Cenna resumed her day in the most low-key, normal way possible. Kept it up until the orange evening sky loomed overhead. The moment her shift ended, she rushed to the bunny inn.
Frisk arrived first. Chatted with the innkeeper’s son in the meantime. Poor kids. They just got to the Surface after hearing the wonders, only to be holed up in their homes in deep uncertainty.
In true Frisky fashion, the kid politely excused themselves.
They skipped the greetings. Both sides were anxious to get their business going. Cenna invited them straight to her room.
The mess was plain embarrassing. Clothes strewn over the chair, dirty laundry stuffed in cupboards, and the blankets more or less crumpled half-folded into a lump of warmness.
“Sorry about my slop,” she apologized.
Frisk shook their head. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
“Wha?”
“Sans never tidies his place. Then again, I didn’t tidy mine either when I was travelling. It’s the nature of being a hotel guest.”
The kid then plopped themselves on the edge of the mattress.
Cenna couldn’t believe that she had just heard such wisdom from a prepubescent kid. Then again, Frisk is a Living Victory with lots of time-travelling experience under their belt.
What was the kid like in the first time loop? Their speech and behaviour would be different compared to their current state. But, by how much?
She shoved the thoughts away. There were more important questions that needed answers.
“How did your rollback-teleportation training go?”
“Good.” Frisk nodded, “It’s nowhere near as awesome as the big Judge though.”
“C’mon, that guy’s a master. Mighty unfair to compare with him. Show me a bit, yeah?”
Frisk walked to the other end of the room. In a snap, they reappeared back at the side of the bed. In the same sitting position too.
“So far, so good,” said Cenna. “Can you do the same in multiple spots? Like, having more SAVES between point A to point B.”
The kid rolled themselves across the bed, ran towards the chair near the window, and climbed on it.
Then they became a living reverse slideshow montage of their little skit. Five shots in a span of two seconds.
When Frisk ended up at the side of the bed again, they then struck a Mettaton-approved pose.
Holy…! That’s damn impressive!
Maybe I’m getting worried sick for nothing.
The big sister clapped her hands. “That’s goooooood! Okay, time to start the next lesson.”
Holding her palm upwards towards the kid, the Magus said, “Plant your Mark on my hand. Think, ‘I want to preserve this state with my will’.”
As expected, the kid stared at her in confusion.
“You saw Mez’s fight with the Persona, right? Noticed how all the lightning-marked wounds never went away?”
Frisk nodded.
“That’s because they’re imbued with the Persona’s Determination. I taught you the basic maneuvering arts of a Living Victory. Now you must learn how to impose your ‘will’ on others. There’s a reason why it was once named ‘Willpower’ and not ‘Determination’.”
“Be ‘determined’ to maintain your ‘will’. That’s what a Mark does to others. Now, place your signature on my hand. Transfer it from your body to mine with a pat.”
Brows furrowed in intense focus, Frisk hovered their hand over Cenna’s. When they came into contact, a faint yellow light flashed between the gaps.
Yellow?
Cenna thought she’s seeing things, but no. When Frisk withdrew their arm, it revealed a yellow star shimmering on the surface of the upturned palm.
The kid was puzzled too. “Maybe mine has a special colour?”
After a few seconds, the star burned itself into nothingness.
Frisk muttered, “Or not.”
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!
What’s happening?! I thought every Living Victory can do this on instinct!
“Try again,” said Cenna. Tried to remain calm for the kid’s sake.
It all resulted in the same. Every single one of Frisk’s attempts ended up with a yellow star that evaporated in a matter of seconds.
“…Am I in trouble?” The kid asked, perturbed by the development.
Cenna bit her lower lip. “I’m afraid so, Frisky. Dammit. This is bad. Really, really bad. How does your SAVE look like again?”
“A shining yellow star. Like the stuff I put on your hand, but much bigger. And they float at specific spots.”
“Kid, you have no idea how lucky you are. That star was literally eating itself. All properly functioning Marks are red. If you weren’t such a crazy powerful Pure Red, you wouldn’t be able to maintain them. Those stars? The moment they burn up all that DT, you’re gonna lose your SAVES too.”
“Um. I did… I did lose them,” the kid admitted. “Ever since the Barrier broke, I couldn’t make any new SAVES either. Whenever I try to time travel, it would take me back to the beginning of my Underground adventure.”
It horrified Cenna to think that her sibling had survived so long on such an unstable power. As if they sailed the seas on a tiny, rickety boat.
“Oh god, I had no idea. Dammit, I should have given you this much, much sooner.”
She wasted no time to unclasp the Trap Harvester and fix the cord around Frisk’s neck. It’s a little long for a kid.
“Mama’s watch belongs to you now,” said Cenna.
“Don’t you need it?” Oh sweet child, still thinking about the big sister even in times like these.
“Nah. Not anymore. You need this way, way, way, waaaaay more than me.”
“From now on, train your focus by pumping Determination into the Trap Harvester. You want to fill it up at a consistent rate for as long as you can. If you do this right, the mirrored-side of the watch will start to move. Aim for a minute per second. Watch the big hand.”
Frisk had no problem pumping Determination into the watch.
Maintaining a slow and steady pace? In other words, consistency: that's a whole different ballgame. The hands on the watch jerked at an erratic rate. Stumbled. Sometimes skipping whole hours forward. In physical terms, Frisk was running before they learned how to walk.
The child growled in frustration. They’re growing impatient. For a good reason too: Ebott Town’s public relations hung in the balance.
Cenna stopped Frisk. “That’s enough for now. You should take short, frequent practice sessions. Five minutes of focus, rest for ten. Repeat that three more times then stop for at least an hour.”
“What happens if I practice too much?” asked Frisk.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The Magus swirled a finger on the side of her head. “You’ll become Chara: drugged mad all the way to the sky. Too many Living Victories neglect self-regulation and go insane. That’s why we have the Crimson Hall, you know.”
“Frisky, listen. The problem ain’t that you’re weak. On the contrary, you're too damn strong. Like letting you drive a speedboat without lessons. You gotta learn how to control the flow or else you’re gonna crash. Get it?”
It’s hard to tell what they’re thinking behind that stoic face. Lack of reactions doesn’t mean they’re emotionless.
Nodding at Cenna, they said: “Okay. I understand.”
When they shifted their body, the watch’s key clicked against the metallic surface. It caught the child’s curiosity. “What’s this for?” they asked.
“See that keyhole at the bottom of the watch? That’s linked to a mechanism that releases all the stored Determination in one go, making both sides move in sync again. Use it only when you want to cancel the effects early.”
“Early? Does that mean there’s a time limit?” they asked back.
“Yeah. The time discrepancy between the two sides indicate the total time you have before you run out of DT. You know the watch is active when the mirrored side starts ticking backwards. ”
“Okay…” Frisk scrunched their brows, trying hard to remember all that information. “But wouldn’t it make more sense if the real-side caught up with it instead?”
Cenna shrugged. “That, you gotta ask our foreparents. They designed the watch this way.”
“Are there any other magic tools that use Determination?”
“Yup. There’s a few but I’m not at liberty to talk about it. Lock and key, you know.”
It’s tempting to spill the beans about the Grandmaster. Frisk doesn’t realise it yet, but they had already heard and seen the life of this truly great man.
After all, he will be Frisk’s other mentor. All Supreme Judges train under him at some point of their lives. No exceptions.
“Anyway, lesson done! You're doing great kid. Keep it up!”
The child looked up to their big sister and asked: “Can we look for Sans now? I have something to tell him.”
“Uh, about that,” the lady rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. “I’ve not seen him at all. It ain’t smart to keep wandering all day.”
Frisk lowered their head, hesitating. “There’s one place that I haven’t checked. But, I really hope he’s not there.”
So the kid knew where he might be, yet wished he wouldn’t be?
Cenna let them lead the way. As she walked, Lucidia’s warning continued to ring in her mind.
“Sans Serif’s primary self-imposed directive is to preserve the safety of his brother, Papyrus. What he considers ‘safe’ is undetermined still.”
“Making him at ease with you is the best safeguard on your life. Maintain your current cordiality, but stay your lips on sensitive information.”
Before she knew it, The Magus found herself standing before the skeleton brothers’ home. She expected the kid to knock. But…
…They turned away from the entrance and walked around the corner. Twice.
Before her was a familiar backdoor.
The Magus recognized this place. It’s where she delivered the letter. Lucidia told her that if no one answered the front, go around to the back and wait.
Sans was the one who had then opened the door.
Her hairs stood on their ends.
“What’s behind there?” Cenna asked.
“A secret,” Frisk answered. They dug into their pockets for a silver key and poked it into the keyhole.
It won’t turn. The confused kid tried to insert it again, but it wouldn’t work. “Odd. Is it jammed? Maybe the lock got rusted…”
Or, he’s changed the locks…
The Magus placed a finger over her lips. In silent steps, she inched towards the door and pressed her ears against it.
She heard the roars of fire. The high-pitched grind of steel sawing steel. The drilling, the hammering…
A workshop? No. It’s a lab? Lucy has one too. For SANS to have a personal lab, of all people…
He’s inside. I can sense him. Seems like he’s building something. What’s he working on?
The voice of a man then whispered into her ears:
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to spy?”
Cenna’s first instinct, reach for the gun.
Second instinct, point it at the source of the deep, creepy voice.
Third instinct, determine target.
Sans held his hands up in the air. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there. It’s just a joke.”
The poorest taste of jokes ever in her book. Maybe Papyrus had the right to scream at his brother’s sense of humour after all.
Something’s wrong.
I’m not putting my gun down.
My breathing is getting faster. Too fast. I’m jittering.
“Hey, no need to get so ‘rattled’ over a bag of funny bones like me.” Sans winked his right eye. “C’mon. Breathe in, breathe out. Chillax. Or maybe you need more puns?”
A worried Frisk had their arms raised, ready to push the gun away if anything happens. “C-Cenna…? Are you alright?”
Calm down. Calm. Down. The kid is here. If I panic, he’ll rat me out in a blitz.
A few seconds later, she slipped the weapon back into its holster.
“What the fuck, really?” Cenna snapped, “Just REALLY?! I’m sure outta everyone in this town, YOU know it’s bloody dangerous to sneak up on armed personnel. I thought you’re some lightning-head punk trying to ambush me!”
Sans apologized with a shrug. “Sorry, my bad there. Thing’s been pretty high-strung after all. I mean, Papyrus is not okay. You’re not okay. Nobody’s okay. Except me, of course. I’m completely fine.”
Cenna squinted at him. “You’re like, the last person I expect to be fine.”
The short skeleton snickered at that statement, as if the ups and downs of life were nothing but sources of laughter.
“Hoo boy, do you take me as a bad bone made up of angst? I know the edge is in the rage lately, but that’s not my style.”
“Ooooookay,” There’s no choice but to accept that answer. Refuse, and it’ll rouse suspicion.
Pointing to the door behind her, Cenna asked, “May I ask you what’s with the racket down there then?”
Sans pulled out a vial of thin, sky-blue liquid from his hoodie’s pockets.
Brow, raised. “What’s that?”
“Echo Flower extract. Heard from the grapevine that Doctor Gaster is trying to make a gut-friendly curry for your boss. I figured, if these flowers record sounds, maybe they can record flavours too? Taste is all about playing with receptor signals after all. What you’re hearing down there were leftovers from my distilling attempts.”
Sans, helping out Gaster?
After that fallout?
No way in hell I’m buying that statement.
“I know that look,” so said the skeleton. “It’s the face of someone disbelieving me.”
Again, he winked. “I don’t blame ya. I have absolutely no reason to help him after all. He can rot into bone dust for all I care. But, my old folks are stuck in there. Cruel, isn’t it? So as a good son I have to alleviate some of their bad lot in life.”
Cenna noticed he's only winking with the right eye; he’s fixating the left on her.
And only the left.
His attention turned to Frisk. “Hey buddy, sorry for making you worry. So, what’s up?”
Frisk being Frisk, showed Sans their parents’ memento without hesitation. Explained its functions, their unstable Determination problem, and why Cenna gave it to them.
“Oh yeah, it's called the ‘Trap Harvester’ right? Appropriate. Watch it work like clockwork on trapping the big Judge at his own timey-wimey game.”
Sans then began cracking more clock jokes. The kid laughed.
Wait a minute.
Just hold on a fucking minute!
I’m sure as hell I’ve never told him the name!
In the most discreet manner possible, The Magus pumped magic into her eyes. Right now, she’s counting on her thick clothes to hide the faint gleam.
Yellow is the colour of Truesight: the magic to expose secrets and to perceive truths beyond optical illusions. However, there were two little snags.
One, she’ll see a translucent image at best. She is human after all. Only Seers will receive a crisp, clear picture of the hidden magic. Truesight potions exist for a reason; they force hidden magic to be visible via the naked eye, and thus give full clarity to those born of physical flesh.
Two, channel the power too fast and her chest will glow too bright. Getting caught red-handed by Sans was the last thing she wanted.
He’s starting to examine the device with his own two skeletal hands. Cenna slipped her hands into her coat to hide their tension.
Just a little more…!
At last, she managed to channel the bare minimum to activate her Yellow magic. A faint image of cyan, yellow, and purple sat layered over Sans’ left eye.
It’s unsealed.
When?
Where?
How?!
For a split second, Sans’ incorporeal irises stared square at her.
He said: “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to spy?”
Cenna’s heart skipped a beat. She staggered backwards and slammed against the door. Her yelp rewarded the prankster.
“Geez,” said Sans. “Did you see a ghost or something? You look pale despite being dark skinned. Heh. Always found that paradoxical about humans. Why not grab a grub and catch some ‘Z’s? Give that poor overworked noggin some rest.”
Cenna began doubting herself. She’s exhausted and she still had yet to recover from her fallout with Linda.
…A hallucination?
Guh. Did… did my condition reach to that stage already? It couldn’t be; I’ve been taking my meds on time.
I don’t know what to believe anymore.
She squeezed her eyes shut for just a second.
“Yeah,” said Cenna, “Yeah, I should. Thanks. I’m gonna head back to the inn now. Oh, Muffet is looking for you Sans. Said something about an order.”
“Heh,” Sans replied. “Thanks for informing me, lady. I should get my lazy butt over there. Hey Frisk, why not come with me? I’ll join you for dinner. Tori included, of course.”
The Magus slowed her steps on purpose. Leaned against the wall with her head low to feign illness, though at this rate it might as well be real.
Nngh, I don’t want to leave Frisky alone with him. But I don’t wanna get caught either.
That was so close. Too close.
I could be dead where I stand.
“I’m going to take the Trial of the Crimson Hall.”
How Cenna wished that it was just a dizzy spell messing with her head. When she turned around, she saw her younger sibling standing resolute in their choice.
Sans furrowed his brows. “You sure, kid?”
Frisk nodded. “Yes. No more delays. I know I don’t need to be certified by the Magi to become an ambassador. But, passing the Trial at my age would impress the public. I have to win them over before Gungnir does.”
The skeleton darkened his sockets. “In other words, your objective hasn't changed.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Moments later, Sans was back to his genial self. “Welp, looks like you’ve made up your mind. All the best kid. I’m rootin’ for ya.”
The kid tossed their arms around his faux-pudgy figure. They’re so happy together.
Cenna felt her heart-rate rising.
W-what? No way! I expected him to reason with them or something.
Frisky ain’t ready for that shit yet!
Frisk looked up at her with big, confident smile. “Will you sign the letter of approval for me?”
I promised them.
Yeah. Yeah, I did.
The circumstances that piled up to this day demanded a decision on Frisk’s part. She had no choice in this matter.
“Yeah Frisky,” Cenna nodded. “I’ll do that. Issue an official statement for your goat parents too.”
Old man, you better know what you’re doing.
If you screw this up I swear, I’ll plant a damn stake through your heart. Doesn’t matter if you rewind time as long you remember the pain!