Scenes of a different life washed past.
Some covered in smiles.
Others covered in dust.
Once upon a time, this young man would rush to his big brother about his nightly terrors. Then the big brother would tell him it’s all just a dream.
Sweet, sweet lies meant to protect the younger’s mind and soul.
NO! DON’T DO THAT!
He watched the human stab Froggit with a toy knife.
VIOLENCE IS BAD!
He watched the human lop off the skull of a skeleton with a red scarf: mercy taken advantage of and scorned.
YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO MAKE FRIENDS, NOT KILL THEM!
The people fled for their lives. Monster Kid got into trouble and Undyne saved him. The big sister transformed into her desperado mode… yet she still failed, melting away.
Melting.
Melting until death.
WHY…?
ARE YOU HURT? ARE YOU IN PAIN? IS THAT WHY YOU’RE DOING VIOLENCE?
Mettaton also had a different body. He clamoured about his power, yet chose not to use it. He wanted to prove that the human was not beyond salvation.
He trusted them.
The human betrayed him.
TALK TO US! WE’LL HELP YOU!
Sans, Monsterkind’s Last Stand, bloodied his hands however many times he needed to stop the onslaught.
Misdirects. Cheats. Traps.
Cold and heartless like the murderer he duelled.
SANS? I… I DON’T RECOGNIZE YOU.
IS THIS WHO YOU REALLY ARE?
IS THIS WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
The human progressed to Asgore.
Flowey began with a praise, but it ended in terror.
The flower fled.
Asgore mistook the human for a monster. The once-best friend of the DEMON killed his own father to prove his loyalty.
Even then, it was not enough. The knife hacked the plant eight times in a row, until only golden-petalled mulch was left.
Chara and Frisk then stood on the edge of reality. At the height of their power, they called each other ‘partners’.
NO…!
Denied. Accepted. Both led to the same result.
‘The End’.
STOP!
When the timeline restarted, there was nothingness. The price of restoring the world and living life again… was to sell one’s SOUL.
The Seer watched the child offer up that glowing red heart to the DEMON.
IT’S NOT WORTH IT, FRISK! STOP! STOOOOOOOOOOOOP!
Papyrus snapped wide awake. Orange wisps danced far and high above his right socket.
He gasped, yet somehow he couldn’t feel ‘air’ flowing through his ribs. There was an odd lack of sensation whenever he consciously drew breath.
Wherever he was, it had no ceiling. Specks of light faded in and out against the vast darkness. It reminded him of the insects known as ‘fireflies’.
Papyrus sat up. He realised that he’s not in his own bed. A quick look around and he figured out that he wasn’t in his home either.
Slab-marble flooring. Wallpapered maroon walls. Bookshelves all around. A high-tech floor lamp illuminated the room under any setting the user wished for. For now, it mimicked a candle’s glow.
“WHERE AM I?” Papyrus asked out loud.
Someone opened the door. It was none other than his uncle.
“Awake, I see?” Said Gaster. “You’re in the Magus’ hideout. Mezil Thyme is his name, if you remember.”
“OH! IS MISTER MAGUS OKAY?”
The uncle raised a brow. “He wasn’t in any danger in the first place. We should be asking about your condition instead.”
“WHY?”
“You died.”
It happened after all. “OH. IF I’M DEAD, IS THIS THE FABLED AFTERLIFE?”
Gaster chuckled at his innocent conclusion. “No, no. You may be ‘dead’ in the physical realm, but you still ‘live’ outside of time. It’s a little complex. You can thank the Magus for preserving your existence.”
“He’s waiting for us in the living room.”
Papyrus got out of bed and followed his uncle. He looked around in awe at the atmosphere and furnishing. It had a certain sense of elegant class in every corner.
“HE IS DEFINITELY A UNIVERSITY PRINCIPAL! THIS PLACE IS AS PRINCIPALLY AS THE MOVIES!”
“Don’t you mean a chancellor?” Gaster said, “My old home was similar to this, except with basalt tiles. My parents didn’t like the brightness of white marble.”
“COME TO THINK OF IT, I NEVER VISITED YOUR HOME BEFORE. WHAT HAPPENED TO IT?”
“Hmm… I wonder too. Riddled with cobwebs, if not in disrepair. I just hope that the library is still intact.”
Mezil had made himself a mug of coffee while he waited. He settled down in the living room, surrounded by floating holographic screens.
A strange hybrid of the old and new defined this Magus.
The man set his mug down and stood up with the aid of his cane. “Welcome to the realm beyond time, Seer.”
Papyrus gasped. He expected a fancy video transmission system that connected this strange place to the real world. “OH MY GOD, ARE YOU DEAD TOO?”
“No,” said Mezil. “Free access to the Void are one of the many perks of being the ultimate weapon. It’s my ‘Hub’. I can visit this place anytime, anywhere. And also invite anyone I wish. In the case of your uncle, I just needed to guide him through the darkness. It seems that we’ve been neighbours longer than we expected.”
The young skeleton squealed out of excitement. He spun around in place as he tried to take in all the sights. “WOWIE! A HYPERBOLIC SUPERHERO HIDEOUT CHAMBER OF SPACE AND TIME, THIS IS SOOOOOOOO COOL!”
“Hmph. This is much, much better than that cartoon nonsense. I have all the necessities for a comfortable rest: bedrooms, shower, food, water, a training hall and some recreation. All in a place secluded from time. I can take however long I wish to recover from mental fatigue.”
“DOUBLE THE WOWIE! BUT, YOUR HOUSE LACKS A ROOF.”
Mezil glanced upwards. “Why should I add one? There’s no sky or rain. Also, it’s easier to analyze the timestreams without vertical obstruction.”
Papyrus stopped spinning. “WAIT. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT’S NOT THE NIGHT SKY AND THOSE ARE NOT FIREFLIES?”
“I did say that we’re in a realm beyond time.”
Gaster tapped the youngster’s shoulder to catch his attention. “Papyrus, The Void is a gap between realities. On its own, it contains nothing but vast darkness. Much like The End. But with Determination, magic and a little knowhow, it’s possible to construct small pockets of reality.”
“I had a ‘room’ of my own too.” Gaster elaborated, “But, I lived in a cold prison compared to the Magus’ hideout.”
He conjured a grey concrete tile and placed the object on the table. “This was all I could make.”
Papyrus picked up the rough artificial stone. His usual joy faded as he contemplated on its meaning. If his genius uncle could only muster a dull rock, what chances does an untrained human child have?
He said, “I GUESS IF YOU’RE STUCK WITH NOTHING, IT’S EASY TO BECOME UNHAPPY. MAYBE THAT’S WHY FRISK STARTED KILLING.”
Mezil furrowed his brows. “You had a vision?”
“BEFORE I WOKE UP, YES.”
“Go ahead and sit down. I’ll get some coffee.”
Over the bittersweet aromas, cream, and sugar, Papyrus explained the last vision before his awakening. The elders listened close from start to end, not letting a single detail slip by…
“So that’s the beginning of ‘The End’,” Gaster commented. “Troubling. However, I noticed that Frisk still kept their SOUL. I don’t think what you witnessed was a mere reconstruction of the past. The results don’t tally.”
The Magus grabbed one of the many screens that surrounded him. It turned into a drawing board and he started plotting a series of branching lines.
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“It’s a ‘Possibility’ written in the timelines itself,” he explained, “They’re not as limitless as people would like to think. There will be two constant truths: the extreme ‘positive’ and the extreme ‘negative’. In other words, the best and the worst outcome.”
Once he finished, the Magus flipped the screen around for Gaster and Papyrus to read. One white, one black. The black path ended early, while the white path parted straight ahead toward ‘Today’.
“We’re on the best.” Mezil tapped his finger on the word. “The times when the child did not succumb to misanthropy.”
Switching over to the dark side, he continued his explanation. “Dying in the hands of the DEMON must have caused some sort of resonance. It allowed Papyrus to view the worst. Hence, his latest vision. I won’t be surprised if Chara is a constant value in this path of destruction.”
Gaster closed his eyes in deep contemplation. “‘Relevancy’ seems to be the key. If I train Papyrus on exploiting this trait, he could improve his inherent precognition to the point of clairvoyance.”
Papyrus being Papyrus, had no idea what his uncle had just theorized.
“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” He asked.
“If all possibilities are written ahead of time based on circumstance and limitations, then you could use your powers to foretell your opponent’s next move in a battle. The result will be a hundred percent dodge rate, like your brother’s.”
It only confused the skeleton more. “UH, SANS CAN’T SEE THE FUTURE, RIGHT?”
“Correct, he can’t. But he’s trained to analyze the present. In other words, he can figure out the range of a person’s choices on the spot. This is further backed up by the ‘Purple’ trait of his Seer’s Eye.”
“Perseverance. He can recall all his personal experiences and dejavu with enough concentration and analysis.”
Papyrus then asked, “DID YOU JUST SAY… ALL? LIKE. EVERYTHING?”
“Only if he wills it,” said Gaster. “Knowing his laziness, he’d be very selective.”
His brother knew so, so, much more than he ever let on. Some of his more mysterious behaviour had started to make sense.
Mezil kept tapping his cane on the smooth marble, deep in thought and incomprehensibly muttering.
“IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG, MISTER MAGUS?”
“Hmm,” said Mezil. “A puzzle’s on my mind. However, I do not have the clue to draw a definite conclusion.”
Confident as ever, Papyrus puffed up his chest and posed. “THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL HELP YOU SOLVE ALL YOUR PUZZLES! YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, NYEH HEH HEH! BUT WHERE IS IT?”
“You’re in it right now.”
“EH?”
The old man huffed in slight irritation. “Why so clueless? Life is always the greatest puzzle. More so with all these time shenanigans.”
This Magus was a strict principal through and through, complete with fussy impatience.
Uncle Gaster patted Papyrus’ on the back. “Come along, my boy. Your parents are eager to teach you the arts as well. They had learned quite a bit from our time together.”
“Parents?” Mezil raised a brow. But, he declined to ask further. “I see… well then. Don’t keep them waiting either.”
The Magus gently tapped the young skeleton’s femur with his fancy cane. “Go on, hop to it.”
The lessons concentrated on controlling his innate power. It followed a cycle of meditation and combat: ebbing in tides of calmness and action.
He must time his powers right to survive.
Too slow and he won’t catch the window of opportunity.
Too quick and he’d give away his tricks to the enemy.
Uncle Gaster and his parents weren’t pushovers. The power and the randomized patterns they conjured were up to par with Undyne’s skill. Sans just made them look easy.
After what seemed like hours, he had passed the first test. Though, it was still far below Sans’ standards. The elder brother was a true master and it was not something that could be achieved in just one lesson.
Papyrus felt ready, but at the same time he knew that he’ll come back to this hideout again.
Mezil led them out through the front door. He had an outdoor garden. Water flowed in between the zones of greenery, creating soothing streams.
Everything was a digital mimicry. Yet somehow, it calmed the skeleton’s mind for the task ahead.
A console waited at the middle of a stone platform. When the Magus got close to it, the screen lit up.
It read: LOADING SCREEN.
The interface behind the cover reminded Papyrus of a photo album. This man had eleven pages, each displaying nine slots.
This time, only ‘File 1’ had a picture inside: it contained an image taken from Mezil’s point of view.
“WHAT ARE THOSE?” Papyrus asked.
“My SAVES,” Mezil answered in a plain, matter-of-fact manner. “I started out with just one slot and expanded my capacity from there. This will allow me to make multiple checkpoints for shorter jumps in time.”
“BUT WHERE ARE YOUR OTHER SAVES? I THOUGHT YOU’RE AN OLD VETERAN. YOU MUST HAVE ACCUMULATED THOUSANDS OF THEM BY NOW.”
“Archived. I don’t like clutter. Only those relevant to my current case will be displayed.”
Uncle Gaster stared at the sheer number of options in both awe and terror. “If Frisk survives, will they be able to do the same?”
“If they have appropriate training, then yes. We’ll cross the bridge when we get there, though.”
Mezil selected File 1. The thumbnail expanded to fill the whole screen, giving him both the timestamp and a confirmation button.
“Are you ready, Papyrus?” He asked.
Papyrus being Papyrus, he answered: “YES! I AM READY!”
‘CONFIRM’, his finger pressed. On that moment, anything that was not part of the console disappeared into the darkness.
The hideout.
The garden.
The fireflies of time.
All gone.
Instead, a grey ring appeared at the edge of the platform. It started to spin.
“OH!” Papyrus exclaimed, “YOU HAVE A SPINNING GREY DONUT JUST LIKE MY COMPUTER!”
Mezil responded, “A spinning grey what?”
Before the skeleton could elaborate, he found himself back in a familiar posture. He was on the floor, with Uncle Gaster holding his cheekbones.
The elder quickly dropped his arms. “Go, Papyrus! Hurry!”
Papyrus scrambled on his feet and dashed into the lab. This time, his orange Eye danced not out of fear…
It burned with determination.
* * *
The knife sliced his SOUL in half across the sternum. It was the same way that Sans died in a different timeline…
Papyrus sat up in the hideout bed. In this round, Mezil Thyme joined Uncle Gaster for the checkup.
“OOPS,” he said. “I DIED AGAIN. BUT, I NOW UNDERSTAND WHY METTATON WAS IN HIS GLAM FORM.”
“Oh?” Gaster said, “Do tell.”
“FRISK. OR RATHER, CHARA CONTROLLING FRISK, FLIPPED HIS SWITCH. THERE’S A SWITCH ON THE BACK THAT FORCES METTATON INTO THE SUPER STYLISH HOT ROBOT MODE.”
Mezil planted his face into his palm and shook his head. “Everyone let their guard down. Why didn’t Judge Caraway check with the Truesight Potion?”
Papyrus again was confused by the new terminology. “WHAT IS THIS TRUESIGHT POTION THING?”
“It’s the essence of Justice mixed in an alcohol-based stabilizer. Vanquishers use them to ferret out a DEMON’s secrets. Vessels, possessions, curses, the life they harvested, and what have you.”
“HMMM…” Papyrus furrowed his brows. “MISS AUNT COULD BARELY STAND WITHOUT KING ASGORE’S HELP. I DON’T THINK SHE’S WELL ENOUGH TO THINK STRAIGHT, LET ALONE DEFEND HERSELF.”
Uncle Gaster’s arms started to move on their own. They spoke to him in signs, and he conversed back in the same language.
The lack of context made it difficult to understand the full conversation. Even if Papyrus could translate the language, he couldn’t make head or tail of their words.
“Good point, Roman,” said Gaster. “I’ll pass them the message.”
“ROMAN IS DAD, RIGHT?”
“Yes. And he said that the Vanquisher had overexerted herself. Burned both ends of a candle, as the saying goes. The lady’s desire to save Frisk pushed her beyond her limit.”
Experts with experts, Mezil frowned upon the news. “This means we were already at a disadvantage.”
“IT’S OKAY!” Papyrus said, “I’LL JUST TRY AGAIN! THIS TIME I’M GOING TO PROTECT HER! …IF I DON’T DIE FIRST.”
* * *
Papyrus woke up in the realm beyond time again. He immediately got out of bed and headed towards the living room.
He’s not happy.
The elders had turned the east wall into a huge diagram. There, they recorded the attempts and the differences that happened in between.
So far, they had twenty different versions of the same incident. All ended in the youngster’s unfortunate demise.
“This is worrying,” Gaster said. “Despite the training, Papyrus was in a constant setback.”
Mezil then asked, “Did he apply the power of his Eye?”
“Yes. And yet he still failed. Look here, Magus. He repeated the same steps, but the results never matched his expectations. This can only mean one thing: Chara is exploiting dejavu.”
“Hmm,” the old man tapped his cane on the ground. “They were once a Red SOUL child too. I’m not surprised if their lingering Determination was enough to cause issues.”
Hearing the steps, Uncle Gaster turned around. “Papyrus?”
“…I HAD A VISION,” said Papyrus. “THE UNDERGROUND HAD NO KING. WHERE IS EVERYONE? IT WAS TOTAL ANARCHY AND THE PEOPLE LOST HOPE…”
* * *
As Papyrus gained mastery, his visions became clear and frequent.
The probabilities in between the best and the worst had started to fill in. The two black and white paths gradually turned into an entire tree, each with their own story to tell.
“…WHY SO MANY VARIATIONS? WHY SO MANY WAYS OF KILLING? IS IT BECAUSE IT’S FUN FOR FRISK?”
The elders couldn’t bear to answer.
* * *
Papyrus walked right out of the ‘indoor’ area. He didn’t greet his uncle, parents, or the human elder.
He sat on the garden swing, curled himself up, rested his skull on his knees, and let it rock him back and forth.
He had just seen the worst of his best friends.
Mettaton ran a brainwashing dystopia.
Undyne overthrew Toriel. Sometimes literally. With all her might. Burning hatred against humanity defined her rule.
Alphys too was consumed by hatred. She wished to kill Frisk.
Then, he witnessed his own failings.
The nation elected him as the King, but Sans did all the work. Despite their combined efforts… he couldn’t help anyone. The citizens gave in to despair, although they had more than enough to eat.
His latest vision was worse than that.
Once upon a time, Papyrus thanked the human for ‘helping’ him achieve his dreams.
Even if that ‘thanks’ included murder.
“FINALLY!! I'M IMPORTANT. AND IT'S ALL THANKS TO YOU. AND THE HORRIBLE THINGS YOU DID.”
Word for word.
“…HOW CAN I SAY THAT?” He whimpered. “IT’S SO HORRIBLE. HOW CAN I THANK FRISK FOR KILLING ANYONE…? AM I REALLY THAT STUPID?”
Too many complicated feelings roiled within him. They were emotions that he never had to wrestle with in his blissful, fortunate life.
In the midst of his self-pity, Papyrus felt a shift of weight on the swing. When he looked up, he noticed that Mezil had sat down on the opposite side.
“…I did say you will see the deepest and darkest secrets of everyone you love. Considering how much you hold yourself in high esteem, that includes you.”
The Magus’ warnings had come true.
Papyrus huddled tighter. “I WASN’T PERFECT.”
“No one is,” the elder answered. “It’s a fact of life.”
“DON’T YOU GET SCARED OF OTHERS? LIKE, YOU KNEW HOW GOOD OR BAD THEY CAN BE.”
“That’s why I am a man with very few friends.”
“IT SEEMS VERY LONELY.”
“Correct,” Mezil answered. The man tried to keep a stone-cold face, but Papyrus could see the deep sadness within him.
“…MAYBE THAT’S WHY SANS HAD NO FRIENDS EITHER. HE ONLY LOOKED LIKE HE HAD FRIENDS, BUT HE DOESN’T KEEP CONTACT. THEY ONLY SEE HIS LAZY JOKER SIDE.”
Papyrus paused before finishing his conclusion. “I ONLY SEE HIS LAZY JOKER SIDE.”
The human pushed the swing back to make it rock a little more. “Do you still think that every man, woman, and child have the potential to be good? Or have the trials changed you?”
Without much thought, the skeleton answered back: “YES, I STILL BELIEVE. I’M JUST VERY DISAPPOINTED WITH MYSELF. BECAUSE. I FAILED MY OWN STANDARDS. I SHOULD BE THE ONE SETTING AN EXAMPLE.”
Mezil then said, “Standards imposed on the self are the hardest to fulfil. Either through negligence or ignorance, we inevitably make mistakes and fall short.”
He placed his cane across the thigh and leaned forward, resting on the elbows. “Do you know why Caraway and I bear the title of ‘Judge’?”
“NO. IT SOUNDS FANCY THOUGH.”
“It’s because we evaluate others. Some people are too critical, some not enough. Our job is to make sure every person gets a fair and honest assessment. We check not only their abilities… but also their hearts.”
“I’ve encountered many who thought they could do no wrong. Considered themselves as gods walking on earth with the right to manipulate anyone to their whims. Those need to be knocked down a peg or two.”
“Then there are others who thought themselves as squirming worms, when in reality they’re caterpillars waiting to transform into a butterfly. Those need to be nurtured on the correct mental diet.”
“Judge Caraway was the latter. She came from a home who treated her as garbage. Unwanted and an eyesore. Look at her now, a majestic bird who once fought toe-to-toe with a Lichborn.”
“…If only she could improve on her etiquette,” Mezil huffed. “Manners exist for a reason! Sheesh. Calling me by nickname and shoving paperwork to me. Her lack of respect is unbelievable.”
Papyrus couldn’t help but to chuckle at his reaction a bit. “YOU’RE SO TSUNDERE.”
“What is a ‘tsundere’?” At least Mezil got the pronunciation right.
“AN ANIME TERM FOR PEOPLE WHO’RE HARSH ON THE OUTSIDE, BUT SOFT IN THE INSIDE. YOU CARE A LOT ABOUT MISS AUNT. MORE THAN YOU’D LIKE TO ADMIT.”
Mezil’s straightened his back and yelled, “No! Who do you think I am?! I just state the facts!”
“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT A TSUNDERE WOULD SAY! NYEH HEH HEH! YOU'RE SO TSUN-TSUN, BUT YOU CAN BE DERE-DERE TOO!”
No comment. Absolutely no comment. Mezil bit his lower lip, trying to stop himself from further digging his own grave.
Papyrus just laughed at his reaction.
“THANKS MISTER MAGUS,” the youngster smiled back. As much as a skeleton could anyway.
Mezil returned to his usual stoic front. “For?”
“TALKING TO ME. I DON’T REALLY UNDERSTAND WHY, BUT LISTENING TO YOUR LECTURE MADE ME FEEL A TON BETTER. SO, THANKS.”
“This is the wonder of education, Papyrus. It’s not as bad as schoolchildren complain. You know, it is entirely possible to learn without ever being educated.”
With a hand on his chest, Mezil said, “True education lies in character building. The SOUL. Right in here. Remember that.”
“OKAY!” Papyrus pumped his arm. “I’LL REMEMBER FOR SURE! LET’S GET BACK TO THE REAL WORLD AND TRY AGAIN.”
“Yes. Let us.”