《One Circle》 One Circle How would you feel, If your world changed overnight, Yet seems so familiar? Such clich¨¦ moments. Such mundane happenings. Still, every time, your heart beats caring. The past, repeating. The present, transient. The future, set in stone. But, You want all these to matter. Vowed by your Determined life unfolding, Not every story concludes at ¡°The End¡±. * * * December 26th, 2069, 7.12 p.m. It was Boxing Day. A day like any other Boxing Day. Except for the monsters, the artificial magic snow, and the great many giant Christmas Boxes that had amassed at the foot of Mount Ebott. Wait a minute! You were sure yesterday there was nothing there at all. Unlike the rest of town, that particular area on the west side of the mountain had been left bare ever since you and Dad emptied out the kingdom¡¯s coffers and bought the land. The sight left you flabbergasted. Suddenly, there were boxes upon boxes, stretching out to the horizon. There were bush-sized boxes, tree-sized boxes, next to mailbox-sized boxes, lamppost-sized boxes. Never mind the building-sized ones! What even happened? A pair of Froggits hopped on over, eager to answer all your questions. ¡°Ribbit, ribbit! Croak, croak! Meow!¡± Oh! That explains it. Just the other day, your monster friends had learned that the 2nd of Christmas was what the humans called ¡®Boxing Day¡¯. As usual ¨C monsters being monsters ¨C they took the meaning a little too literally. Every one banded together for a group project, and thus here you were: surrounded by boxes. Impressive as always, guys! Teamwork truly makes the dream work. You wanted to ask them what was inside. However, the freshly-complimented Froggits were so filled with glee, they had already hopped onward to their next destination, wherever that may be. At that instant, the MTT-Studio van drove onto the scene, stopping nearby you. Mettaton in his iconic box form rolled right out. ¡°Oh Frisky-darling! You¡¯re here early!¡± Yup. You had Mom¡¯s permission too. ¡°Lucky you, sweetheart! Your father is here to officiate the grand Boxing Day Unboxing. In fact, he¡¯s exiting my van right now!¡± A pair of horns poked out from the other side of MTT¡¯s van just when Mettaton finished his sentence. Former King Asgore ¨C your new adoptive father ¨C appeared wearing his seasonal Santa suit. You ran up to him to give a huge big hug. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you here, my child. Hmm, am I using these ¡®contractions¡¯ correctly? It is-- I mean, it¡¯s taking a while to get used to.¡± Yep, yep! He¡¯s doing great. What¡¯s the occasion? ¡°Ah, you see, I¡¯ve learned much about the Surface¡¯s tradition of Christmas. For example: they do not celebrate it on a whim like we do. They have a very set date across the world in respect to its religious roots. Therefore¡­ on this 2nd day of Christmas on our 2nd Christmas of the year. I thought it would fit the occasion if we give the townspeople the surprise of a lifetime. A gift of gifts, so to say.¡± Mettaton spun around. ¡°And that¡¯s why MTT Studio is here to record this major historical event! And to set up the ribbons.¡± Ribbons? ¡°Why yes! We need some of them to section off the area for the unveiling. The rest is to fancy up the boxes. After all, what are presents without a gratuitous mountain of ribbons? Anyways, leave all the complicated matters to me and my crew, darling. You just prepare yourself to be on camera.¡± Heh heh, part of the new Ambassador job, right? ¡°Exactly! Toodles. Until we meet again soon~~¡± And so, Mettaton¡¯s staff got to work. The back of the van opened up to reveal all sorts of equipment: from microphones to speakers, as well as cameras, and rolls and rolls of cloth. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Citizens started trickling in. Some of them arrived carrying a slip with a number on it. Dad welcomed each one of them in person. He said: ¡°Please keep the prize slip on you at all times.¡± Over the course of the evening, a whole crowd had amassed at the border of the box zone. Peddlers of warm drinks and snacks started to appear. Sans was one of them, as usual. He had his stand set up at the first opportunity. ¡°Hey kiddo,¡± Sans greeted, ¡°You¡¯re here too, huh? Not feeling too frigid?¡± You showed him your warm clothes with a smile. Mom made sure you¡¯re ready. One hotdog for you and Dad, please. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s hot choco tonight. Want one anyway?¡± ¡­Sans is not gonna give you a heated chocolate bar on a sandwich, right? ¡°I could, but nah. It¡¯s honest to goodness drinks tonight. Here, take a look.¡± He poured one paper cup of the sweet liquidy goodness as a sample. Yep. It¡¯s definitely a proper drink. If that¡¯s the case, one cup of the good stuff for you and Dad. ¡°With whipped cream or no cream? Any marshmallows?¡± Hmmm¡­ how about both? ¡°Two hot chocolates with whipped cream and marshmallows coming right up.¡± You expected some kind of a dumb prank to crop up somewhere. However, much to your surprise, what came out was a normal, serious, and delicious product. ¡°Heh,¡± said Sans, ¡°Even a jokester like me gotta take a break once in a while. Welp. Time for ya to get going. Don¡¯t want the drink to cool down too much, y¡¯know.¡± Yup, yup. You thanked Sans, paid the money, picked up the drinks, and then happily made your way back to your Dad. Huh? You spotted some humans in winter clothes among the queue of monsters, lining up to get a drink of their own. It wouldn¡¯t surprise you if curious tourists drove the distance to Ebott Town for the occasion. After all, your settlement had opened its doors to visitors since Halloween. Among them, you spotted an old grandma with a dark blue shawl and a masquerade mask. Huh, you don¡¯t remember seeing someone like her around before, ever. Today ain¡¯t Halloween either. The grandma turned her head towards you. Upon that instant, a sudden oppressive chill seeped into your bones. ¡­W-what¡¯s this? The last time you had this sensation¡­ you¡­ you felt your sins crawl on your back¡­ Why? What was causing it? Could it be¡­ Your thoughts were interrupted when a young, cute, and spry lady walked past you. Huh¡­ The strange chill stopped. Perhaps it was the wind? Maybe you were getting too paranoid too soon. In the young lady¡¯s hands, there were two cups of hot chocolates without whipped cream or marshmallow. Le gasp. ¡°Here¡¯s your hot choc!¡± ¡°Ah, thank you Anise. You¡¯re a sweetheart.¡± The young one must be either her granddaughter or grand niece. How adorable! You excused your way through the crowd and reached your Dad at long last. ¡°Hot chocolate? For me?¡± said Dad. You nodded. Well, what¡¯s left of the heat at least. ¡°Thank you so much, my dear child. Ah¡­ Asriel would¡¯ve loved this.¡± A moment of grief flashed in Dad¡¯s eyes. But then, he soon snapped himself out of it. ¡°I apologise. Frisk, we should first enjoy our drink together. Then, afterwards, get ready.¡± ¡­Yeah. The moment of truth soon arrived. A ribbon stretched across the full length of the road, separating the crowd from the boxified west side of town. You looked forward to the event with anticipation. Mettaton, acting as the master of ceremony, began his MTT-brand introduction. ¡°Beauties and Gentlebeauties, welcome to our very first Boxing Day on the Surface! What is this strange after-Christmas event, you ask? Well, Christmas is a very, very busy season for humanity. Many of them have to work on that auspicious day, the horror! Thankfully, some thoughtful bosses compensated the staff with a day-off after the festivities were over. Employees were given boxed gifts as an appreciation for their tireless efforts. And so, Boxing Day was born!¡± ¡°What a nice little slice of history, don¡¯t you think? Without further ado, let¡¯s get the show on the road. Wave your prize slips above your head, everyone!¡± The monsters raised their slips high in the air. ¡°Wonderful! The Dreemurr Kingdom has prepared these for you as a sign of gratitude for all the years we¡¯ve been together in the Underground. We would love nothing more than to see you live happy, fulfilled lives as free monsters on The Surface.¡± ¡°Once our Ambassador of Monsterkind officiates the proceedings, please look for a box with your number on it. Give the decorated container a little charge of magic and poof! It shall be yours to claim!¡± Mettaton himself presented you with a humongous pair of scissors, so big that you had to hold it together with Dad. He may have abdicated the throne, but he¡¯s still the people¡¯s guest of honour. ¡°Please cut the ribbon, my darlings~~~!¡± One, two, three! On the count to three, you and Dad snipped the ribbon in half. People cheered as the loose ends fell on the road. Monsters moved in to look for their gifts. Some picked up the smaller packages piled by the side, others gathered in front of the building-sized boxes. Many pulses of magic later, the packaging puffed into a spray of colourful paper confetti. The monster folk gasped in wonder. ¡°Apartment keys!¡± ¡°M-my first house on the Surface, with a yard!¡± ¡°My application for a grocery store passed?!?!¡± ¡°Studio for clubs! A real studio!¡± ¡°Yaaaaaay! Playground! Playground!¡± ¡°This is going to be such a beautiful garden when Spring comes.¡± In other words, this year¡¯s gift for the people was a whole new district. How did they manage to hide from you all this time? Dad leaned close to your ear and whispered: ¡°A little illusion magic goes a long way.¡± Oooh, cheeky. Mettaton gave Dad the microphone. As Santa, the Former King of Monsters thus said: ¡°Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!¡± You watched the jolly celebrations with a nostalgic smile on your face. On one hand, you¡¯re happy to see them happy: this scene never gets old, regardless of how often you¡¯ve seen it. On the other hand¡­ this marks the end of your peaceful trouble-free year. When the calendar ticks to 2070, all sorts of turmoil would start storming in. Anxiety would later haunt your sleep. You never got used to that either. * * * Ring, ring, ring, so the phone went. ¡°Report, Anise Anise. ¡­Hmm. I see. What did that short skeleton sell this time? ¡­Regular hot chocolate? No heated chocolate bars on a sandwich? Noted.¡± ¡°Artificer Willowherb has a message for me? ¡­Hmm¡­ It¡¯s worse than I thought¡­ I¡¯ll inform Judge Caraway about her observations. Please send my thanks to the Artificer for her advice. Be sure to escort her back to her village safe and sound.¡± ¡°Merry Christmas to you too. Please enjoy the rest of your leave. Goodnight.¡± Click. ¡°¡­Yet another cycle with minimal changes. The child excels at keeping up appearances. Come next year, I must put my plans in motion. When will this one circle be broken, I wonder?¡± Bonus Chapter 4.5 In the dark of night, Papyrus lay in his car bed with his sockets closed and his bony brows furrowed. Tossing and turning, his once so peaceful slumber was disrupted by a restlessness that gripped him tight. As his skeletal fingers clutched his pillow, orange flames seeped out of his right eye, preventing him from finding solace. This fire¡­ The Seer''s Eye.. it was the product of an ability, sealed long ago, yet now on the verge of awakening. And it was determined to simmer when nobody¡¯s watching. As it did so, vivid sights and sounds, as well as smells, manifested within the depths of his subconscious. What the dream showed¡­ They were visions of the past. Visions of the present. And visions of the future. * * * Two familiar shorties, Sans and Frisk, sat down together on the couch. Though they had made themselves comfortable, the situation was far from comfy. Frisk, the monster''s ambassador, had broken down crying. What struggles challenged them... What troubles plagued them... And what pains ailed them... No one knew. Only Sans, his beloved brother, might have some inkling of the hidden truth. ¡°Hey, kid." He tried to console them, saying: "You¡¯re not alone, y¡¯know. You got Toriel. Asgore. Papyrus. Undyne. Alphys. Every monster in Ebott. We¡¯re all willing to help. Even lazy ol¡¯ me.¡± Sporting his trademark clown-face, he asked: ¡°Mind giving me some motivation?¡± The human peeked out from the corner of their eye, curious yet reluctant at the proposal. ¡°You know I hate making promises, kid. But when I do, I follow it through." In an unusual gesture, he extended his pinky in oath. "Will you do the same? If we overcome this, promise me that you¡¯ll never RESET again. Keep that power under lock and key. Forever.¡± Wiping their tears away with one hand, the other wrapped its soft finger wrapped around Sans'' bony bone. ¡°Welp. The deed¡¯s done.¡± Now there was no more turning back the clock. * * * ¡°You who declare yourselves as saviours¡­¡± a man''s stern voice bellowed. * * * A female mystery Magus showed up, a Vanquisher dressed like a noir detective. She tipped her hat, then outstretched her arms. The lass exuded a formidable aura, striking a unique combination of femininity, power and undeniable suave cool. But, what caught Papyrus'' attention the most, was the intricately crafted pocket watch that hung around her neck from a black cord, gleaming in the sunlight. On its casing, stood the symbol of a four-point star. He remembered: that golden star of brilliant light had set them free from the Underground, their SOULs becoming like birds in the vast open skies. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. * * * ¡°¡­I accept your challenge.¡± * * * On a cold, cloudy day, the overcast was as pale as the snowy land beneath. In the middle of a flat field, standing out against the whiteness, was a skeleton whose body flowed like a blotch of ink on paper. Darker yet darker. Upon the first opportunity, Sans summoned his Gasterblasters and fired at will. Snow scattered in the air from the force of every beam and bone he conjured. Never before had Papyrus seen his brother fight with such killing intent. One could not help but wonder if Sans was secretly an assassin in disguise. * * * Next, Papyrus¡¯ own image appeared, fighting a human that resembled Frisk but was not Frisk. A clash of blade and bone ensued amidst dusty laboratory halls. The child was evil, Papyrus could sense: a DEMON in the flesh. And he... he stood on the side of Justice: a great hero like no other. His heart fluttered at the endless possibilities. * * * Bone versus bone. Brother versus brother. Assassin versus hero. His brother¡¯s Eye flashed between too many colours, each driven by an arcane magic circle of his own creation. Papyrus¡¯ Eye burned too, with a bright orange light cloaking his body. One could say sheer power radiated from his being. It condensed deep into his bones. In time, the both of them would come to see how this clash would not play by the standard rules of monster combat. Instead, for their destined battle, there''d be no such thing as turns. * * * ¡°Prove to me the strength of your determination!¡± * * * Finally, the source of the voice revealed himself. Behind the most ornate of doors, in a bright lit room of nothing but white, awaited a person wearing fancy clothes. He was a human, a magus mister, though somehow closer in vibe to the vampires of yore? The intimidating kind that''d steal your lifeforce without warning. From the shadows, you stepped forward, Determined though not quite ready for what was to come. Then, you felt something hit your chest. Like a small pebble kicked up by a car¡¯s tyre. When you looked down you realised that something had gone horribly wrong. Blood spread around a small puncture wound on your chest, staining your striped shirt. But wait. Weren''t you a skeleton? As far as you were aware, SKELETONS DID NOT BLEED! And you hadn¡¯t worn a striped shirt in YEARS! Those small, fleshy hands¡­ they belonged to Frisk. They were the one who had been bleeding. From their 2nd person point of view, Papyrus had witnessed how the magus had fired his gun and planted the Mark of the Butterfly on their being. That one shot could very well have been an immediate death sentence, should such a willful judgement be imposed. Despite everything, mercy born of sentimentality was their sole saving grace. * * * For certain, a whirlwind of chaos followed Sans and Frisk''s fateful pinky promise. The Surface thereafter was a real wild ride. Yet nothing could have prepared Papyrus for the grand finale. A quiet town at the foot of Mount Ebott basked in the spring sun. A dusty town at the foot of Mount Ebott burned to the ground. Pinky promise or no pinky promise. When faced with such calamity¡­ Papyrus hoped that the light could illuminate the darkness. That, if given no choice, THEY''LL RESET for the betterment of monsterkind. * * * The dreamer awoke with a gasp. ¡°W-WHAT WAS THAT??? A¡­ DREAM?¡± Said Papyrus, confused. Bereft of fuel, the orange flames of the Seer''s Eye had died out. And just like that, the dream was forgotten. In a dazed autopilot, he reached into his ribcage, straight through his pyjama collar, and pulled out an old vintage alarm clock: the round type with twin bells on the top. It was 8 a.m. the analog display read. "OH NO! I MUST GET READY OR ELSE I''LL BE LATE!" Time waits for no man, or skel. Posthaste, he hopped into his battle body and dashed out of the house, bread slice in mouth. ¡°NYEH!¡± He yelled, muffled by his frantic chewing. * * * Little did the Papyrus recognise that the young Seer himself was actually being watched. On a monitor, far, far away from Ebott Town, a trio of Mages discussed how to proceed from here. The Magi had caught wind of Papyrus'' untapped potential and thought: perhaps, only perhaps, he could be essential to guiding Frisk back on the path of good. After all, fate revolved around that child. That child who he so affectionately would end up calling¡­ The Golden Quiche.