Grillby had yet to return.
Life in the Underground continued as usual. Muffet’s cafe became the new hangout spot. The Grillby-shaped gap in everyone's heart slowly faded into the standard routine of waking up, working, eating, and going back to bed…
But there was a lingering sense of unease. More so for people who knew him in person. Family members. Sans. Papyrus. Undyne.
Doctor Gaster.
The goopy skeleton stared at the date on his computer’s monitor. Sighed.
Sans rose a brow. “I thought you two parted on cold terms?”
“Not that cold, for goodness sake! It was amicable.” Gaster replied. “And, I… still think of him as a dear friend. In the past, I knew he would be safe in Snowdin. In his dingy bar, doing his ‘hobby’. Now I have no clue whether or not he still lives. It’s eating into me, Sans.”
“How long has it been?” he asked back.
“Let’s see. When Undyne finished her mission, it was right after that hideous Halloween festival. Today, it’s the beginning of Summer. That’s about eight months.”
“Eight months already? Damn. That’s quick.”
Yeah… The whole deal felt like yesterday.
“Welp. Life goes on.”
Sans left Gaster ruminating at his screen. That man… he’s not paying attention to his surroundings anymore; his mind can sure wander to strange places.
* * *
After work, Sans went to the Ruins’ gate at Snowdin.
Sat down by the door.
Leaned against it.
Then, he knocked it twice with the back of his knuckles.
“Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?” an old woman replied from the other side.
“Mikey,” Sans answered.
“Mikey who?”
“Mikey doesn’t fit into the keyhole.”
Both of them broke into laughter. Just like the old days.
Sans then asked. “How’s it going, Tori?”
“The expansion project is going well. What about you?”
“Same old, same old. Welp. As much as it could be the same without Grillby’s.”
Toriel’s turned a little morose. “Did the humans get him, I wonder?”
Sans snorted. “Probably not. He looks gentle, but dang he can give a real whoop. Something like uh… King Asgore, I guess.”
Awkwardness lingered in the air.
Sans leaned his skull against the door. “Tori. If you need any help, I’m here.”
“No,” she replied. “I had troubled you enough. Sans, I appreciate your efforts. But… I just can’t bring myself to talk to Asgore.”
“When was the last time he tried striking a new conversation?”
Toriel remained silent.
Sans grunted. “He just kept to his damn garden again, didn’t he? Undyne and I are the ones practically running the state now. Look, say the word and I’ll--”
“Please,” the queen replied. “Do not. Asgore and I… We… We made an agreement. He said he would patiently wait for me to return to him.”
“Sans, do not worry. I would not be so irresponsible as to vacate without a word. The people have placed their hopes in me.”
In the end, it’s for nothing?
………………
Welp. Guess they had bad dice rolls, picked the negative dialogue choices…
Sans shrugged. “Okay. If that’s what you want. Hey Tori, it’s your turn to make a joke.”
Toriel cleared her throat. Then, two knocks.
“Knock, knock,” she said.
“Who’s there?” he answered.
“A broken pencil.”
I know where this leads.
Don’t want to go there, but… since when do I have the final say?
He replied, “A broken pencil who?”
Toriel responded with the expected punchline. “Never mind. It’s pointless.”
“Aww c’mon Tori, you stole my thunder. That quasi-nihilistic stuff is my specialty.”
She burst into a giggle.
“Oh, don’t be so greedy. Can’t you throw a bone to a little ol’ lady like me?”
…I love this woman.
* * *
Sans fell asleep on his table. Burned too much midnight oil trying to juggle both business and national administration.
By now, Asgore had become too despondent to rule on his own.
“SAAAAAAAAANS!”
There’s the classic wakeup call.
Papyrus never fails to brighten up the day with his booming voice.
He felt his brother shaking him. But, Sans wanted to rest for a little while longer. He could attend to matters later.
Maybe another piece of equipment broke down.
Maybe the orders came late.
Maybe Queen Toriel called for him again.
It can wait. Everything can wait.
Except…
“GRILLBY IS BACK!!!”
Sans shot up so fast, he almost knocked his skull into his brother’s face.
“Wait. Wait what? He’s back?!”
“INDEED. AFTER A TOTAL OF 9 MONTHS, 21 DAYS, 12 HOURS, 27 MINUTES, AND 31 SECONDS!”
Papyrus started sparkling in admiration. “THE SCOUTS TOLD US THAT HE’S DONNING THIS AWESOME ARMOUR AND AN ILLUSTRIOUS CAPE! WISH I HAVE THE AUTHORIZATION TO SEE HIM FOR MYSELF.”
Armour? He left his old gear behind.
“AND FOR SOME REASON HE HAS A BROADSWORD NOW. I THOUGHT THE HUMANS LONG DITCHED THEIR OLD WAR WEAPONS! IS HE DOING THIS ‘COSPLAYING’ THING? MAYBE HE FOUND A BUSTLING NEW CAREER ON THE SURFACE!”
A… sword…?
In ancient Surface tradition, swords symbolize authority. Military authority.
Sans had a bad feeling about this. To confirm his suspicions, he must inspect the symbols and decorations of this new gear.
If it’s of Dreemurr design, he won’t have anything to worry about.
But if Grillby wore any other symbols…
“EITHER WAY, YOU BETTER GET GOING BEFORE UNDYNE WRECKS THE OFFICE. I REFUSE TO LET OUR DOCUMENTS SUFFER UNNECESSARY RECYCLING!”
“Thanks bro. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be late, ok? Cya! Bye--”
Sans was sure that his brother yelled something about straightening his tie.
But it was too late: he had already begun warping his way to The Core.
* * *
When the tornado of colours settled down, Sans found himself standing in a hollowed out cavern. The sole source of lighting came from a hanging ceiling lamp.
Though dim, Sans recognized this place by its interiors.
This looks familiar.
The ‘exit end’ of the wormhole system was situated inside of a neighbouring mountain.
I saw this in one of Gaster’s books. Sage Shirai’s testimony.
Way back during the warring times, refugees had settled at the fringes of the Dreemurr Nation while they waited for integration. Some opted for the trees, while the more earth-loving folk dug out places such as these to live in.
…Until they were forcefully rounded up for The Sealing.
He began to follow Undyne out through a root-encrusted tunnel.
Sans knew it’s not a natural structure due to its straight path. An observant person could also still find many remnants of the old wooden supports.
Then there's the cameras. Cameras everywhere. Alphys sure as hell didn’t take any chances.
At the far end of the tunnel, they arrived at what ‘appeared’ to be a solid rock wall.
Sensors recognized their presence and confirmed their identity. In response, the barricade parted down the middle to let the duo through before closing back up. Mechanized and camouflaged, this secret door ensured nary an adventurer would ever find the one true path toward to the Gram.
Convenient.
Not much later, sunlight flooded their eyes. There, on the Surface, they met their surprise guest standing near the steep mountain edge.
It’s a knight.
An actual knight.
His back faced them; he's looking over the land, toward the horizon where Mount Ebott rests under the hues of the setting sun.
Is it out of boredom? Sans wondered.
Curiosity? Wonder?
Or perhaps… nostalgia?
Scouts state that this person should be Grillby… but they’re not seeing any signs of his distinctive orange flame.
In contrast to the man made of literal fire, this knight of mystery clad himself in dark armour.
Face, hidden.
Helmet, equipped. And decorated with fanciful winged plates.
While he waited, cold winds blew against his ink-black cape. Crimson filigree of oak-leaf ivy lined the flapping edges, screaming high craftsmanship with each and every breeze.
The currents soon halted, letting the cape rest. It revealed the ornate details in crystal clarity. Sans now saw how the patterns converged toward the middle, weaving those twisting, delicate fractals into a distinct shape.
The Ace of Spades.
Huh? I think… I think I’ve seen this symbol before.
Where was it again? The Crimson Hall?
Who does it belong to?
The man in armour turned around. Platinum-white engravings of wind and flame contrasted against the polished black metal, glimmering under the evening sun. It gave the illusion of intense fires burning within a vast, imperceivable void.
Could it be an impostor? I’m hoping that’s the case.
Elaborate gear often served as a proud statement of the host nation. It’s the best of their culture, expertise, and wealth condensed on a representative. The higher the rank, the more they will invest.
But, what else can it do?
Sans tried to scan ‘Grillby’ with his Truesight. He couldn’t retrieve much data: most of it were gibberish strings of glitched text.
Defensive systems, huh. That gear’s not just for show.
Just how important is this guy?
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Finally, the man of mystery spoke: “…Salutations… I am Sir Grillbz Grillenn… Knight of House Berendin…”
Undyne and Sans stared at him in shock. They’re trying to wrap their heads around the new development.
What in the world happened?
Where did it all go wrong?
Why?
After a long pause, Undyne broke through the silence with a disbelieving question.
“Grillby?” she asked, “Is. Is that really you?”
The man replied: “…Yes… I used to go by that name… Although that is in the past…”
“But, you said you’re a knight of… something or another? I think… that technically makes you a traitor?!?!”
“…Captain Undyne… I apologize… You sent me as a Dreemurr Agent… but I returned as a Berendin Knight…”
Sans narrowed his gaze. “Depending on the circumstances, the punishment for treason is either life imprisonment, exile, or the death penalty. You’re also banned from entering our nation at this moment, of course.”
“…Heh… Funny ‘you’ should say that, comedian…”
His tone completely changed when he turned towards Sans. Lifted his chin to stare down in vindictive disdain.
He then unsheathed his broadsword and pointed it at the short one. A gleam of white light radiated from the razor sharp edge.
“What the fuck is the meaning of this?!” Undyne sneered. “I’m giving you three seconds to explain your shit. You can’t just accuse people out of nowhere!”
She grit her teeth. Breathing rate, rising.
“…The Council of Lemuria holds Sans Serif responsible for high treason against magic-kind… For he had single-handedly destroyed The Magus Association… and caused the death of countless innocents…”
“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!! Sans… Sans would NEVER betray anyone. And neither would Grillby!”
Spears, summoned. They spun around in mid-air, preparing to rain down upon her unfortunate target.
“En garde, you fake!”
There they go. Sans let Undyne jump in head first. Nothing he’d say could stop her anyway. Plus he wanted to see what sort of technology hid under that medieval-esque design.
In one swift swing of his broadsword, the knight sent out a strong gust of embered wind. It’s forceful enough to knock each spear out of their oncoming trajectory.
Water splashed by the side, none hitting their intended target.
The dying sparks floated down like snow. Sans’ Eye identified the magic to match his old trainer.
Undyne wanted to have a second go, but this time he stopped her.
“It really is Grillby.” Said the skeleton. “I’m getting a positive ID on his magic.”
The knight halted his offensive and stabbed his broadsword into the earth. With his hands free, he removed his helmet.
As Sans had said, it really was Grillby.
Skeleton to fire, fire to skeleton. The fishy captain didn’t know what to think. Her lips opened and closed a few times as she struggled hard to build a coherent sentence.
“W-Why?” She asked. “I-I trusted you. Enough to send you alone as a special agent. Why did you commit treason?!”
Grillby lowered his head to his former comrade. The guilt does exist. “…I know it looks bad… And I don’t have a good excuse… But… it’s complicated…”
“Well, quit beating around the bush then.” She yelled in his face: “Start explaining! NOW!”
A true professional through and through, Grillby didn’t flinch.
“…From the beginning?…”
“YEAH! From the beginning!”
“…It’s too long a story… Let me just ask you this… Do you still remember the woman who haunted my dreams?…”
“The curly-haired skelly ojou-sama?”
“…None other…” Grillby replied, “…The dreams grew stronger as I travelled… They became more vivid… Real… Until they stopped being mere dreams… She began to relay messages… Guiding me… Telling where to go and what to do… Protected me from Gungnir when they’re on my trail…”
“…We finally met at the tail end of my journey… And she told me the truth of this world… Of the bright future that once was… Since then I consider Sans Serif as an enemy…”
It all made sense now. Sans furrowed his brows.
Blue. Green. Purple.
I think I know what happened. Other than Papyrus, Grillby spent the most time by her side. Defended her from Gungnir.
She must have augmented his dejavu into recurring dreams. Probably counted on their positive interactions to draw out Sir Fire. Exploited the circumstances like a real RPG princess.
It’s… super effective.
The skeleton chuckled. Shook his head. Couldn’t resist commenting on this turn of events.
“So,” he said, “You sold yourself to an influential family. Thought they could provide the proper leverage? I had hoped you’d have a bit more pride as the ex-Captain of the Royal Guard.”
That biting remark earned a piercing glare from Sir Grillen. “…Coming from you, that’s poor taste… Try saying the same before my Lady… The lonely widow whom you had created…”
…………
I don’t have a valid comeback against that. Lucidia won’t be showing her ‘Kindness’ to the man who got her husband killed.
Undyne sighed. She had calmed down, though it’s difficult to tell if she’s simply disheartened from the turn of events.
“Okay…. ‘Sir’ Grillenn. Your new nation, what’s their goal? I don’t think you came here just to pick a fight with Sans. Not by your lonesome at least.”
Grillby answered: “…Correct… I also bring a warning to the entire Dreemurr Nation… For you see, your days are numbered…”
“…The Persona knows about the legend… In seven days he will arrive… It is inevitable…”
“…But not all hope is lost…”
He pointed towards the sky above Mount Ebott.
“…Keep your sights there…”
Sans and Undyne did as they were told.
A section of the sky began to ripple. The shadow of a tremendous structure soon materialized into full view.
They dropped their jaws.
A floating island hovered high above Mount Ebott: a fortress and a city combined into one. There’s no telling what kind of military technology they’re equipped with to survive the monster-hostile Surface for so long.
Undyne lifted a finger. “W-what’s that?”
“…It’s the last stronghold of magic-kind… remnant of The Spire… Lemuria’s lifeline…”
“…You may call it ‘The Bastion’…”
“…Captain Undyne… Sans Serif…“ Grillby continued, “…The Bastion offers refuge for all monsterkind, yourself included… That said, I shall return at dawn to deliver the necessary documents…”
“…I pray that you'll put the lives of your citizens first…”
* * *
Sans sat at his office desk, reviewing the terms and conditions presented by Sir Grillenn.
In summary, Lemuria requested that the Dreemurrs calibrate the Wormhole Gram to the coordinates of their floating fortress. All those who choose to migrate to The Bastion will be given Lemurian citizenship. They can bring anything they want… as long they can carry it.
It sounds good. But Ebott’s true riches don’t lie in coins: rather it’s their resources and facilities. Gold is pointless if there’s nothing useful to trade for.
Those who choose to stay will be responsible for their own safety when Persona strikes. They now have less than a week to decide.
Then…
There were the other terms.
Lemuria and the Magi remnants will imprison and prosecute three people the moment they step onto their grounds.
First, Doctor Wendell Dominic Gaster. A major accomplice in the war against humanity. It appears that Lucidia still had records on the children's cause of death.
Second, King Asgore Dreemurr: the other guilty party. The Lemurians state that in exchange for the safety of his citizens, he must lay down his crown. He will be put on trial with the social status of a normal monster.
Quite a fair preposition in the scope of things, Sans thought. During ancient times, the conquering humans would often punish entire nations for their defeat. Exile. Enslavement. Oppression.
At least the Lemurians don’t intend to go down that dusty path. It offered some relief.
The last name on the list was none other than his own: ‘Sans Serif’. The charges were about as grim as one would expect. Treason was not even the worst one on the list.
They’re declaring him as a ‘Category 3: Fallen’, a criminal entity who would abuse Determination in the name of personal gain.
In other words, it’s an immediate death sentence.
However, as far as Sans knew, ‘Fallen’ is a status reserved only for Living Victories under the control of their excessive power. Cases where reason is no longer possible.
He wasn’t ruled by excessive DT; none of that nasty stuff circulated in his mind. His actions were all deliberate, and that was a discrepancy that Lemuria acknowledged.
The floating nation thus offered them a simple exchange. They would give a lighter sentence to each of these three individuals, but only if the Dreemurrs collaborate against a bigger enemy. In other words, mercy for the expertise of the Underground’s brightest scientists.
Beyond Gaster, they explicitly mentioned the names of Doctor Alphys and… Papyrus.
Signed by The Grandmaster, Lucidia of House Berendin, and Supreme Judge ‘Caraway’, huh? Surprised Cenna didn’t kick the bucket.
Guess if they don’t have a Living Victory, anyone with a sense of leadership can take the role. Vanquishers make good proxies with their DEMON busting capabilities.
Papyrus’ name concerns me. He’s awesome, but he lacks the technical genius of Doctor Alphys. I’m betting everything that the real reason they requested him is for his Eye. Two Chronographers will give them the edge they need against Persona.
…………
A real DEMON will soon descend upon us.
What should I do?
Sans opened his drawer. Reached for the underside to push a button.
A shelf soon slid aside to reveal a hidden safe bound in chains, with a skull-shaped padlock to boot. Were this a digital file, the security level translated to having multiple layers of encryption.
Key bone, summoned.
It glowed in a distinct rotating spiral of cyan, yellow, purple, containing Sans Serif’s unique brand of identification. When the skull padlock consumed the key, it snapped in half and let the bindings fall to the wayside.
The door opened with a slight creak.
Inside the safe rested an electronic bracer, sleeker and cleaner than the prototype. It’s clear that more time and resources were invested into this model.
The Seraph System… with all its SAVE, LOAD mechanisms intact. Even has an integrated Trap Harvester.
It's… magnificent.
It makes sense that I’d build this just in case a DEMON fell into the Underground.
Sans equipped the bracer. Tested the retracting mechanism a few times, then booted the interface.
SERAPH SYSTEM
CALIBRATING
ACTIVE: C / Y / P
INACTIVE: O / B / G
Works like a charm.
Only problem is… the fuel supply.
DT: 10%
Damn. That little, huh? Nowhere near enough to time travel.
…Hmm, might as well check if the island can survive in the first place. No point running there if Persona brings it down.
ACTIVE: O / B / G
INACTIVE: C / Y / P
The fire in his Eye burned.
However…
He did not witness the events that were about to transpire on the island.
Instead, he found himself back in the family mansion. The Chronograph was smoking. Sparking. And Gaster lay on the floor, reduced to a babbling pile of goop.
“UNCLE GASTER!” Papyrus cried out. “MOM?! DAD?!”
The old man’s dual Eyes burned wild.
No control.
No respite.
He jabbered on about ‘The End’.
Incomprehensible.
It’s a madman’s ravings through and through.
GASTER!!! You old fool, you know DAMN WELL that you should NEVER use that thing without me!
Papyrus went to the kitchen to grab a large clothes pail. He scooped up the whole of Gaster and carried him out.
“The Chronograph…” Gaster muttered. “It’s BROKEN! Neither of you can fix it, no matter how hard you try. No one can!”
The youngster listened intently to his traumatized elder, nodding as he tried to comprehend the poor man’s rambling.
At the end, he hung the pail onto the coat rack and struck a heroic pose.
“DO NOT WORRY! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS FONT -- COOLEST HANDSOMEST MOST MAGNANIMOUS VISIONARY OF THE SCIENTIFIC WORLD -- SHALL PUT HIS WORDS TO PRACTICE!”
"FROM NOW ON WE WON'T NEED GASTER GADGET #2 ANYMORE. MY AMAZING SOLUTION WILL HELP US AVOID ALL THE BAD WORLD LINES AND STEER US BACK TO ALPHA. NYEH HEH HEH HEEEEEH!!!”
“EL! PSY! CONGROO!!!”
Papyrus marched to the door.
He then looked back at Gaster one more time with his brows furrowed.
His fingers squeezed the handle. It’s as though he’s…
…Afraid.
“PLEASE ‘HANG’ IN THERE. WE’LL HAVE A CUP OF YOUR FAVOURITE TEA SOON ENOUGH.”
Thus the great scientist ran.
He ran out of the bedroom…
Down the stairs…
Past the broken Chronograph…
And straight into a room of utter pitch-black.
It’s just like that time when Tori walked into the Crimson Hall.
The secret lab…!
Sans switched back to his default colours and warped straight home.
“Papyrus!” the elder brother yelled. His entire being hoped that he saw the future soon enough to prevent tragedy.
He knew the location of Papyrus’ lab. Went there in another quick hop.
Wait.
I can’t see.
Why can’t I see anything?!
For a whole moment… he heard and saw nothing.
Nothing at all.
Papyrus?
Papyrus!
Why can't I hear my own voice?!
What’s going on?!
The next thing Sans knew, he’s dragging the unconscious body of his younger brother out of the lab.
“Gaster!” Sans yelled at the top of his ribs. “Gaster, GET THE FUCK DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”
The elder scientist rolled down the steps. The momentary rush returned his clarity.
“Oh no,” so he muttered. “No, no, no, no! My boy, what have you done?”
Gaster inspected the fallen man. The more he examined, the more his liquid being quaked. “Determination levels rising unchecked.”
“I know that already! But, WHY?!”
The more experienced man inspected the youngster’s right socket.
“The Seer’s Eye… It’s gone. Destroyed. Oh no. Papyrus must have tried to unseal himself.”
Sans felt his anger rise so fast, it’s starting to colour his own Eye.
“We both agreed that you'd keep him Sealed FOREVER!”
“I did!” The elder retorted. His hand pointed towards the secret lab. “I didn’t help him!”
“Then how the hell does he know?!”
“Your brother is not a moron, Sans! He is an independent man of agency with the ability to do his own research!”
That stark reality struck Sans like a ton of bricks.
Papyrus will always be a hero at heart. It doesn’t matter which profession he chooses, two of his behaviours remained consistent:
His glory-hog statements.
And his genuine love for others.
In his now-scientifically tuned mindset, Papyrus realised that one day the machine alone won’t be enough, so he studied how to break the Seal all by himself. To disastrous results.
“W-What… what happens to Seers who go blind?”
Gaster trembled as he answered. “The Eye is our proof of human descent. Upon awakening, we start generating levels of Determination that our magic-based bodies could never withstand. If… if we lose it… it means we’re unable return to safe levels. Ever.”
Papyrus began to ripple. It’s one of the signs of an imminent DT overdose.
“No. That’s not true.” Sans said, resolute. “I have a way.”
The Blade of the Seraph snapped out of its sheath.
* * *
Sans took Papyrus’ immobile body to the Hotland Lab. Alphys immediately attended.
They did the scans. Administered medication. Then put him under observation in their medical bay.
The elder brother hadn’t moved from his seat for the past 15 hours. He kept staring at the red six-winged Mark planted on Papyrus’ sternum.
He looks so peaceful.
With whatever reserves he had, he commanded the Mark to ‘burn’ Determination. It’s feeding on its host to maintain itself.
Can it last indefinitely? He wanted it to, but the System’s reserves slowly ticked down:
3% remaining.
Doctor Alphys returned with a clipboard. She stood by Sans’ side and looked at Papyrus in sad silence.
“T-that… that is quite an impressive piece of tech.” she said, “The, um, result of your thesis. Right?”
“Yeah,” Sans answered. He showed Alphys the bracer strapped on his arm. “It's the ultimate Aspect emulator.”
“This ‘Mark’… D-do all humans know how to use this magic?”
“Only those with a Red SOUL.”
“I… I see… Then, Chara. They could have done this too? Had they lived longer?”
“Maybe,” Sans replied. “It takes a certain level of proficiency to manifest that symbol. Nevertheless, they were groomed by Gungnir, so the potential is there.”
He glanced at Alphys.
“So. What about Papyrus?”
She winced. Gripped the clipboard tighter. Hesitated to answer.
He kept his tone casual. Tried to not pile any more sadness onto her shoulders. “C’mon Al. Out with it. Let’s not waste any more time.”
With shaking hands, she handed over the data.
He read the diagnostics. Understood why she’s so reluctant to speak.
“No hope, huh?” He replied.
Alphys started to cry. “I-I’m sorry. Papyrus failed to respond to any stimuli. This is worse than ‘falling down’. He. He’s a vegetable.”
“More vegetable than Vegetoid?”
The weeping intensified. Alphys buried her face into her hands.
“Sorry,” said Sans. “That was bad.”
“I’m sorry too.” The poor lizard hiccuped between her sobs. “I-I shouldn’t be crying.”
“Nah. You’re his friend.”
Maybe it’s better for her to take leave.
Sans said: “Mind leaving us alone for a while?”
“O-of course…” Alphys shuffled herself out of the room on first notice. Ran straight into Undyne’s arms and started hugging her.
The doors closed.
Sans began to contemplate on how this save his little brother.
…RESET is out of the question.
Amalgamation’s the only way to go.
Now, if what Gaster said is true, a blinded Seer generates enough DT for the body to lose structural integrity in a matter of minutes.
Fatal for a monster. But, nowhere near the levels needed to maintain the Mark.
He inspected the Determination gauge:
2% remaining.
...I’m running a net negative here. Maybe I should let him go in peace. I mean, having him converge with Gaster… it won’t be the same.
He wouldn’t be free either. Stuck to that old man and so on.
…What about Mom and Dad? They’ll miss him…
No. The future’s looking grim. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise if he leaves this world first.
Better act quick. Before the geezer returns.
He got off the chair. Stared at the underside of the Seraph System and took one deep, long breath.
Sorry Paps. I… did my best.
Goodbye.
His brother’s SOUL moved to the surface of his chest.
Then…
The blade plunged within. Rewrote the Mark to instead consume what little points of health remained.
In one short moment, The Great Papyrus was no more. The only clues to his former self lay in a leftover pile of clothes.
Sans expected to call Alphys in to prepare for the funeral. Instead, his Eye switched on. Scanned the remains for distinct signs.
I’m looking for an ‘essence’?
The dust in the chest area sparkled brighter than the rest.
He unfurled the scarf, folded it over, and dug under the pile clothes to scoop up Papyrus’ dusty remains. Tied the red fabric into a bag and cradled it in his arms.
Undyne and Alphys then met him in the lobby area.
“Sans?” The fish asked, “What happened? …Did you really give up? Don’t tell me you let your brother die?!”
“Nope. I’m taking him home to Mom and Dad,” answered the skeleton.
What?
“Don’t worry. He won’t become a disfigured suffering goop. There’s not enough dust for that. He will simply live on as another part of Doctor Gaster. Come and visit us tonight for some spaghetti.”
The girls began crying in joy.
Wait. What?
What am I doing?
Am I willingly amalgamating Papyrus…?!
No no no no! What the hell, me?! Stop it! If you merge Paps with Gaster he’s just going to overpower him! He’s a prison in the shape of a man!
He did that for YEARS to Mom and Dad!
How can you forget?!?
STOP!!!
No matter how hard he tried, Sans watched this look-alike stranger walk further and further away.
This isn’t real.
He told himself: This CAN'T be real!
I’m in a vision.
I’m in a vision.
I’m in a vision.
I’m in a vision.
[Why so surprised?]
The elder whispered in the back of his mind.
[After all, I did request for your explicit permission to control the Seraph System.]
[Now… Don’t you worry, child.]
[This ‘Play of Possibilities’ is only just beginning.]