Mom told you to stay behind to watch the house. If Gungnir appears, you must lock yourself in your room and phone the Royal Guard. It’s too dangerous for a lone child to fight head-to-head against a group of violent adults.

You agreed. But you took it a step further, drawing out a rough layout of your house and noting down any possible escape routes in case your room became no longer safe. It’s something you learned from Sans in the crazier timelines.

You can’t quite remember what transpired back then due to its relative age, but it felt like a thriller movie. He was the bodyguard and you were the escort.

Despite your preparations, you’re not sure if you can pull it all off. Even with your new wizard magic.

You heard the doorbell. Instead of answering it right away, you tried to check the front yard from the second floor.

It’s Sans. He’s waving back at you. That’s a clause to open the door.

You hurried down to let him in. For some reason, he’s covered in spider webs. You asked him if he tangled with a certain eight-limbed baker?

“Yup.” Sans picked off some of the sticky threads. “Muffet’s a little too fired up about the whole ‘defending against scummy humans, ahuhu~’ deal. We’re good now. Just a simple misunderstanding.”

He looks exhausted too.

You crossed your arms and puffed up your cheeks. What did he do? Where did he go? Did he attempt to prank someone again? Alphys? Papyrus? There’s no time for that!

Sans shook his head. “Kid, kid, I’m not fooling around. Look at this.”

He handed you a folded piece of paper. When you opened it up, it showed a diagram of a complicated magic star. Those ‘Arcanagram’ things. It’s all written in hand glyphs.

What’s this?

“A Seer’s Seal,” Sans explained. “Remember Papyrus? Someone gave me a taste of my own medicine.”

You stared back, stunned. How? When? Why? Who? What’s happening?

“I know you have a lot of questions, kid. Unfortunately, I’m wondering about the same thing.”

Sans took the paper back. He folded it up and slipped it into his jacket’s pocket.

Can’t he or Doctor Gaster break the seal? They got the smarts.

“We did. But, Mezil planted that butterfly Mark thing on the Seal itself. It preserves states. Papyrus, his memory. You, your reduced Determination. Me? The dang Seal.”

“With my Eye shut down, I can’t teleport, view past timelines, get accurate data, use half of my magic, or summon my Gasterblasters. I don’t even have my hundred percent dodge rate anymore.”

He extended a hand. “Try to slap it. Be as creative as you can.”

You slapped, he avoided. Then you remembered his memo.

You repeated the same steps, but this time you followed up your slap with a side-strike.

It came in contact.

You managed to hit his hand!

The Sans you knew would have avoided you at least ten times before you even had a fighting chance. The thought of a gimped Sans filled you with fear for his safety.

Does anyone else know?

“Only Doctor Gaster, for obvious reasons. I’d appreciate it if you keep this low-key.”

You understand.

Wait, the butterfly is made out of DT right? There’s Alphys’ machine! Maybe it’s possible to drain the Mark and vacuum-suck it dry?

Sans shook his head. “Been there. Done that. It’s a huge ‘nope’. I drained 50 containers of DT and it still refuses to break. Didn’t show a single moment of weakness either.”

Serious?

“Serious. I suspect that it’s being resupplied live over long distances. Maybe through that place Papyrus called The Void. It’s all hypothesis right now though. There’s not enough information to draw a concrete conclusion.”

The sockets darkened. “Kid. That Magus fellow, he’s way more powerful than ever expected. You’re strong, yeah. But he’s a ton more experienced. Do not fight him head-on, no matter what.”

Noted. Noted with one million extra notes. What should we do now?

“Keep your ears open, Frisk. Take note of any details of interest. Pay special attention whenever Mezil talks. He knows what’s up and he will attempt to control the flow of information.”

“As for me, I gotta get to the Magi’s main library before the borders close.”

Their main library?

“Of course. These guys started out as scholars. They’re definitely gonna have an extensive database. We need to learn more about the history of the Crimson Hall before we can take the next course of action.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Mezil. Right. Today is Sunday, your first week. The Judge’s gonna ask soon if you’re ready.

Sans patted you on the shoulder. “Kid, don’t worry. I bet the old man’s up to his neck with this lightning-head problem. Even if you’re ready today, he’s not.”

So, it’ll get postponed regardless of your answer?

“Yeah. Lucky for us. Anyways Frisk, did Tori make any new pie?”

There’s a fresh batch in the fridge. She started making it yesterday night for the poor driver, but it got repurposed into welcoming gifts for Cenna’s team. There’s one slice left for you.

“Sorry buddy, but mind donating that to me? I need to give Papyrus a reason to drive to their headquarters in five seconds flat. He’s fond of this Mezil guy. Since he visited Mettaton personally, Paps would wanna give him a token of thanks for all the trouble.”

Wouldn’t ‘shortcuts’ be more convenient?

“And do more walking?” Sans groaned. “This day’s full of madness already. I want some quiet space for once. And an excuse to sleep. Besides it’ll be much safer for Paps. Cars are pretty much steel casings with wheels.”

You agreed and told Sans about the flying car incident. It happened while you were in hospital. Whizzed past your window as if it had rocket thrusters.

Congratulations, you’ve made the calmest skeleton in town drop his proverbial jaw.

“That. Is. Cool. Beyond words. Really. Wow. He made a car fly and treated it as if it’s a zero effort matter? My parents are right: he’s a powerhouse. That’s why he’s truly The Great Papyrus!”

Happier than before, Sans said, “Welp, I don’t need to worry about the car ride then. We can just fly if things get hot. Thanks for the tip, Frisk.”

No problem. You then went to the kitchen to pack up that slice of pie.

He accepted the plastic container. “Thanks. Send a message to Papyrus and tell him that I got pie for our good Judge. And, uh, I’ll be waiting at home.”

Sans, get a new phone already. Please.

“Yeah, yeah, I will. Just not right now.”

You waved goodbye and locked the door.

At five in the evening, you hear Papyrus’ over-enthusiastic yelling whiz past your home. It’s the end of his patrol shift. No doubt he’s heading home to start his pie delivery quest.

That’s when you heard your phone ring. It’s none other than Judge Thyme. As Sans said, you need to take heed of his words.

You answered it.

“Good Evening, Frisk.”

Good evening to him too.

“Have you made your decision yet?”

You told him ‘no’. It’s still too soon. But, you want to know what’s going on.

How are things?

“About as fine as a crisis can be, thank you. I trust that Judge Caraway had guarded the town well?”

Seems so. You’re stuck at home and your local news feed has said nothing. It doesn’t look like the gangsters showed up.

“They’re around. Perhaps they’ve tried to act, but failed.”

How does he know?

“When you deal with certain people on a daily basis, you know how they think.”

These are the guys you’d had to wrestle with in the future…?

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

You pondered. Do they have a leader?

If they have one, you could try to convince them that the Ebott folk are not dangerous.

“No. They do not have a leader. I was forced to kill him a long time ago.”

Can’t Mezil rewind time and find out how to spare him?

“By now, Cenna would have told you about the nature of the Marks. Correct?”

You said yes.

“You’ve heard about the War of the Red Victory. But do really you think there were only eight of us in the entire world?”

No. Definitely not. There had to be more out there.

“Indeed. There was one who refused to join. Determined to stay out of the battle and wait for the outcome. He’s none other than the leader of the Gungnir. Mouthpiece of The Hero’s propaganda. And Chara’s replacement.”

Ah! That makes sense! They’re that cult Cenna once told you about. Or at least descended from those who worshipped the Legendary Hero.

Chara was once part of Gungnir, it sounds like. Destined to lead. Their people’s ‘Golden Quiche’. You can’t say you’re surprised.

From what they had told you, their parents put a great deal of pressure on them.

...Being a Red SOUL is suffering.

No wonder they’re so Determined to destroy the world.

Mezil continued: “The Legendary Hero and the deceased Gungnir Leader had one thing in common: they both had a red lightning bolt as their Mark.”

Heh, you thought all Marks are unique.

“Yes, they are. But ages had passed since the DEMON’s demise. It’s not unusual if a person in the future adopted a similar mindset, hence recreating an old Mark.”

But then, why did you have to kill him? No imprisonment? Rehab?

“Unfortunately, no. He had crafted a situation where I had only one choice: Kill or be killed. Their own philosophy. I hope you asked Doctor Gaster about The Seven Sages.”

Huh?

Wait…

Does this have anything to do with Mezil of Berendin?

He’s a Living Victory who was killed by The Legendary Hero. They’re both Red SOULS. It seems that only Reds can kill Reds, but… how?

Mezil did not answer your inquiries.

“Back to topic,” the Judge said. “Since the elimination of their leader, I’ve kept the Gungnir disorganized. Worked with law enforcement to remove, divert, or incarcerate potential unification candidates. Most my old targets are reformed members of society today.”

“What we have now is a loose mob linked via an online network. They’re headless and leaderless. More like a mass of drones than a proper army. It may not bring much consolation, but from my experience it’s better than worrying about competent spies lurking around every corner.”

“It doesn’t stop some parties from being… quite cunning. Your status as an astounding prodigy attracted their attention too. Imagine what would happen if someone who adhered to the Gungnir ideology adopted you?”

A dark aura loomed overhead. You realised what this means. They would no doubt attempt to brainwash you, for lack of a better description.

You'd become Chara in their stead.

Still, your childlike idealistic side refuses to believe that they’re all bad people. There had to be some who mean well.

There was a pause on Mezil’s side.

“…Interesting. By no means are you wrong: there are moderate and good-hearted people in Gungnir. But the problems don’t lie in just their members. It’s the foundation.”

“The Red Sage, our founder, is a much kinder man than the people gave him credit for. When he helps, he never expect his deeds to be returned. Though he’d be disappointed if they misused or wasted it, they’re free to do whatever they want with their newfound blessing. This value of freedom is central to our organization.”

“The Gungnir, however, do not believe in charity. Every deed must be returned. The help they give is more of an investment: those who take it must eventually contribute to their cause. Refuse to do so and be shunned by the rest. If not ‘disciplined’. A close-minded clause.”

“The Legendary Hero expected rewards for his actions. That contributed to his ultimate downfall.”

You’re not sure what to think of it. Perhaps it’s time for you to do some reading. Go online and review the encyclopedia entries about them.

Maybe ask Cenna why she thinks that the Legendary Hero was a psycho from the beginning? Though, you had a feeling that her statements would be coloured with a bias.

You asked Mezil if there’s anything else for today. Maybe an assignment?

“Hmm. You should further hone your magic skills with Judge Caraway. They will be useful in the future, provided you can pass.”

Okay. You wished him goodbye for now. And have a good night.

“Goodnight to you too, Frisk.”