Lord Hua. He said, ‘Should worst come to worst, I will command the molten earth itself to consume the facility. Do not worry. The planet is safe under my watch.’ I… think that statement alone is a major cause of concern.”
Groaning, Mezil planted his face into his palm. “I agree. If we let Lord Hua have his way, Ebott Town may not survive the aftermath.”
“Captain Undyne followed up with this: ‘I’ll make sure a volcanic eruption doesn’t happen, and delay The Handler for as long as I can.’ Cap that off with her iconic battle cry.”
“Good. Last resorts should remain last resorts. Keeper Fennel, assist them to the best of your ability. End call.”
“Yes sir!”
Mezil glanced at the clock on his phone. They were getting uncomfortably close to the last known dead end.
“E-e-e-e-excuse me?”
That shy woman’s voice could belong to no other than Doctor Alphys herself. He pocketed his phone and faced her with a straight back, knowing that she might have overheard the conversation.
“Can I help you?” asked Mezil.
The lizard scientist pushed up her glasses. “I… I heard everything from Sans. Undyne didn’t survive the previous timeline. A-and now this ‘Handler’ person is trying to hijack The Core itself. Please! Let me help!”
Her earnestness tugged a string in the Supreme Judge’s heart. Nonetheless, it would be irresponsible to act on it. “I personally think the situation is too dangerous for you. Sans Serif had apparently thought otherwise.”
“Why?” she asked. “I-is it because I can’t fight?”
“Yes. In addition to that, you have a history of suicidal ideation. This makes you especially vulnerable against an opponent capable of attacking the mind itself. In short, you’re a liability.”
For a moment, Doctor Alphys shrank from discouragement. It was well within Mezil’s expectations for people of her archetype.
He then heard an old wise woman make the most disapproving throat-clearing sound to Mezil’s ears. Slowly, he turned toward her.
Artificer Willowherb, Lucidia’s teacher, had a glare so intense that he felt like a young boy. Fearful, embarrassed guilt shot up his spine at the rate that rivalled his own dear departed mother.
“Judge Thyme,” she said, “Doctor Alphys is the host of this place. In her great kindness, she allowed you to turn her home into a headquarters, workshop, and a hospital. I certainly expect a man of your position to act more graciously.”
In other words, I’m being roasted for being too harsh and ungrateful.
I suppose that I’ve been rude without realising it.
Bowing to Alphys, Mezil apologised. “I’m sorry for my uncouthness, especially within your own home. Your hospitality is the very reason why countless lives were saved.”
”Doctor Alphys, I acknowledge your genius. However, I don’t have nearly enough manpower to protect you against an unknown foe. There are still too many uncertainties surrounding the nature of The Handler to guarantee your safety.”
“Y-you… you were worried about me?”
“Yes. You’re also important to Captain Undyne, who volunteered to be under my command. The pact between us serves as a promise of protection, not just to my subordinates, but their loved ones as well.”
Alphys’ eyes sparkled with adoration. He noticed that she was easily swooned by people she considered handsome or beautiful.
But, a few seconds later, that dreamy adoration was replaced by fierce determination. The lizard scientist said: “If that’s the case, what I need is some form of protection against psychic damage. Like an enchanted c-construction helmet! How do I do that? Hmmm…”
Artificer Willowherb volunteered. “Are you looking for a helping hand, my good doctor? I’m still a master Artificer despite my advanced age. Please let me provide some guidance.”
“Excellent! Follow me! This way leads to my personal workshop.” The lizard rushed off with her new plan churning in her mind.
Right before she left, the old sage asked: “Is everything alright, Judge Thyme?”
Mezil said: “I’m afraid the details are confidential, Artificer Willowherb.”
The Artificer nodded. “Remember that I’m available for non-confidential consultation any time, young man: both as the last vestige of Judge Pashowar’s era, and as Lucidia’s mentor.”
“Thank you very much for your kind offer.”
“Instead of thanking me, you should treat Doctor Alphys with more tender kindness. People of her sensitive disposition don’t do well with your usual harsh demeanour. You wouldn’t treat Lucidia like that, would you? Anyhow.” The woman bowed goodbye. “I’ll go and assist Doctor Alphys now.”
He watched her leave before he allowed himself to relax.
After all these years, I still tense up around her…
In Lucidia’s mind, Artificer Willowherb is her actual mother figure, not the demanding crone that birthed her. As such, I’ve decided to treat this woman with the same dignity and respect as permitted to a proper mother-in-law.
However, my bond with my own biological mother became estranged when I was a teenager, and she passed away before we could make amends. Unconscious or not, this complicates my responses.
In addition, Lucidia’s teacher tended to countless souls, both the living and the dead. With that much experience, she could discern a person’s moods and troubles at a glance. It was almost as though she was capable of reading minds.
I don’t think the shepherd’s staff comes with that ability. But, I know I’m too much of an open book in her eyes. I’ve always found that uncomfortable.
The makeshift ward opened up once more, indicating that Rosemary’s procedure had completed. Her relatives were called in for an explanation. Only then did Jacob snap out of his daze.
Cenna stayed outside to guard the door. Mezil heard her telling Sir Grillenn: “You should follow Mez in my stead. Thanks.”
The knight nodded back. “…You’re welcome…” He looked towards his lord with the expectation that he’d head towards the ward first.
Mezil took a step forward…
…And stopped.
What good is an uncle who barely appeared in her life? I don’t deserve to be a member of Rosemary’s family.
Sans Serif must have noticed his absence, because that silver tongued trickster wasted no time being a bother. He paged him through the mind comm link and said, “Hey Thymer, the patient is your direct niece. I ain’t talking until you’re here with us.”
“Tsk, then pass the task of explaining to Lucidia. We have no time for your procrastination.”
“Your wife ain’t doing so hot in the emotional department either. Dontcha wanna support her? Even if you’d rather distance yourself from your sister’s kid, you can’t leave your lady out in the cold.”
Leave it to Sans Serif to poke logical holes. Unable to avoid the situation any longer, Mezil walked into the makeshift ward. His knight followed right behind.
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Rosemary lay asleep. The effects of her suspended animation would not clear for another hour or so. It was for the best.
Lucidia stood next to Rosemary’s bed with clasped hands. Although her face was hidden behind her porcelain mask, her trembling fingers clawed into her gloves. She tried her damndest to remain professional in front of so many people.
Resting his hand on her shoulder, Mezil asked: “Dear? Are you alright?”
A moment of hesitation passed. Then, his wife responded with: “…Perhaps not. You’ll understand once you hear the results.”
Sans Serif leaned against the wall, arms behind his back, hiding the Seraph System from view.
Jacob staggered inside. “Rose… How’s Rose? Is she alive.”
Shrugging, the short Seer answered: “Welp, looks like I gotta start with the good news. Your daughter remained a human being, alive and well. And she’ll stay that way as long as she doesn’t use any magic.”
Edmund furrowed his brows. “Something tells me the bad news is in the fine print.”
“Right on the money. Long story short, if she wants to chase her fairytale dream to become a Magus, she’ll drop dead between 30 to 40. Like Cenna, her mana is now directly tied to her lifespan.”
“How does that work?” asked Victor. “Why is that the outcome of this operation?”
“Any further explanation is just a whole lotta jargon you won‘t understand.”
Despite such, Sans revealed the full explanation to Mezil through the current mind link:
“But, you would, Thymer. The Handler’s original big-brain plan was to maximise Rosemary’s potential as a Magus before turning her into a skeleton. Step one was to deregulate her Psychia, forcing it to produce Determination beyond its natural ability. He would then use the Lich Conversion spell. That’s step two: a process that stabilises her condition by spreading the DT throughout her bones. Doing so would give him the best quality Lich possible. The perfect package: immense strength, great longevity, and powerful magic, yet retaining the capacity for reproduction. All the while having only vague recollections of the past. Can’t have your loyal test subject pining for home, y’know.”
“Uhhh…” Victor squinted, “Couldn’t you have used this awkward silence to explain it regardless?”
“Nah, I got a reputation to uphold here. Being the laziest lazybone in town and so on.”
Mezil sighed internally, replying: “Quite the bold faced lie. Though, I appreciate that you’re mindful of concealing confidential information.”
“If it works, it works. Anyways, here’s the problem: that whole process got cancelled halfway through step one when my brother rescued her. The unfinished business turned the gal into a pressure cooker ready to burst at a moment’s notice. If not for Papyrus using Mom’s enchanted scarf, she might have gone DEMON right there in that cave.”
Suspicious, the detective’s assistant crossed his arms. “What do you even mean by that?”
Shrugging his iconic shrug, Sans said: “Exactly what it says on the tin. I’m not just the master of lazybones, I’m all lazybones. Besides, when the magitechnobabble gets this magitechnobabbly, it’s almost impossible to form a coherent sentence without losing your train of thought. Waaaaaay too much effort if you ask me.”
“You’re the guy who calculated the source of the jamming with nothing more than mental arithmetics and an analogue map. I don’t believe for a second that you can’t give us a proper explanation.”
“Trust me, I tried. Let’s just say this is the best I could muster.”
“So, after piercing a certain Blue heart-shaped object with my hidden blade slash hypodermic needle slash prickly pokey device, I drained Rosemary of her excess DT and recycled it to make a fresh new Mark on the inside of her SOUL. Used a whole bunch of hyper-specific and time-sensitive instructions to patch up the damages without making things worse. Had me sweating bullets for a while there.”
Then, it came down to the burning question. Mezil transmitted: “…You can’t help her any further?”
“Welp. It if was that simple, you’d have already saved the hot and spicy Vanquisher, no? Lil’ Miss Lucy wouldn’t be stressing out either.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right. What you did can only be described as an MVM bordering on an HVM. It’s not a procedure without significant risks. And any mistakes would have been disastrous…”
There was one foolproof solution to the problem… an ever present, tempting one. It would be to turn back the clock itself, all the way before Rosemary was ever in danger.
Sure enough, Mezil heard Victor and Edmund trying to hold back Jacob.
“What are you thinking?!”
“Don’t get hasty now, lad.”
“Let go of me!”
Sir Grillenn moved in between Judge Thyme and the rest of the group, guarding him.
Knowing what he must face, Mezil said: “…Let Jacob pass. I’ll have to face this eventually.”
Although reluctant, his knight stepped aside. Mezil felt a hand – Jacob’s – grip strongly onto his left sleeve. It trembled in greater fear than the one clawing his own heart.
“Please…” The father begged, ignoring his friends. “Save Rose. I… I take everything back. Just… just use your time powers to save my daughter! I beg you!”
Lucidia immediately confronted her brother-in-law. “Request denied. The timestamp to rescue Rosemary is too far behind.”
“It’s time travel, dammit! He already knows the future! Can’t Mezil solve anything and everything?! ”
“Double– No, triple negative. That will only ensure our defeat. Our current enemy’s memory is equally rewind-proof: the future is known to him as well. We’ll be at a huge disadvantage if we turn back time.”
Such was why time travel was the Magi’s deepest secret. The temptation to exploit this power for personal gain was too great.
Who should be saved?
Who should be damned?
Who should be chosen?
Who should be ignored?
To live or to die. Family and friends may not always be the most viable choice. And not everyone could accept this cruel reality.
Closing his eyes, Mezil turned his head away from Jacob. “I’m sorry.”
The grip on his sleeve tightened, fuelled with rage from the refusal. Another expected action that Mezil would not blame anyone for: it was a natural reaction born from familial bonds. A father should fight the world for his daughter’s sake, because the world is a dangerous place.
Sensing a spike in hostility, Sir Grillenn yanked Jacob away by the collar. After all, Judge Thyme’s earlier order was just to step aside for the initial confrontation, not to allow physical aggression.
“…Please calm down…” said the knight, dangling the man off the ground with one arm.
“Like hell I will!” Jacob tossed his limbs around, struggling to break free. “What’s with the collar treatment? What am I, a cat!?!”
Suddenly, Jacob yelped. A small white object struck him right in the forehead. It bounced on the ground once before rolling against Mezil’s shoe.
Isn’t that… a piece of blackboard chalk?
Artificer Willowherb dusted her gloves, making it clear to everyone that she was the one who threw the chalk. Curiously, she also had a safety helmet tucked under her arm.
The old sage said: “Judge Thyme, I suggest that you don’t get sidetracked by this appalling display of ignorance. Please focus on the mission at hand. I wish to talk with you in private.”
…There’s no way I can reason with Jacob at the moment. Family matters will have to wait for another day.
As long as The Handler remains at large, Rosemary will remain in danger.
Nodding, Mezil accepted her request. “We’ll discuss outside. Sir Grillenn, keep holding onto Jacob until he calms down.”
After he issued his orders, he left the ward to consult the former Crimson Keeper on her behest.
On the way out, Mezil remarked: “Judge Caraway, I thought you were guarding the door?”
“Yeah, I did,” she replied most innocently. “Ain’t she approved personnel?”
“…Nevermind.” It was too late to correct that miscommunication. “Carry on as is.”
He carried on to move to a quiet corridor nearby. There, Artificer Willowherb began: “I called you to give you my assessment of Doctor Alphys. Please examine the inside of this helmet.”
She passed the safety helmet over to Mezil. When she did so, he saw that it was covered in Arcanagrams. He sent a test pulse of magic through the code and felt the feedback. “This… repels Determination.”
“Correct,” said Willowherb, “Doctor Alphys created that in the span of five minutes. All I needed to do was to explain the basic requirements. Her mind is brilliant beyond her own understanding, and it’s that same brilliant mind who upgraded The Core. We’re speaking of her home, her territory, her lair. Without her, you’ll be utterly lost.”
Mezil furrowed his brow. “I understand. Yet, I still can’t guarantee her survival. As a shepherd, you should understand that I have a responsibility to protect my flock. I fear I may have underestimated The Handler from the beginning, failing to see the wolf in sheep’s clothing for what it truly is.”
“What is he truly, then? Earlier, you admitted your uncertainty to Doctor Alphys.”
“…That’s the problem: I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I should involve you in this at all.”
“Hmmm, then, let it be known that this Determined old lady insists on getting involved. Let’s start with what we know for certain. Based on its liquid properties, our enemy is an Amalgamate, correct?”
“Correct. They’re made of the former bodies of his victims. The single eyeball types are the most basic expression, while the combat forms are seemingly made up of multiple of those combined. All these Amalgamates are somehow controlled by a single coherent will through some sort of neural network. That’s why I’ve considered destroying The Handler’s mind through any of his fragments. But you and I both know how that’s illegal by Magi law.”
“Indeed, what you’ve described constitutes an HVM. Besides, such an endeavour might ultimately be fruitless. Without knowing its true form, a DEMON could very well divert hostile Determination into various proxy bodies. Sacrificial lambs, you could say. It’s a rare but vile tactic that fells even the best of Vanquishers.”
“I see… I guess the idea wasn’t as watertight as I thought.” Mezil found great relief in the fact that Gaelic had stopped his foolish foolishness.
The Artificer tapped her chin. “It does sound like we’re dealing with a hivemind, though. Do you have this entity’s True Name yet?” she asked.
“He was formerly Doctor Weiss of House Ariella. However, I doubt he had retained that name. Without saying too much, The Chronograph returned a different ID post-Amalgamation. Our only real clue is his Mark, born from the False Aspect research commissioned by Kisei Yuzukitsui.”
Artificer Willowherb winced a little. “So… a monster gained a Mark without a human master. How does that compare to Sans Serif’s origins? Your new agent developed his Mark from the expression of his own soul. Could the same be said about The Handler?”
“Perhaps not,” Mezil replied, “His Mark is ‘Pawn’, sharing the thematics of Kisei Yuzukitsui’s ‘King’ and ‘Queen’. I believe he used King as a template, and created Pawn as a prototype to Queen.”
“Hmmmmm… The pawn represents the follower, the servant, the disposable unit.”
“Yet that criminal prides himself as a king. All these incessant endless schemes piling up on top of each other. He’s been toying with people’s lives ever since he ascended to new heights.”
Out of nowhere, a nasally woman’s voice burst into a rant. It was Doctor Alphys. Much to his chagrin, she had managed to get within earshot of his conversation yet again. “A pawn can NEVER replace a king! Never, ever, ever! It can only be promoted into a queen at most! The original king piece must remain on the board, or else it’s CHECKMATE! I-I-I-I know this from the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie REBORN Chess Wonderland Doujin Game!!!”
“Doctor,” said Mezil, “I appreciate the trivia, but what exactly are you trying to convey?”
“S-something isn’t right. The circumstances with the bad guy are unusual. It’s as though… as though he’s cheating!”
Cheating, the breaking and defying of rules. As much as magic was bound by rules, there were also as many methods to break them.
Willowherb must have caught on too. “The doctor has a point. Under normal circumstances, a sheep can never become a wolf. Likewise, a wolf can never become a sheep, only disguise as one. However… we’ve already seen the attempted transformation of a sheep into a wolf with young Rosemary. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there had been a ‘transmutation’.”
The lizard gasped. “Like turning lead into gold?! The holy grail of alchemy???”
“Yes, the exact same concept. It’s to turn something common into something precious. Judge Thyme, please tell me more about Weiss’ magical abilities.”
“He… had none. On the front of both Determination and magic, Weiss was the weakest monster of Lemuria. He even had to use human-compatible tools to craft and use magitek.”
Doctor Alphys articulated, “All the more reason why this is no longer a regular chess promotion! How did he Amalgamate himself in the first place? What did he command his Mark to do?”
A sinking feeling lingered in Mezil’s stomach. He switched on the mental radio and paged: “Sans Serif, to my location. We need to ask you an urgent question. It’s about the true nature of The Handler.”
The short Seer blinked into existence. Except not without turning around and gagging against the wall. The teleportation sickness had set in too soon.
“Hurk…” Sans groaned. “Yup. That felt awful. I’m hitting my limit. ‘Sup, Thymer? Long time no see. What’s on your mind?”
“When Doctor Weiss used The Pawn, what were his exact commands?”
“Oh, huh. Gimme a moment.” After a brief recollection, Sans recited the command: “‘Doctor Weiss of House Ariella, embrace The Pawn. Shed your mortal shell. Destroy your ties to House Ariella and The Green Sage. By the King’s Decree: Begin your transcendence’.”
Willowherb’s voice deepened a notch, serious and perturbed by the reveal. Her most painful thorn returned with a vengeance. “‘By the King’s Decree’… I know that command phrase anywhere. The original owner, Kisei Yuzukitsui, must have pre-programmed a specific function that allowed Weiss to use The Pawn to that end.”
Sans tilted his head. “So… Weiss commanded himself to lower all of his mental defences to become one with his Mark. An interesting hypothesis. I can’t confirm the theory until we see that bugger for ourselves, though.”
Mezil narrowed his gaze. “We need to get to The Core now. But Sans Serif, I’m concerned about your condition. It doesn’t look like you’re able to make multiple trips anymore.”
“Hey, did you really expect me to teleport people down one by one? I ain’t a pack mule for the pack mule, y’know. That’s why I got this gal right here.” Sans pointed over his shoulder to Alphys. “Finished the task yet, Al?”
“Y-yup, It’s done! All I need is your activation key.”
“It’s in your workshop, right? Let’s take a look at your hard work.”
“Eherm, please follow me this way.”
Seeing that discussion time was over, Artificer Willowherb gave her blessings. “Godspeed, young ones. May you achieve victory. I’ll go help Lucidia in the meantime.”
Mezil gave the old lady a courteous nod. “Thank you for your sagely wisdom, truly.”
They then moved to Doctor Alphys’ personal workshop, separate from the spaces she loaned to Sans Serif and Delta Labs.
Surrounded by all sorts of workshop gadgetry and tools… was a large octagram, drawn on the floor with blackboard chalk. Mezil could identify this deceptively simple design at a single glance. After all, his first-hand encounter with that very Arcanagram had been etched into his memory; it was none other than Sans Serif’s wormhole teleportation pad.
Mezil stared at the formation, baffled by the handiwork. “Doctor Alphys, did you make this?”
The lizard nodded. “Yup. Sans said I could use chalk as a bone analogue. So, I emptied out my toolbox and stuffed it with blackboard chalk. I-I-I had a lot. And I mean A LOT. It was an impulse purchase. Those Far Eastern chalk sticks write like a dream. I just had to get them!”
Doctor Alphys… she doesn’t even realise how she had achieved the impossible. Lemuria would think this was an utter prank. Most natural-born monsters can’t read the Seer’s script, let alone program something as advanced as a teleportation device. Even Seers struggle to replicate another Seer’s invention.
Above all, she works extremely fast. Decisively, too. Excellent traits in any crisis situation.
Sans Serif patted the lizard on the back. “You did great, Al. I knew you could do it.”
“T-thanks. One problem, though. It’s only one use, one way. All the chalk would be scattered after the initial activation, breaking its magical charge, coordinates, and code. I would have to make another one from scratch to return here. Or walk back from The Core the normal way. S-sorry for the inconvenience.”
“I wouldn’t call that an ‘inconvenience’.” Mezil noted, “Instead, I would consider it a ‘security feature’. Closing the path behind us nicely prevents enemy ambushes. Furthermore, I don’t intend to call for further backup anyway.”
“N-no backup? At all?”
“Correct,” he replied. Looking her straight in the eye, he asked: “Doctor Alphys, do you still want to come with us?”
“Yes,” Doctor Alphys replied.
“Are you not terrified? I’ve already warned you that I don’t have anyone to spare for your protection.”
“O-of course I am! In fact, I was going ‘muri muri muri muri’ when Sans showed up with his request. ‘Muri’ means ‘impossible’! But he reminded me that I’m the only person left in town who knows The Core inside out as a whole, and not parts of it like the maintenance crew. So… No matter what, I HAVE to go!”
True courage is to act even though one is afraid… It wouldn’t surprise me if she is a Champion.
I ought to not underestimate those around me anymore, both friend and foe.
“I commend you, Doctor Alphys.” Mezil placed the enchanted safety helmet on the lizard scientist’s head. “Very well, you may join our efforts.”
“T-t-t-t-t-t-thank you, sir!!! I-I-I won’t disappoint!” Alphys readjusted her helmet and fastened the belt securely, ready to face any danger. She also made sure to lug her chalk-filled toolbox around.
Looking satisfied, Sans relaxed his shoulders and said: “Alright Thymer, do your boss call.”
Mezil took out his phone to call Lucas. “Keeper Fennel, we’re mobilising with one adjustment: Doctor Alphys is joining my team. She’ll be our primary technician down in The Core. Direct all related parties to her personal workshop.”
And so, the next step of the operation began. The group’s composition was already decided in The Hub, with one exception.
Sir Grillenn was the first to arrive.
“How’s Jacob?” Mezil asked.
“…Tired…” Sir Grillenn reported. “…Otherwise, he’s fine…”
“Good. That’s the best I could hope for.”
Soon after, Gaelic arrived as well, albeit covered in bits of dirt, leaves, and the occasional stray twig. For him to be here without Garamond, it meant that Malaya had been secured elsewhere in The Lab. Their mission was a complete success.
While he picked off the debris, Gaelic greeted: “M’lord, yer a sight fer sore eyes.”
“The sentiment is shared wholeheartedly. Good to have you with us, Gaelic. Let the hunt begin.”
Sir Grillenn, Sans Serif, Gaelic, himself, and last but not least, Doctor Alphys.
And so… in total five crew members entered the magic circle, ready to leave the lab behind.
Sans conjured a bone covered in Seer’s script, containing his personal Aspects, allowing the teleport gram to cut through spacetime: the aforementioned ‘activation key’. “So, Thymer. Ready to rumble?”
Mezil went through his mental checklist.
While Frisk protects the Dreemurr citizens, Cenna will stay here to defend our borrowed headquarters from enemy attacks. After all, there are many in this facility who require protection. Under no circumstances are those two locations to be left unattended.
Furthermore, with Lucidia watching over Rosemary and Artificer Willowherb assisting her, I believe I’ve covered all my bases.
“Yes,” said Mezil. “Activate the device.”
The key was slotted into the centre of the gram. Magic began to resonate. Black winds swirled around them, rising higher and higher until the workshop was no longer visible.
I now know the truth, Handler. You can no longer hide from me.
Whether you are a Pawn or a King… I shall wipe your pieces off the board.