When There's a Whip, There's a Way: Remastered

by GreaterAxelord

The Bloodline had been tainted, cursed. Redemption was assumed to be well beyond the means of Richter after the atrocities he had committed under the control of the Dark Magician Shaft. But Fate gave him one more chance, one final attempt to reconcile with the past. (This is the remastered and remade version of my old story posted here, progress is ported from my AO3 Account)

7. Chapter 6 - Time-Old Traditions

He felt far older than he was at this point. There he was, sitting in front of a window with a book in hand watching a group of kids play ball outside. It reminded him of some of the elders of his old village and how they would spend their time just judging the youth as they passed by. The fact that they acted like they were the source of all knowledge always boiled Richter's blood beyond belief. He could easily call back up the desire to make those old bags choke on their own books. Best not to dwell on the anger of the past though as he had more important things to focus on. It would be only six days until the Village Project would be put into action. It was very little time to gather the materials and manpower for the project of such scale but if the Librarian was a man to be trusted, and the track record was in his favor, then the Belmont had very little to be worried about. The less trouble, the better at least in his opinion but that did not mean that everything had already been sorted out. Richter was still entrusted with assigning groups to sections under the Council Members, distinguishing what zones would be worked on first and when, as well as the actual act of magically transferring whatever materials they asked of him. The Altar may be a conduit but Richter was the bolt of lightning siphoning himself into it. He knew that he needed to spend more time strengthening his magic as his current state was arguably at the weakest it had been in quite a long time. At least he assumed so. He refused to tap back into the well of magic that loomed at the dark corners of his memory.
He couldn't quite tell if he didn't trust himself or if he didn't trust the circumstances around him. If he were to be spotted by a human while using magic then he would most definitely start a witch hunt. There was no doubt about it either. The little time he had spent listening to the media and to Toriel's stories late in the night proved as much. It seemed to be a significantly more selfish society than what he had initially expected but that was far from new. Hell, there were still people willing to resurrect the bane of humanity back in his own world so nothing truly surprised him. He just needed to make damn sure he didn't become part of the masses. Easier said than done though. For now he tasked himself with keeping an eye on the teenagers as his book had long been forgotten. It had been a shocking revelation, to say the least, to find out that Asriel and Frisk were Royal Ambassadors for Monster Kind. Toriel had alluded to it during their conversation the night prior but his interest had piqued to the point that he stopped by her room a few hours later (once he had cleaned up the living room, of course). She had seemed pleased to see Richter stop by. Something about opening up she had said. Either way they discussed just a few burning questions that he found himself pondering. Toriel was the Queen of Monsters although they weren't a monarchy anymore, Asriel and Frisk were the Royal Ambassadors, and the former King of Monsters was her ex-husband Asgore who stepped down from his position once they broke free from the mountain. The details on the mountain itself were sparse as she claimed the story was longer than the time they had that night. She had also asked him to keep an eye on the kids today while she went on a few errands with Sans and "Papyrus", whoever that was. So there he was doing just that.

Outside a few rough tussles and boyish arguments from the teenagers outside, it had been relatively tame. For a while anyway. It was to be assumed that they did this on the regular. What wasn't regular though, Richter noticed, was a pair of men oftentimes passing by them on the sidewalk. They were gruff (or as gruff as a pair of kids who just pushed past twenty could be) and shady on their own, but to see them appear again and again within sometimes minutes of each visit set off some flags in his head. It reminded the Belmont of wolves scouting out a new hunting ground, or the demons of the night checking a town's defenses before invading and slaughtering the inhabitants. They weren't armed with anything visible like swords or bows but to their credit, he doubted that a crossbow was the pinnacle of ranged technology now. That and muskets but they certainly couldn't fit that in those hoodies of theirs. What worried the Belmont more than their presence was their sudden absence. It had been a solid hour since they strolled on by the home on the sidewalk and their reasoning could not be anything but sinister. Had to be. Men with a glint in the eye like that were far from the kind to simply just walk away after sweeping by eight separate times. Richter knew enough about the neighborhood to understand that Toriel's home wasn't exactly placed in the best spot for afternoon jogs. It was on the outskirts of the neighborhood given its proximity to the forest. What there was beyond the neighborhood the Belmont knew not, but it certainly was not human residence. Another tidbit he had gathered was that this was an all-monster neighborhood (for the most part). His trips to the Altar clearing and back alluded to that at least as the vast majority of the passerbys were monsters. The entire situation reeked and the muscles in his hands were flexing instinctively. His body still yearned for combat that he mentally couldn't just clear with himself. He might not have a choice though as off in the distance, taking a different street to get here, were the two less than pleasant gentleman. Richter had enough.

He tossed the book onto the bed nearby before grabbing a pair of boots. Toriel managed to scrounge up some more clothing from a lass named "Undyne" who seemed to have some proper combat attire. At least the boots were, he wasn't as sure on the tank-top covered in bright depictions of what one of the kids described as "gundam". Still though it was just about all he had and the hoodie from earlier was dirty from the forest. He gave his bandana one last tug to ensure that it was tight around his head before storming out of the study. Thankfully it was a fairly short trip from the room to the front lawn. Not as short as hauling ass through the window but another set of cuts from glass was far from his list of things to experience again. So out of the front door he went only to be blasted by the harsh sunlight. The warmth was certainly something to bask in to be sure though. The freshly healed skin across his exposed limbs and face were still sensitive to the sun but it was a familiar sensation. If he wasn't on a mission, he'd reflect on the times he spent healing from training sessions sitting on the roof of the Renard family's home. But now? Now, he had time to enjoy it later. First was to make sure the punks kept their distance from the children. He gave a quick gander to his surroundings: the same five teenagers were playing a game of ball with their feet (was it football?), the sidewalks bordering the house were clear, and the two men were still crossing the street. They still weren't visibly armed so Richter hoped that at the worst, they'd just stay verbal. Doubtful but it was still a possibility. So with a nod to a curious Asriel, Richter made a show of walking to their mailbox and standing guard. It wasn't as intimidating as a Guardian or a Sword Lord holding down a post, but the hunter still cut an impressive figure. The scar tissue couldn't hide all of his physique. The shirt probably lessened the impact though.

They had made it about halfway across the street when they took notice of Richter's presence. Or more importantly, the fact that he was boring holes through their skulls with his eyes. He remained unflinching, unmoving, and as emotionless as possible. A statue with the stature of a warrior. They were punks though, as he predicted, and continued to walk forward anyway. They were visibly shaken but seemed to take comfort in fiddling with something in their pockets. Was it a knife? The Belmont could feel the hotblooded side of his ego laugh, like they could get past him with a knife even in his current condition. He has slaughtered thousands of men with larger blades than that. Maybe they should give it a try. He'd like to break an arm or two to teach them a lesson. Can't prey on folk when you're unable to even hold a fork. It was around the time they reached the actual sidewalk on Richter's side that they turned their eyes to their end-goal: Asriel. Gotcha. They made no attempts to hide it. They were young, stupid, and most importantly making the worst mistake of their lives. It was at the point that they began to walk past that the hunter acknowledged that he needed to live up to his namesake. But he made an attempt to shake the lust for a fight out of his head one last time and instead spoke up. He had to give them a chance, maybe they'd actually listen to reason. Somehow.

"Got somewhere you need to be, kids?"

That stirred up a response but not exactly the one he was looking for; at least not the side of him that was looking for peace. Seeing that alone was just stoking a fire in his gut that a mere week or so ago burned fiercely enough to fell demon lords. He had to keep himself under control here or else things might turn sour. What scared him was that he knew that it would be deliciously one-sided and that he would enjoy it immensely. They both scoffed and turned their attention to Richter. Good, good. The more attention he had of theirs, the less they directed towards the teens. Rage boiled behind their eyes at the mere mention of age. Probably didn't help that the Belmont was just a few years older than them by appearance alone. It was always a surefire way to rile up a young boy let alone one who considered himself to be a man. They gripped whatever they had in their pockets tightly as the taller of the two took a few steps to get into Richter's face before spitting out his words. Being covered in spittle was up there on his pet peeves. No class and no dignity.

"Who you calling kid? You wanna test us here, huh? Go back inside if you don't got the balls and leave this monster filth to us."

For a brief second, at the insult they tossed towards the children, the Belmont considered breaking their jaws. They spoke with the same attitude shared by the old hired mercs that patrolled the villages of Romania. The utter disgust that adorned their faces when they spoke of Asriel and his friends angered the hunter to his very core. It took everything in his power to not lash out and put them in their place. Healing or not, he would make sure they learned to never again try to intimidate or harm someone. Monster or otherwise. The innocent always deserve the best of protection and if that meant protecting them from punks like these again, then so be it. But there was an alternative to absolutely kicking their asses to the curb. He wished not to subject the playing teens to more violence when they most likely have to deal with more than enough as it stood already. So with a soft sigh, Richter quickly lashed his hand out, clenched it around the collar of the man's hoodie, and pulled it as close to himself as possible. He moved the man into a hug and whispered in his ear as he began to crush his back. He knew anything intelligent would fall short, so he decided to go with something short and simple. If spite could kill, then he would be spitting venom strong enough to fell Galamoth himself.

"Listen, I am trying desperately, DESPERATELY, to find an excuse to let the two of you walk off...but you're making it harder than it should be. So here's the deal: If you and your friend are never seen in this neighborhood again by me or anyone else, then I'll make sure people actually see your body again. So get going before I squeeze just a little tighter, alright?"

And with one last squeeze, Richter pushed the man back knocking both of the punks over and onto the street. They gave one quick look towards the monsters, then to Richter, before booking it back the way they came. An odd metallic object had fallen out of the second lad's hoodie pocket. The Belmont couldn't care less of its nature though and just stared them down until they were out of sight. He could feel the adrenaline leave his body as he was wracked with shivers. He had started to tap into a dark side of his personality that was best left alone. It might have been worth it but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Society had changed in the many generations it had been since his own time. What was considered socially acceptable surely must have disapproved of the violence he threatened them with. It was far better than the alternative; after all, he used to have to kill the same kinds of "punks" back in his own time. But no one, absolutely no one, preys on kids. Toddlers, children, teenagers, and young adults. It did not matter. Richter would sooner sacrifice his legs to give to the Creature than let someone harm a child. So he sighed and turned his attention back to the playing boys. All five were still there: Asriel, Frisk, MK (he only knew of the name by a labeled school photo), and two others he could not put names to. A living anthropomorphic green fire and a star with sunglasses. He offers them a soft smile when they mention what happened with the two humans who stopped by. Seeing that they weren't going to get a good answer, they continued on leaving the Belmont simply watching. So that he did, occasionally keeping score for them just to stay involved somewhat. He needed a distraction too from what had almost come out of him.

"look at whose among the livin. guess that room of yours pales in comparison to good ol nature, hehe"

"SO THIS IS THE FABLED HUMAN I HAVE HEARD SO MUCH ABOUT? FINALLY, A WORTHY FRIEND, OUR FRIENDSHIP WILL BE LEGENDARY!"

Oh lord was that loud. A borderline rattling voice practically echoed from behind him resulting in him spinning around, his bandana whipping through the air with an audible flick. Three figures stood in front of him absolutely covered in what he assumed to be groceries. Toriel dressed in her Saturday best with a small wagon tailing behind her gave off a warm grin at the third figure's enthusiasm. That must have been the wagon he was carried in when they first salvaged his body. Funny to think it was normally used for carrying food and other misc goods. Sans was standing right next to her with one skeletal hand holding onto an absolutely tiny grocery bag. Toriel's purse was oddly strapped across him. Why was he carrying it for her? Richter shrugged it off and turned his attention to the boisterous and excited third figure: another skeleton. This one was much more like the ones Richter had faced off with in the past at least in height. Just about everything else about the skeleton caught the Belmont off guard. Blindingly red knee-high boots adorned his bare legs leading to a piece of blue...armor(?) with yellow highlights covering his waist. His spine was exposed but he had a set of extremely bulky white porcelain platemail with colossal pauldrons adorning his upper half. A short red cape was wrapped around his neck with matching red gloves with the same yellow trim his armor had. It was unlike any gear the hunter had ever seen before. It was clearly meant for some combat purposes but it certainly had never seen a fight before. It was like what a child would build for themselves when they wanted to play pretend. He was standing in what had to be the most flamboyant pose he had ever seen, hips cocked at a wide angle with one glove on his waist and the other flaunted by his side. He certainly was a...character of sorts.

"Uh, hello?"

What was he supposed to say? Richter had been caught off guard and the skeleton was far from about to give him some space. With strides surprisingly long for a figure who was somewhere in the middling five foot mark, the skeleton strolled up and offered up both hands forward. It took a moment before he cocked his eyebrows (how does a skeleton have eyebrows) in confusion and looked at his gloves. He muttered something to himself, bringing a hand up to his jaw in thought, before letting out a quiet, "NYEH HEH HEH". Well as quiet as probably possible for him. He took a few steps back, smoothed his cape over, and began to redo his interaction but this time with a single hand outstretched. So THAT was what he was attempting to do, Richter thought to himself. Either way the display was actually surprisingly wholesome and the Belmont shook the skeleton's hand warmly. He may have imagined it, but once they began to shake hands, the monster's eyes were replaced with stars. He excitedly waved his arm wildly before retracting it and bringing it up to his chest with a visible woosh of his cape. Somehow it was waving in wind that wasn't even present. Odd.

"YOU HAVE JUST MET THE GREAT PAPYRUS! WHAT IS YOUR NAME, HUMAN WITH A STRONG GRIP?"

The display really was bringing a smile to the hunter's face. There was something about this goofy skeleton that indescribably charmed him. So he obliged with earnest intentions and the curiosity of how far he could take this.

"The pleasure's all mine, Great Papyrus. My name is Richter. I was wondering when I would meet someone as mighty as you."

It was as if Richter had cooked the monster a three course dinner, he was that excited. The mention alone of the word mighty seemed to put even more gusto in the lanky skeleton's attitude as he cocked his head up and winked, quite literally sending out a small star that dissipated quickly. So he hadn't imagined it. That's a first for him. Papyrus, with a flourish, went into a low bow and a pirouette before returning back to speaking with the "human". While Papyrus was preparing to speak again, Sans and Toriel strolled on past them with the groceries and into the house presumably to put them up before they went bad. The kids were still playing their game which left Richter alone to talk to this charming albeit strange stranger. Could be worse though, he thought to himself.

"SO YOU HAVE MET YOUR MATCH THEN? WAS IT MY BATTLE BODY? OR MAYBE MY STRONG FIRST IMPRESSION! THAT ONLY MEANS ONE THING: AS THE CHAMPION, I MUST TAKE YOU TO MEET ALL MY FRIENDS! YOU SURELY MUST HAVE IMPRESSED THEM TOO LIKE YOU HAVE ME!?"

Richter gave off a slight frown. He hadn't actually thought about it before, but he had met very little of the monsterkind that existed here on the surface. Hell, he knew next to nothing about the surface as it was outside of whatever he was told and whatever he had read. Their surroundings were foreign to him and he knew that it wouldn't please the "champion". Despite that though, Richter knew he had to be honest. It would be like lying to a kid and he couldn't muster up the ill-intent to do such a thing.

"Actually, I'm still pretty new here. You're the first new monster I've met in a while. Sorry to disappoint."

Papyrus took the bad news in stride. If anything, that was the answer he wanted to hear as he somehow stood up even straighter.

"HOW ABSURD! I MUST FIX THIS AT ONCE! YOU MUST COME WITH ME INTO THE CITY TOMORROW! MY FRIENDS WILL BE SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU, I'M SURE OF IT! WE DON'T HAVE MANY FRIENDLY HUMANS LIKE YOURSELF, THEY'RE ALL JUST TOO SHY. BUT YOU'RE NOT THOUGH!"

Well that was a bit sad to think about. Monsterkind was unique, certainly so, but nothing worth treating as outcasts. To think that this friendly long-jawed skeleton was rejected of human companionship time and time again was genuinely upsetting. Almost like a very friendly dog being ignored on the streets. There wasn't much Richter could do about it though except offer his own company. It might help pass the time until the Village Project and he was a bit lonely. Maybe it was about time he started making some friends here, at least those similar to his own age. He had not a clue how old Papyrus was but he had to be older than the teenagers the Belmont was tasked with watching over. Guess he was due for some exploring then!

"Tomorrow works well. I look forward to meeting your friends, Great Papyrus."

With another excited albeit impromptu handshake, the skeleton quickly ran off down the street yelling something about having to get prepared and maybe something about pasta? Either way his "nyeh's" could be heard for a decent distance away. As soon as he had arrived, he was gone. Richter saw it as an enjoyable distraction and he had high hopes for the next day. It really would be nice to get out of Toriel's place and wander about with a guide. Meeting more monsters could be a bit stressful depending on the situation they put him in (let alone what the humans think of him) but that was something to be addressed when it came up. So with a grin, Richter turned his attention to the groceries Papyrus had dropped on the pathway in his excitement to shake his hand. It would be a shame to let these go to waste, he thought to himself, as he grabbed the bags and walked inside through the front door. He was caught off-guard, only just, by Sans standing on a chair and giving Toriel a quick kiss on the cheek while under the guise of putting up groceries in cupboards. Richter acted like he saw nothing and dropped the bag off with a simple nod in their direction. He left them be, much to the embarrassed joy of Toriel as she was flustered beyond belief by Sans' boldness, and walked back outside to watch the children continue to play ball. He still had yet to figure out how they play the game so this could be an opportunity to both watch over them and identify what the hell they were playing. He was pretty well versed in the games of children. After all, he spent quite a bit of time entertaining the village children back in his own youth. So by sitting down on the porch and giving the ball a gander, he tried his best to keep track of what was going down.

At least that was the plan. He tried his damndest to pay attention to their silly game, his surroundings including the odd electrical fixtures and unusual influx of ravens, and whatever else caught his eye but he found himself pulled back to his magic. After the confrontation earlier, he could feel a spark inside his soul struggling to ignite a furnace that he had been ignoring for longer recently than he had ever done before. Much of his magic was driven by combat. The more adrenaline pumping through his veins resulted in more powerful incantations and spells. To see himself suppressing the same power he had come to rely on for so long was troubling to a small wounded portion of his psyche; it was the same portion that Shaft had preyed on not so long ago. His desire for combat, eternal warfare and the glory countless campaigns of war could grant. It was impossible to ignore in his youth so he had directed that energy into his daily training sessions. It had led to a significant boost in his power when Dracula had the audacity to show up during his lifetime. Afterwards though, when the dust had settled and the castle had crumbled upon itself, it just left a pit in his soul. A sputtering campfire just begging for more wood to fan the flames upward into the inferno that was his bloodline's power. Now it was back. This time would be different though. There was no Shaft to manipulate him into giving into these base desires and there was no war on humanity for him to wage. He was now just a simple man watching over a bunch of teenagers play a game of ball he still could not figure out.

Richter did however indulge himself in bringing back up his subweapons. He had spent much of his magic training fine-tuning the appearances and functions of his own subweapons to replicate the functions of the gear his ancestors used to carry around with them. Their appearances would be similar to their previous incarnations but still uniquely "Richter's". Conjuration magic was a school of sorcery he initially struggled with. The work was more than worth it though. Each and every weapon he could summon on a whim was very much so his own. He had "built" his daggers to have sleek handles that leant themselves specifically for being thrown in sets of three to five. The blade itself was sharp and sturdy enough to pierce even the thickest of plate. Unlike some of his ancestor's axes, he made sure that his were double-sided and weighed quite heavily in the center. A nice heft to the blades led to a steady arc and a devastating and almost crushing impact. His holy water would erupt into waves of fire of a brilliant greenish blue hue and his holy scriptures would protect him in erratic patterns to knock projectiles out of the air. His combat cross was something he spent probably the most time on. He needed something devastatingly accurate with a long travel time. Summoning one, he ran a finger across the four arms of his personal design. The might of the bloodline had been imbued in such an unassuming object. It was far too satisfying for his own good to throw the cross so he dispelled it to shelve the temptation for another day. Next up was his stopwatch. He had created it off of his ancestor's personal relic: The Pocket Watch. It was a rare artifact they carried with them into battle that granted them the ability to slow time for a brief period. Richter knew that he could do better. While he spent the most time perfecting the combat cross via combat, his stopwatch took the most time simply researching and practicing the feat of creation. His connection with the magical forces of light gave him powers far beyond most mortal comprehension but the ability to bend time to his whim remained a challenge that troubled him for years. It took him finding the original relic for a sense of understanding to wash over him. Thus, his Stopwatch was built. Allowing him to completely freeze time for a minimum of five seconds, only the most powerful of creatures were able to resist the effects. It was a feat he was quite proud of.

With a smirk, he flicked open the cover to the watch portion only to freeze in his tracks. The notion of investigating his other subweapons was lost completely as cold chills began to crawl up his arms and over his shoulders. On the door was a small, torn picture he had thought he lost long ago. It was of him, Annette, and Maria, surrounded by the countless villagers who survived the initial raid, the day they had returned from Dracula's Castle. He had been so worn down and battle-weary but on that day he felt like a champion to top all warriors. He was so proud of his accomplishment and he was surrounded by friends and family who believed the same. That he had vanquished Dracula for good this time, that the eternal loop of combat had come to an end. That he deserved a hero's welcome not knowing the atrocities he would commit just a few years later. That they were so naïve to miss the signs that he would singlehandedly kill 98% of the entire village's population. He had everyone fooled, himself included. To know of what he had done now to those in the picture...All Richter could do was close his eyes and lean his head back as the memories began to flood back. Her death had been following him ever since the moment he buried that axe. It was inescapable and the protective barrier he had built to stop the memories from returning had finally shattered. So with a death grip on his knees, he dropped the stopwatch and felt himself spiral back into his mind. It was time.

He remembered how warm the blood felt that soaked his long coat, the sound the dripping made as he walked across the stone pathways leading him through the countless village huts. He remembered that he chose a white tunic specifically to remind himself of how much combat he was enduring. Enduring was a strong word as well, more like thriving in. No one in that village, not a single damned soul, stood a chance. He was still in his prime at the time and had given his monsters the order to round up the stragglers and force them back into the town so they would meet his wrath. For some twisted reason, he saw it a game. A game of eternal glory that he was winning. Divine Bloodlines be damned, he had become the monster he sought to destroy and yet he was reveling in the chaos caused by it. A flick of his flail alone could decimate a man's ribcage even without the holy magic imbued in it. So many men fell before him on his quest to conquer. Women too, as well as the children. Not a single soul was spared. He remembered that he granted the children a quick death. There was no sport in slaying children but it had to be done to continue his campaign. So that he did. Spears, bows, daggers, swords, and axes attached to unfortunate individuals were used against him to no real effect. He was far too fast, far too well trained and with the expert experience of the land's strongest monster hunter. After all, he was a Belmont...and in his eyes, mankind was the monster.

It came to a point where the streets were littered with the corpses of the damned. Those few who remained had no spirit left to fight, those that did had been put down like the dogs he thought they were. Their deaths were practically mercy killings compared to what some of the village soldiers had received. A simple dagger to the head compared to limbs being torn asunder; bones being obliterated by a flail traveling at magically empowered speeds. His fire magic ensured that their deaths were slow and agonizing. But that was just the joy of the hunt, after all. At least that is what he told himself. Or what Shaft told him. The distinction was too blurry to make clear. Either way, his joy ride had reached its inevitable conclusion as the last soul in the village remained: Annette. He had ordered that his minions find her first and save her for last. He could not explain why, but there was an unbridled wrath in his soul that screamed for him to kill her right there and then. To spare her of the existence of becoming a servant of chaos, to prevent the torture she would inevitably suffer through. And thankfully, a bit of his own consciousness had shined through as he decided that yes, killing her would be the best idea. But getting to that point had been a long road. It was a debate that lasted even during the beatings.

She had been so happy at first to see him. If Richter had control over his heart, he would have heard it shatter into a thousand pieces. For that joy quickly turned to incontrollable fear. She had begged and pleaded for him to snap out of whatever spell he had fallen under. She shouted for someone, anyone, to free him not knowing that the bodies that littered the village around her were the people she was yelling for. She realized it soon enough though. And as Richter beat her into the ground for suggesting something as unholy as him being possessed, she never stopped talking. Trying to convince him to switch sides, to break free, and that it was never too late to atone and rejoin the side of good. It took a nearly broken jaw to awake something in her as she soon spotted something above the hunter. He hadn't known it at the time, but somehow she gained the power to see the dark magic at work controlling the Belmont. So she began speaking to the spirit inside him. No more pleading for things to change, she knew that time had long since passed. Instead she spoke to the locked up soul of Richter Belmont. Her lover, Wallachia's savior, and the kindest person she had ever known.

"I forgive you, my sweet iris. One day you too will forgive yourself. Keep being the man I know you are deep down. The man who spends his time living for everyone else instead of himself, the man who desperately needs each kid he meets to be happy and will plow through hell itself to achieve it, the man who surrounds himself with animals because he's too soft to say no to any beast, the man...the man that I've always loved. Fight for those who need protection and never stop being yourself. Goodbye, love."

For a single moment, her words had managed to steady his hand. His flail had fallen by his side. His grip was unsteady and he could feel his own spirit fighting tooth and nail to break the chains that had bound it to the path of corruption. But no matter how strong the Belmont had made himself, he simply couldn't outwill his possession. So despite his heart and soul screaming at him telling him to stop, he brought forth an axe and buried it without hesitation into her skull. His eyes were too wet to notice her corpse slump forward; from tears or blood he knew not. He was then surrounded by the stark sound of silence. The fire engulfing the village held not a single candle to the screaming inside his heart but despite it all, he thought it all to be quiet. So with a grin far too unlike his own, he walked back through his former home all the way to the castle and his awaiting minions. His heart and soul never healed and the screaming only died down the day his spirit was freed of Shaft.

So it had finally returned to him. If anything, Richter was surprised that it hadn't come back sooner than it did. The nightmares, the voices, and the faces finally took their place in his soul. He knew that it would never go away. The pain would only continue to shape his new life but the time of suppressing it had long since passed. Now all he could do was move forward and accept his fate of perpetual torment due to his own cursed past. Richter was a warrior but certainly not a Belmont. Not any longer. He'd have to earn the titleship back one day but that day would be a long time coming. He was given this new life to atone for the sins of the previous. It had to be the only explanation. He had much to atone for and the first step would be his own monsterkind. There was no denying it now. So he struggled to wipe away the flood of tears as he tried his damdnest to hide his shame. It was a fruitless effort as his tears once again hid something from him: the human child, Frisk, sitting in front of him holding his stopwatch. His palms were out in an offering gesture as if he was returning something that had been lost. He needed to get his own act together and push past the trauma. At least for their sake, for now. So with a feeble smile he graciously took the stopwatch and thumbed over the picture contained within. He'd do better for them. Richter snapped the lid shut and started to fiddle with the chain as Frisk moved over to sit next to the hunter. He said nothing and instead just pointed at the watch questionably. Richter debated what to say as a reply but decided on what was arguably the truth.

"Just a reminder of the past. Too many bad memories."

In a surprising twist, the kid nodded with what Richter could only describe as an understanding air. This teenager, this child, must have gone through much in his life already to exude a feeling like this. Maybe one day the Belmont would get the chance to learn more. There was so much to the history of monster kind that left him itching from curiosity. But instead they both sat there in silence as the rest of the teens were playing with the odd black rectangular devices in their hands/paws/mouth(?). It was a loaded albeit peaceful silence. The type oftentimes shared by warriors returning from the same battlefield. Maybe now would be a good time to ask some questions. He had never seen the kid speak though so it was possible that this was a completely useless venture. Still though, he thought it never hurt to try. So that he did.

"So-"

Or at least he tried. About a word in, one of the teens kicked the ball across the field angrily over something one of the others had said. With accidental pinpoint accuracy it was making a beeline straight towards Frisk's head. It was not a light ball either; an injury was guaranteed. He had no time to get out of the way, and Richter had no time to block it. If only he had been paying more attention to the situation. If only he had more time. But maybe, just maybe, he had that time after all. It wasn't intentional, at least not at first. His instincts knew that he had to act so with significantly less than a second to spare he summoned forth the energy he once relied upon so heavily. Clutching the stopwatch, he felt a surge of magic pulse out of his chest and flow down his arm into the device. It levitated above his head as time slowed to a complete halt.

F i v e

The distinct ticking of a clock echoed around him as his world was slowly drained of color. He had five seconds to act and prevent what was arguably an inevitable concussion. He began to lurch forward through the still air. It was like he was buried in mud. Richter doubted he would ever truly adjust to the sensation.

F o u r

He managed reach far enough to nudge the ball out of its trajectory. Not to the point that it would be obvious that something had altered its course, but still enough that the teenager wouldn't need a new set of teeth. Just to be on the safe side though, he turned his attention to Frisk.

e

All the Belmont needed to do was push the young lad's head down enough that even if he tried to dodge accidentally in the direction of the ball, he would still miss the impact. So that he did while ensuring that as little force was used as possible. Objects influenced under the absence of time offered no resistance and would usually continue to move in the direction they were "motivated" towards.

T w o

With a smirk, the scene had been set. Richter could feel the stopwatch above his head continue to drain more and more out of his magical reserves as the time ticked down. Just a single second left before it would dissipate completely and time would return to its normal form. He just had to get back into his original position.

O n e

He simply just leaned back against the wall and gently closed his eyes. He was so tired already. But the deed had been done and he took pride in it no matter how small the actual impact on their lives it would have created.

Z e r o

Richter could feel the air rush past his head as the ball collided with the wall of the house with a resounding thud. The paneling vibrated from the shock of the impact followed by the yelling of the kids. For his own part, he tried to act as shocked as possible. He checked up on Frisk who was more so startled than anything else. Unharmed and untouched. While the rest of the kids flocked to him and the noticeable dent in the wall panels, Asriel had not budged from his spot. He instead seemed to be nervously looking about. His eyes were darting back and forth on the search for...something. It was at that point that the two of them locked gazes and a brief glimpse of understanding flashed before the goat monster's eyes. His uneasy expression still remained. Richter didn't bother it with a response but it did put him on edge. Did he know? How could he? His ability to freeze time was far from something he was keen on revealing to others and it was most certainly not an ability he could take advantage of very often. Even in his prime he was only capable of using it a few times in quick succession before having to rest for a while. It saved his life on more than one occasion however so he considered it his be-all end-all escape ability. He never used it very often for fighting as he had a myriad of other abilities to rely on instead. It wore him out too much to be reliable in combat anyway. It was time to leave.

While the kids talked amongst themselves and Asriel slowly regained his senses and ran to Frisk's side, Richter stood to his feet rather shakily. He had to use the wall as leverage just to climb to his full height. It took just a moment though for his legs to steady and with that rebalancing he gave them his farewell and made his way back inside. Nearly concussing their friend should teach them to play a little less rough and there was little else the Belmont could do to protect them at the time anyway. Teenagers would be teenagers and their own penchant for violence would get them into trouble even if he was there. Instead, Richter could feel whatever energy he had left in his body drain with each step. First and foremost, he needed a nap. He was surprised that he had managed to remain conscious after the spell. It was no Item Crash but it still did just the same to his spirit. He simply just had to ignore the lightness in his head and the fading feeling in his limbs as he trudged forward through the front door. With it slamming shut behind him, he took a moment to collect what little stamina he had left. The day had rushed by so fast. Yet, as he looked at the clock which was barely visible from the kitchen, he could tell that it was still just past noon. Had it only really been an hour? It truly must have been then. He chalked it up to the distortion of time. It always tended to mess with his ability to tell the hour (along with giving him a minor case of nausea). He really needed to sleep.

Toriel and Sans were noticeably absent from the kitchen by the time the Belmont shambled through the living room. He hadn't the faintest idea where they wandered off to but it was safe to assume they wanted their privacy. The relationship of others was far from his own personal interests. The kitchen itself though was pleasantly immaculate and neatly organized (something that seemed to be an ever-mounting endeavor to maintain on days that the children were home instead of being at school). It made sense especially as Toriel's home seemed to serve as a meeting spot for many of the monster's population. Even if Richter had not seen them personally, he could most certainly hear them from his study. He slightly hoped that he might get the chance to meet them over time. The more he knew about this world, the better and they seemed like important figures in the community. Either that or the teens just had many friends. That was also likely. It really wasn't of importance. What was of importance though was the pleasant coma he wanted to fall into once he got to his bed. All he had to do was wait for the crash and he knew that even his former gods could do nothing to soften the blow. He was anticipating a nap rivaling his own "unbridled wrath. Maybe he'd get the chance to process the memories that had surfaced. Not rejecting them was a start.

The study was just as much of a mess as it had been when he left. Bandages littered the side of the bed along with discarded clothes, countless books and tomes were scattered about the entire room, and blueprints and miscellaneous parchment bits were covering every surface imaginable. He was almost impressed with how badly he destroyed the room, it was very much so unlike his older rooms in the past. Well, thinking back on it, that may not exactly be true. He did tend to get overly-involved with projects and lose sight of some of his own basic self-care. Cleanliness was one of those elements but if possible he tried to hide it from others. It wasn't exactly a good look for someone deemed to be humanity's savior. That was an entire life ago though, Richter thought, as he swept all of the paperwork and books off his bed. He miraculously had enough energy to sling off his boots before plummeting into the blankets. Initially the overwhelming warmth that the comforters provided made him uncomfortable. In his old cabins he at most had a layer of fur for warmth. His furnace was almost always running to keep the overall temperature decent but he wasn't a fan of being smothered. Yet he found himself with a taste for being buried in blankets now. Maybe it was from his time as Lord of the Castle, or potentially he was just letting himself be comforted by something outside of pursuing justice under the divine light. Either way it didn't damper the experience of snuggling into a pile of fluffy blankets and waiting for the darkness to consume his reality.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The faintest sound of something hard tapping on glass began to rouse him from his sleep; yet the nightmares followed. Even with the darkness cast upon him from behind his eyelids he was cursed with visions of endless wineglasses. Wine and blood being served interchangeably for the denizens of hell. The Count had kept a steady supply of both for his servants and the Belmont remembered all too well that he made sure he lived up to the same standards. Even though he was not much of a drinker in either sense, he had the common decency to treat his loyal subjects to the gifts of mankind. The greatest of banquets were held for whoever he deemed important enough to invite. The screams and yelling of the damned, those he had captured and strung up for the enjoyment of his servants, were accompanied by the music of the Hellfire Beasts. The orchestral experience was at the time the most divine moment the Belmont felt he had ever enjoyed in his entire lifetime. It helped muffle his own internal screaming at the atrocities he was committing. His perception of reality had been overwhelmingly warped and the voices in the back of his head continued to tell him that he was having a grand 'ol time. Who cared about hundreds of slaughtered men, women, and children a day if it meant there was a steady supply of meat for his army...even if they did not need to eat at all. His own diet was thankfully restricted. At least he hoped.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The tapping had grown in volume now and it was becoming increasingly obvious that it was coming from his window. Why he was never permitted to have a good nap, let alone nights rest, must have something to do with fate's petty revenge. Either that or the family just had a penchant for waking him up at the worst of hours with whatever noises they saw fit. Richter opened his eyes to see the room abysmally dark. It had to be late at night, had he really slept for that long? Rolling over and wiping away the drool that had formed on the blankets below, he could faintly see the glimmer of moonlight cast upon the ceiling. He was once again completely covered in sweat and desperately needed a new set of clothes. Maybe he could scrounge some up from the Altar, they did tend to fit more of his style anyway. A set of studded armor might make for some good casual wear if he could get a tunic to cover it. Then again, would he really need that much protection? It wasn't like he was constantly under the threat of being attacked every moment he spent away from his homestead. Or Toriel's homestead, technically. He took note of the idea mentally as he sat up and gave another gander to the room. It wasn't the moon that was lighting up the room. He had forgotten to lower the blinds for the window and thus the street light was shining inward. What caught Richter off guard though was the shadow being cast upon the opposite wall of the room from the window. That of a...bird? Had they formed a nest in his window? It would explain the tapping sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Speaking of which, there it was again. It might have been the Belmont's imagination, but he could have sworn that it was growing in volume and intensity. He guessed that the birds were trying to get in for...whatever reason. Maybe he could build a little birdhouse outside for them if they continued to nest there. Either way, he needed to address the situation. He swung his feet off the bed and recoiled slightly at the cold hardwood underneath. Good lord was it frigid. It certainly had to be late. Richter stood up, wrapped himself in a smaller blanket covered in snail print (she really had an obsession), and made his way over to the window. Lo and behold there it was: A fairly large raven tapping on the glass with its beak. It took notice of Richter's approaching form but ignored it in favor of its now favorite hobby of tapping on the glass. Of course. Its appearance struck the hunter as unusual though. He was detecting something in the back of his mind that was newly familiar. Almost as if a creature from the Altar was nearby. It was faint though, oh so faint, so it had to be far off. Yet why was this raven here? Things weren't lining up in his head. Either way he was growing tired of the tapping and just wanted to get back to sleep so with that in mind, he unlocked and opened the window. The raven stopped pecking but remained unmoving and simply stared at him. Again, unusual. He simply shrugged it off and began to make his way back to bed. He always had an unusual effect on animals.

He was about halfway to his bed when he noticed that he wasn't alone. He hadn't been for a while now if the stillness in the air was any indication to that despite the open window. He cursed under his breath for taking this long to detect their presence. How long had they been there, standing in the corner of the room? Richter spun around and lit his hand aflame to illuminate the mysterious figure only to see that it was once again the short skeleton. The flickering flame showcased the empty sockets completely absent of the white prick of light. Yet he know the monster was watching him. Why in the nine circles of Hell was he here stalking him this late at night? If he hadn't come to expect this of the skeleton he would have done far more than just simply accost the figure verbally. Richter wasn't under attack but part of him felt like it was still a possibility at any minute. He needed to address the situation.

"You better have a damn good explanation for why you're in here this late without my knowledge or permission. I didn't peg you as the stalker type."

Sans just let out a chuckle before walking forward to reveal himself completely. He was pajama clad and in all regards not posing a single threat to the Belmont whatsoever. But Richter knew that looks could be deceiving and maintained his guard. He wouldn't have been watched so fervently in the middle of the night if this was a simple message delivery or a pleasant chat. Was it an assessment? Or was the skeleton just waiting for a moment to catch him truly off-guard to strike? If that was the case then his nap-coma would have been the perfect opportunity. Sans would most likely not be willing to answer the question himself but this time the Belmont decided that saying no was not an option. This was a complete breach of privacy and one that could never have a repeat performance. Richter despised spies almost as much as he despised cultists which was saying quite a bit. He had rooted out and killed countless infiltrators in his village back in his earlier years and if the worst scenario had to happen, he would have no issues doing it all over again. But violence was not the answer this night as Sans finally spoke up.

"so i saw you and paps got a gameplan tomorra'. he'll love showing ya around even if he knew who you were. he thinks you're a good person... e."

The skeleton went to open the door to leave as if nothing happened, but Richter had enough of the ambiguous threats. He had enough of the overly watchful gazes and outright stalking. He was going to get the answers he sought even if he had to bring the rest of the family into it. The Belmont had kept his mouth shut about Sans' messages and hateful stares because he assumed the monster was just worried about another human being involved in the family. But at this point it had gotten to be far too much and if it continued, he would do what he must. So Richter extinguished his fire, turned on a lamp, and kicked a chair so it would tumble in front of the door. The noise was louder than what he had been expecting but the time for subtlety had passed long ago. On Sans' part, he simply just stood back and lazily shifted his gaze at the only human in the room. He didn't even look annoyed or bothered by the door being blocked. Richter cleared his throat, walked next to him, sat the chair upright, and sat down in front of the door. The only exit now was the window and he doubted the skeleton would dive through it like Richter had done in the past.

"I'm not too fond of repeating myself, Sans. What the hell were you doing in my room like this, just to watch? I've noticed this isn't the first time you've been keeping tabs on me but I never said anything. Didn't want to be a bother. But now, now you've crossed a line so you owe me an answer".

To Richter's surprise, Sans actually provided an answer. He had to sit through a comically exaggerated shrug, of course, but he was finally told what exactly the skeleton had been doing.

"was i keeping you in the dark? i'm just watching to make sure you don't hurt my family, that's all. simple as that. i know how your kind is like"

Richter was taken aback by the statement. Hurt his family? Why would he hurt a single soul here? This was the same family that carried his dying body from the forest to the master bedroom where they practically resurrected him and nursed him back to health. Twice. They had been nothing but kind to him and Richter had sworn his life to their name. He owed them so much, so what could he possibly gain from attacking anyone? It just didn't make a lick of sense. It seemed that Sans began to understand that too as soon as the words left his "mouth" as he gauged the Belmont's reaction. The skeletons' posture became less forced and more relaxed and the points of light in his eye sockets returned. If anything, Richter was offended by the notion. In all the time the monster spent watching him, did he not pick up on the fact that there was no malicious intent? Was he truly that terrible of a judge?

"Excuse me, but what? I guess that skull of yours really is empty if you don't think I owe this family my life! You think I would just peacefully sit here and then on the spur of the moment dash it all away? I thought with all that spying of yours you would know a little more about me than that. Who the hell are you to.., no, who the hell do you THINK you are to say something like that? Because you are certainly not their guardian if you're obsessed over so called threats like myself when the children in this house are almost assaulted on what I assume to be a daily basis. You weren't even there when those punks showed up. THOSE are the people you should be trying to intimidate, not me".

Richter could feel his blood begin to boil. The audacity this monster had to accuse him of such an intention after everything he had lived through up to this point. He understood being worried about your family, but actively stalking an otherwise friendly and injured houseguest was on a scale completely unforgivable to the Belmont. So after taking a moment to cool himself down, he quickly got to his feet, pushed the chair away from the door, and swung it open to reveal a barely lit hallway. Richter could feel the resentment growing each moment he spent thinking about the situation. He could not simply believe the accusations being hurled at him, the fact that Sans had ALWAYS suspected him of something. It explained so much. His collapsing body in the rain being denied entry to the only available shelter despite the fact that Sans had (according to Toriel) listened in on the conversation from earlier that night. If he wanted to talk about openly malicious intent, it was right there clear as day in the skeleton's behavior. It was clear that he wasn't wanted here, wasn't trusted to be here by the monster and what he assumed to be the father figure of the household. So as Sans began to leave, Richter spat out one last bit of information that he was positive the skeleton would enjoy hearing.

"Here, I'll do you a favor as you've been SO kind. This will be my last night in this household, I give you my word. After tomorrow you will never have to worry about me plotting the demise of your loved ones. It's up to you though to explain my absence to them as they deserve the truth from the source. I truly hope we never get the displeasure of meeting again. Mankind's fear and trepidation towards monsters is begging to make a little more sense if you are an example on what to expect".

And with that and Sans retreating form down the hallway, Richter shut the door and pressed his forehead against the wood. Of course he would be forced out of the only steady homestead he has had in arguably many years. Even before Shaft's possession had taken control completely, he could remember that he was oftentimes driven to seclusion by the torment slowly building in his soul. His role in that society had come to an end and yet Shaft refused to let him forget about it. It was replayed in his head every hour of every day. Richter fought for as long as he could with his own mental health, assuming it to be depression. At least that is what the surviving Village Elders had described it as. To everyone's surprise, his own including, it was something far more sinister. Guess this was just the past once again coming back to bite him in the ass. Richter thought he had been doing so well to make sure everyone was happy. Yet he guessed not everyone could be pleased. He'd have to return to the Altar and spend the week there. It would arguably make the assessment process easier though so at least there were a few positives. Not much to pack either, just a singular bag to fill and a room to clean. No more rest for him then.

The Belmont reached down to begin picking up the miscellaneous pieces of parchment and paper that littered the floor only to hear the distinct sound of a bird's wings flapping into the room. He cocked his head up to look at the windowsill to see the raven, accompanied by a few others, watching him. Was everyone this night out to just observe him? Even the birds were curious about his nature in this world. At least that is what he suspected initially until the handful of ravens were flocked by a hundred or so more as they rushed into the bedroom. What the hell? Richter could only dive to the floor as they swirled around in-front of the window blocking his escape. He couldn't open the door to the rest of the house in case they flooded through that opening. Having an army of angry ravens attack the rest of the house guests didn't seem like it would help his case as it would just certainly prove sans right. Richter REALLY despised that idea. So there he rested, on the floor, waiting for the birds to calm down. They eventually did as they...congealed into a singular mass. A tall figure shrouded in darkness took the space the hundred-something birds were occupying just a moment ago. The feeling of an altar monster's presence spiked in his body and it finally clicked: Karasuman. Had he been followed? It would explain the abundance of ravens ever since the day prior. Why was he here?

"Why are you here?"

The Lord of Ravens simply bowed with an elegant gesture before offering his hand down. Richter was a bit embarrassed by the theatrics but gladly took the hand and was promptly pulled up to his feet. Diving out of the way probably did not look the best to his fellow council member but there was nothing to be done about it now. He brushed off bits of whatever junk he managed to get stuck to him from the floor as he turned his attention to his sudden visitor. It, he, was once again overthinking what to say; his beak was slightly open in thought. Nothing too terribly surprising but it did mean that the Belmont had some time to continue cleaning. It was not soon after he began that Karasuman found his voice and more importantly, his words.

"Your flock was worried about your wellbeing and I took it upon myself to ensure its safety. I had planned on leaving you to your own devices, master, but once that skeleton had appeared in your room, I simply could not bear to stand by and do nothing. You were in a peaceful deep slumber, enough that his presence would remain unknown for the rest of the night unless you awoke. I hope you will forgive the intrusion."

With that, Karasuman began to nervously preen his feathers and at all costs avoided direct eye contact. Fitting although he was far from angry for this example of an outsider observing him even if it meant he was being watched in his sleep again. The beings of the altar were more than allowed to stand guard and hold the fort. Richter could feel that his soul trusted them with all his being. It was odd, his experiences as Shaft's Lord of the Castle had endeared the monsters to him even before he was willingly in control. Now to know that they each had their own personalities and feelings but yet still dedicated themselves to Richter's cause changed much of his outlook. He would entrust them with anything. Karasuman had been speaking the truth and nothing else although he suspected that there may have been more history to the reason why he felt the need to protect Richter in the first place. Either way though, he was happy to see him. The Belmont found that once again he was comforted by the presence of another creature of his own world. Even ignoring the connection they shared with the Altar, they were both members of the same cause. Like swordsmen being sent to war together for they united under the same banner. He wasn't so keen on the word master being slung around though. Upon thinking that, he could see the bird man visibly stiffen.

"Relax, it's fine. I'm glad that you've come, you can help me clean up this room and take back these supplies. I'll be returning to the Altar tomorrow afternoon and it'll be there that I will be living until the Village Project is underway. As I am sure you've seen, I am no longer welcome here."

The Lord of Ravens finally locked eyes with the Belmont in a display of understanding before quickly perking up. His attention was focused solely on the door and he nodded his beak in its direction to nonverbally alert the Belmont. Richter was unaware of what he had picked up but went along with it anyway. Turning around he noticed that it was just the door. Nothing much had changed...except the light being cast underneath it. A shadow of a figure standing beyond could be seen waiting outside; they must have been listening although for how long he knew not. Whoever it was probably deserved an explanation then on his situation before it escalated out of hand. Richter doubted that Sans had explained his departure yet and the teenagers would probably be just a smidge upset. They seem to take an invested interested in his presence even if they did not act like it, Asriel especially. So with a single knock, he signaled for whoever was out there to come in which they slowly did. The door was cracked and in popped the floppy eared head of (because of course) Asriel. A look of confusion and concern adorned his face until he spotted who else was in the room. Karasuman definitely made for an intimidating figure as he was after all a demonic lord to a degree. The large black wingspan, the anthropomorphic head of a raven (although he guessed to the monsters of this reality that was far from unexpected) and the lean albeit noticeably toned physique beneath the countless feathers and ornate onyx robes. To aid the kid in the process, Richter opened the door and ushered him in before closing it. Well here came the talk he had been hoping to avoid ever since his conversation with Sans. At least he did not have to wait very long for his fears to come to fruition.

Asriel simply looked up at the feathered figure in awe and quietly asked, "You're leaving us?" Karasuman was visibly embarrassed by the attention, awkwardly fiddling with his hands while he looked at Richter in the hopes that he would take the attention away. So of course the Belmont had to oblige. He offered the child a seat (which he took), turned it to face him, and began his dreaded explanation. These were never enjoyable and it reminded the hunter of the countless times he had to explain to children why their parents were never coming home again, or to families on why their friends would never return, or even to loyal vendors on why certain buyers were forever lost to the death that persisted in the woods not far from where they had stood. They were unknowingly living a life where a single day could pass during which they could, and oftentimes would, lose everything they ever cared about before. He doubted that Asriel was as attached as they were but he still disliked letting the youth down. Plus despite Sans and his misguided attempts at protection, Richter could still understand the root of the issue. He wanted to make sure damage control would not be an insurmountable task to the skeleton or the family as a whole. It didn't make the situation any less awkward though.

"Well, uh, as you probably heard, tonight is my last night here. Seems I have overstayed my welcome here. It's alright though! I've got too much work that needs to be done as is and you and your family have gone above and beyond what anyone could expect for hospitality. I owe your mother my life, to say the very least, and I will try to keep in touch with this family whenever I can. Formally though, I guess you could say this is goodbye. My outing with Papyrus tomorrow into town will be the last time I come to this house".

"It was Uncle Sans, wasn't it?"

Well that was straight to the point. Asriel hadn't even batted an eye at the notion or the explanation which led Richter to believe that the teenager may have been listening to his conversation with Sans as well. Sneaky. So there was no point in denying the truth (and the obvious). Richter just offered up a nod and the goat monster grumbled under his breath. His paws pulled and gripped his pajama bottoms absently in what was most likely a nervous tick. There really was no purpose in dwelling too much on the situation. He hoped Asriel could understand that. Besides, it wasn't like the Belmont would be gone forever. He would be living twenty or so minutes away in the forest if you could walk at a decent speed. For a teenager, that would be nothing! Richter just playfully pushed the kids shoulder while getting to his feet. He had more paperwork to pick up anyway and plenty more to say. He just did not want to look the monster in the eyes while saying it; false hope was far from his own motif.

"C'mon, this won't be the last time you see me! I'm sure your family will let you stop on by the forest to say hi. You could meet more of my, uh...-"

"You're looking for the term friends, mas-umph"

"-ah there it is, friends. I guess we are friends then."

Richter had to shoot down Karasuman's attempt of saying master in front of the teen. A piece of parchment in the beak worked just dandy for the job because he doubted that hearing the term would instill anything but negative connotations that would be all but impossible to dispel. But the Lord of Ravens had a point after all. He guessed at the end of the day, they were friends. They were spiritually linked after all so it was hard not to be on friendly terms with each other. Experience of fighting with, or in Karasuman's case against, each other oftentimes proved to be an excellent relationship foundation. He could honestly think fondly of many of the Altar creatures now knowing the information he did about their origin and their true nature. He was still just a smidge distrustful of the stronger demons and Death but that was something the Belmont was sure would pass in time. He turned his attention back to Asriel though who was staring him down with doubt all across his face. The expression didn't last long though as suddenly it seemed an idea popped into his head. He frantically searched around for that odd black device of his (which he found he was sitting on) and began to fiddle with it. Richter just gave a confused glance towards Karasuman who was now utterly embarrassed by the attention directed his way as well as the mouthful of paper still being stuck. It wasn't technically hazardous so the Belmont wasn't worried. Eventually Asriel spoke up with a dramatically happier tone of voice. Any degree of the usual shyness that litters his voice was gone.

"You said you're going out somewhere with Papyrus tomorrow? I need to go get some flowers from my dad in the city anyway so maybe we could all go together! If...you'd let me. I'm sure my mom would let me go with you. She trusts you. Uncle Sans can't stop us if my mom says so. Her word is law."

The idea took him back. Did Asriel really want to join in on this little "city adventure"? Richter was used to folks being uninterested in his work outside of the fact that he was keeping them safe. Any personal projects were usually long forgotten in their eyes the moment he stepped out of view. So for someone to actively want to be involved was a shock. Especially from a teenager as teenagers were, well, teenagers. But the notion did make him happy. It would be an excellent opportunity to ask more about the world they lived in and monsterkind's history. It should be safe as well...right? Richter could not honestly predict if the situation would be safe for the teen. Seeing a human with a monster apparently brings forth bad attention. Even more so when the kid is one of the two Monster Ambassadors. The hunter knew that he could keep him protected, but at what costs? Asriel could apparently see the thoughts racing through the Belmont's head as he just shook his own and laughed. Maybe there was more to the situation than met the eye. He certainly hoped so at least. Was it not as dangerous as he thought?

"Don't look so worried! We'll just stick with the safe districts. Humans don't really go there and the ones that do are usually very nice. I go in about once a week to see my dad. Besides, you and Uncle Papyrus can keep me safe! It wouldn't be the first time you've done it for us.

Not the first time? Wait, did that mean..

"You can't fool me, silly. I felt what happened. Frisk-"

He was interrupted by a yawn that wracked his entire body, requiring him a moment to recover before he picked up right where he left off.

"-probably did too. Thank you though, for that. Watching over us I mean. We're used to fending for ourselves".

Of course there were folks here that could detect time magic. In his own world only the strongest of demons were able to resist the effects. Did that mean that these children...no. that couldn't be. It was just purely coincidental. More importantly though was the fact the kid was losing steam. Richter could see Karasuman in the corner of his eye step forward instinctively as Asriel began to slump forward. Guess he was a bit protective of the youth then, eh? Another humanizing trait of the monsters of the Altar that he could have never guessed. So Richter knew what must be done. With a simple nod and a grin towards the raven monster, Karasuman nodded politely before sweeping the goat teen into his arms and out the door. The quiet sounds of complaining were drowned out by his own monster's hushed whispering as they walked further and further away. The less time Asriel spent staying up, the better. Besides, the Belmont was getting awfully tired and he had no idea when Papyrus would show up for their little get-together out in the city. It probably would be quite the walk. So he simply closed his window, grabbed the rest of the blankets that had fallen on the floor (while reminding himself to pick up his work the next morning), and flopped into bed for the second time that night. He was tired beyond belief and he simply just wanted to get some proper rest. He just hoped that he could sleep in his Den without getting woken up by someone else's opus of issues. So with a quiet smile amid a sea of blankets, he fell back into unconsciousness.