“No, Helvetica. We’re not getting Sans.”
The right arm shoved Papyrus’ dusty red scarf into Gaster’s face. It was the one salvaged from the first night of the youngster’s proxy duty.
Gaster talked straight into the fabric, muffling his words. “I understand your frustrations, but we don’t know the location of your seraphim. Even if we do know, I won’t let our ally set foot anywhere near him. For Judge Thyme’s personal safety.”
The angry missus literally rubbed it in. At some point, her husband had to pry her away.
“Unfortunately, my expectations of Sans are indeed that low. Apologies.”
While dear mother continued to fight with Uncle Gaster, Papyrus lay down on the couch. He hugged a cushion and stayed very silent.
The ever-branching data of timelines had now occupied the entire perimeter of the living room. Just looking at the lines gave Papyrus a headache, let alone to compute the mess.
Mezil squeezed the bridge of his nose. Even the experienced Magus grew fatigued from the sprawling web of recorded maybes.
“Children are creative, as the saying goes.” Said the Magus, “In Chara’s case, they’re too creative. We need to subtract a factor if we want to streamline this mess.”
Roman’s hand made some signs. Gaster translated him while being smothered by the scarf. “He’s asking if you know which factor to subtract.”
“Not yet,” Mezil answered. “I’m still missing a vital clue.”
Papyrus then blurted, “I KEEP HAVING THIS WEIRD FEELING THAT WE’RE MISSING THE OBVIOUS.”
It was the first time the youngster talked since he returned to the Hub. The statement caught everyone’s attention. Even dear mother stopped venting her frustrations on her husband’s best friend.
“What do you mean?” Asked Uncle Gaster.
“UUUH. HOW DO I PUT THIS? IT’S LIKE, RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES. BUT I GOT TOO DISTRACTED WITH ALL THE CHAOS.”
“Is it dejavu?”
“NO. NOT THAT. MMM… IT’S A CROSSWORD PUZZLE. THE CLUES DESCRIBE A WORD YOU SHOULD KNOW, BUT IT’S SO HARD TO GET THE ANSWER. OR. OR JUMBLES. ALL THE CORRECT WORDS ARE HIDDEN INSIDE THE SQUARE OF GIBBERISH ALPHABETS. WHICH MAKES THINGS REALLY HARD TO SEE.”
Gaster pointed at the timeline diagrams. “So you’re saying that we’re having the spacetime version of a jumble and crossword puzzle combined into one?”
“YES.” Maximum Papyrus Logic, but an apt one.
The details flew right over Mezil’s head. “May… I have a translation on his analogy, Doctor Gaster?”
The other expert replied, “Papyrus said that it’s an answer we should have thought of much, much sooner. But, we’re getting distracted by the noise.”
“And hence the madam’s insistence on finding the elder brother.”
“Yes.” Gaster motioned his hand over the diagrams. “Analysis is his true field of expertise. Not stand-up comedy.”
Mezil sighed. “I’m going to get more coffee.”
His progress was impeded by an outstretched bony right arm, still clutching the red scarf. The person behind it was Papyrus’ mother. She’s a woman with her own brand of feistiness.
Gaster cringed a bit. “Helvetica had grown tired of coffee. And tea. And assorted other pre-generated consumables. She wants a proper kitchen to prepare meals for us all. Her own personal touch. Do you perhaps have a module that matches her requirements…?”
“I do,” the Magus answered. “Please wait for a moment.”
He walked over to a painting and flipped it around. Doing so revealed another console, this time for room management. After pressing some buttons, the living room’s west wing gained an extra door.
The data generated a modest kitchen. Not very fancy, but not under-equipped either. It had all the necessities for a normal family.
Mezil explained, “I don’t usually cook. But, I once had to save the life of someone who does. Hence the kitchen. I hope it’s not too outdated.”
Papyrus being Papyrus, had gone sparkly eyed from the addition. “THIS IS SOOOOO COOL! OH, WHAT DID YOU HAVE TO SAVE YOUR FRIEND FROM?”
“A major conspiracy,” he explained. “In one night, that fellow died in a total of thirteen unique ways.”
“…I CAN IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF UNFUN INVOLVED. NO WONDER THEY WANTED TO CHILL OUT AND COOK DELICIOUSNESS.”
“Correction. I was the one having the most ‘unfun’. I was forced to mark his memories so he could stop making the same stupid, moronic, idiotic mistakes over and over. He’s an enemy of blood-pressures.”
“OUCHIES,” Even Papyrus understood the pain, “THAT’S DOUBLE THE UNFUN.”
“At least he cooks reasonably well as compensation.”
Both husband and wife clapped their hands in glee. It made the prim and proper Gaster look thoroughly silly. His embarrassment shone through on the expression of his skull.
“W-what would you like to eat?” Asked Gaster.
What else other than good old tomato spaghetti and meatballs? After punching in the required ingredients on the kitchen console, the skeleton parents cooked up three plates of pasta.
Papyrus slurped it up right away, praising its deliciousness. It was as though the grim and glum situation never existed.
“Oh my, it is indeed well-done,” Mezil admitted. “Hats off to you, Sir and Madam.”
Edibles in The Void did nothing in the physical sense, providing no real nourishment as the residents exist in a digital state. But, it helped change the moods and mind.
Determination: it’s a game of resolve.
* * *
The meal’s loving touch must have boosted morale to new heights. Because, for the first time in this long, long night…
Papyrus survived.
Grillby passed the phone back to its rightful owner, saying, “…You should give your friend a call…”
“THANK YOU, GRILLBY!” The youngster read the message, scrolled all the way to his number and dialled it.
One beep later, the Magus answered. “Hello?”
“MISTER MAGUS! I DID NOT DIE!” Papyrus proclaimed his survival with utmost pride.
“Excellent! What about your friends?”
The skeleton then started sweating a bit. “WELL. ABOUT THAT. THEY DIDN’T MAKE IT. MISS AUNT MADE THIS REALLY CREEPY STAR OUT OF HER OWN BLOOD. AND UNCLE GASTER IS USING HIS MAGIC TO STOP CHARA FROM SLAMMING DOWN THE DOOR.”
There was a loud, audible groan from the other end of the phone line. “It’s just like my first meeting with your uncle.”
“WHAT SHOULD I DO NOW?”
“Observe. Since you’re there, you might be able to give us a fresh angle. Call back when you’re done.”
A fresh angle. One that the elders had missed due to their attention on the wrong details.
Papyrus walked towards the bloody seal. He kept his ears open for any oddities in dialogue.
By now, he couldn’t quite remember the timeline of when the wake happened. Hazy. It was too far back, and his memory retention isn’t as good as his brother’s.
But he always recalled one detail.
‘Determination’.
Chara was trying to get Frisk to ‘fill their SOUL with Determination’.
Does Frisk know this?
Was that the reason why they commit suicide again and again?
Would they have enough dejavu to remember any changes?
“UNCLE GASTER?” Asked Papyrus.
“Yes?” The uncle replied, albeit strained by the task.
“DO YOU THINK FRISK CAN REMEMBER ALL THESE TIME SHENANIGANS? BECAUSE OF THEIR DETERMINATION?”
“…Perhaps. By default, they would remember everything. But we had drained them to the point of normalcy.”
“THEY’RE GRADUALLY BECOMING NOT-NORMAL THOUGH.”
“That is also true. It doesn’t help that the DEMON is a parasite in and of itself.”
Chara continued to feed reasons for Frisk to do the deed, while Frisk continued to struggle against the possession.
An idea flashed through his mind. It might be outrageous. It sounds nuts even by his own outlandish standards.
But he must try. This could be ‘the other angle’ that they needed.
Papyrus dove to the entrance. He pressed his front cranium bone on the sealed lab door.
“What are you doing?” Asked Gaster.
He knocked on it twice. Then, Papyrus yelled as loud as his ribcages would ever allow.
“FRISK!”
His voice must reach the other side no matter what.
“BE AS LAZY AS SANS! I NEED YOU TO DO DEFINITELY TOTALLY ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!”
“IF YOU KEEP FIGHTING, THE FUTURE GETS TOO COMPLICATED AND I CAN’T HELP YOU!”
In all the timelines, Frisk tried everything they could to subdue Chara. Doing so added an extra factor to the graphs.
“SO DON’T DO ANYTHING! JUST RELAX! LET IT ALL GO! BE TRASH! I -- THE GREAT PAPYRUS -- WILL SAVE YOU!”
The skeleton drew in breath for one final plea.
“TRUST ME!!!”
The DEMON mocked and jeered him. That didn’t matter. He tuned out all the hate and concentrated on Frisk’s response.
In the tiniest of voices, they said: “Please, save me.”
“OF COURSE!”
“Thank you,” Frisk replied. Soon after, the child forced out their SOUL and shattered it.
Silence fell. But, this time a glimmer of hope shone in the darkness. Gaster’s grin confirmed it.
“My, my, my…” he said. “It was indeed obvious in hindsight.”
Papyrus called Mezil again.
“MISTER MAGUS, I THINK I SOLVED THE FACTOR PROBLEM. CAN WE RESET NOW TO TEST?”
* * *
The experiment was a success.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Chara had mistaken Frisk’s lack of participation as their victory, not realising that it was a trap. Their dejavu was not as strong without extra Determination to leech on.
Now all he needed to see was Chara’s possible moves without Frisk’s struggles.
Papyrus managed to send Mettaton flying to safety right before Chara plunged the knife into his back. He no longer needed to send bones to turn a SOUL blue.
Slowly yet surely, he’s learning Sans’ tricks.
It didn’t stop there. The repeats had further sharpened his mastery over his new Eye magic. He dodged and parried every single one of Chara’s strikes.
As the fight continued, Undyne ran over to Mettaton to check up on him. She had her spear out to guard the dazed celebrity.
Finally, Papyrus managed to disarm the DEMON of their weapon. He used his gravity-defying magic to stab it into the ceiling: a place far out of reach for a human child.
Victory should be at hand.
But, since when life was so simple?
The kid stomped down on his kneecaps. It made him stumble and loosen his grip.
Then the DEMON pounced on Cenna and tried to rob her standard issue gun. The struggle caused a misfire that shot through the woman’s thigh.
“MISS AUNT!” He cried out.
That was his mistake. The DEMON aimed the gun towards Papyrus and pulled the trigger.
Again and again.
Upon his death, Papyrus fell into a vision.
Somehow, this time the vision took place at a very different place…
HUH? WAIT. WHERE AM I?
It took him to a land covered in snow.
Surrounded by real trees.
Under a clear, starry sky.
The Surface.
He witnessed his brother standing at one end. His Eye sputtered between the shades of yellow and blue.
He’s not grinning. That eternally upright curve turned downwards.
SANS? SOMETHING’S NOT RIGHT.
Frisk was jailed in a cage made of bone. They struggled to stand, leaning against the bones for support.
FRISK? WHY ARE YOU FALLING ASLEEP?
His opponent was a masked woman dressed in heavy winter clothes. They had their black hair cut to shoulder length.
“Wow, you’re still standing. I’m impressed.”
Papyrus recognized that voice.
OH MY GOD, MISS AUNT?!?!?!
WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR???
Sans tried to straighten up and focus, but his body swayed. With a low growl he asked, “What the hell did you do to me?!”
Cenna shrugged. “Nothing much. Just, you know, I've spiked your usual ketchup supply with sedatives. Like in the previous timeline, or so I was told. This time, there’s no public MTT broadcasting either. Convenient for the both of us, eh?”
Her teasing dropped into dead seriousness on a bat. She summoned her SOUL and transformed it into a hawk.
“There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let a Grim Reaper kidnap my kid.”
Sans flashed a sly grin. “Welp, they ain’t yours either.”
The two duelled. Golden feathers clashed against the bones of decay. Blasters tore through the woods, and bee-like drones danced around the lightshow.
WAIT, WHY ARE YOU TWO FIGHTING?
SERIOUSLY! IT’S AS IF THE WORLD FORGOT HOW TO TALK THINGS OUT!
In the end, Sans’ aim held true. One of his toxic bones pierced through his opponent’s SOUL. The violet bits of decay consumed the bird. Golden flakes crumbled into bits that soon faded away.
She fell straight onto the snow, still and lifeless.
Papyrus watched the scene in horror. He just beheld his brother kill Frisk’s only remaining relative.
Sans continued to struggle against his condition. Cenna’s sedatives began to override his will as he staggered towards the bone cage. “C’mon kid… Let’s… let’s get you out of here…Just hide a few months. And… I’ll take you home… okay?”
Then Cenna’s body started to move. Grasped in her hand was a small fragment of her SOUL. She had kept it hidden for this moment.
The Magus stood up, drew out her gun… and pointed it square at Sans.
I… I REMEMBER THIS!
I HAD THIS VISION ONCE! WHEN I GOT ELECTROCUTED BY MY MEGALICIOUS ELECTRIC FENCE!
BACK THEN I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A DREAM. OH NO, IT’S ACTUALLY REAL?!?
Everything went downhill from that point onwards.
Sans retaliated, but the drugs kicked in at the worst possible time. That was when he lost control and slipped his footing.
The blaster went a full circle, following the direction of his arm. First it destroyed Cenna, then the trees…
At the very end was none other than his own brother.
Papyrus.
The one who tried to defend Frisk from the light of death.
* * *
After the youngster’s defeat, both Gaster and Mezil tutored Papyrus in another art of advanced magic. The expertise of the world above and the world below combined for a common purpose.
Papyrus had already mastered his progressive energy of Bravery. Now he must learn to apply his two other traits: Kindness and Integrity.
To heal, protect, and reinforce. He must perform all these on the dot if he was to conjure the ideal shield.
More hours of training passed by in the realm beyond time.
During one of the break-times, Papyrus took the opportunity to ask some nagging questions, “UNCLE GASTER, CAN I ASK MORE ABOUT MY BROTHER?”
The old skeleton had the face of a man who wanted to speak nothing on the subject. But then, they had come this far. It’s too late to hide: more so from the ‘Living Chronograph’.
He relented in the end. “What do you wish to know about?”
“HIS MAGIC EYE.” Papyrus glanced to the side. “I THOUGHT THEY’RE JUST REALLY COOL SPECIAL EFFECTS. WITH SOME UNIQUE MAGIC.”
Between sips of his custom-spiced coffee, Mezil said, “That would help put some of my cases into context too. Sans had tangled with us Magi for a long, long while… in the other timelines, as Papyrus’ latest vision had confirmed.”
Gaster squinted at the Magus. He then said, “I hope you two understand that under normal circumstances, I’ll be charged for divulging national secrets.”
“I DON’T THINK WE EVER HAD A LAW FOR THAT,” commented Papyrus. “OR MAYBE WE HAD ONE. I CAN’T QUITE REMEMBER.”
“No, no, Papyrus. You wouldn’t know. It’s information so classified that not even your senior Undyne knows anything about it.”
As usual, Papyrus asked: “WHY?”
Gaster hesitated to answer for one odd moment. It was a tall-tale sign of deflection.
He nonetheless gave a reason. A different one than the heart of the truth, but still valid.
So the old skeleton said, “Because the exact combinations of a Seer’s Eye is a very personal subject. It’s not something to air in public. Dangerous, even. If the wrong person knows your true colours, they can think up of ways to counter it.”
“Which I’m very sure the Magi had figured out by now.” A suspicious glare intensified at Mezil, the human. “I was there when the Vanquisher tried to trap Sans. She recited all three colours plus their connection with ‘death’. I don’t see why I should elaborate more.”
Mezil lifted his mug towards Papyrus and said, “Well, our young man here is ignorant by no fault of his own. At least give him the basic facts. Otherwise, he’ll forever remain lost and confused.”
To the very end, the stubborn skeleton struggled to spill the beans. Then came Helvetica. She raised her arm all too ready to smack some sense back into the doctor. Dear mother had given this guy no rest.
“Alright, alright! Put that hand down Helvetica,” Gaster surrendered at last. “I tell you, whenever it’s about your sons your willpower multiplies by the hundreds.”
The bony scientist plucked out one of Mezil’s screens of digital light. “Pen, please,” he said, and a holographic pen appeared for the taking.
Gaster wrote down the list of two people.
Sans Serif
Cyan: Patience.
Yellow: Justice.
Purple: Perseverance.
Cenna Caraway
Yellow: Justice. [MAJOR]
Purple: Perseverance. [MINOR 1]
Green: Kindness. [MINOR 2]
“Judge Thyme,” said Gaster, “In your school, all your practitioners have one dominant and two lesser traits. Am I right?”
“Correct,” Mezil confirmed. “The colour of the SOUL, or ‘Psychia’, determines their ‘Major’. Most of their power will be there. The two other extras are called ‘Minors’. They grant the Magus some extra abilities, but they will always be white. Not to mention they’re weak compared to a Major of the same colour.”
Papyrus remembered his duel with Cenna when she first visited Ebott. “OH! I NOTICED THAT MISS AUNT KEPT USING HER GLASSY BUBBLE SHIELDS TO BLOCK MY BONES! I HAD TO STOP THE FIGHT BECAUSE SHE’LL FAINT IF I CONTINUED. HOSPITAL TRIPS ARE UNFUN.”
“AND MISTER MAGUS, YOUR ARM HAD THESE COOL GLOWY WHITE LINES TOO! LIKE THE OIL BOTTLES UNCLE GASTER TAUGHT ME TO REINFORCE.”
Mezil nodded to the statements and said, “Correct. For someone with no Cyan or Purple, you’re quite observant. By the way, your concern over Judge Caraway’s health is very endearing. No wonder she’s so fond of you.”
Papyrus beamed in both pride and happiness. Getting the correct answer always felt great.
Back to subject. Gaster started to draw lines on Sans’ list, connecting them with each other. “For us Seers, all traits are equal. There are no Majors or Minors. Each and every colour supports each other to their fullest potential. Think of it as a blended canvas painting.”
“Cyan, the essence of Patience. Patience is the root of ‘Wisdom’. Time does not matter for Sans: he’ll wait and observe until he had the best answer to a solution. If he needed years to achieve his goal, he’ll accept it.”
“Yellow, the essence of Justice. Justice is the root of ‘Truth’. His patient wisdom further enhanced his sense of judgement. Accurate problem solving at their most timely point. This is where the scope of our sights differ. I saw the DEMON’s image and only that. Sans would have seen their very heart. Their intent. The reason behind their actions.”
“Purple, the essence of Perseverance. Perseverance is the root of ‘Intellect’. True knowledge comes from a disciplined pursuit of study. One can be ‘smart’, but smarts alone are fragile. You think I’m a genius because I remember details? Goodness. I know he’s capable of outdoing me. This is the power that allows him to will relevant memories from across timelines.”
Gaster dropped the pen and let it sink into the holographic screen. “Once upon a time we lost our Prince along with our First Human, both the most valuable Golden Quiches of the Underground. Our ‘stars’. Our ‘hopes’ and ‘dreams’. Life was never the same since the tragedy.”
The old skeleton lifted his hands to indicate that he included the parents. “The three of us took Sans’ birth as a sign of new hope. He was our Golden Quiche, one brimming with potential to lead our people to glory.”
He then dropped both hands on the lap in utter disappointment. “…Who now wastes his life in a bar. Some promise he was.” A bitter sigh followed.
Papyrus stared down on his own feet. He doesn’t understand. The details described by Uncle Gaster sounded mind-blowing.
Yet, Sans never seems to see himself that way. It didn’t help that his brother presented himself as a comical caricature all the time.
“SO, SANS IS THE REAL ABANDONED QUICHE?” Asked Papyrus. “WHO QUIT ON HIMSELF?”
Gaster answered, “An accurate analogy.”
Mezil finished the last of his coffee and placed the mug back on the table. “Thank you very much,” he said. “That’s very informative. Well, it’s time to continue our lessons. We still have a long way to go.”
* * *
The reinforced shield blocked Chara’s stomp. Made the kid yelp and hop around for a few seconds too. ‘Get rekt’ as the internet might say.
Papyrus then tossed Cenna into Asgore’s arms. He needed to get the alternative source of a weapon as far away as possible.
Alphys yelped at the sudden incoming body, but King Dreamy dropped his trident just in time to catch the human woman.
“YOUR MAJESTY,” he said, “TAKE THE LADIES AND RUN!”
While he gave the instruction, Chara zipped past his feet.
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING???” Papyrus yelled.
The DEMON picked up Asgore’s trident. They dragged it along the ground as they attempted to swing it. It’s heavy.
Papyrus parried the clumsy blows with his shield. “STOP! YOU’RE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF!”
Chara didn’t care. They kept tossing the weight, crashing the weapon into anything it strikes. Papyrus tried to catch it before they wreck the DT-Extraction Machine.
The DEMON, upon that very moment, used the distraction to slam into Papyrus’ tibia and knocked him off his feet. He looked up just in time to see the pointed prongs descend upon his skull.
Again, the cause of his death resonated into a vision.
He saw Mezil Thyme talking to a human couple. The bronze plate of a weighing scale hung high above the imposing walls.
WHAT IS THIS PLACE? IT LOOKS FAMILIAR. HMMM I THINK IT’S THIS ‘COURTHOUSE’ THING I SAW IN ANIME ONCE.
Papyrus recognized Cenna right away despite her super short boy’s cut. She stood next to her senior, except there was something wrong about her.
MISS AUNT? WHAT ARE THOSE STRANGE METAL CAGES AROUND YOUR LEGS?
AND YOU GOT A REALLY WEIRD CANE. IT’S STRAPPED TO YOUR ARM. IF YOU WANT TO BE STYLISH LIKE MISTER MAGUS, YOU NEED TO GET A FANCY ONE!
…YOU LOOK SO SAD. WHY?
The human couple was happy, but Mezil… not quite. He interrupted the celebration by tapping his own cane on the ground. Loud.
“I’ll have you know that the benefits are NOT for your own enjoyment!” Mezil said. “They’re for Frisk. In two years time they will undergo an initiation trial and it’s your job to prepare them for that.”
The woman quietened down. “Y-yes, Judge Thyme. We understand.”
“…I hope you do. Because I will make you pay for any irresponsibilities in person. Such as the funeral charges and your loss of reputation.”
OH UH. THEY’RE GETTING GRILLED BY THE PRINCIPAL.
BUT… MISTER MAGUS SAID THE MONEY IS FOR FRISK? I DON’T REMEMBER ANYTHING ABOUT THIS TIMELINE. IT MUST BE VERY BORING.
Asgore approached the humans. An air of sorrow hung over his head.
The husband of the couple grumbled at the sight. “What now?” He complained, “Is one year not enough for you? We’re done with this custody case too, you know.”
‘Custody’. Papyrus remembered that sometime in his current timeline, the Ebott gang gathered together to talk about complicated human legalities.
LE GASP! T-THIS IS LEGALIZED CHILDNAPPING!
Asgore bowed his head to Mezil. “Sir, will you reconsider this? My wife… she can’t take another loss. We promise to do everything we can to raise this child. Please, just give us a chance.”
Mezil turned towards the ex-King. In his most stern professional voice, the Magus said, “Asgore Dreemurr, Frisk is not a pet. I’m very sure your community has many children in need of care. There’s no need to latch onto this human child.”
“Of course we don’t consider Frisk a pet,” said Asgore. “They’re our saviour, they who liberated our entire civilization. They’re more than special to us.”
“Do you even know your child?” Mezil questioned. “Their history, their circumstance, their life before the Underground? Have they ever confessed anything to you?”
The fluffy King was caught off guard by heated pressing. “I… no,” he replied. “We didn’t want to pressure Frisk into disclosing their old life.”
Mezil thumped the cane on the polished stone floors. “If you’re that ignorant, how can I entrust you with the future of humanity?”
The grilling continued. “Do you even know their true potential? This is not about racism or old bad blood, King Asgore. This is about fate.”
“If things continue to go your way, Frisk will die for certain in the trial. They won’t be prepared. Not emotionally, nor mentally.”
Asgore’s fur started to stand on their ends. “W-what? Why would you put a child through such a dangerous thing?”
“If left unchecked, your lovely child could end up being a danger to everyone else. No one stays young. Things change, for better or for worse.”
* * *
Mezil sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for the time when the Seer returned from his walk in time.
For Papyrus, his appearance was one he had come to know as a teacher.
A good guy.
A tsundere.
The man who gave him the precious second chance.
Not a conspirator who robbed the Dreemurrs of their child.
“Seer,” thus said the Magus. “What did you see?”
Papyrus had always faced the truth head on with honesty and courage.
Yet, this time…he rolled to the side and faced away.
“I RATHER NOT TALK ABOUT IT, MISTER MAGUS,” said Papyrus.
“Is it about me? I figured it out when your uncle said you were speared by your King’s trident. The King and I spoke face-to-face once.”
Experts will be experts. The lack of answer might as well be a resounding ‘yes’ broadcasted on a microphone.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?” The youngster asked. “IT’S NOT NICE.”
Mezil answered, “I thought it’s the best for everyone.”
“BUT NO ONE IS HAPPY. INCLUDING YOU.”
The Magus had no answer.
Papyrus gathered the blanket sheets and tried to bury himself underneath a pile. “…I STILL DON’T GET IT. WHY PEOPLE KEEP SECRETS. IT JUST. HURTS MORE IN THE LONG RUN.”
“Why are you so puzzled? Your reaction now is proof of concept. Not everyone can handle the truth.”
The human hung his greyed head low in conflicted guilt. “Misunderstandings. Conflicts. Resentment. Condemnation. We lie to protect ourselves from all of those. Half the time it’s done out of love for the other person.”
“AND THE OTHER HALF?”
“Selfish fear. Well. In my case it’s both.”
Mezil leaned his cane against the mattress. He brought his hands together and squeezed them. “When I became Humanity’s Ultimate Weapon, I had to make a choice and live with it. The results are not always pretty or clean. Perhaps that is my biggest flaw.”
“WHAT IS THIS CHOICE?”
“I chose to protect the world from itself. Under my watch, I’m determined to ensure that this era will not collapse from assorted power struggles. Both political and magical, internal and external; I am the Keeper of Peace. Who do you think protects monsterkind from human prejudice and bigotry?”
“This is my lifelong duty. The disaster of the ‘Fallen Hero’ cannot repeat. Can never repeat. If I fail, two lives must sacrifice themselves to stop the menace. Monsters and humans must reconcile from past wars. If we do not… we will all cease to exist.”
“IT SOUNDS HEAVY,” the youngster commented.
“Correct.”
Papyrus didn’t know what to think. It’s all so complicated and huge. Never in his life he thought he’d face them outside of the screens of fantasy.
“CAN I BE ALONE FOR A BIT?”
“Take your time,” Mezil replied. He took his cane and made his leave.
It would be quite a while before Papyrus got out of bed…