Armored cars on the left and right.

Guiding bikes on the front and back.

You, Mom, and Dad sat in the passenger side of the limousine. Three more bodyguards lined up on the opposite seat, armed and ready to protect you if an ambush happens. The group consisted of one lady and two guys. Dressed smart, of course.

It’s clear traffic on the highway, but the presence of three posh cars and two heavy bikes blocking the road made anyone think twice about getting too close.

Mom peeked past the one-way tinted windows. They’re designed to keep people from snapping unwanted pictures.

“Is this normal for VIPs on the Surface?” she asked.

The lady bodyguard nodded. “Yes, madam. For important political figures such as presidents and royalty, this is already considered a small entourage.”

“Rest assured, this limousine is equipped with bulletproof windows and a shock-absorbent hull.”

Dad blinked at the details. “Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“No, sir.” You expected that answer. “We’ve received intel that Gungnir may strike at any moment. Extra precaution is necessary.”

You told your parents that assassination attempts had killed important people in human history. It happened enough for beefy security to be the norm.

Dad frowned. “This brings back unpleasant memories of the warring days…”

Sitting still made you drowsy. Maybe you should have timed your training regiment better. You slowly leaned against mom’s side with droopy eyes.

“Oh dear, you seem tired.” She held you close and caressed your cheek. Turning to the guards, she asked: “Is it alright if Frisk sleeps for the journey?”

The lady smiled in response. “Of course. Please leave the worrying to us. Do they need a blanket?”

“That would be nice! Thank you.”

Wow, they really have everything prepared for long car rides.

It’s a thin airline blanket. Surprisingly cosy. You bundled yourself up in the fabric and took a nap. It’s awkward with the seatbelts, but you’re tired enough to konk out anyway.

* * *

You began to dream of a faraway memory.

It’s the summer camping trip organized by your foster home and the school. The idea was to have the unfortunate parentless kids make new friends and give them some good memories to hold unto.

Before you left the doors, they sorted you into groups with the same letter. You can no longer remember your exact code.

Finding the kid with the same letter was fun nonetheless.

It’s nightfall. This year’s summer was colder than usual, which was the perfect weather for your striped shirt. Your group’s task was to help the adults cook. Some of you did prep work. Some watched the campfire.

You’re fortunate enough to get the easy job.

Embers smoldered under the mesmerizing flames.

The bunch of you sat down in a circle. It’s a gathering.

One of the kids started to tell a story. They said, “Hey, you heard? Legends say those who climb the mountain won’t come back. Like never!”

When you looked up, you saw the shadow of Mount Ebott looming against the setting sun.

It’s… bigger than you remembered. Then again, dreams don’t scale one to one.

Another member chimed in. “Yeah! I heard this entire area was a suicide zone too. Looooots of restless ghosts. Ooooo~~~”

“Yeah. Many, many years ago, they found lots of dead people in the woods. All rotten bones! Worms everywhere!”

“Pushed off the cliff by bad spirits.”

“Hanged themselves.”

“Pills for those who want to take the easy way out.”

Then, there’s always that one skeptic. “Hmph. If this place is really that haunted, why are we camping here? There’s no such thing as ghosts. They’re just silly fake stories grownups scare themselves with.”

“The wizards didn’t think so,” the other objected. “Did you read the notice? They warned everyone against playing with ouija boards.”

“The wizards are fake too.”

Ah, forever the skeptic indeed.

“Okay, what about monsters? Big, scary monsters under the mountain! RAWR!”

“You wanna know a better answer? It’s because this place costs zilch. Other camping sites charge money.”

“The beach is free.”

“We already went to the beach last year!”

“My foster dad thinks we should toughen ourselves up in the wild. And this is the nearest truly ‘wild’ spot we got. I mean, where else can you find a huge space of pristine, untouched forest?”

“It’s called the national park, and those have very limited camping spots. People are not supposed to be there after all.”

They turned towards you, the one who had yet to make a single comment.

“Hey Frisk, what do you think?”

You just shrugged.

“Aww c’mon, don’t be such a bore.”

What are their names? You can’t quite remember anymore. At first, you did. Even addressed some of them in person. But as the loops extended longer and longer… they had become nothing more than a presence. If you had met them on the street, you wouldn’t recognize them.

That must be strange for them. In their perspective, you transformed into a completely different person overnight.

One moment, you’re just a kid.

The next, you’re an important ambassadorial figure: surrounded by wizards, guards, and magic.

Maybe the kids think you ditched them for your new family of unusual monsters. Arrogant, perhaps.

That’s not good. You made a note -- in your dream -- to at least explain your lack of recollection.

But what can you say? That you’re a time-traveller? You had a feeling that it’s not supposed to be public knowledge.

Maybe… you can just say that you knocked your head really hard?

It’s kind of true, except not really. You don’t want to lie if you could help it. How can you be a spokesperson if no one trusts your words?

For reasons lost in time, you thought it would be a good idea to climb Mount Ebott alone. Your PE teacher in school once said: ‘If a wild animal appears, you need to make yourself look big and scary. When in doubt, grab a big stick. Don’t throw a Poké Ball!’.

Apparently you looked high and low to get a strong and sturdy one. Pretend that you’re one of those cool monk fighters from TV. Alas, you lacked the physical strength to carry it. So you settled for a wind-blown branch.

You were confident that there were no dangerous animals lurking around. The forest was silent except for the chirps of insects and birds.

The shadow of the mountain reached the sky; it's still so far away.

But you’re determined to hike.

To make your own adventure.

To explore the ‘haunted’ mountain.

Alone.

* * *

“Frisk?”

“We’re almost there, my child.”

The voices of your goatparents stirred you from the edges of a dream.

Yawn. Eye rub. Stretch.

You saw The Magus HQ in the distance a.k.a ‘The Institute’. You also understand why it earned the nickname of ‘The Spire’.

It’s… freaking huge.

That’s all you could really say. It stretched high into the sky like the wizard towers from fantasy. With a modern twist. The amount of buildings that surrounded the ground level might as well make it a mini city of its own.

Your bleary imagination juxtaposed the shadow of the mountain over the tall structure.

…Huh… The grandness of The Spire did sort of remind you of Ebott. It makes you want to explore it, though you’re sure that they will have a ton more security checks than a desolate mountain.

You combed your hair and straightened up your shirt. The hour draws near. You checked the Trap Harvester for the time. One of the sides was a normal clock.

Traffic must be slow somewhere, because it’s three hours in the afternoon. The online maps said you should arrive at two o’clock sharp.

Oh well. There’s still plenty of time to wake up and recover from your really long nap.

You can’t help but to notice that the Magi bodyguards seem somewhat tensed.

What’s wrong?

They’re hesitant to answer. You’re a child under their charge and it’s their job to keep you worry free. You actually had to convince them that you need to know what’s going on for the trial. Otherwise, the maybes will distract you too much.

One of the male bodyguards then said: “We had to take a few detours due to unforeseen changes in the traffic flow. It’s uncertain if there’s a mastermind behind the job, or if it’s just a bad day in the streets.”

“We apologize for the delay,” The lady added, “From this point onward, it’s straight to the HQ.”

That’s good. As long you arrive with punctuality, everything’s fine. You started the journey early for a reason. Traffic can get unpredictable.

The bodyguards were astonished by your statements.

Dad smiled proud. “As we had said, Frisk is very wise for their age.”

Looks like your reputation is growing. You’re not too sure if you could keep it up. Being ‘old’ is not the same as being ‘wise’.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Sir… Madam… “

Looks like nobody briefed your proper biological chromosome to them. You told the bodyguards that just ‘Frisk’ will do for now.

…You sure hope that you’ll arrive soon because it’s about time to go to the loo.

“W-well. I guess that’s our first order of business upon arrival then.”

Sounds great.

As you passed through the streets of the big city, you wondered about a lot of things. Most of them surrounded the dream you had.

How are the kids doing?

Are they healthy?

Will you meet them again? If yes, how different would your experience be?

If you introduced them to your monster friends, would it go well?

…

Will Ebott Town be okay in your absence? Is Undyne holding down the fort? What about Alphys? And Mettaton? What about Monster Kid, the Temmies, and your new non-human schoolmates?

Is Papyrus alright? The silence started to bother you. His phone was off ever since he got submitted to the Magus Headquarters.

And…

Where’s Sans? He promised to help, but you don’t see him anywhere. You hope that he didn’t stress himself out too much. He was really not okay when he burned his possessions.

You just want everyone to live in peace again.

* * *

Big Sister Cenna stood at the foot of a giant stone door. Grams and circuits carved an elaborate geometrical pattern within its frames. It reminded you of stained glass, except it worked its art with texture and shadows.

The sheer size made you drop your jaw. From your perspective, it’s the height of ten Dads with the width of maybe five.

And they have this entire thing at the lowest basement of The Spire?!

“Yo, Frisky! Yo, Royal family! Ready for the big day?”

She greeted you with the same casual sunniness as always. Maybe. It’s somewhat clouded by the severity laid before you.

You greeted back in the same manner and said you’re ready.

“That’s great! Well, you’re a bit early though. The guys inside are still doing the finishing touches.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Presenting it from top to bottom, she said: “In the meantime, why don’t you admire our one and only entrance to the Crimson Hall?”

Admire, you did. You noticed that your parents had grown curious too.

Mom traced her fingers in the air. “Is that… an upside-down tree? Maybe roots?”

You peered harder and tried to follow the shape.

Oh. That’s not a tree, it’s a double-sided key! The linking circuits gave it the illusion of roots.

Cenna’s grin confirmed your answer. “Heh heh, keen eye you got there. Must be your Vanquisher blood speaking. Yup. You’re seeing the representation of the Keys of Fate.”

What’s with the diamonds containing strange glyphs in them? They’re connected to the fancy key.

“They’re the Aspects written in the Magi script: Wisdom, Courage, Righteousness, Intellect, Altruism, Truth.”

Huh? They… don’t match up with the values you knew. What happened to Patience, Bravery and so on?

Cenna explained, “The stuff on the door are the ideal results of the basics. Each colour has their own tenets. Like, mine goes like this: ‘Truth is the root of Justice. Those who dispense justice must seek out the truth, otherwise the act becomes corrupted vindication’. Get it?”

Ooooh that’s super cool!

Dad rubbed his chin and read over the runes again. “Hmm, I think we’re missing one of these ‘Aspects’. There are only six here.”

“Look up.” The Magus pointed her finger to the head top of the key.

There’s another glyph up there. What does it read?

“Victory,” she replied. “The motive behind all ‘Determination’. This is a carving of the Keys of Fate after all.”

Something caught her attention. When you looked close, you noticed that she’s wearing an earpiece. Ah, so that’s how they communicated.

“Yup. Frisky’s here. You ready, Mez? Okay.” Transmission, end. Turning her attention back towards you, she said: “Prep work is all done. Anything else you wanna ask?”

Nope. Let’s not keep the tsunderjudge waiting.

“Atta Frisky. That’s… how you should do it. You’re really a good kid. Wish I could spend more time with you.”

There a tinge of sadness in her words.

You told her that we’ll have more time to hang out after the Trial. Like at dinnertime.

“Yeah, you’re right. Let me open it for ya.”

Cenna faced the door and ejected her SOUL. It’s been a while since you had seen that glowing, golden segmented heart in action.

It touched the stone door. The grams lit up white in response. Then, the SOUL continued to push the two panels apart. You could hear the slabs grinding against the floor.

Whoa! Isn’t this door made out of heavy stone?

Cenna chuckled. “If you try to use your bare hands, yeah. It’s impossible. Only SOULS can open this special brand of magic doors.”

Dad mentioned, “Magic indeed. Technology had come a long way since the Sealing.”

Beyond that stood an empty round room carved out of pure white. It looks one seamless slab of ceramic.

You spotted Mezil standing at the far end, with his back facing towards you.

“Good luck, Frisky,” said Cenna.

You responded with a confident thumbs-up.

Upon entering the chamber proper, the mighty slabs ground shut. You’re alone in the chamber with your parents and the Supreme Judge.

“Howdy,” said Dad. “We’re here with Frisk, Judge Thyme.”

Mezil replied, “Mhmm. Thank you for bringing them here.”

He’s talking in the other direction, back turned to you, but you hear his voice all around. Do they have an audio system installed? If that’s the case, they did a really good job in hiding the speakers.

“Please come forward to the center of the hall.”

The three of you walked towards the centre. Mom stood by your right, and Dad to your left.

You expected Mezil to turn around and start the Trial with a huge question, yet he remained silent. Is he testing your patience? Maybe delaying you on purpose to test your ability to endure pressure?

It pays to be extra paranoid. He wanted to test the whole ‘you’ after all.

The place… unsettled you. Most of the light came from a series of panels that loomed over your head. The lack of visible corners distorted your sense of space. The only reason why you could tell up from down was the long shadow of Judge Thyme cast against the back wall.

Where’s the ‘Crimson’…? There’s not a single speck of red.

So Mezil began: “Welcome to the Trial of the Crimson Hall. This is where the Supreme Judge tests the hearts of every Living Victory. Some may object it as mere simulation. Excuses. Should they fail here, how can they be trusted with the world?”

“This event will be overseen by a panel of Jurors. It’s the Jury’s task to ensure a fair trial. This means should I act out of bounds, they have the right to cancel the proceedings. Today, seven shall watch our every move.”

So far, it lines up with Sans’ intel.

Mezil looked upwards for a moment. “The Magus Association’s Grandmaster will have one card to veto the Jury’s vote. If that happens, the Trial of the Crimson Hall will continue uninterrupted… until my next transgression.”

“Jurors, you may introduce yourselves.”

You don’t know where they are, but they’re watching. Maybe behind the walls?

One by one, they introduced themselves.

“Juror Number 1 speaking. You may proceed.”

“Aye, Juror Number 2 be watchin’ ya today. What will yer heart choose? Lookin’ forward to the answer. Godspeed.”

“Juror Number 3 on duty. Number 2, please cut the accent. It’s unprofessional.”

“…Juror Number 4. I wish you good luck, child…”

“Teehee, I’m Juror Number 5! Wow, you’re cuter than the photos. If you pass this, you’re gonna be the youngest recorded participant in history!”

“Juror Number 6 pays his greetings. My, my, this is certainly fascinating. Wa ha ha!”

“Juror Number 7 wonders what’s wrong with the world. A child so young, forced to take on burdens that most adults cannot bear. She worries for the future. Please prove her wrong.”

Huh. 4, 5, and 7 were ladies. The rest were guys.

6 sounds somewhat familiar. You know it’s an old guy, but that’s about it. There’s a nagging feeling that you should recognize this voice.

They’re a colourful bunch. Expected nothing less from a group of monsters. You smiled knowing that some things don’t change.

A few more seconds passed by. Mezil then asked: “Do you desire to keep your power, Frisk?”

You opened your mouth… but you could form no words. It’s a complicated subject.

There’s a feeling that you’re too unprepared for this.

“Interesting. You used to be more determined. Perhaps a little wake-up call is required.”

Huh?

You felt something hit your chest. Like a small pebble kicked up by a car’s tyre.

Mom shrieked. You wondered why at first. Then, when you looked down you realised that something had gone horribly wrong.

Blood spread around a small puncture wound on your chest.

What the heck?!

When?

Why?

How?

You heard an uproar. The Jury panel expressed their shock on the turn of events.

“EEK!”

“Woah there!”

“Judge Thyme, what’s the meaning of this?!”

“Cor Blimey! I knew ya had a plan but what’s with THAT?”

“Please cancel the Trial, Grandmaster! Premature violence against this child is illegal!”

One of the wall panels flipped around to show a red spade. That’s the veto card.

“Grandmaster…? Are you serious?”

“Expecting that, aye. Judge Thyme M’lord will never play a fool. Have some faith, will ya?”

“Tsk, you say that because you’re his close confident. Enough to call him ‘M’lord’ of all things.”

Whoa. You’re sure you heard a snake-like hiss through the sound system. “Mind yer manners. That be borderline slander.”

“Number 7 agrees that personal squabbles should be left outside the court. Number 2 provides valuable insight of judgement despite his eccentricity. His recollection is the strongest amongst us. The non-Seers have to rely on the chronograph recordings.”

The banter hushed soon after. Number 2 and 3 don’t get along with each other, it seems. Interesting…

…Ugh.

Man, the sting. The wound’s getting more and more obvious. What exactly did he do?!

Mezil still had his back turned towards you.

“…Apologies,” he said, “It seems that my battleworn past had caught up to me. Worry not, the next shot won’t be a miss.”

A series of grams ignited throughout his left arm.

He’s fast.

About as fast as Sans, if you could dare say so.

In one swift motion, his magic grabbed your SOUL and yanked it out of your chest. It’s an action you once thought exclusive to monsters.

A gun aimed square towards you.

Mezil fired. The shot hit straight in the center of your Psychia.

It nicked off 1 HP. Your head felt light for a moment.

Wait, only 1?

“You may check your Psychia now.”

When you flipped it around, you noticed a small white bullet embedded into the surface of your SOUL. It didn’t go very deep.

Inspecting yourself, you found the exact same type of ammunition. It’s a pellet: the ones used for non-lethal arms like riot control.

You tried to dig the bullet out. But, a red butterfly stopped you. The same happened for the one stuck in your chest.

They’re both Marked.

What was that for?!

Mezil replied, “I’m granting you back a gift that we Reds share. Don’t close your eyes.”

He shot the lights. Dad used his huge body to shield you from the shards.

You then saw the world turn grey. Time froze in place. You held your breath when Judge Thyme lifted his arm to snap his fingers.

Just Like that, everything returned to their former pristine state. The lights were never broken.

Mom once again shrieked at the sight of the bleeding wound. The Marked bullets persisted through time travel.

“W-wait. The Grandmaster’s card is already out?!”

“Time loop, ahoy.”

“Wah ha, if only I’m blessed to see the truth…”

That red spade panel appears to be a Mark too.

Wait…

The Grandmaster is a Living Victory too?!

“That is indeed correct,” Mezil confirmed. “The Grandmaster may not hold the Keys of Fate, but he is the heart of the Magus Association.”

“Now then. Shall we have a short session of enlightenment?”

Mezil pointed the barrel at you once more.

“Once upon a time, Determination was known as ‘Willpower’. The Grandmaster and the founder of Vanquishers thought it’s best to update the term to conceal its more dangerous nature to the unacquainted.”

“I find it very amusing that the monsters of Ebott came to the same term from a different conclusion. Yes, ‘Determination’ is the will to live. Because their terminology focuses on the lighter side of the Red’s magic, the discoveries record only the life-preserving aspect of this power.”

“But any tool in existence can be used as a weapon. Frisk, you had used both the light and dark without ever realising the difference.”

“It is not the one more ‘Determined’ who comes out on top. Rather, it’s the one who successfully imposes their authority over the other. This desire for superiority is the root of many human conflict.”

“In other words: ‘Victory’.”

“…Allow me to demonstrate.”

Two more shots fired. You heard your parents yelp. Mezil’s red butterfly spread out from the point of impact: their SOULS.

“That particular Mark says: ‘I impose my will to preserve your memories’.”

Another shot. Sensing danger, Dad tried to dodge. But Mezil’s aim lived up to the legend. The bullet struck his lower leg.

“This time I’ve imposed my will to erase half of your lifeforce.”

A green bar appeared over his head. It’s a hologram that displayed his HP to the public. Dad just lost half of his total life, just as Mezil dictated.

“Asgore!” Mom caught her husband.

She tried to heal him, but the Mark repelled her magic.

Half remained half.

You heard another click of the gun. You’re sure Mezil’s doing it on purpose to give you an audio cue. He’s demanding your fullest attention.

“I impose my will to blind you for ten seconds.”

This time, Mom suffered the hit. Her eyes widened in horror. She reached her hand out to the air and waved it around.

“Frisk? Asgore? W-where are you?! I can’t see!”

“Tori, I’m here!” said Dad.

You called to her and grabbed her hand. Mom held onto the both of you for her life’s worth, crying from the terror of eternal darkness.

Ten seconds passed.

Then suddenly, she looked at you. Then Dad. Her maternal instincts told her to shield you from this dangerous man.

Mezil had expected this reaction. He remained calm. Stoic. Not a single shred of emotion on his face.

“Frisk,” he said, “Do you really expect a Boss Monster to be so weak that a stick or a toy knife can kill them? No. If you weren’t a Pure Red child, your ‘weapons’ would remain nothing more than harmless objects.”

“‘Killing Intent’ is just a fanciful name for corruptive Determination. It lays the foundation of ‘Curses’: the art of DEMONS and the vengeful spirits. It so happens that I am in the former category. Therefore…”

“I impose my will of death.”

Before you could so much as to object, you heard two more shots.

Your monster parents’ dust showered over you.

Mom! Dad!

No…!

No, no, no!

This can’t be real!

You expected some crazy fight but certainly not THIS!

The world turned grey and ground into a halt again. Once more, Judge Thyme snapped his fingers to cue another LOAD.

Just like that, your parents were back to their fluffy selves. This time, they both quaked in their feet.

“Those faces…”

“Aye, no doubt about it. M’lord sent our two royalty o’er to the Spirit Realm and back.”

“…Scary…”

The Jury knew of Mezil’s full potential.

“Peaceful Determination stills the heart. Corruptive Determination destroys life. Monsters lack defenses to actively resist this aura, and hence why you could manipulate the outcomes of your battles without much trouble.”

“Do you now understand the true weight of your power, Frisk?” asked the Judge. “I had fought many evildoers with the Determination to kill a Magus in a single Mark. Physical resistance can only go so far.”

W-was the Last Persona one of them?

“Yes. This is why I must execute every Living Victory who loses themselves to bloodthirst. It’s a power too great to be left alone. That’s not counting the possibility of them acquiring the Keys of Fate.”

Then how did Mezil survive until today?

“Simple: I am determined. Determination’s greatest weakness is Determination. It’s all about resisting another person’s will with your own.”

Wait, hang on. You don’t quite get something.

How do you kill a self-reviving time traveller?!

“Hmm, perhaps I’ve not been clear enough. The only way to kill a Living Victory is to impose your will where it truly matters: their Psychia. Or ‘SOUL’, as you’re more familiar with. In other words, you curse them to remain dead.”

You asked Judge Thyme if he’s really going to kill you. But, Sans said…

“Under normal circumstances, I could pronounce the end of your time-travelling abilities. Right here, right now. But you are anything but ‘normal’.”

“Have you forgotten? Perhaps so.”

He locked the sternest glares on you to pronounce the most severe of verdicts:

“Once upon a timeline, you had rejected the Trial of the Crimson Hall. I believe Judge Caraway warned you that such arrogant behaviour warrants immediate execution upon my sole discretion.”

What?

What?

WHAT?!!?!?!

You did that?! After all the warnings?! Like, really?!

Blood drained from your head. White noise ringed between your ears. You’re feeling faint for a good reason.

That’s the dumbest move you could ever pull off with this guy.

But when? Why can’t you remember?

You heard a loud stomp on the ground.

“Let my child go.”

It’s hard to believe that growl came from Dad. It sounds so deep. Guttural. So far away from the big softie you both know and love.

“I see the King has made his stand. However, I’m afraid I cannot honour your request.”

“The humans have this saying,” said Dad. “‘Those who kill must be prepared to get killed themselves’. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then are you prepared to die?”

“No,” Mezil replied. “I am prepared to win at any cost. Even if this means turning into cinder and ash, I shall not waver.”

“Boastful words. Can you back them up?”

Dad’s voice softened when he addressed Mom. “Toriel. Please protect our child.”

Huh?

Mom thus grabbed you and ran as far as she could. Along the way, she whispered instructions into your ear.

“Frisk, stay with me at all times. I alone am fireproof. Whatever you do: do not peek. The light will blind you.”

Mom? How powerful is Dad?

“…More than you realise.”

You felt yourself sink into her huge, soft body: face brushing against her clothes. Glimpsing to the side, you noticed that she’s putting all her magic to create a shield.

Then, you heard the air roar into flames.

Fire, fire and more fire.

In a flash, Dad transformed the Crimson Hall into a blast furnace.

Intense heat permeated, like you’re standing in front of a hot stove. Imagine how much worse it would be without Mom’s shield.

No human could survive that. But you know Mezil always has some trick up his sleeve.

Maybe… maybe this is your test?

If he dies, you will have the Keys of Fate.

Then he might want to see if you’d revive him or--

You heard Dad scream. What followed after were the sandy shimmers of collapsing dust.

“Asgore?” Mom muttered. She turned around to look. You saw her cover her mouth in horror. She stood up, planted her feet down, and conjured fire in her hands.

She’s ready to fight. Mom, what’s wrong?

“Don’t look, my child. It’s too much even for you.”

Too late. You caught a glimpse and you couldn’t take your sights away.

That’s a skeleton.

A charred, ember-streaked, blackened skeleton standing over the remains of Dad’s royal garments.

Mezil’s red SOUL shone bright within the ribcage: a glow so strong that it bathed the hall in crimson.

Is that…

A Lich?!

Mezil began to talk despite being all bones. His voice had a slight reverb.

“King Asgore’s power fits the legends. Still, I can feel the penitence in his resolve. His flames are like warm candles to humanity’s Hell. That’s a good sign: a King should value life no matter which side of the coin they’re on.”

“Hmm. It’ll be inconvenient if I convert right now. I should turn back time while my Psychia still shines.”

He snapped his very skeletal fingers.

Everything went back to normal. Dad isn’t dust, and Judge Mezil is back in the flesh.

In your midst of shock, you felt a more muscular furry arm lifting you off the floor.

The distance between you and Mezil widened. You hear the Jury commenting on the scene.

“I certainly didn’t expect that.”

“If ya didn’t, ya know nothin’ about the heart.”

“Says the outcast.”

“Seriously Number 3, if I’m a parent I’d grab my kid and run for my life too! Judge Thyme IS a terrifying dude when he wants to be. No contest.”

We’re… running away?

When you snapped out of your daze, you realised that Dad carried you in one arm and held Mom with the other. He’s making a mad dash to the massive stone door.

“Fleeing, are you?” asked Mezil.

“Yes!” Dad yelled back.

“What do you intend to gain from this?”

“A few years! I-I’ll teach Frisk the art of combat. And how to fight a human without hurting them. I’ll be their father until they’re old enough to face you!”

“As will I!” Mom declared.

Mom and Dad pushed open the stone doors with all their might. They’re too heavy for a human, but for Boss Monsters that’s another story.

The stone slabs ground against the base. Then, you heard nothing.

Mom gasped. “W-what is this…?”

You turned around and realised why.

Beyond the door lay… nothingness. Literal nothingness. It’s a black void as far as the eye can see.

Mezil said, “If you throw a coin down there, it will fall to the center of this chamber. Try it if you wish. Or you just take my word as truth.”

“Where are we?” Dad asked.

“You’re in the realm between reality. The gap of space and time. The bridge between life and death. The dimension Doctor W.D. Gaster once roamed: none other than ‘The Void’ itself. The magnificent stone door you crossed on the way in was more than just a show of splendour. It’s a type of ‘Spirit Gate’, a fancy name for a converter.”

“It’s rather complicated. In summary, your minds are transferred into a digital mockup for the Crimson Hall. Matter becomes data. Your SOULS are real. Your bodies… not quite.”

…There’s no escape.

Patting on Dad’s shoulder, you asked him to put you down on the ground.

“Frisk? Are you sure?” He’s looking at you with eyes moist with tears.

Yup. Don’t worry. Everything will be okay. Planted a smooch on his snout for extra measure.

After a lot of reluctance, Dad let you walk up to Judge Mezil.

Along the way, you eject your SOUL.

Encounter, initiate.

All four options are available.

FIGHT - ACT - ITEM - MERCY

It’s been a long time since you’ve put yourself in this state of mind.

You wished it didn’t need to come to this.