Hold on to something.

Chapter 25

The Professor

Back in their clothes after being separated for a short while, Frisk eagerly went to turn the door handle. They grabbed the metal and applied pressure slowly.

Sweet anticipation grew within the child's spirit, they were so close to home they could almost taste it. If Frisk had finally, well and truly reached the end of their journey, then they could not have been in a better condition than they were. A little dinged up, a few bruises, but with themself and their clothes smelling like roses, Asgore and Toriel would had something nice to cuddle upon their return. Seeing them in good shape, still walking and smiling and laughing, would quell all their worries.

Frisk could not stop thinking about how their return was going to play out. No doubt a call would be put out to the others if they weren't already at their house. Papyrus would be overjoyed and most likely want to fill them up with undercooked spaghetti and burned pasta sauce. For once, Frisk welcomed the idea; the thought of real food after two days of nothing but phoney stuff sounded enticing, even if his warranted much revision. Sans would act chill and aloof, crack a pun or two as if the whole thing was some harmless sleepover. Undyne would congratulate them on sticking it to these guys, maybe give them training lessons on how to best stay anchored to the ground if another abduction occurred. And Alphys would…

Frisk stopped, the handle halfway down. If there was one thing they struggled to shake these past couple of days, it was the look on Alphys's face before their unforeseen departure from Earth. Her eyes, wide and shaking from the tension; claws, slipping on the bone; voice, cracked with anxiety. It was her link where the chain was broken and Frisk was carted off the land they were in. Frisk had a terrible feeling that Alphys, acting like her old self, would handle it the hardest, burdening the entire blame on her shoulders. She was one of the monsters with the lowest self-esteem from the Underground, second only to Napstablook, and Whimsun, and Shyren, and Loox, and So Sorry, and Tsunderplane to some degree. No doubt she will have spent the last couple of days kicking herself herself over what happened.

Next chance Frisk got, they would devote plenty of time to Alphys: watch some anime; write some fanfiction; eat some instant ramen; riff on Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2; anything to let her know that everything was A-okay between them, that they did not blame her one bit for what transpired.

All of them would want to hear about what happened while they were up in the sky and, boy, did Frisk have a story for them. All they had to do was figure out how best to tell it without Toriel fainting on the Shattered Zone part.

All those daydreams were not going to happen on their own, especially inside that room. Frisk pulled the handle down and exited through the open door.

Frisk stepped into a place that could be called a circular living area, a cluttered one at best. The walls were uncovered and unpainted, merely a gutted tree trunk that stretched twelve feet upwards. No rings hinted toward its age. What meagre furniture in the expanse – a few chairs, a couple of cabinets, a bookcase, a shelf, and a bed – were crowded around boxes full of paper. In the centre, a spiral staircase descended deeper down to the darkness below. They had already travelled so far down in the tunnel, how much deeper did these trees go before they dug all the way through the roots and out the underside of the island itself?

Professor Haze was sat in an armchair facing the door; back straight and both hands holding the walking stick in front of himself. His enlarged eyes were aimed on the door. Frisk imagined that is all he did since he exited to allow them to dress.

"That was quick," Haze said. Surprisingly, Frisk thought he would say the opposite, that they took their precious time. He pressed down on his cane, pushing himself upright. "Good. That mentality will serve you well in time… or lack thereof."

Frisk pulled a puzzled face. What did he mean by lack thereof?

The professor gestured with his stick toward the circular stairs leading down the rabbit hole. "All my work is down in my laboratory." He began to walk toward the foot of the steps. "This way."

Just as Frisk was about to follow, a face that they recognised caught their attention from the top of the nearby cabinet. It was their own, plastered on another of those posters dotted around the seven islands. They first thought nothing of it until a slight difference drawn them to it. Beneath their front and side sketch, and scribbled in red ink over the description were two words:

Get ready

"Child," Professor Haze snapped, one inch away from the top step. His free hand firmly on the inner rail and a strict expression wrinkling his brow. "Don't make me have second thoughts on you this early." He punctuated his tone with a tap of his cane.

Frisk took the wanted poster of themself and held it for the professor to see, pointing toward the red words.

"What? You thought I wasn't expecting you? That your appearance caught me off guard? No, no, no, I have anticipated your arrival since you got here. Now get over here."

After placing the poster back where they found it, Frisk scampered over the wooden floor until they were behind him. Haze began his descent, taking the steps one at a time. From the way he walked, one would reckon that he did not need the walking stick, yet there it was supporting his every second step. Frisk struggled to keep up.

The stairs were carved from the trees own inners, spiralling inwards on itself. The hole got smaller the deeper they descended, its light grew dimmer with each step. His eyesight may have been failing, but Haze was still an avid fan of the dark, having grown accustomed to it through decades of solitude.

"So… why exactly did you come here?" Haze asked without warning, stopping on the next step. Frisk almost bumped into the back of him, just clenching themself on the railings. The professor gradually turned as he said his next words: "Did you honestly think it would be that easy? That your little adventure comes to a close simply because you found me? That I would just send you home on some ray of light, right here, right now?" He now fully faced the creature of another race. "Answer me: if we monsters really had a way of getting off this sham of a world, then why are we still here?"

That question landed on the human child like a ton of bricks. To pose a question like that was to put their whole ordeal into perspective, and Frisk realised that he had a serious point. If he had an exit to the Outerworld all along, these two would not be having this conversation in the first place.

Frisk let out a whimper, fear brewing in the pit of their gut. Did this mean there was no way to get home?

Haze grimaced. "There is a way to return you home, but not in the way your juvenile mind has come to believe. Your situation – our situation – is much more complex than you realise." He grumbled, turning himself back around. "Come, we are wasting time."

He resumed downwards on the winding steps, sinking deeper down the black hole of his hideout. Frisk stood motionless for a few seconds before quickly catching up. At its narrowest, the hole stopped at another bare, unassuming door that Haze twisted open.

At first glance, Frisk did not need to be told that this was his laboratory. Grey floors that were easy to clean, blue painted walls, and ceilings buzzing with rows of florescent lights were all the rage for the humble scientist. No room for feng shui, just experiments and breakthroughs. Frisk thought the living area above was the area of the tree trunk, yet the lab lay over a hundred feet ahead. The left and right walls were built with an array of terminals and machines, not so far off the kind Geoffrey used to harness complete control over Ice Island. Rows of worktops lined the floor, each one held a different experiment on its top.

"Do you like it?" Haze asked. Before Frisk could get a word in edgewise, he answered, "I hope so. You try spending a hundred and fifty years stuck in here."

Frisk tried to imagine the time spent within these four walls, going around in circles for a century and a half, finding the thought boggling as they used their own meagre life as a reference. They and their youthful vigour got bored just being in the same room for ten minutes.

Haze walked to the right, banking around the nearest workbench. The clean floor intensified the tapping of the metal tip. "First, I feel that you deserve some explanation as to how you got here," he said. "I've kept a record of all my creations over here."

An age old trope of the weathered scientist would be to forget where certain objects were placed, usually digging through scraps of unfinished work before stumbling upon the long forgotten thing, or someone else effortlessly finds it lying around. Not this professor: he knew where everything was at all times. A display of pictures lay on top of the next workbench, each attached to their assigned blueprints and constructions notes.

Professor Haze slid back two other inventions and located the machine on a faded black and white photo, stopping a moment to raise his eyebrows. "This is the Transporter, as we called it," he said, picking up the fat stack of papers. The paperclip was barely keeping them together. "Not an easy accomplishment by any means, it harnesses the same energy that keeps this world afloat and replicated how it transported the first monsters who found the Outerworld, only on a much smaller scale. This is what brought you here, child."

He handed the papers to the child. The old picture was all that interested Frisk. The Transporter was a large machine with a screen that allowed an aerial view of the Earth. Bet that must have been an entertaining sight to those observing when they got abducted, watching as the human's monster friends formed a desperate line to keep them tethered to the ground.

"I spent ten years working on that, pouring hours upon hours into getting the calculations just right just so they could argue for the next two hundred years over how to use it," Professor Haze lamented away while Frisk flicked through the rest of the papers, finding the equations, sketches, notes, and scientific jargon nothing but gobbledegook to them. "Some suggested certain resources, some suggested specific technology, some even suggested abducting a human, but there were always those who acted against it. For decades, this machine was left, having never been used a single time… until now."

Frisk snapped their gaze up to the professor, about to ask a question when he suddenly pressed his cane against their lips. "Don't think for one second that I never tried to reverse the Transporter's effects," he sharply interjected, having predicted that question from the moment he brought it up. "I've tried for more years than your kind can live to send ourselves back down to Earth, and nothing worked. I can't explain why, it just doesn't work like that here." He turned, lowered his cane to support himself. "Come over here. I want to show you something."

More clicking turned Frisk away from the photograph. The professor headed toward one of the many terminals that situated the nearest wall. At first glance, there appeared to be nothing unusual or special about this computer to make it stand out from all the rest: a screen with a keyboard and touchpad. The monitor's glow tinted his skin an easy shade of blue.

"Here," Haze explain, motioning toward it as he neared, "I secretly keep track of all Castle Highkeep's energy usage." He slide his finger on the touchpad, navigating the mouse to a file, whereupon he clicked the left button twice to open it. A succession of line graphs appeared, each with a different title and a different series of mountains and valleys. "Down to the tiniest variable."

He scrolled down the graphs and located one called Transporter. It consisted of a single yellow straight line with a massive spike on the right side.

"This is the usage on the Transporter. This huge spike we see here is from yesterday… I don't need to explain why." Haze's words brought back that little reminder. "However, that's not the odd thing here."

Professor Haze traced his finger again and again to the right on the tracker pad, revealing it energy usage from last week, then the week before that, then the week before that one. It was all straight, at one with the x-axis. Suddenly, several strokes later, another spike appeared. "You see this spike right here? This is from several weeks ago, indicating that the Transporter was used during this time. You, Frisk, are actually the second person it's been used on."

Frisk drew closer to the graph, reading the date in which the spike occurred. The one thing they could gleam from it was that it happened three days after the barrier was destroyed.

If Frisk was not the first person to be abducted to the Outerworld, then who was?

"No idea. Rumours on what happened are vague, very few know about it. Who or what was brought up here remains a mystery to me, but one thing is certain: a week later, Juhi appointed someone as his first royal advisor." Haze grunted as if something was off. "For a whole two centuries Juhi sat on that throne, and every day he insisted on making his own decisions, relying on nothing but his own judgement whether it was right or wrong. Some may not have agreed, but he maintained peace for all that time. Six weeks before his death, he suddenly got a change of heart."

Haze pursed his lips, grimacing deeply. "I don't like that one bit. It's not like him, not like the Juhi I remember. He knew how dire this world is, how close we are to annihilation. Something must have deeply affected him to make a decision like that." He rose his cane and slammed it back down; the ear-piercing bang startled Frisk, leaving a slight buzzing in the ears. "I blame that no-good son of his!"

Frisk distanced themself, giving the professor some room. Beneath that stoic exterior and pedagogical personality lay a troubled and angry figure, one who had waited far too long.

"Sorry, I'm getting carried away." The professor collected himself. "We should move on, we've barely scratched the surface on our discussions."

Never before had Frisk wanted to scream so badly. They wasted their time and risked their very neck to make it to them merely to be told there was no way home as of yet. What more could there possibly be to discuss?

Professor Haze led the way once more, announcing each two step with the click of metal against floor. He made his way over to a door on the other side of the lab, or this room in particular. Just how wide was this tree anyway?

"This is not just my lab," Haze explained as he pushed the door open. "It is also our base of operations."

Our?

At the slightest crack, hushed whispers escaped outwards. As Haze entered, Frisk followed. A dazzle of bright light on the other end caught their attention. A stage, a bare one at that, was drowning in white stage lights, highlighting the podium in the centre, a table to the side holding three objects and a machine that appeared to be a square cube on legs. Had Mettaton been here, he would be unable to resist the urge.

Before the stage lay rows of folded chairs, all unfolded and facing forward. There was life in this room. Monsters in the dozens, hunched between themselves, all made dark silhouettes before the blinding spotlights. Individual faces were unrecognisable, but the shapes of their bodies suggested some strange monsters in the mix. Horns, enlarged heads, broad shoulders, spiking fur, large teeth and larger osteoderms were all highlighted against the background.

"Look who's finally been kind enough to join us." Haze's rough voice echoed across the expanse.

In that instant, all speaking stopped and was replaced with the shuffling of bodies and turning of many heads, every single one in their direction. A few muted gasps weaved through the sudden stillness, a few more whispered amongst themselves. The human caught their name a few times.

Two monsters from the crowd rose, looking to approach the professor and his guest.

"Glad to see you made it, kiddo," one of the two, a man with a country drawl that Frisk was familiar with, spoke above the scattered undertones.

"Hadn't a doubt in our minds," his accomplish, a woman with an equally rustic tone, added as they rounded the row of seats.

As the pair neared, Frisk would not have been surprised had they woken up back in the penthouse suite. The two most unlikely of people were there. Both frames sharpened in clarity the closer they got. Their eyes glowing like stars.

It was Sam an' Rita.

Frisk never expected to see the mummy couple here, and yet there they were, wrappings in all. Sam still in his dungarees and Rita in that muumuu. The two looked unscathed, fresh, or as fresh as two country folks could look.

Frisk asked what they were doing here.

"Makin' sure to meet you when you got here," Sam replied.

From Frisk's left, a figure who blended in with the darkness and was a soundless as a shadow emerged, startling them. "Missed me?" the shadow asked.

Frisk's heart almost stopped once at the sudden appearance, and a second time when they realised it was Barb the Bounty Hunter.

The human automatically wanted to sprint out the way they came in but stopped themself. On one hand, they were glad that Barb was okay, alive and well; on the other hand, they knew that she was still a bounty hunter and those in that profession tended to be quite relentless with their targets.

Barb held her hands up. "Relax, kid, I'm not here for you," she assured. "As a matter of fact, I'm here because of you."

Another figure walked up. A small and thin person, draped in robes. White fur stood out dimly in the gloom. "Believe me when I say this," he said. "I am glad to see you safe, Frisk."

Gut punch after gut punch struck the human child with every familiar face. First Sam an' Rita, then Barb the Bounty Hunter, now Master Scribe Rickard? Emperor Maxus's very own sniffling assistant; the man who he entrusted with all written matters was standing right there, away from his Empire, away from his lord and master, away from his pen and clipboard.

Rickard continued before Frisk could speak, not like they could considering everything happening all at once. "I've always known about the rebellion for years now. I proudly remained by the Empire's side, but recent… circumstances have made me question my allegiance. I wish only to do the right thing and I cannot do that under Maxus's reign."

Frisk folded their arms across their chest and shot the scribe a disdained look.

The white rat stammered, realising where this stemmed from. "Oh, yes! You're, uh, most likely annoyed about those wanted posters… that I made." His hand fidgeted, desperate for a clipboard to scribble on. "On a positive note, at least these people know who you are."

During this unexpected, most dubious of reunions, Professor Haze had taken the stage. For a guy who required a cane to walk, he moved so fast in such a small window of time. His red skin turned orange and his hair became heavenly white under the light's intensity. Each individual wrinkle cast its own shadow.

"Now that we're all here," he announced before reaching the podium, "it's time to address the pressing issue plaguing our home."

Rickard, Barb, Sam an' Rita moved back toward the chairs, to the front row where they were seated previously. Rita waved for Frisk to follow. "Come on, little 'un," she whispered. "Take a seat with us. Haze will explain everything."

As Frisk was guided to an empty chair at the front of the rows, most certainly left reserved for them, Haze positioned himself behind the podium, resting his cane underneath and gripping the sides with both hands. Barb and Rickard's sitting positioned contrasted with each other: Rickard with his back straight, legs together and hands on knees; Barb with one arm over the chair's back and her legs outstretched and crossed. Haze waited with a strict expression until all outward sounds – whispers, footsteps and scraping chairs – ceased.

The professor headlined his speech with a phlegmy clearing of the throat. "Some of you may be aware of it, some of you may not," he spoke loud and clear. A lecturer ready to lecture. "The food you once enjoyed now tastes like dirt. Drinks dissolve your teeth like acid. Flowers that smell like sulphur. Once proud trees withered into skeletal remains within days after standing immortal for centuries. No doubt, all of you are wondering why this is happening. I know why. There's no easy way to say it, so I will not bother trying to sugar-coat it."

Haze turned his head down to his pedestal. He closed his eyes and sighed, composing himself for whatever needed to be said. The crowds were speechless, waiting, bracing themselves. After what Frisk had been through, they thought nothing else would surprise them anymore.

That was until Professor Haze lifted his head and said four words: "This world is dying."

The once silent crowd came alive with voices, louder than before. Speculations, fears, and doubts drifted upwards like a rising temper. Without hesitation, Haze whipped out his cane and struck it twice on the stage, restoring order like a judge with a hammer and gavel.

"You heard me right," Haze humourlessly said. "The Obelisk, the source of this land's power; its magic is fading. We may have weeks, days even, before its power runs dry and this world ceases to be." He raised his cane again, expecting more raised voice, but instead got blank stares. "You require proof."

He motioned to the table to his right; a decent table, one you could buy for ten bucks on Earth. Atop it lay a pot of daffodils, a square patch of grass, and a jar of snow. Without shifting from his place behind the podium, Haze reached for the objects and out extended two retractable arms from under his sleeves. He took each thing and handed it to the crowd, telling them to pass it around.

Groans of disgust followed wherever the flowers went, and grunts of pain tailed the grass. Eventually, all three objects found their way into Frisk's hands one at a time. The daffodils smelled terrible. The blades of grass scratched the palm of their hand, almost breaking the skin. The snow compacted against their palm like polystyrene.

All three things were brought back to the monster on stage, and he put them inside the metal cube, closing the hatch behind them. "This is the magic infuser," he explained after pressing a single button. The machine rumbled to life similar to the sound of a tumble dryer. "The objects in there are now getting a concentrated dose of magic."

A minute later, the machine came to a rest and Haze opened the hatch. Fumes of pink mist escaped, and resting amidst the fog were the flowers, grass, and snow. He pulled them out with his metal arms and handed them back to the audience, asking them to inspect them now.

Individual members of the audience responded with exasperated gasps as the pieces of nature were passed to them. The patch of grass reached Frisk first. The straight blades were curved slightly, the tips glistened against the light focused on the stage. They ran their hand over the grass and were taken back by how smooth it was. The grass that could have replaced nails before could now pass for the real deal. They could have been walking on this stuff in the Plain-plain all along.

The flowers were next. Had they not felt the grass, they would have been reluctant to give it another sniff. Frisk brought their nose to the daffodils and were treated to a pleasant aroma. The snow in the jar crunched against their fingers like the real kind that blanketed the world during the winter. The chill reached their bones.

The professor resumed his speech to the gathering. "Through a gradual process, these lands have degraded as the magic infusing them has dwindled. I believe we do not have long until the Obelisk's power fades completely, and the entire Outerworld vanishes. When its magic dies, so does these lands… and so do we."

More silence followed from speechless lips. If Frisk did not know how dire their situation was before, they knew now.

Haze straightened himself, returning some assurance to his tone. "However, there is hope." These very words perked up all souls present, Frisk included. Haze reached under the pedestal and retrieved a piece of paper. "At the foot of the Obelisk, there are crude markings carved into its face, believed to be made by Kanika, the founder of the Outerworld herself before both she vanished thousands of years ago. Translating these words took many years, having to decipher so many ancient languages all rolled into on. Here is what it says…"

He held the sheet up; it was big enough for everyone to see. Frisk, from where they sat, got a good look.

World forsaken

Hope remains

True power awaken

Upon greatest strength's dawn

"What does it mean?" asked a stranger from the crowd.

"Are you illiterate?" Haze affronted. "It means the Obelisk has not yet reached its full potential. There's a power – a power thought unimaginable – deep inside, and it will only be unlocked with this greatest strength."

"But what is this… greatest strength?" a person begged the question.

Haze drummed his fingers on the podium sides. "That brings me to our visitor…"

All of a sudden, a single spotlight shot alight with a click. Frisk, once one of the nameless participants sitting in the aisles, was now singled out in a halo of white. They instinctively grabbed the brim of their chair, thinking they were about to be pulled to the ceiling.

"You've seen the posters, you know the price, you know what they are," Haze said, "but do not be afraid of the human in our midst. Frisk was brought here just yesterday, and it was for good reason."

Frisk kept their head down, avoiding the hundred pairs – and singles and triples – of eyes bearing down on them and them alone. The spotlight heated the surrounding air, making their pores want to scream. To start sweating now would be a waste to their bathed body and clean clothes. Frisk had no idea what they had gotten themself dragged in to.

"I may be a monster of science, but I believe it is fate that has brought Frisk to us, and that they are the one Kanika spoke of in these markings. This human – a child, I may add – survived where many others would have perished, both in the monster kingdom under Mount Ebott and here in our world. Some of you had family once lost in Ice Island, now returned due to this human's actions."

An individual from the crowd rose from her chair. "I got my mom back!"

Followed by a horned silhouette two rows behind. "My brother and sister have returned," he cried, "and it's all thanks to the human."

Professor Haze gestured with an open hand at Frisk. "Frisk possesses in their soul the power known only as Determination: the power to change fate, to alter history, to defy death itself. It all makes sense. This person is capable of incredible things, and has overcome all obstacles in their way. What greater power could Kanika be referring to?" His voice rose. "This child must be the chosen one! The one destined to unlock the Obelisk's power and free this world!"

Unable to look at anyone or anything at the moment, Frisk covered their eyes with their hands. Just hearing this old man ramble on about them being some kind of liberator through destiny was so embarrassing that it made them want to hide inside the deepest hole imaginable. Frisk just wished Haze would just skip to the part on how to escape already.

Master Scribe Rickard timidly rose from his sitting spot. "I once believed that Castle Highkeep was both inescapable and that the Emperor was untouchable." He looked over at the child in the spotlight. "Frisk proved how wrong I was after they survived their encounter with Maxus himself and escaped, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them. No one else could have done that, other than them."

The mummy couple rose up and walked together to the foot of the stage. "Too all y'all who thought gettin' through Ice Island was impossible," the husband called out to the crowds, "Frisk not only did it, but they did it in one go."

Wait, that was correct, thought Frisk as they peered through the gaps between their fingers. It was the mummies who told them to travel north through Ice Island in order to reach the Professor, all based on the lone hope that he had a way to escape the Outerworld.

Rita stayed by Sam's side and joined her voice with his. "Even with the odds stacked against them, not once did this child give up. Not when the bounty was introduced, not when the guards chased them in Parfocorse."

A quick gasp shot down Frisk's mouth. How did those two know about Parfocorse?

Sam stepped gingerly over to the human and lowered his head. "By the way, kid," he whispered. "About Parfocorse. Remember that scaffoldin' that came down and cut off those guys chasin' you?" The human child remained speechless as he poked the tip of his thumb against the chest of his dungarees. "That was me."

Rita followed her husband's lead, down to his movements. "And the balcony door that opened on that one fella with the bow an' arrow?" She nodded at the kid's blank expression. "You guessed it, little 'un."

If what Sam an' Rita said were true, then that meant they followed Frisk all the way to town without them realising, and aided in their escape from the Monster Military. Each answer only uncovered more questions, and the one at the front of the queue was the most basic one yet: why?

"Because we needed to make sure you got to Ice Island, so you could face down whatever danger lingered there," Sam explained.

It was only through pure willpower that Frisk refrained from jumping from their seat. Sam an' Rita knew Ice Island was dangerous all along and yet sent them there anyway?

Now Barb was at the front of the crowd. The light on her back darkened her features up front and shimmered off the leather hugging her body. "How many of you have taken the train through the Shattered Zone?" He question got a round of silence from the audience, which she figured; only the brave and the occasionally tight on cash travel through there. "Now, how many have taken the train through the Shattered Zone while being hunted by the one and only bounty hunter here?"

From the looks on their dim faces, the crowd were being swayed. With every act, the child in the striped shirt became less alien and more messiah.

"That is what happened between Frisk and myself," Barb said. Her presence as the most professional bounty hunter in the Outerworld put extra weight into her words. "It was a fierce battle, and in the end, they got the upper hand. I almost died, should've died… but Frisk saved my life. I'm still here because of them, when anyone else would've left me to dash against those rocks. There's something special about them, no doubt about it. If there's anyone who can end this madness, it's them."

All the ambassador for monsters could do was sit there and allow these constant praises, one after another, to fall upon their shoulders and lionise them into a figure that they did not believe they were.

"The time for subtlety has passed," Haze announced. "For decades, we, the rebellion, have plotted and planned for the day when we can finally take the fight to the Empire."

The pupils in Frisk's eyes went narrow. The rebellion? Nobody told them that!

"If we do not act now, there won't be another chance. We have people ready and waiting on every outskirt leading to Highkeep Enclave, and the moles within the military are ready to act on our command. All we have waited for was for the one who will defeat that traitor, Maxus."

As the professor said that last part, his enlarged eyes were trained on one person in the audience. Frisk prayed that there was another human or a boss monster directly behind them, because he appeared to be looking at them. In a questioning manner, Frisk pointed at themself.

"That's right, kid," said Sam. "Takin' down the Emperor is your job."

The sweat trickled on Frisk's forehead, especially at how forthcoming the rest were to that notion without a single one expressing distain. Them kill Emperor Maxus?

Haze detected their reluctance. "Do you wish to return to Earth? Because that is all we've ever wanted. That is what Maxus wanted all those years back…"

Sam looked at Frisk. "You can't back out now, kiddo. You've come too far. 'Sides, what has Maxus ever done for you? He kidnapped you, tried to kill you, put a massive price on your head and had everyone wanting your blood. Honestly, his face should be on those posters – not yours."

Barb spoke up. "Maxus took my parents hostage to force me to capture you, Frisk. He was like my brother. Now he's a completely different person. I've never been one to take sides, but I'll stand by yours if it means getting my parents back."

Rickard added his argument. "Maxus has gone mad with power. He doesn't care who he hurts or how he hurts them, all he's obsessed with is seeking revenge upon humanity. If he is allowed to win, then terrible things will befall mankind. He must be stopped, whatever the cost."

"Listen, Frisk," Rita added. "Without Maxus, there would be no rebellion… because he was the one who started it. He led us during the civil war – he was our leader! We fought so hard, lost so many good people on the promise of freedom from the Outerworld, and for what? For Maxus to betray us and throw everything away just to become his father's heir, and stay all cosy and safe behind those big walls. Why'd ya think he never leaves the place?"

Barb faced Rita. "Why did Maxi—Maxus do that?" she asked. "Was it because he still respected his father or because he saw an opportunity for greater power after Juhi died?"

"Don't care," retorted Rita. "At least you have parents to save. I got nothin'." She looked down. "My ma and pa were taken from me in the civil war, and it's all Maxus's fault." Her husband was there to comfort her.

One by one, the spectators pitched in, sharing what terrible deeds the young lion had influenced their lives with. Families destroyed. Homes lost. Livelihoods broken. These people were howling for the Emperor's death, and they wanted the human to be the one to do him in.

"Come up here, Frisk," Haze called out while drumming his walking stick on the floor – softer this time. "I have something to give you."

For a few seconds, Frisk did not move. The bunch before the platform shuffled to one side, providing a clear path to the steps. Eventually, Frisk found themself on the stage and tried not to feel overwhelmed by the dozens of eyes still on them, instead imagining themself at a pantomime as the deep, complicated role of a paper mache tree. They stopped three steps away from the podium, defiantly keeping their gaze on the koi fish monster.

"I have heard about your bout with Maxus. Did you honestly expect to beat him with a blunt sword and a toy shield?" Professor Haze pulled from under the pedestal a wooden box no bigger than a shoebox. "I have constructed these instruments for you." He lifted the lid. Resting on a red velvet cushion was a crimson hilt with a handguard ordained into a heart, a rubber grip, and a pommel; and a handle attached to another red, metal heart bigger than the one on the hilt. "These will give you the edge needed to defeat him. Take them."

Frisk did not see the bad side of taking them. At first glance, it appeared as a sword without its blade and a shield best suited for mice. They grabbed both handles and, immediately, a slight tingling travelled up their fingertips, nearly making them drop the objects on instinct. The miniature shield grew straps that wrapped around Frisk's forearm.

"Analysing… Reading prints," the same automatic, emotionless voice from the bedrest spoke, now from the two handgrips. "Palm prints saved. Welcome, Frisk."

"These are now registered to your hands only," clarified Haze as he shut the lid. "No one but you will be able to use these weapons. That sword will not break nearly as easily as that sparring sword, and comes with a selection of blade types at your disposal, giving you an advantage in almost any situation."

On the hilt was a switch with two additional buttons on both sides. Frisk pressed it and out materialised a silver blade with a metallic swoosh and a swooning from the audience. "Default blade activated," the lady said. Frisk pressed the left button and, instantly, the blade was set ablaze to even more impressed swooning. "Fire blade activated." Frisk pressed it again and the fire froze instantly. "Cryogenic blade activated."

"As for the shield, it's fitted with a state-of-the-art battery powered recoil system; any blow it takes will be bounced back in equal measure." The activation button had been strategically placed near the thumb. One press activated the shield, opening it up to its full size. It was the same triangular shape as the sparring shield and hued a dark red, the heart remained visible in the centre as a symbol for their Determination. "You can literally block a wrecking ball with it and not feel a thing."

Together with their multipurpose weapon and immovable defence, Frisk was a little knight without shining armour, ready for battle. With two button presses, both weapons deactivated.

Haze rapped his cane against the podium. "During the civil war, this was used by the rebellion as its focus point of hope. Now, after two hundred years of collecting dust, its purpose will live again. This time with your voice."

A glimmer from over the heads drew Frisk to the front of the room. At the very back, hidden in the darkness and not noticed until now, stood two cameras; their lenses captured the rays bearing down on the raised platform.

The sweat was dripping now. Frisk was in deep trouble.

"Frisk, your actions helped free those trapped beneath Mount Ebott. We want you to be for us what you are for them. Will you act as the champion for the rebellion, and in doing so, commence our assault on Castle Highkeep? After Maxus is defeated, I promise to help you unlock the Obelisk's true power and return all of us to Earth."

Will monsters die because of this? Frisk peeped as small and quiet as a mouse.

"This is war," Haze continued. "There are always casualties in war. If a few hundred have to die to save thousands, then a few hundred have to die. Maxus's life, on the other hand, could save us many more lives. If he were to die, then his entire military, without its leader, would quickly surrender." He huffed, closing his eyes momentarily. "There is no other way around this, I'm afraid, but there are some lives that need to be taken in difficult times. I know you are reluctant to kill, but I assure you, you'll be hailed as a hero. So, how about you cast aside your doubts and give us a speech to be proud of. It will go out to every screen in the Outerworld, so make it a good one."

Total silence followed. Frisk stood there, shaking from head to toe. All those eyes hungrily waited for their champion's response. The monsters with names looking up from the stage's edge with hopeful eyes, ready to follow Frisk into oblivion. The nameless masses behind them were just as confident in the human's resolve. Every single monster seemed so confident that Frisk would raise their sword high and bellow a roaring battle cry to storm the castle.

Right, because this was exactly the reason why Frisk sought out Professor Haze. It was because they wished to join a group of rebels, take down the Empire, and viciously murder Lord Maxus, and totally not because they – oh, I don't know – wanted to see their family again.

"Well…?" Professor Haze snapped, his patience being tested yet again.

Frisk smiled and responded that they would gladly be their champion. If these fine fellows would give their champion five minutes to spruce themself up, they would present a speech that would give Abraham Lincoln a run for his money.

Haze frowned. "You've had a bath and your clothes cleaned; you're spruced up enough."

Yes, but Frisk needed a little makeup to look their best in front of the cameras. They needed to powder their cheeks, highlight their hair, and put mascara on their lips… or wherever mascara went.

The professor of the rebellion grumbled a sigh. "Fortunately for you, I expected this also." He drew his finger to the exit beyond the rows of chairs, where they came in. "Through my lab and up the stairs, you'll find some makeup in the bathroom. I'll have Barb escort you."

Frisk thanked them, but turned down the escort; they could handle themself.

Haze waved them off dismissively. "Five minutes."

With that, Frisk scampered off the stage, through the middle lane, past all the stares, and out the door on the far end, shutting it behind them.

All that energy built up into restarting the fight against the corrupt empire was off to a great stop. Everyone returned to their seats, except Haze who leaned against the podium. For a man who waited for so long, what's a few more minutes? Turned out, they were quite excruciating. Every second of every minute ticked away slowly.

Five minutes passed.

Haze raised his eyebrows three times, adding three extra lenses to his glasses that he used to magnify on the door. He watched, expecting Frisk to pop out any second with whiter cheeks and refined eyelashes.

Ten minutes passed.

Maddened, the professor rapidly tapped his cane down on the wooden flooring as if that would make that slow human hurry up. Someone coughed.

Fifteen minutes passed.

He slammed his fist on the podium top. "Will someone go get them? They've had enough time to prepare!"

Sam rose from his chair. "I will," he replied as he made his way through the centre aisle.

The bandaged wrapped monster grabbed the handle and turned. The door budged by a single millimetre. Sam pressed harder, but it refused to budge.

"Wait a…" Sam muttered. "The door's stuck!"

Haze yelled, "What?" then rushed off the stage and to the door. Members of the rebellion rose from their seats, confused by this turn of events.

He pushed Sam aside and tried the door himself. It had been sealed shut from the other side.

"Frisk!" the professor yelled as loud as he could through aged vocal cords. "You get back here right now!" After receiving no response, he whacked his cane on the stubborn door, shrieking out loud. "Frisk!"

Barb gently grabbed his shoulders and eased him away. "Calm down, professor," she said. "I don't think Frisk has bailed on us, I just think this door needs a little motivation. Allow me."

She motioned for everyone to stand back and give her some room. With a clear line between the entrance and herself, Barb warmed herself up and positioned her legs to get a running start. She tensed up the muscles to put all her force into one might kick.

When she was ready, she charged the door, pulled her knee up and…

The door opened slowly from the other side.

Barb eased back on to both legs. "About time," she said with a sigh. "I was just about to…"

She stopped talking upon realising that it was not Frisk who opened the door.

"Um, hey," Sans greeted. Papyrus and Alphys at his back were equally as perplexed as he was. "Whose birthday is it?"

"Are we just in time for the part where we yell 'surprise'?" Papyrus asked.

Running. Running again. That was all Frisk could do in this situation: run. Run. Run. Run. And not look back.

After taking a minute to wedge a chair under the door, they sprinted back through the lab and up the circular steps, ignoring the searing heat in their legs as they cleared them two at a time. Frisk reached the top level and quickly located the front door.

They burst through and out of Haze's hideout; the entrance camouflaged itself seamlessly with the trunk upon closing. The walkway stretched both ways, surrounded by endless bark and more twisting and turning paths. Darkness spread to the Forest floor and to it heights, the canopy too far upwards to be seen, perfectly reflecting the human's current predicament.

Frisk was lost, yet refused to stop running. They could not stay there. They just wanted to go home, not kick-start a rebellion and be the one responsible for the deaths of hundreds, maybe thousands. No way.

They ran wherever the walkway took them. There had to be another way to get out of this place, but where? Their one and only lead was Professor Haze. All their efforts were spent on getting to this point, through broken earth and frozen landscape, but the escape they were hoping for was all a lie.

Still, where would they go now? What would they do? Frisk heard the professor loud and clear: there was no other way to escape the protective field. The only way was through the Obelisk, and that meant going through the Monster Military and their ruler.

No. Frisk refused to believe that. They refused to believe that war was the only answer and that violence was necessary and that death was the solution. There was always another way, another path. Time and time again, the Underground dangled the option to do harm before them, and time and time again, they refused.

They knew what they were doing was pointless. A dead-end they had hit. Yet they refused to stop running.

What were they going to do?

From beyond the next turn, a low thud stopped them cold.

Frisk stopped and listened as another thud resounded closer. Each impact shook the very timbers from which they stood, rattling wood and shaking away dust. Frisk gripped the holstered sword and shield with sweaty palms, expecting the worst as thud after thud drew closer.

From around the next tree, a massive creature emerged. A colossus, wearing a tuxedo. Two oversized arms with clenched fists hung from his barrel-chested body, all carried by a pair of stout legs in black loafers. Each step registered on the Richter scale. Atop this hulk of skin the colour and density of rock was his disproportionate head that narrowed slightly into a cone shape, ending with a perfectly flat top that rested a red fez with no tassel. Hairless with two beady eyes. His nose was large and his mouth, which looked to eat skyscrapers on a regular basis, was more than capable of swallowing Frisk whole.

He slowed to a stop like a locomotive before the tiny human. Without hunching or shifting his frame in any way, his two eyes rolled down onto the lone figure stood before him.

"Ad…vis…or…" the giant groaned through viciously sharp teeth. Not only did he look like a pile of rocks, but his tone was the equivalent of grinding two pumice stones together.

Advisor? Frisk took a step back, still caught in his shadow.

"Brute…" a voice spoke. Not from the massive monster, but from somewhere else, somewhere hidden. "Let me get a good look at our guest."

Frisk inhaled a sharp gasp. It couldn't be… It couldn't be… That voice. They had heard it before. That voice. They could recognise it from anywhere, put a face to it. That voice. There was a sad story attached to it. Frisk, after the gasp, could no longer breathe. They were paralysed, struck with an almighty blow. Hearing that voice turned everything they knew and everything about this world upside-down.

The colossal monster, Brute, reached up with his giant hands. His limbs themselves groaned as they moved. "Advisor…" He plucked his hat slowly and carefully off his head, treating it with more care than his own life. "…See you now."

With his hat a fragile thimble between the tips, he lowered it until it was before the human.

Frisk began to shake. Their nightmare made flesh. The child prayed that it was not true, that their eyes were playing tricks on them, but they could not deny the cold fact staring them right in the face.

It wasn't a fez in Brute's grasp, it was a flowerpot. And in that pot, Frisk discovered who the first person to be abducted was.

"Howdy, Frisk! Long time, no see," greeted the golden flower, smiling warmly. "I'm the advisor!"