(29)
With a weak burst of flame combusting from his gloved left hand, Leontius set the logs and kindling in his fireplace alight, bringing heat and warmth to his small cabin. After adjusting some of the logs about with his fireplace's poker to ensure there was enough oxygen for the fire, he sat on his bed, a hint of a smile on his face as he pulled the glove off and tossed it atop his table with the rest of his gear.
He was out of his traveling attire and simply felt like relaxing for a bit. He kicked his boots off, the articulated metal plates still attached to them clicking as they slid against the bed frame and onto the floor. He laid back on his bed, his hands beneath his head as he stared up at his ceiling. His thoughts were, of course, occupied by Toriel and the dinner-turned-date they'd just had. His mind wandered across various possible future events, ranging from their next date to what exactly would happen when they told Asriel of it all.
He closed his eyes and just lay there, but a nagging feeling like he'd forgotten something was bothering him. He tried to figure it out, but at first drew a blank. His previous thought about Asriel brought the issue to the forefront of his mind, making clear exactly what was bothering him.
He'd forgotten to tell Toriel the truth about Asriel and Characas. He was simply too occupied with Toriel herself and let himself forget.
His eyes opened up once more, concern making its way into his features. 'I was supposed to tell her… I did not even mention having Alphys make sure Asriel's health is not in danger…' He felt rather terrible about it at first, but his concern lifted somewhat as he reasoned a little more to himself. 'Asriel is the subject of those topics, to raise the issues while he is absent could cause problems. Perhaps it was for the best, after all, He should at least be there when I talk to her about all of that.'
That set his mind at ease, at least a little. He shut his eyes again and just relaxed for a while, the soothing crackling and occasional pops of his fireplace lulling him into a peaceful stillness.
He was uncertain how long he remained like this, but eventually, he got an idea. He had time to spare, seeing as he couldn't sleep and didn't really need the rest. He could finally get to looking through his box, seeing what old memories the items in it brought back, if any. He got up from his bed and walked over to his gear arrayed atop the table, detached his bottomless box from the belt, then laid back down with it at his side.
He closed his eyes once more as he popped the lid open and put a hand in. In his mind he saw the things within, his hand brushing against their forms as he willed them forth from the dark depths of the container. Numerous sets of armor, weapons, miscellaneous items, consumables, keys, a vast number of scrolls… a veritable hoard of things was within. He found something he was rather interested in seeing again.
He pulled his hand from the box, and between his thumb and index finger was a single gold coin. Embossed into its surface was the likeness of one of the gods from his kingdom's pantheon, Lloyd, the Allfather. As he turned the coin about he recalled how exactly he came across it. It was in that odd painted world, a place that seemed to serve as a prison of some sorts. He'd entered it through a gargantuan painting contained within the depths of the kingdom's castle, guarded by strange silent undead who were garbed in white and wielded short curved blades.
The world was covered in snow and was the home of all manner of odd and twisted denizens. Bloated hollows filled with volatile flammable toxins, gigantic albino rats, bonewheel skeletons, a rotting dragon, and at the very end, a tall and mysterious white-haired woman who wielded a massive scythe. She was decidedly non-human, with a literal 'coat' of white fur and feathers that seemed to be a part of her body, a large tail, and spiked brow ridges lined with fine scales.
Despite the intimidatingly large scythe she wielded, she was oddly peaceful towards him. She made no moves to attack and only pleaded that he leave. He'd complied easily enough, and followed her instructions to jump off a ledge behind her in order to exit the painting.
He took a number of items and treasures from that place, but the gold coin he now held was the one that connected his mind to that particular memory. He thought on other cycles, and how that final encounter had gone. In some he'd simply sit before her like he did with the dragon in the strange underground tree-filled lake, others he'd try gesturing to her, still muted during those times. Of course, she did her best to ignore him and just insisted he leave her and the world be.
In yet other cycles, he'd sometimes be more aggressive. The particular one he recalled the most was the same one he'd learned the Dark Hand power in. He'd walked into her open-air rotunda, and the moment she made to speak to him he simply sprinted forward and stabbed at her with his claymore. She was quick to react and blocked the opener though, and put up quite the fight. She used invisibility, freezing magic, and her scythe to the best of her abilities, but it was not enough to stop him.
He stared at the coin, his mind no longer perusing the memories it brought to him. Certainly a strange place, that painted prison world. He began to wonder just how many things his kind had magically sealed away over the years, considering he'd found an entire other kingdom sealed under a mountain and a completely separate world inside a painting, both without purposefully seeking them out.
He dropped the coin back into the box and again browsed through his possessions. A familiar mask brushed against his hand and he pulled it free. He found himself staring into the empty eyeholes of the Mask of The Child. For so long it had served as his face and his only expression. He found it somewhat funny, holding it. It was not the only mask of its kind, of course, and he'd elected to wear the one depicting a child. He set it on the bed next to him and searched about for its two companion masks, and found them easily enough.
The two masks he pulled from the box were the Mask of The Father and the Mask of The Mother. The Father was made of bronze and looked like the face of a bearded and stern-faced older man. Its enchantment was not too dissimilar to Havel's Ring, and allowed one to bear a greater equipment load, just as a father supports a family.
The Mother was steel like the Child, but of a slightly duller and aged looking quality. Its face had more feminine looking features and lacked the metal 'hair' the other two had, instead having what could have been a tiara or some other similar adornment. The mask's expression seemed to be a frown, or perhaps it was that of a kindly cooing…? Either way, it increased the vitality of the wearer, reflecting a mother's steadfast endurance in the face of motherhood's trials and tribulations.
He gathered up the three masks in his hands and held them before him, the little metal family staring back at him. He recalled just who he'd gotten these masks from. Deep in the largest catacombs in the kingdom, behind an army of skeletons raised by lesser necromancers, was the most powerful necromancer of them all.
He was called 'Pinwheel,' and his form was just as confusing as the illusion magic he wielded. He seemed to be more than just a man, instead being three people tightly bound up within a large black cloak, holding sticks tipped with lanterns poking through the fabric and these same three masks adorning their faces.
Leontius had intruded upon the necromancer's lair, and the deathmage didn't take kindly to it. It was a hard-fought battle, with Pinwheel being invisible or amidst a throng of illusory copies the entire fight. Making matters worse was the mob of skeletal warriors he constantly raised to fight on his behalf, as well as the massive fireballs he'd launch using his lanterns from all manner of angles. Leontius won out in the end though, and his prize was the trio of powerfully enchanted masks.
Of the three, however, it seemed the Child mask was always his choice to wear. Ironic, considering he himself was actually a father at one point. Its enchantment was simply too good to pass up and he had little need for the powers the other two granted, he was already plenty tough and durable thanks to his soul reinforcements.
He dropped the parent masks back into the box, deciding to keep the Child mask lying next to him on the bed as he rifled around in his box some more. He was getting into the mess that was his collection of rings now. He still had on Havel's, Fina's, the Chloranthy, and the Darkwood Grain rings, some of his most powerful rings… but he wasn't particularly looking for strong rings at the moment.
He'd never really paid much attention to it before, but some of the pieces he'd collected over the years were actually quite beautifully crafted. He pulled out two particular rings that were visually striking.
The first was one he didn't know much about, other than the fact that it lowered the focus drain of magic. It was a thin, hollow gold band featuring leaf-like details and a single bright-green gem of some sort with a "crown" of leaves. He found it in the dungeons of Locille, a city of many misfortunes to the Southeast of the Ruined Kingdom. He had no idea about the ring's origin or name, but considering its appearance he supposed the name "Leaf Crown Ring" was appropriate.
The other ring he'd pulled out was one he knew a little more about. It was a ring dedicated to another deity of his kingdom's pantheon, that being the goddess Gwynevere, Princess of Sunlight. It was another hollow band of gold, though it was a bit wider and featured flowing designs between the two sections that made up the ring's structure and lacked a gem. Owing to Gwynevere's title, the ring seemed somewhat warm to the touch, like it was a self-contained mote of bonfire energy. It even had a much slower version of a bonfire's regenerative capabilities, as well.
He played with the rings in a hand, turning them this way and that as he inspected them. While he was still rather ill-informed about how monsters go about courtship, holding the beautiful rings reminded him of another facet of his own long-dead society's norms. Men were expected to present a ring to their prospective lovers during marriages, and if things between him and Toriel ended up going in that direction one of these rings could very well end up on her finger. Perhaps Gwynevere's ring, he did find it on a church altar, after all...
He clenched his hand around the rings, picked up his box and set his mask atop it, then got up from the bed and put the lot of items back on his table. He got to sorting out some of the things in his gear belt, restocking the items in the five pouches at the front with replacements from his box. Green Blossoms, Homeward Bones, Prism Stones, Blooming Purple Moss, and-
The eye orbs.
Leontius' hand hesitated when he opened up that last pouch. He reached in and pulled the Red Eye Orb out, setting it aside once he saw it was still closed. Then he slowly, almost cautiously, picked up the Blue Eye Orb and turned it around in his hand just enough to see if the eye was still open. Indeed, it was.
He set the blue sphere on an isolated part of the table and just stared at it for a bit as if his gaze alone would be able to glean any information from it. In a sense, it very well could, if he gave in to the urge to look the orb directly in the eye. If it functioned like the red variant, he could back out of sending a phantom, but there was the possibility it worked on entirely different principles. It had, of course, shown him that confusing mess of root-like structures before, instead of a nearby location with a target.
After a little more silent staring, he made up his mind. He would use the orb, and see first-hand just what exactly that strange man had done to it. He picked the orb up and kneeled in the middle of the cabin floor in a kind of meditative pose, the orb cradled in his hands low near his knees. Slowly, he turned the orb about and met its gaze.
Once more the eye gave him its vision, and he was presented with the gargantuan tangle of strange roots. Little had changed since his last viewing, it was still an incomprehensible mess. One thing had caught his attention, however. Within the web-like structure of dull-blue roots was one particular strand that stuck out. It was glowing bright blue, and sat next to another vaguely similar to it, though the other lacked the bright glow. The glowing blue strand had sections that seemed to double back on itself, while the sister strand next to it didn't have such an addition.
He gazed intently at the string of glowing blue, and in the following moments he understood, the eye's vision of the surrounding dull roots fading out as he learned of just what he was looking at.
This was a timeline, one parallel to his, and within it was an individual with grievous sins staining their soul. The eye had targeted the timeline and the individual within but had not yet given him a chance to manifest or back out. Instead, it seemed that the orb intended to show him something, to grant him a vision of his target's sins before he could send his phantom.
He willed it to do so, and the image of the glowing blue timeline faded out…
vvv
At first he saw a familiar sight, it was the dark area of the Ruins entry, the first room he'd fallen into in the Underground. The next thing he took note of was not quite so familiar. Standing within the illuminated bed of flowers was a human boy he'd never seen before.
The boy had a head of long and dark brown hair, quite tan skin, and stood about as tall as Characas did, perhaps being around his age as well. He was wearing clothing of a make quite similar to some Leontius had seen on monster children around Snowdin, that being a thick blue woolen shirt with two horizontal lavender stripes across it, a pair of lighter blue pants made of a material he couldn't identify, and brown shoes made of yet another mystery material.
The boy was squinting up at the light from the hole he'd presumably fallen down from, before shifting his attention to the flowers at his feet. A brief smile played about his lips as he stared down, but he tore his attention away and began rifling through his pants pockets.
As the boy was doing that, Leontius looked about briefly, finding that he had no representative form of any description. He was able to move, but it seemed as though he was limited to just orbiting about where the boy was standing. Essentially, he was little more than a floating invisible eye, unseen and unknown by the child yet wise to his actions.
The boy pulled something out of his front-right pants pocket then fiddled with it, removing some kind of wrapping from it then adhering it to a scrape he had on his cheek. He then leaned down and picked up a stick that was laying at his feet in the flower bed. Seeming satisfied with the 'equipment' he now wielded, he began his journey through the Ruins with Leontius following behind, still stuck just orbiting about him.
While he was walking through the first area's arches, Leontius tried to figure out who exactly this child was. He seemed to be the target, but why? 'Perhaps this is that child Sans and Characas mentioned, Frisk was what they called him. But if this is Frisk, then…' He recalled something else the skeleton and long-dead human had mentioned. Characas was able to control this child's body when he fell upon the flower bed that served as his grave, and Sans had told him that in certain cycles this child would go on murderous rampages and leave no monsters alive in his wake.
Leontius had a feeling this vision was going to take a dark turn rather quickly.
Frisk walked through the arch into the room Asriel, or more accurately, Flowey resided in. He strode right up to the flower and simply stared, his face lacking any real expression whatsoever.
Flowey smiled up at the boy, putting on that same friendly facade he'd used when he met Leontius. "Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower!" Flowey feigned innocent curiosity. "Hmmm… you're new to the Underground, aren'tcha?"
Frisk gave no response and didn't change his expression in the slightest. It was almost as if he hadn't even heard the talking flower at all.
Flowey continued, unperturbed by the child's silence. "Golly, you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!" He pointed a leaf at Frisk's chest before continuing. "Inside your body is your soul, the very culmination of your being! Your soul starts off weak, but can grow strong if you gain lots of Love. You want some Love, don't you? Don't worry, I'll share some with you!" He punctuated the end of his 'lesson' with a wink, sticking his tongue out as well.
Leontius knew all too well that whatever Flowey was spouting was complete bunk, but he was uncertain if Frisk had caught on.
Flowey created five spinning magical projectiles floating above his head in a semicircle, not too dissimilar to a homing soulmass spell. "Down here, Love is shared through… little white… 'friendliness pellets.' Are you ready?" He sent the projectiles slowly at Frisk, perhaps to not startle the boy. "Move around! Get as many as you can!"
Frisk did the complete opposite, instead easily sidestepping the wave of projectiles.
Flowey didn't look too pleased by that. "Hey buddy, you missed them. Let's try again, okay?" He sent another five magic shots at Frisk, and these too were easily dodged.
He looked rather livid at Frisk by this point. "Is this a joke? Are you braindead?" He began speaking slowly and louder as if trying to get his point across better. "RUN. INTO. THE. BULLE- friendliness pellets!" He quickly shifted his expression at his near slip-of-the-tongue, sending one more wave of shots at Frisk.
When the child dodged them like the others, Flowey's face morphed into that skull-like visage he kept hidden until necessary, his voice becoming treacherous and angry. "You know what's going on here, don't you? You just wanted to see me suffer."
Surprising Leontius and perhaps Flowey was the sight of a slight grin making its way onto Frisk's face. The sight of it seemed to enrage Flowey even further, considering he summoned up a massive ring of spinning magic around the defiant boy. "Die." He then began laughing maniacally as the ring of magic slowly began to close in on Frisk, but the child didn't seem phased in the slightest. The moment the shots were about to touch him they simply vanished without a trace, confusing Flowey just long enough to distract him from the fireball curving in from his left. The attack uprooted him and tossed him far off into the darkness.
Frisk's grin was replaced with that same deadpan look from before as Toriel stepped into the light Flowey had been occupying, and she stared off into the dark after her altered son as she addressed Frisk. "What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth…" She directed her gaze and familiar warm smile at Frisk. "Ah, do not be afraid, my child. I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down. You are the first human to come here in a long time."
She gestured for Frisk to come closer, and the child obliged. She briefly bent to his height and checked him over, ensuring he was not injured. For Leontius, the entire situation was an odd reminder to his own first encounter in this room. It went differently, but moreover seeing Toriel standing in that same pillar of light… oddly coincidental, that he was currently "floating" about where he would have been picking up his sword and shield when they returned here to retrieve them.
Pleased to see that Frisk was unharmed, Toriel stood straight once more and gestured for him to follow her. "Come! I will guide you through the catacombs. This way." Frisk silently obeyed, and Leontius' invisible form followed, trailing behind him.
vvv
The next few areas involved Toriel teaching Frisk about how the Ruins worked, namely its puzzles. And to Toriel, teaching about puzzles equated to solving them for Frisk. She also tried to teach him how to peacefully resolve conflicts by having him talk to a practice dummy, but Frisk just bonked it with his stick instead. She gently reprimanded him for that, insisting that "We do not want to hurt anybody, do we…?"
Frisk gave no answer to that.
Before another puzzle room, a small frog monster leaped into Frisk's way, separating him from Toriel as she continued on, entirely unaware of the interruption. Frisk's response was immediate and ruthless. He brought his stick into the side of the monster's head without hesitation, instantly killing it and reducing it to dust. His expression didn't change a bit throughout the entirety of the brief encounter.
Leontius couldn't help but grimace inwardly at the death of the monster, his undead form treating it as though it were a failure on his part. This was indeed looking like the beginning of one of the rampage scenarios Sans had described. 'I suppose that answers Toriel's question then…'
Of course, the motherly monster didn't notice the murder that just happened, Frisk jogging up behind her as she walked up to the spiked bridge. Again, she decided to just walk him through the puzzle, reaching a hand behind herself and guiding him across by his hand.
As he watched them cross, Leontius found himself recalling the time Toriel had almost done the same with him. Though, he was a grown man and not a small child. Perhaps it was just her instincts at work. But more than that, he felt himself bristle at the sight of what could become a mass-murderer touching the hand of the woman he'd opened himself up to. Sans did say that this boy left no survivors in his wake.
Leontius inwardly began to dread what could very well be waiting for him in this vision.
vvv
After a "test of independence," Toriel left Frisk alone and walked off further into the Ruins. She gave him an old cell phone, but the boy just dropped it into a pants pocket uncaringly. He waited about for a bit before getting a move-on, and he made his way through the Ruins. He solved puzzles, picked up items, killed every monster that was in his path, and intentionally went out of his way to find any that weren't. He looted any gold coins they may have been carrying from their dusty remains. The only one spared of the boy's stone-faced wrath was a ghost monster, and that instance was only because the monster vanished the moment he saw Frisk.
By the end of it Frisk had emptied the Ruins of monsters, amassed a considerable amount of gold from their corpses, and was now wearing a faded red ribbon in his hair and wielding that same wooden toy knife Leontius had seen on the overlook. He'd abandoned his stick for the knife and decided to peel off the small strip adhered to his face as he put the bow in his hair.
The boy now stood just before Toriel's home, and as he walked forward he received a call from her, despite her being just on the other side of the tree. The moment she spotted him she ended the call and rushed over, concern etched into her features.
Once more Toriel bent down to check him over. "How did you get here, my child? Are you hurt?" When she saw that he was unharmed, she continued with a smile on her face. "Not a scratch… impressive! But still… I should not have left you alone for so long. It was irresponsible to try to surprise you like this." She immediately caught herself at that, a slight blush working its way into her features as she put a hand to her mouth.
"Err… well, I suppose I cannot hide it any longer. Come, small one!" She led the still-silent boy into her home, turning around with a slight flare in her step once he was in. "Do you smell that? Surprise! It is a butterscotch-cinnamon pie. I thought we might celebrate your arrival. I want you to have a nice time living here, so I will hold off on snail pie for tonight." She motioned for him to follow once more, and she spoke as they went. "Here, I have another surprise for you."
Toriel led him into the hallway and stopped in front of one of the doors. "This is it… a room of your own. I hope you like it!" She reached a hand down and patted Frisk's head affectionately, making sure to not mess up the ribbon he'd put in his hair. Of course, he made no indication that he even noticed the contact, just silently staring ahead at the door.
Toriel took note of the rather awkward air of the situation and ceased the contact, turning away from him. "Is something burning...? Um, make yourself at home!" She then rushed off elsewhere into the house, leaving Frisk alone in front of the door.
Frisk inclined his head at the door, still silently staring. He turned his gaze down the hall, noticing a mirror at the end of it. He strolled down the hall and stopped in front of the mirror, staring at himself, and Leontius adjusted his position to be just behind him, also looking at the reflection.
If Leontius had a physical form in the vision, he would have been staring at the boy with cold disapproval. At first Frisk's expression was the same as ever, but that same unsettling grin from before slowly began to make its appearance once more. Suddenly, he briefly made eye contact with Leontius through the mirror and his grin was replaced with surprised fear as he whirled about, staring at the air behind him, toy knife pointed to where Leontius was still invisibly hovering.
Leontius felt the eye orb in his world physically quiver in his hands for a moment, his vision shuddering as the world seemed to almost vibrate and pulse with blue energy, his real sight occasionally overlaying the orb's vision. It calmed as the spooked child lowered his guard, the wooden knife falling back to his side. He frowned, looking all about himself once more. Before long his concern fell away entirely, and he took one last look at the mirror before heading back to the door to his room.
Leontius was practically drilling a hole into the back of Frisk's head at this point, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened. 'This is a vision of past events, is it not…? Perhaps this bridge into another world and time is more powerful than I thought…'
Frisk had entered the room Toriel had set up for him. Interesting to note on Leontius' behalf was the fact that it looked exactly the same as the one in his world, everything seemed to be in the same place as the room he'd essentially tossed into his bottomless box at one point. 'I suppose that makes sense, from the sounds of it the only humans to fall down here have been children… Toriel setting up a room for them in anticipation of that is sensible. Of course, in my world…' He was a bit of a step up from small children.
Frisk wandered about the room for a bit, taking his time inspecting the things in it. Disinterested glances at the toys, longing looks at pictures… he eventually seemed to tire out though. He shut the room's light off and fell into the bed, snuggling into the covers and pillows in a manner not befitting the murderous and wholly offputting boy.
As Frisk drifted off to sleep, Leontius floated, ever-present. 'I suppose even a child's vast pools of energy can be depleted after an afternoon of wanton murder. This boy… he is not entirely in control, at least if my understanding is correct. Characas is exerting his will over him, but why would he seek to kill monsters…? His hatred was leveled at humanity. Why kill the people who took him in?'
That last thought brought his mind right back to Toriel. Supposedly Frisk was going to kill everyone he came across, or at least make an effort to. But why had he not made an effort to hurt Toriel? He had plenty of chances to do so before. '...Perhaps Sans was wrong. Perhaps Toriel, Asgore, and maybe even Flowey are spared this boy's wrath. Perhaps Characas still longs for his family, and will not harm them…'
For a while Leontius simply floated at the bedside, staring at the sleeping boy, all the while thinking and hoping. He was brought out of his thoughts by a low creaking noise issuing from the door, a small line of light from the hallway lancing into the room and lighting up Frisk's face. Toriel poked her head in, and seeing that Frisk was asleep, came in.
In her hands was a slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie on a plate. She approached the sleeping child and sat on the edge of the bed, a familiar happy smile upon her face. She stroked a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, running a hand through his hair to get it back in place. "Rest easy, my child. You will be safe and happy here, I will protect you."
As he viewed the scene, Leontius began to better understand what exactly Toriel was experiencing. She had lost her children long ago and saw helping the fallen children as her chance to once more be a mother figure to someone. Her purpose was to defend humans and to be a mother.
As he 'stood' beside her, he reflected inwardly on that. He too had a purpose, one that mirrored hers, in a sense. His purpose was to defend monsters and to be a father. He looked to the monster woman beside him. He sorely hoped that Sans was wrong and that she would be fine. The dozen or so small monsters he'd seen die by Frisk's hand already were weighing on his purpose-driven undead mind, and to see her...
Toriel stood away from Frisk's sleeping form, then kneeled down to set the small plate of pie in the middle of the floor. She left the room shortly after giving one last happy look at Frisk, quietly and carefully shutting the door behind herself.
Leontius stared after her retreating form for a moment before shifting his gaze back to Frisk, the boy sleeping just as soundly as before.
It was about an hour later when Frisk finally woke up from his nap, kicking the sheets off of himself and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He caught sight of the pie almost immediately but ignored it in favor of turning the light back on. He went to the room's dresser-closet and opened it up, searching for something. Pleased with what he'd found, he pulled out a child-size green daypack and put it on. He then picked up the pie and left the room, passing by Toriel in the living room on the way to the kitchen.
Frisk checked some of the drawers under the kitchen counter, finding a clear, flexible material stored as a roll. He wrapped up the pie slice in the material then put the pie in his bag, also storing the gold and some candies he had in his pockets as well. With his inventory sorted out he put the pack back on and went into the living room once more.
Toriel was sitting in her chair beside the lit fireplace, reading a book. Frisk approached her and stood before her expectantly, but did not say anything.
Toriel set her book face down on her lap and addressed the child. "Up already, I see? I want you to know how glad I am to have someone here. There are so many old books I want to share, I want to show you my favorite bug-hunting spot, and I have also prepared a curriculum for your education. This may come as a surprise to you, but I have always wanted to be a teacher… actually, perhaps that is not very surprising. Still, I am glad to have you living here." Frisk was still standing there quietly. "Oh, did you want something? What is it?"
To Leontius' surprise, Frisk spoke. His voice was cool, even, almost calculated sounding. "When can I go home?"
Toriel seemed genuinely confused at that. "What? This… this is your home now. Um… would you like to hear about this book I am reading? It is called '72 Uses for Snails.' How about it?"
Frisk deflected the question. "How do I exit the Ruins?"
Toriel was becoming more concerned, trying to distract the persistent boy. "Um… How about an exciting snail fact? Did you know that snails… make terrible shoelaces? Interesting."
Again, Frisk ignored her attempts to shift his attention, repeating his same question in almost the exact same tone as before. "How do I exit the Ruins?"
Toriel looked rather unsettled now, looking about trying to think of what to do. "...I have to do something. Stay here." She stood from her chair and set her book on it, then hurriedly began walking towards the entry area. Frisk shadowed her, following her as she went down the stairs into the corridor of the Ruins exit.
Toriel was aware that the boy was following behind her, so she spoke to him as they went, her voice low and commanding. "You wish to know how to return 'home,' do you not? Ahead of us lies the end of the Ruins, and exit to the rest of the Underground. I am going to seal it. No one will ever be able to leave again. Now be a good child and go upstairs."
Of course, Frisk refused and kept following. Toriel glanced behind herself for a moment, a hint of her saddened expression showing before she turned away and spoke again. "Every human that falls down here meets the same fate. I have seen it again and again. They come, they leave, they die. You naive child… if you leave the Ruins, they… Asgore… will kill you. I am only protecting you, do you understand? Go to your room."
Again, Frisk ignored her command, still behind her. She stopped at the corner, not looking at the boy, but instead ahead at the exit. "Do not try to stop me. This is your final warning." She continued towards the door, Frisk following close behind.
Now blocking the doorway, Toriel turned and faced Frisk. "You want to leave so badly? Hmph. You are just like the others. There is only one solution to this. Prove yourself… prove to me you are strong enough to survive." She brought her hands up, summoning flames about herself and around her hands.
Frisk stood entirely unperturbed, and Leontius flicked his gaze between the two. If there was ever a time the boy would harm her, it would be now, when she has arrayed herself against him.
Toriel sent a non-focused, rather easy to dodge wave of flame at Frisk, but the boy simply stood and took the hits that happened to come his way. When Toriel eventually ceased the attack, he stated a simple phrase. "I won't fight you."
For a moment Toriel's tough outer appearance faltered, but she hid it away and prepared an identical attack, sending it at the boy once more. Again, he stood and took the damage, his stance wavering at the pain, but not failing.
Again, he said the same phrase. "I won't fight you."
Toriel mustered the will to angrily glare at the injured boy. "What are you doing? Attack or run away!" She waved her hand before herself, sending a hail of homing fireballs towards Frisk. The moment the first one struck him he was brought to his knees, eliciting a gasp from Toriel as she hastily extinguished the other orbs before they killed him. "What are you proving this way…"
Small fireballs passed around Frisk's wounded form, parting as he stood once more.
'Toriel just wants to scare him away, to keep him safe from the guards outside… she does not want to kill him, and… he does not want to fight her?' His hopes were rising, reinforced once more when Frisk repeated that same phrase.
"I… won't fight you."
Toriel glared once more. "Fight me or leave!"
More flames passing harmlessly around him. He shook his head. "I won't."
Toriel's expression lost its edge as she looked aside and away from the boy. "Stop it." She glanced back, seeing his defiant gaze. "Stop looking at me like that."
"I refuse."
Toriel waved her hands before her once more, a massive gout of flame forming a cone around the boy, but not close enough to harm him. "Go away!"
"No."
She let the flames peter out into the puny fireballs once more, and was quiet at his refusal. "..." She took a deep breath, and her expression shifted to sadness and self-doubt. She finally lowered her hands, extinguishing all of her flames at once. "I know you want to go home, but… but please… go upstairs now. I promise I will take good care of you here. I know we do not have much, but… we can have a good life here."
Frisk simply shook his head in response.
Toriel looked entirely saddened by that. "Why are you making this so difficult… please, go upstairs."
A long pause occurred between the two, broken only by a low, half-hearted laugh from Toriel.
Her expression was somber, a nostalgic smile slowly making its appearance. "Pathetic, is it not? I cannot save even a single child…" The smile fell away, and she looked squarely at Frisk once more. "No, I understand. You would just be unhappy trapped down here. The Ruins are very small once you get used to them. It would not be right for you to grow up in a place like this. My expectations, my loneliness, my fear… for you, my child, I will put them aside."
Toriel stepped away from the door, walking closer to the injured and slightly-singed boy. "If you truly wish to leave the Ruins… I will not stop you." She knelt down once more, a familiar healing glow appearing about her hands as she soothed Frisk's wounds. With him healed, she gave him a sad smile and wrapped him up into a loving hug, which he accepted.
Leontius felt his anxieties fall away at the sight, Frisk had refused to harm her and accepted her touch.
The boy wrapped his left arm around her, reciprocating the hug. His right snaked around to her back as well, but in his hand…
Leontius' fears came back all at once, multiplied tenfold by what he saw.
The toy knife.
Frisk plunged the knife into her back, tightening his hold on the shocked monster woman as he did so.
Toriel had no words, her eyes flew open and her mouth hung loose, not even breath managed to escape her lips.
Frisk pulled the knife from Toriel's back and extracted himself from her grasp, walking backward away from her, once again staring with that same expressionless look from before.
Toriel fell onto her hands and knees, unable to bring her gaze up to the boy standing before her. Moments later she fell forward and disintegrated into dust like all of Frisk's previous victims, her upside-down soul appearing above her remains for but a few seconds before it shattered into pieces and vanished.
Frisk's grin returned. "Goodbye, mom."
Leontius simply stared at Toriel's remains. Then, in his mind, he screamed in denial. He raged and fought, as if he could force his way into the reality of the vision, to grab a hold of the boy and throttle and shake him, to roar in his face, to make him feel his wrath. What he was feeling absolutely put his anger at Undyne to shame, with every fiber of his being consumed in white-hot rage. His undead form shook with fury, he had failed in his purpose to protect monsters, even the one he loved.
For a good while this went on, he was no longer focused on the vision. His mind raced with anger, his sight of Frisk entirely obfuscated by his whirling mind. And… he eventually managed to calm himself, to reign in his wild emotions. It was an uphill battle, but his reasoning won out in the end. 'This is not my world… she is not my Toriel…' He repeated this to himself like a mantra, and he managed to bring himself to pay attention to the vision once more.
By now, Frisk was making his way to Snowdin. The skeleton brothers were currently being subjected to the child's intense, no-nonsense seriousness. He ignored whatever traps and diversions the two put in front of him and murdered any monster in the area besides the skeletons without fail.
Leontius' anger was still bubbling beneath the surface, but he began to think. He needed to put a stop to this, but the vision had not yet finished its recounting of sins. By the time Frisk 'did battle' with Papyrus, the undead knew what he had to do. Frisk was not the one doing this, at least not entirely.
Characas was the one responsible. Leontius would have to exorcize Characas' spirit from Frisk's body and soul, and he had an idea of how to do just that.
vvv
The vision went on more or less about how Leontius expected at this point. Frisk simply strode through the Underground killing anyone who'd not gotten word to evacuate his path. The defenders of the Kingdom of Monsters stood little chance, not even Undyne managed to stop him, and she achieved some powerful form in the face of Frisk's merciless attacks.
Undyne proved to be the greatest threat to Frisk, at least in Waterfall. She easily lasted the longest out of any monster thus far and managed to wound him plenty of times. Seeing the battle, Leontius couldn't help but respect Undyne more, her drive to protect her people in the face of impossible odds was incredible… but it just wasn't enough to stop Frisk.
Other than his typical targets of unlucky monsters getting in his way or milling about, Frisk actually made no moves to kill Gerson, one of those strange cat-like monsters running a shop, and the River Person.
His encounter with the River Person was of particular note. On a trip back to the empty town of Snowdin, the person sang one of their usual little songs, followed up by a warning. What they said caught both Frisk's and Leontius' attention.
"Beware of the man who came from the other world." The person turned their hooded head only slightly, before focusing back on the river ahead. "...or do not."
From the looks of it, that had definitely confused Frisk. As he looked about and behind himself, another one of the odd episodes of world-shaking energy rocked the vision. When it calmed, Leontius re-oriented himself to have the River Person in the way of his view of Frisk, his attention on the strange cloaked individual.
'Just who are you…' Of course, he could see nothing but darkness within the person's hood. He was almost certain they were just alluding to his presence with that warning, but as typical of them, they did not elaborate further. He set the issue aside shortly after that. This child would inevitably face him, whether or not he knew to expect it.
vvv
Hotland and its monsters met a similar fate to all the other places of the Underground. Royal guards, random passersby, Muffet, mercenary monsters sent by Mettaton, and finally Mettaton himself. The robot, like Undyne, had a new form to use against the human intruder. Unlike Undyne, however, his proved to be entirely ineffectual, being destroyed in a single blow from a frying pan Frisk had found earlier.
Shortly after Frisk found himself on the raised castle walls above New Home, the entire city looking just as deserted as the other city in the Ruins. A short walk later he was in Asgore's home paying a visit to its children's room. He leaned down to reach under the bed on the left side of the room, pulling an old and dusty looking box from under it. He opened it up, retrieving two items from inside.
The first item was a heart-shaped locket. He undid the apron he'd been wearing and threw it off, donning the locket in its stead. The next thing to come out of the box was a knife, and from the metallic sheen of its surface glinting in the light, Leontius gathered that it was no toy. Like the apron, Frisk abandoned the frying pan he'd been wielding in favor of the new weapon.
Frisk stood, hand around the locket as he twirled the knife about, a pleased grin coming to his face. He left the room but was stopped when Flowey appeared before him, the flower squeezing up through the floorboards. Both Leontius and Frisk stared at him.
Leontius had missed it at first thanks to his earlier episode, but along the way, Flowey seemed to have been helping Frisk. At some points, Leontius saw the flower following and watching Frisk from a distance, and in other times he saw vines wrapped around buttons and switches, solving puzzles for the boy as he went, allowing the child to focus on murdering whoever he came across.
Flowey smiled up at the expressionless boy. "Howdy, Characas! You finally made it home. Remember when we used to play here?" He let out an amused, high-pitched laugh. "Boy! Today's gonna be just as fun!" His smile faded after that. "I remember when I first woke up here, in the garden. I was so scared. I couldn't feel my arms or legs… my entire body had turned into a flower! 'Mom! Dad! Somebody help me!' I cried out, but nobody came." He looked down to the floorboards near his stem, then vanished under them.
Leontius looked at the spot Flowey had been, then at Frisk. 'From the sounds of it, Flowey has realized that Characas is the one in control. Or perhaps he simply cannot see past the spirit attached…? Asriel seemed to have mistaken me for Characas as well, at one point…'
Frisk continued on down the stairs and out of the house, Flowey occasionally popping up in his way to talk to him more.
"Eventually, the king found me, crying in the garden. I explained what had happened to him. Then he held me, Characas. He held me with tears in his eyes, saying, 'There, there, everything is going to be alright.' He was so… emotional. But… for some reason, I didn't feel anything at all."
"I soon realized I didn't feel anything about anyone. My compassion had disappeared! And believe me, it's not like I wasn't trying. I wasted weeks with that stupid king, vainly hoping I would feel something. But it became too much for me. I ran away from home. Eventually, I reached the Ruins. Inside I found her, Characas. I thought of all people, she could make me feel whole again… she failed." A somber laugh…
More walking on Frisk's part, more thinking on Leontius'. He knew full well who Flowey was talking about in that last bit. Perhaps both of the Toriels in their worlds could not make the hollow shell that was 'Flowey' feel whole once more, but what the Toriel of his world managed to do with him? Where she failed with Flowey, she certainly succeeded with him.
"I realized those two were useless. I became despondent. I just wanted to love someone. I just wanted to care about someone. Characas, you might not believe this, but I decided… it wasn't worth living anymore. Not in a world without love. Not in a world without you. So… I decided to follow in your footsteps. I would erase myself from existence. And you know what? I succeeded.
Frisk kept walking without pause after that, and again Flowey popped up in front of him. "But as I left this mortal coil… I started to feel apprehensive. If you don't have a soul, what happens when you…? Something primal started to burn inside me. 'No,' I thought. 'I don't want to die!' Then… I woke up, like it was all just a bad dream. Time had reset, and I was back at the garden."
Again Frisk walked around him, and again he appeared once more. "Interested, I decided to experiment. Again and again, I brought myself to the edge of death, and each time I was able to reset the world, time itself, back to that same point. Amazing, isn't it, Characas? I was amazed, too."
Frisk walked on, turning a corner in the corridor. Of course, Flowey waited around it. "At first, I used my power for good. I became 'friends' with everyone. I solved all their problems flawlessly. Their companionship was amusing… for a while. As time repeated, people proved themselves predictable. 'What would this person say if I gave them this? What would they do if I said this to them?' Once you know the answer, that's it. That's all they are."
Leontius stared at the flower as Frisk dragged his perspective along. He was beginning to relate to Flowey all too well, at least in some ways. All those repeated cycles on the surface and things above really could be broken down into a formula. Eventually, he became strong enough through soul reinforcement across cycles that his death counts lowered, and his 'runthroughs' of the world became quicker and quicker. 'But he is wrong. Cycles can be broken. Even if it takes a thousand repeats, something will change.'
Another corner, another interruption. "It all started because I was curious. Curious what would happen if I killed them. 'I don't like this,' I told myself. 'I'm just doing this because I have to know what happens.' Hah… what an excuse! You of all people must know how liberating it is to act this way."
More walking and Frisk was now on yet another exposed castle wall, Flowey making another appearance shortly after that. "Nowadays, even that's grown tiring. You understand, Characas. I've done everything this world has to offer. I've read every book, I've burned every book. I've won every game, I've lost every game. I've appeased everyone. I've killed everyone. Just sets of numbers and lines of dialogue, I've seen them all. But you… you're different. I never could predict you, Characas."
Frisk made to walk again, but Flowey popped up quicker than usual. "When I saw you in the Ruins, I didn't recognize you. I thought I could frighten you, then steal your soul. I failed. But this was so new, something different for once! I decided I wouldn't reset, I needed to see what you would do."
Again Frisk tried to move around him, but Flowey stopped him with a vine against his foot. "I just have one question for you, Characas. How did you get back to the Ruins from here… wait, I know. She must have taken you when she left, and decided to give you a proper burial… rather than having you hanging out in the basement forever. But why then… what made you wake up? Did you hear me calling you…?"
No answer from Frisk, no change in expression.
Flowey shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. I'm so tired of this, Characas. I'm tired of all these people, of all these places, and of being a flower. Characas. there's just one thing left I want to do. Let's finish what we started. Let's free everyone. Then… let's let them see what humanity is really like! That despite it all, this world is still kill or be killed!
Leontius was surprised at that last statement. Those words, they were the same he'd used to slip that hint to Gerson. 'Kill or be killed… I very much doubt this child's surface and humanity is truly like that. At least, not quite like mine, perhaps his world's surface never fell…'
Flowey wrapped another vine around Frisk's ankle, almost as if to hug him. "Then…? Well. I had been entertaining a few ways to use that power… but seeing you here changed my mind. Characas… I think if you're around, just living in the surface world doesn't seem so bad."
He looked up to Frisk with a hopeful air about him. "We don't even need to leave to get the souls this time, the king has six of them locked away. I've tried hundreds of ways to get him to show me them… but he just won't. Characas… I know he'll do it for you."
Flowey quietly stared into Frisk's blank, expressionless face for a moment, perhaps taking it as a sign of confusion. "Why am I telling you all of this? Characas, I said it before. Even after all this time, you're still the only one that understands me. You won't give me any worthless pity!" He smiled broadly after that, tightening his hold on Frisk's leg for a moment to emphasize his point.
Leontius watched the flower hug Frisk's leg tighter. As unfeeling as Flowey was, Asriel still felt something for his adoptive brother, deep down. 'But the question Flowey should be asking himself is not if he does, but rather if Characas feels anything for him.' He remembered the incident with Toriel, again feeling his lowly simmering anger try to rise up against his inhibition.
Flowey was still looking Frisk in the eyes. "Creatures like us… wouldn't hesitate to kill each other if we got in each other's way. So that's… so… that's… why…" He noticed that Frisk had begun to grin at him, and the flower began to shake. "Ha… ha… what's this… feeling? Why am I… shaking?" sweat began to appear on his face. "Hey… Characas… no hard feelings about back then, right?" When he got no response except that exact same grin, he let go of Frisk's leg and backed away, popping up a short distance away from Frisk, legitimate fear overtaking his features.
Frisk began to close in, the knife in his grip glinting in the few remaining lights of the city below. Flowey got scared at the aggression, so he gave Frisk an angry look, perhaps to try to intimidate him. "H-hey, what are you doing!? B-back off!"
Frisk didn't stop, backing Flowey up along the wall's walkway. Flowey's look of faux-anger fell away quickly, overtaken by that same desperation from before. "I… I've changed my mind about all this. This isn't a good idea anymore. You should go back, Characas. This place is fine the way it is!" Still no answer and Frisk was still advancing, sporting that same murderous grin. "S-s-stop making that creepy face! This isn't funny! You've got a sick sense of humor!" Noticing a wall was behind him now, Flowey tunneled into the ground and escaped Frisk.
'I suppose that answers that, then.'
Frisk's expression quickly returned its usual blank state before long, and he looked through the tall door that led into the beautiful, vibrantly colored corridor beyond. He then walked into it, but something strange happened. As he entered it seemed as though Leontius got left behind. His confusion lasted only for a moment before he understood.
'The vision has come to an end. Something is still currently happening within the corridor, another sin Frisk has yet to finish committing. I must prepare, then.' He willed the orb to break him out of the vision, and it did so easily enough, the world around him going black as his sight returned to his own world's.
vvv
Leontius sight returned. He was, of course, still kneeling. It felt like at least a day had passed, yet his fireplace was still burning just as brightly before, and when he stood and looked out of his window at Snowdin the town's lights were still off, cementing that in reality, the vision had taken no time at all to view.
'So easily is perception and time bent and shaped. No wonder that strange man was able to do what he did, if it even was him in the first place…'
He went over to his table and started thinking on what exactly to take as gear, setting the Blue Eye Orb down as he did so. He was uncertain about the relation of time between two parallel timelines, specifically whether or not he needed to be quick about arming himself before Frisk caused any more damage in the other timeline.
Leontius decided to not take any chances and arm relatively light. He didn't like fighting in just his traveling gear, but it was quicker to put on than a full suit of plate armor. He supplemented the semi-armored coat with his Vanguard armor's undershirt of mail underneath it, the mail sleeves coming out of the overcoat and the skirt lying beneath his long overcoat. He decided to wear the Silver Knight set's leg armor and boots, their design letting them work apart from the whole suit. For hand protection, he chose to wear the Vanguard armor's gauntlets, which also functioned just fine when not combined with the rest of the harness.
After changing around some items he'd need in his equipment belt before donning it and sheathing his claymore, Leontius caught sight of the Mask of the Child, the steel face seemingly staring at him from its tilted position on the table. He supposed some face protection wouldn't hurt, so he donned the mask, slipping it over his chainmail suit's hood as usual, fastening it tight to his face with its strings.
His mixed set of quickly-donned gear complete, he was ready to finally enter Frisk's timeline and world. He picked up the Blue Eye Orb from the table and kneeled down once more, the Blue Eye Orb in his gauntleted hands. He unhesitatingly gazed into the orb's glassy eye, his vision quickly changing to the view of the mess of timelines.
He easily located Frisk's, and the eye wasted no time in fading the vision out, preparing to send his phantom avatar to the world.
Darkness overtook his sight…
vvv
Leontius' sight faded in. He was in the large orange corridor just before Asgore's throne room, near the East exit of it. In the middle of the room, he saw something…
It was Frisk and Sans. Sans was looking unsteady, a hand clamped to his side. He was walking past Frisk, saying something Leontius couldn't quite make out just before he collapsed and disintegrated into dust.
Leontius' brows knit together with anger, but of course, his smiling mask hid it. 'I suppose Sans stood little chance against him then, the poor soul…' He fought down the feelings brought on by seeing his friend die right before him and began to walk towards Frisk, metallic boots echoing loudly on the tile floor, drawing the child's attention away from the dead skeleton's remains.
Leontius walked into the light of one of the hall's great windows, the shadows obscuring him falling away as he looked to the child across from him.
The two silently stared at one another, slight confusion working its way into Frisk's typically unflinching expression. Leontius broke the gaze by looking aside into the light of the stained glass window beside him. He took a moment to think. He was in another world, another timeline. Beyond the walls of this Underground was another surface, perhaps one that never fell like his. He refocused after the brief thought, tracing the window's illumination onto himself, noticing that he was lacking the red coloration of a typical invader, rather he appeared with normal, unaltered colors.
He set aside the oddity and looked back to Frisk, seeing that the boy was beginning to get into a readied stance, like he was expecting a fight. If the boy wanted to fight, he could try, but Leontius would have words first. "You..." His voice was cold, a slight hint of a venomous undertone belying the depths of instinctual animosity he felt towards the child. "You are Frisk, correct?"
Frisk made no indication to answer, his earlier confusion gone and replaced with that unfeeling stare.
Leontius stared back, still standing straight and looking unthreatened by the reticent and hostile child. "...No, I suppose you are not. You are Characas, then."
That got a reaction, Frisk's brief look of surprised shock telling Leontius all he needed to know.
Leontius angled his masked head downward at Frisk. "Yes… I see. I have seen much, indeed, boy. I know what you have done, and where you have been. I have seen it with my own two eyes. You have sinned against the people who sheltered you. You have sinned against your family, your mother…" His voice went up a tick in intensity at the mention of Toriel and he drew his claymore in a fluid motion then pointed it accusingly at Frisk, the boy grimacing at the harsh sound of the magical blade parting the air as it went.
"...and you will not against any others."
Frisk gripped his knife tighter but made no moves with the greatsword between him and his target.
Leontius took measured and slow steps towards the child, sword still leveled at his chest. Frisk made to back away in response, not having the option to go on the offensive with the imposing man producing threat with his greatsword. He had no reliable way to get around the sword either, trying seemed like it would be a bad idea.
The two went like this for a few feet, ended when Leontius quickly lunged forward at the boy, greatsword moving aside as he came in to grab Frisk about the collar with his left hand. Frisk managed to just barely scramble away from the grasping gauntleted hand, briefly stumbling as he did so. He righted himself once a good enough distance away, knife pointed at Leontius, almost mirroring the undead as he too presented his weapon's point once more.
They stood, neither making any move or backing down. Leontius traced the child's gaze to his sword's aimed point, an idea coming to him. He cocked his masked head to the side slightly before slowly lowering his blade, setting the tip just behind his right foot, leaving himself wide open.
Frisk immediately took the opportunity, rushing forward at Leontius with his knife held ready to stab, heart locket wildly swinging around his neck as he sprinted. He was upon the man in moments, and plunged the knife straight into his chest…
...and was stopped solidly with a metallic rattling and clinking. The knife had easily gone through the coat but stopped just after, the stab through the fabric and the area around it glowing a dark blue color. Frisk's eyes flew open in a panic and he retracted the knife and backed off, the damaged fabric still glowing blue.
Frisk made to stab once more, this time towards Leontius' gut, but met the same result of his blade not going any further than the coat, leaving only a glowing blue gash for all his effort. When he made to stab towards the tall man's throat, Leontius' left hand shot out and grabbed the boy's knife hand by the wrist before he could complete the attack.
With a surprised grunt, Frisk struggled against the man's iron grip, a feeling of rising pain in his wrist as he writhed and pulled. He laid into Leontius with punches and kicks, but his efforts only resulted in him hurting his other hand and feet as well, the man's chainmail and plate armor easily taking the weak attacks.
Leontius set the handle of his greatsword between his arm and body then yanked the knife out of Frisk's still restrained hand, ignoring the boy's vain attempts to get free. He inspected the knife, flipping it about with his fingers as he did so. "After all this, you still are naught but a child with household implements, free to ravage a land of vulnerable monsters who cannot stop you…" He repositioned the blade within his palm and easily snapped it to pieces, letting them clatter to the ornate tiles before he sheathed his greatsword and grabbed Frisk up by his collar, lifting him off the ground and walking over to a nearby pillar.
Leontius roughly pushed Frisk against the pillar and held him there one-handed, the boy wheezing as the air got knocked out of his lungs and growling at the pain. Leontius brought his masked face close to the stunned boy's, leveling a baleful glare into his eyes that he was certain the child was close enough to fully appreciate. "...But I am no monster."
Leontius reached down to a pouch at his equipment belt, retrieving a shrunken and dismembered pale hand from it, then crushed it into dust in his fist. A faint grayish glow began to issue out from him as the Transient Curse's effect set in, and he brought his now darkening right hand up to Frisk's chest once more.
Frisk watched in growing horror as the fist held before him was coated in a crimson aura, and began to scream as it was plunged straight into his chest. He desperately clawed at the unyielding steel coating the arm reaching into his body, fingers going white with strain. He flailed his legs and shook his head, but all of his struggling was to no avail.
Leontius gripped the boy's soul, finding that there was indeed another presence latched onto it, a spirit. It was as he thought, this boy was being puppeted by Characas. He adjusted his hand about the soul, getting a grip on the intruding spirit, then began to pull it free, tearing it away from Frisk's soul. Frisk's screams intensified to the point that his voice began to go hoarse, but the undead ignored him. He pulled Characas' semi-transparent and limp spirit bodily from Frisk, separating the two with one in each hand.
The moment Characas' spirit was extracted from him Frisk went limp as well, his screams silenced and his head falling forward against Leontius' hand. Leontius lowered Frisk away from the pillar and released him, the boy falling to the ground, unmoving and silent as he laid. Leontius' attention was solely on the spirit boy in his hands, who was beginning to come to now that he was free of Frisk.
Characas' spirit looked about, shocked until he realized what had happened once he spotted Frisk's prone form. He glared angrily at Leontius, once more struggling to get free despite now lacking a physical form.
Leontius stared at the spirit of the long-dead boy struggling in his grip. Like Toriel, this was not his timeline's Characas. This boy was still filled with hate, unreasonable and angry at the world. For whatever reason, he decided to inflict his wrath upon monsterkind with Frisk as his vessel, and Leontius still didn't know what exactly that reason was.
In the end, he figured that it mattered little. "I have exorcized you from your host, but you cannot remain free to potentially take another." He drew his greatsword once more and brought the now glowing-gray blade's tip to Characas' chest, the temporary curse allowing it to interact with the spirit… and damage it. "Goodbye, Characas. May you rest… and leave this land's people be." With a quick push, he thrust the sword into the spirit's chest, Characas' expression freezing for a moment before his semi-transparent form faded and fell away into nothingness.
With Characas destroyed, Leontius lowered his sword and clenched fist to his sides, then cast a glance at the still prone and motionless child on the ground next to him as he sheathed the claymore again. He stared at the unmoving child and began to wonder if he'd been too rough and accidentally killed him. He looked about the dead silent corridor, realizing that he'd yet to leave the timeline and return to his world like was usual when an invader destroyed a target. He looked back to Frisk, a realization coming to him.
'The sins fall upon this boy, not Characas. He is the eye's target… but he was not responsible for his actions, Characas was… I tell myself that, yet I allowed my anger to show. I do not think I killed him though, else I would have left this world by now.'
He prodded Frisk's side with a boot, turning him over just enough to see his face. His eyes were screwed shut in pain, but he still wasn't moving. Leontius kneeled down to get a better look at him, noticing that he was indeed still breathing.
It was a strange feeling. Lying at his feet was a real, living, breathing human being. Not a hollow, not an undead wearing a facsimile of a human form like he was, a real one. A human without the curse. This boy's surface must be different, better off than his.
He stood up from inspecting Frisk, gaze momentarily falling upon the pile of dust that was Sans before he looked back to the child. 'I suppose having one's strings cut is unpleasant, but he should survive. I do not believe this boy should die today, not for being another's puppet.' His mind was made up. He would leave this world, and Frisk would go on with his free will restored.
Leontius willed the eye in his true self's hands to get him out of Frisk's timeline, and it complied. His form began to turn blue all over, radiating out from the cuts in his phantom's coat. He stood as still as possible during the process but was surprised when he felt something grip his foot. He stiffly looked down at his feet, seeing that it was Frisk, latched onto the lower part of his greave with both hands.
The boy was moving again, looking up at him with a pained, almost pleading expression. He made to say something but was interrupted as the blue glow spreading across Leontius' form jumped to his hands and began to spread across his body as well.
Panic overtook Leontius, uncertain as to what the boy had just done. All he could muster was a brief "What have-" before he lost control of the phantom, his sight and perception of the other timeline fading out, the image of the desperate looking boy at his feet being the last thing he saw there.
vvv
Leontius regained control of his true form with a shocked jump, rocking backward from his kneeling position onto his backside, the Blue Eye Orb falling from his grasp and rolling away across his cabin floor. He looked about in confusion, gaze landing on the leg Frisk had been firmly latched onto. Of course, Frisk was nowhere to be seen, but what had become of him…?
Leontius got up and retrieved the Blue Eye Orb and inspected it, noticing that it was back to just being half-open. He quietly stared at the orb, debating whether or not he wanted to take a look at the timelines again for good measure. He decided against it, he had just about enough of all this. As for Frisk, he was unsure about what exactly happened. He was free of Characas though, that much was certain.
He set the orb next to its red counterpart and simply leaned on the table for a bit, thinking on what to do. He felt mentally exhausted from watching the boy's murder spree, still feeling somewhat sore over watching his friends and love die and not being able to do a thing about it. He just had to keep telling himself it was not his world he was seeing, and hope that his instinct and purpose-driven form got the idea. He'd not failed to protect anyone, and Toriel was still very much alive, likely peacefully sleeping away in her warm home just across the snowfield.
'Perhaps I should just lay down myself, I feel I could use some rest after all that…' He got to removing all of his gear once again, fireplace merrily crackling away as he did so. When he was done he laid down and just closed his eyes, his worries and stoked emotions being soothed by the comfort of the flame and the sounds of the wind against his cabin's walls.
(29)
vvv Non-Canon Bonus: No Mercy vvv
Leontius simply stared at Toriel's remains. Then, in his mind, he screamed in denial. He raged and fought, as if he could force his way into the reality of the vision, to grab a hold of the boy and throttle and shake him, to roar in his face, to make him feel his wrath. What he was feeling right now absolutely put his anger at Undyne to shame, with every fiber of his being consumed in white-hot rage. His undead form shook with fury, he had failed in his purpose to protect monsters, even the one he loved.
For a good while this went on, he was no longer focused on the vision. His mind raced with anger, his sight of Frisk entirely obfuscated by his whirling mind. And... he gave in. Within him, the primal, instinct-driven hollow saw its purpose shattered before it, and went mad. He commanded the orb to cease its recounting, dropping it to the floor as he stood with his hands gripping madly at his hair.
Leontius growled and shook, his sight landing on his equipment. The boy would pay. Yes, the boy would pay.
He went to his bottomless box and yanked out his Vanguard armor set then got to putting it on in a hasty fervor, eyes wide and unfocused with unbridled rage the whole time. He put on the Mask of the Child and his gear belt, then scooped up the Blue Eye Orb from the floor and unhesitatingly looked into it once more, locking on to Frisk's timeline and forcing his way in, vision be damned.
Darkness overtook his sight...
vvv
Leontius' sight faded in. He was in the large orange corridor just before Asgore's throne room, near the East exit of it. In the middle of the room, he saw something…
It was Frisk, standing over a pile of dust, eating the pie slice he had in his daypack. He looked just as emotionless as ever.
Leontius rapidly strode forward from the darkness, quickly drawing his claymore and igniting his pyromancy flame in his left hand as he went. The sudden burst of motion and sound in the once-still and quiet corridor startled Frisk, the boy looking at the advancing masked juggernaut with shock as he made to back away, dropping what was left of the pie to the floor.
Leontius aimed his pyromancy flame behind himself and cocked his sword arm back. He was a good distance away from his target, but that was easily remedied. He produced a massive, continuous jet of Black Flame from his pyromancy, the physical flame's recoil propelling him forward at great speed, sparks and broken tiles flying every which way as his steel boots slid across them. He was upon Frisk within the following second, claymore swinging out in a wide arc at him.
The moment the fatal blow touched Frisk, everything reset.
vvv
Leontius' sight faded in. He was in the large orange corridor just before Asgore's throne room, near the East exit of it. In the middle of the room, he saw something…
It was Frisk, standing over a pile of dust, hastily eating the pie slice he had in his daypack and looking towards him, seemingly knowing he was there.
Leontius rapidly strode forward from the darkness, quickly drawing his claymore and charging sorcery power in it as he went. Frisk finished off the pie and held his knife at the ready, all while waiting in a ready-to-dodge stance.
Leontius stopped a good distance away from his target, pointing his claymore directly at Frisk. Bright blue energy rapidly coalesced around the greatsword, and seconds later it erupted forth as a massive Soul Stream attack, headed straight for Frisk. The boy panicked and tried to get out of the beam's way, but wasn't quick enough.
The moment the fatal soul energy touched Frisk, everything reset.
vvv
Leontius' sight faded in. He was in the large orange corridor just before Asgore's throne room, near the East exit of it. In the middle of the room, he saw something…
It was Frisk, standing over a pile of dust, knife at the ready and gaze solidly locked on to where he was, seemingly knowing he was there.
Leontius rapidly strode forward from the darkness, quickly drawing his claymore and grasping at its talisman, preparing a miracle. Frisk began sprinting at him, knife poised to strike.
He met the armored juggernaut halfway and brought his knife straight into his midsection, the huge suit of armor easily turning aside the blow as though it were nothing. This was not a monster wearing easily-cut magic armor, this was someone wearing actual metal. Frisk panicked and tried to quickly back off, but was stopped by an expanding golden circle radiating outward from the huge armored man. He found himself unable to do anything other than slowly walk.
Leontius had no such limitation and quickly closed in on the boy, grabbing him up with his left hand and lifting him into the air while preparing to impale him with his greatsword. He sent the blade forward, and Frisk could do nothing but stare hatefully at him.
The moment the fatal blow touched Frisk, everything reset.
vvv
The battles went on like this for quite some time.
The undead's attacks were all entirely fatal to the child, most instantly killing him outright, but in time the boy slowly began to wise up to them and how to best evade them. It took far longer than his previous foes thanks to his opponent not using any set pattern across each reset, opening with a wide variety of attacks seemingly chosen at random and going from there.
Despite his slowly improving ability to dodge, the murderous child found that damaging his opponent in any real way was almost impossible, the gargantuan suit of armor presenting few weaknesses a kitchen knife could reasonably exploit, if any. He once managed to get a stab in through one of the eyeholes in the man's mask but was blasted away by an insanely powerful outward explosion of Force shortly after he managed it, with little effect on his target to show for it. Both cared little and fought on until the next runthrough inevitably came.
And so this continued on into eternity, two relentless killers locked in a battle that could not end. One's mind was unable to recognize the resets, thinking it to be the first time he'd fought the boy each runthrough, and the other simply refusing to give in despite his rising death count, determined to defeat this new foe.
