It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Doctor W.D. Gaster stared at his trembling hands, distraught. The inner voices of his friends begged him to stop.
But he can’t: they've long passed the point of no return.
Helvetica, you misunderstand! I didn’t want this to happen either!
I swear, it’s an honest to goodness accident! I wasn’t trying to kill your eldest son. The past is in the past. I am a man of changed heart!
Roman? Roman, no, no, no. Please don’t cry. If you do, I might not be able to resist! Reducing ourselves to sobs will only worsen matters.
Gaster lifted his eyes. Gazed on the destruction his carelessness had wrought.
His wayward student lay embedded in a mechanical pillar, ever-burning in shades of purple, yellow, and cyan.
A thirteen-point Gram made sure that the flames will never stop. For the moment they do…
…Sans Serif will be no more.
Fine dust trickled from the Seraphim’s left eye socket. It’s a stark reminder of what once was. For certain, the inside had completely lost its shine.
I needed a prison for your son: a bonafide escape master. What better place to create than the trap I myself once fell into?
So he rebuilt the Soul Stealer chamber. Without any form of exit. It’s just the room, the pillar, and the platform above an endless field of white.
Never would he consider having to use a Weaponized Seer’s Seal in this place…
What went wrong?
It was supposed to be a mere vision. An illusion. A play. How did that become reality?
The scientist’s mind raced through his mental records. It felt so recent, yet so distant.
Chara’s exorcism. The Red Sage. They’re the same circumstance.
When we attempted to vanquish that cretin without help from Judge Thyme… they continued to survive despite being blasted to oblivion.
What if there’s a way to survive without relying on the Cheaters? Like an artificial version to retain a disembodied will?
…The Mark of Volition! Yes. Yes, indeed. After all, The Persona’s rituals had roots in the arcane.
If that’s true, it means Judge Thyme is also haunted by the dead. And if DEMONS can taint the host’s source ever so slightly…
Oh no.
Sans Serif, you moron. Did you really not notice that impurity?! You’re the one with Truesight!
Gaster shook his head.
Perhaps he considered it a calculated risk.
Perhaps he had made a subtle truce when he set his sights on that corrupted SAVE.
Perhaps Sans hoped that the humans will never bother the Underground again.
This mayhem benefits Persona, as the visions showed. Without a doubt.
An uneasy aura weighed on Gaster’s shoulders. He clenched his jaw. He won’t let a malevolent spirit get the better of him.
A series of coughing and hacking interrupted his contemplation.
Sans writhed in his prison, showing signs of regaining consciousness.
Heavy breathing. Excessive sweating.
It wouldn’t surprise me if this WESS inflicts great pain despite its low intensity; it was originally designed as a weapon, after all. Not a control measure. Like appropriating a dagger for surgery.
…Panic can come later. Right now, I must play the role of mentor.
Gaster prepared to present his case. Straightened his back and strengthened his voice.
[How does it feel, Sans Serif?]
More groaning. More struggling.
The constant low-burn tormented its victim more than Gaster had anticipated.
[How does it feel to remember? To watch your world crumble? To lose your loved ones? To have friends turn into enemies?]
[How does it feel… to die?]
Despite so, his student grit his teeth and mustered through the agony just enough to speak: “Heh. Nothing new, really. Like this fire. Just a dull ache at most.”
The scientist could ‘feel’ the inner skeleparents mourning. But, he put all his efforts in ignoring them. Of all times, he can’t drop his facade now.
It’s too dangerous.
Sans’ working eye scanned his surroundings.
“I’m in ‘that’ part of The Core, huh…?” he said, “Some sick sense of irony you have there. This place. It brings back memories.”
Gaster replied, [Well, I think it's appropriate for the man who desired to become the Chronograph itself.]
[Before you struggle any further, I need to remind you about your current… condition.]
[Close your right eye.]
Sans did as suggested. His expression changed to one of shock. Confusion.
His reactions soon settled down to a quiet contemplation. Sans managed to keep his cool despite the circumstances.
He’s too quiet.
I need to approach this predicament with caution.
If I’m not careful, he will instead rope me into his schemes.
[You make a poor judge, Sans Serif.] Gaster began his lesson. [Nevermind a replacement for the Supreme Judge.]
[First you abscond a higher authority, then you return to resting on your laurels thinking that change is just a one-off deal: work tirelessly towards a goal, achieve it, and then let life take its proper course. As if nothing will come to challenge your position at the top.]
[Alas, as a Living Victory you’re forever chained to fate. Duty-bound, in this life and the next, to guide time to its proper conclusion. Retirement is but a pipe dream.]
[Remember what I taught you a long time ago? ‘If a person is blessed with a special power, it’s their responsibility to do the right thing’. I heard you dispensed this nugget of wisdom to the Child of Mercy at one point as well.]
“Yup,” Sans replied. “I did.”
[Then why didn’t you follow your own advice? Just what in the WORLD were you thinking when you started this mad plan?!]
No answer. Gaster’s ire simmered.
[Fine. Then let me spell it out for you. You could have rallied behind the people around you. The Magus Association. Frisk. Papyrus. Me. Even Queen Toriel, I dare say!]
[But you chose to act alone? Why?!]
All he got was a shrug… as much as Sans could do so while entombed.
The elder summoned a screen. Set the sights on Judge Cenna Caraway.
[Behold! An exemplar Magus! We’re talking about a human with the magical strength of a monster.]
She zipped through a non-Newtonian gel puzzle in a single try. Didn’t get stuck, nor did she pause to think through the riddle.
[Already halfway up the tower in less than fifteen minutes. A witful head on an athletic body is a great boon, I do say. Is she not a valuable ally?!]
Sans snickered. “Gee, doc. You sure she solved every one legit?”
Cenna arrived at a multi-coloured tile puzzle. It sprouted the rules on a nearby display. A long, ridiculous list of rules.
The Magus shook her head. “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”
Without a care in the world, she charged right in.
“Ah crap. This pushed me back.”
“Eh?! An invisible wall? Okay.”
“The green… does nothing? The pink does nothing either? Why design TWO tiles of nothing?! Absolute game design fail.”
“What in the nine hells does ‘orange flavoured’ even mean? I smell like an orange?!?”
“OW!!! Electric tiles?!? Dude like, WHAT?! Frisky had to go through this?!? That’s potentially lethal, dammit!”
Then a bunch of piranhas jumped out of a blue tile and gnawed at her boot. She shot that critter dead on the first opportunity.
“WHY THE IN GODDAMN HELLFIRE BLAZES ARE THERE PIRANHAS?!? Animal cruelty, I tell ya!”
“Argh, fuck this shit! I think I’m in range anyway.”
She stretched out her hand towards the faraway control panel. Conjured a golden feather. That one shot was all she needed to turn the maze into a plain bridge.
Onwards she went. Puzzle after puzzle got blasted to smithereens by those miniature missiles. Who cares about shut, inactive doors if she can punch a hole through them?
Sans said: “If you think I have a bad mouth, you should listen to her. That tile puzzle isn’t even hard to begin with. So much for wit.”
Gaster raised a brow. [A bit of a potty mouth is the least of my concerns. She’s no worse than Captain Undyne.]
“What about her sneaky cool-detective nonsense?”
[Necessary to not get killed by you. Or Chara.]
Tsk. Not going well. It’s unfortunate that Judge Caraway has a history with him.
I have to change subjects quick.
The scientist switched views to Team Undyne. Gaelic had led them far enough to reach Megalovania’s south pole. Undyne lugged Asgore on her back without any issues.
[Look at that. Despite his condition, King Asgore still charges forward to rescue his child from your clutches. He could have sat back and let his more than capable knights do his bidding, but no, he nurtures the kingdom much like a garden: hands on in the dirt.]
[Then there's Captain Undyne. She brims with spirit to face the new future. It’s an utter mistake to think that she lacks rationale at all. Her heart is in the right place, and her tireless energy can move mountains.]
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
[Grillbz Grillen, my old friend. Finally left his dingy bar and put his true talents to use. Humanity will remember him as a hero who saved many from a blaze. No matter where he goes, he will be honoured.]
Sans cut in the middle of the conversation. “Ahuh, and all three of them are war criminals. The guy who started it all. Overenthusiastic genocide supporter. And an actual murderer. Great start, eh?”
Gaster clenched his fist.
That smartmouth… Is he getting used to the pain?
[Then how about the Queen? Her levelheaded thinking will give the nation the backbone they need without resorting to war. She makes the perfect head of operations… should you choose to aid her.]
“Welp,” Sans replied. “She may be innocent on the war deal… but abandoning her kingdom? That’s a different sort of crime. Heh. Not a good track record either.”
[Hmph, says the secret admirer. You intend to repeat history by forsaking the Queen when she requires you the most?]
Silence. Did the cat get his tongue, or did he consider it pointless to argue?
I can’t get through him. How frustrating.
The mentor dismissed the displays. He will keep to his words from now on.
What else can I say?
Gaster settled his heart with a deep breath.
[Very well. If we want to debate on reputation, there is a man with considerable influence in the human world. His name is Mezil Thyme.]
[‘Supreme Judge’ Mezil Thyme.]
“Knew you’re gonna bring him up,” so commented the other.
[Why not? He has twenty-five years of experience, if I’m not mistaken. That’s half of his life dedicated to the proper management of his time-travelling powers. His continued survival proves his abilities as a Living Victory, does it not?]
Sans sighed. Shook his head as though he’s talking to an utter idiot.
“Gaster. Now I know why you couldn’t be a Tactician. You can’t read politics to save your life.”
It stung…
Of all people to figure out his greatest weakness, it had to be that protégé.
“Survivor’s bias, through and through. Just because Mezil is alive today doesn’t mean he’s not heading toward a dead end of his own making. The Supreme Judge’s influence is nowhere near as watertight as you think.”
“Did you know the Gungnir successfully managed to infiltrate the Magi’s HQ? Posed as key staff. Security. Electricians. Even managed to smuggle guns into the storerooms. Whatever happened to background checks?”
Sans narrowed his gaze at Gaster.
“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s an inside job. There are factions within the Magus Association who want to see the Supreme Judge fall.”
“A man like him… he’s too good. Fair. Just. No compromise, and no corruption. Cheating the cheaters.”
“That’s the problem. Humans want their bread buttered, if you get what I mean.”
“Benefits. Perks. Favours. The little things that separate the ‘haves’ from the ‘have-nots’. I bet there are many who want to crown their own little Supreme Judge, but he rejected all of them.”
“Long story short, Mezil pissed off too many of the wrong people. Sucks to be him.”
Humanity’s history had always been full of backstabbing. Esteemed Mother and Father often told tales of the medieval courts. They’re… intriguing in a morbid sense.
[Monsterkind is better than that.] Gaster retorted. [What about Lemuria? I’m certain they’re grateful for Judge Thyme’s tireless efforts.]
Sans replied in his usual casual deadpan manner, “Nah.”
“Think about it for a moment. Cenna’s mission is to tackle that massive Amalgamate. Except we haven’t heard a single mention of its success. Not even a complaint that Frisk had undone everything.”
[Is it .. because their efforts have failed in every known timeline to date?]
“Ayup.” Sans continued, “Now, you’d think that a world ending monstrosity would call for an emergency merger. Y’know. Like the wolf Boss Monster and that Eldin knight. But… that didn’t happen. Why?”
“It’s simple: they got nobody. Any merger that’s not a Boss Monster won’t have enough power to tackle said monstrosity.”
“As for the surviving Bosses? It’s either they had grown soft… or they belong to a new generation. With all those years of hiding, it’s possible that they never fought a real battle in their lives. King Asgore may be the only one with the guts and knowhow to lead an army.”
“On top of that… If the dispute between the Jurors is of any indication, there’s a split loyalty going on. Should the Lemurian government mistrust Mezil for any perceived fault… they’re not gonna send support. Even if it means their nation is in danger.”
It’s a grim outlook.
How Helvetica wanted to slap the Surface monster leadership. Their own safety is at stake, and they don’t trust the only man capable of tackling it?
P-please calm down, Helvi. I feel the same as you do at the moment. It is indeed infuriatingly stupid.
Egads, woman, where did you learn to be so violent? Your parents weren’t this feisty.
There’s one last card left.
[If reputation is your main concern, then what of Frisk, the Child of Mercy? Are they not your close friend? You’re their mentor, aren’t you?]
“I suppose.”
[Now… should they become the next Supreme Judge, their clean slate may be the factor we need to rekindle the trust of both monster and man.]
Sans Serif laughed. It was a full on ‘ha’ and not the mischievous ‘heh’.
He laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
For a good half a minute, nothing but his outburst echoed through the air. That’s a long time for an eternally tired slob on fire.
The demeanour unnerved Gaster. It’s enough to make him melt, though he tried his best to remain in solid form.
Sans huffed and puffed once he finished laughing, still keeping a genuine grin on his mug.
[What’s so amusing?] Gaster questioned.
“Oh Gaster,” Sans chortled. “You never learn, huh? Always keeping tabs on the big picture while obsessing over the smallest details, yet failing to grasp the hidden truth.”
“You don’t know what caused ‘The End’, do ya? Or rather, ‘who’.”
The man blinked in confusion.
[Frisk is not Chara.] He said, [That Gungnir child’s misanthropy was the real root of the problem.]
“Get it in your skull already, Ol’ G. Frisk is a fort. Chara could not possess them if they didn’t open the door first.”
The two parts of the puzzle clicked together. A sense of horror dawned upon the old man…
That child was so well-mannered. Understanding. They didn’t fear nor judge his ghastly appearance. Forgave him for causing the accidental death of their parents.
How could it be?
“That look on your face,” said Sans. “Tells me you got it. Yup. Frisk is the true DEMON. ‘The Child of Calamity’. Chara? Chara’s just a willing partner.”
[Impossible…] Gaster muttered in denial.
“Better believe it. Though that other kid wasn’t too happy to have their cohort bail out on the last minute. That’s why we have this current drama, y’know.”
Sans sighed. “Hey old man, let me tell you something: I honestly wanted to be their friend. Wanted to trust the kid. Believe in them. But they gave me little reason to do so.”
“That’s what you get for being nothing but Determination. It’s the trait that allows humans to cut off from Love and Compassion. Frisk isn’t immune to pitfalls.”
“Can you really entrust the world to someone like that?”
Old prejudices threatened to pull Gaster back to the hateful way of thinking.
How the elder wanted to believe in the greater good… but Sans had a point.
In the midst of his pondering, Roman whispered his grounded and humble thoughts.
Why yes, Frisk is still young. And they do appear to be very teachable.
You are right. This is not the end of the road for them. They had repented… unlike my student.
Upon that moment, the chamber sounded a siren.
Sans tilted his head. Somewhat amused by the new turn of events.
“They did it after all, huh?”
Gaster hurried to peer into the outside world, screen and all.
He witnessed in time for the magnificent success of the Barrier’s shattering. The combined efforts of Team Undyne pulled through. What wonder!
The elder and his friends couldn’t contain their cheer. They clapped, while Gaster let out a yell of joy. It’s the second wind that he had hoped for.
Renewed, he turned towards the prisoner. [Did you see that? They prevailed against all odds! Smashed your nihilistic expectations!]
Cenna marched up the tower’s last flight of stairs.
Her eyes were filled with resolution.
[With the Barrier down, the Vanquisher can finally bring you to justice.]
[You’ve lost, Sans Serif!]
Once again… a delayed response. What went on in that mind of his? It’s like trying to comprehend a supercomputer’s unique means of processing.
In the end, Sans conceded.
“Yup. My mission failed. Lost cause. Dunked into the trash.”
Gaster focused his gaze in deep suspicion.
This seems too easy.
He put up so much resistance before the Barrier shattered.
“…You’re aborting your plans to rewind time?”
“Yeah. There’s no point going back there. It’s a deader than dead. Plus, that Persona fellow is a bastard. Can’t trust that guy. No go.”
“So, if that’s the case, why don’t you show me ‘your’ alternative?”
[Pardon?] Gaster replied.
“You heard me right,” said Sans. “Doctor Wendell Dominic Gaster is in complete control of the Seraph System. Go ahead. Show me the light.”
That challenge triggered a surge of confidence. If the wayward one wants to see to believe, he shall see. Gaster linked the monitor to his Eyes.
[Very well!] so exclaimed the Royal Scientist. [I shall change your mind, right here and now, with the future itself!]
SERAPH SYSTEM
ACTIVE: [L] C - [R] O / B / G
INACTIVE: Y / P
The flare activated. He peered into the realm of endless possibilities, searching for the golden path where all was well.
It came up…
…Empty.
Black filled the monitor from corner to corner.
What in the stars? Is there an error somewhere?
Again, Gaster tried. His mind called out to the annals of spacetime for an answer. Yet, they did not respond.
“Still a nope, doc?” Sans asked.
The elder clicked his tongue. [Hush, you’re interrupting. Give me a moment!]
“Sure. I’m not going anywhere.”
Perhaps I need to modify the clause? How do I do this?
Judge Thyme? Could his fate be changed if we assist him?
Do I need to focus more on Frisk?
Papyrus?
Gaster exhausted all his options… and it forever resulted in futility. The doctor then cancelled the Eye modifications to save strength.
Hope, dashed to pieces.
[How can this be?]
“Thought so,” said Sans. “I didn’t need to use the Chronograph to reach that conclusion. Just pure observation is enough.”
“We’re heading straight toward ‘The End’.”
And thus, the mentor’s emotions caught up to him. Sank into a pile of goop that’s neither a skeleton nor a puddle. [No… no it cannot be… We have everything and yet…]
“Yup. It’s all pointless. Which isn't a bad thing, really.”
Gaster was afraid to ask: [Why do you say so?]
The edges of Sans’ lips curled upwards.
“I know you hate my nihilism,” he said. “Call it depressing and whatnot. But, old man… it’s more than simply being apathetic.”
Gaster slid closer to Sans. Cautious. [Explain.]
“Y’know, since everything was going to be RESET anyway, it was hard to give it my all. Unable to care, I just couldn’t burden myself with the emotions of decisionmaking. Whatever happens, happens. Maybe it’s just an excuse to be lazy? Probably was.”
“Back then, when I first looked at that human… they reminded me of my younger self. So curious. So persistent. So lonely too. But, unlike me, they stayed determined. Because they think they ‘can’… they ‘had to’. Otherwise the illusion of meaning falls apart.”
The old man retorted, [Aren’t you contradicting yourself?]
“Again, doc,” said Sans. “You’re terrible at reading between the lines.”
“If nothing matters, why should anyone care about my actions? When there’s no future, there’s no one left to deliver judgement. And consequences cease to be.”
“I started thinking… If the literal end of the universe approaches, why not do anything and everything? Why not be like Frisk? What I lack in DT, I make up for with PV. I’ll just persevere through the whole deal.”
[The way you talk implies a possible escape.]
“Welp. I did say I gave up on the whole time travel deal. But only the time travel deal.”
That was Gaster’s worst fear. Someway, somehow, Sans already had a plan to break out…
“Hey old man… remember that ‘impossible’ question? The one about the prisoners? I told you it makes no difference if the bad guys kill my loved ones, or if I do it myself: they’re dead anyway. Except, I never told you what happens afterwards.”
“It’s simple, really, the moment I get an opportunity… I’ll dunk the murderers in Hell. I’ll cause ‘accidents’. I’ll get them hanged. I’ll pull any strings necessary to see to their demise. They’ve already destroyed any reason for me to give a shit anyway.”
“So yeah, W.D. Gaster, you can’t keep me here forever. You can be damn sure I’ll find a way to escape this WESS. Blast away this pillar. And then burn this world to ashes. That’s how you made me.”
“You reap what you sow. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
Something snapped within Gaster. Patience hit his limit. That said plenty for a man who’s left half should represent the Aspect.
In one swipe of his arm, the Seer’s Seal burned with the intensity of an inferno.
The scientist does not know which howled louder: the victim, the fire, or his unfortunate friends who’re forced to watch.
Soon, the flames extinguished. Tri-coloured scars had seared deep into their victim, just as Papyrus once suffered.
Gaster couldn’t take it any more. Uncontrollable tears streamed down his face. Regret, anger, and plenty other unpleasantries filled his heart… directed at both himself and Sans.
He said: [It’s all my fault. All. Mine. For being so WEAK!]
His holed hands wiped away the tears.
It’s now or never.
[Very well. Very, very, well. Then, it shall be my duty to end your misery.]
As he approached his wayward protégé, the mentor raised his left hand with an undeniable killing intent. The act materialized a massive Gasterblaster over his shoulder, charging a collection of power in its maws.
Cyan, the colour of focus.
It tripled the armament’s capacity with its condensing trait to the point where reality tattered at the seams. However, the drawback is that he must fire it up-close and personal.
He thus towered over Sans Serif. Aimed the gun square at his being.
Yet… he failed to pull the trigger.
[Roman?]
That left arm reached out for the blaster’s mandible.
[Roman, what are you doing…? Roman!]
“Enough is enough, friend.”
“We won’t let you hurt our son any longer!”
“It’s not you who made him.”
“It’s us!”
“And we refuse to let him die!”
Gaster heard them in all their physicality. It wasn’t a mere feeling, or a mental whisper, no…
It’s the first time in twenty-three years that he had heard the actual voices of his departed friends, Times Roman and Helvetica.
The right arm joined her husband. Together, they pushed the weapon upwards - shifting it away from their child… instead pointing it at the pillar that had kept him imprisoned.
“We’ll save you, son.”
“Hang in there!”
Gaster struggled to regain control over his own body. Whatever will he had was insufficient to overpower the love and devotion of two parents.
That’s when he realised… he had once again failed to read between the lines.
[It’s a trap! Stop! STOP!!!]
It’s too late. The magic was wasted on the tomb that kept the fallen angel at bay.
Roman and Helvetica pried away the broken mechanisms. The body’s owner got shoved into the back seat, helplessly watching them make the most unwise decision.
How long had he subjected them to that same treatment in the name of goodwill?
The cost of his sins crawled on his back.
After they pulled off the last restraint, Sans fell into their nurturing arms. They held him dear despite everything.
Unstable rippling had already begun to plague their boy.
In unison, they said: “We’ll become one. No more pain.”
Sans gathered his remaining might to push himself apart from them.
“Mom. Dad.” He said. “Don’t! I’m toxic.”
“Don’t say such things! You were in the wrong, but we still love you.”
Sans replied: “I mean it. If… if we merge… you’ll join my personal hell. Karma will burn us inside out. That’s why The Persona executed me. Besides…”
“I gotta do what I gotta do. I’m the last stand once again. Or else: The End.”
“Son, please,” they pleaded. “Enough. Rest.”
He stared them in the face with genuine sadness.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
A red shine appeared on the palm of Sans’ hand. The six-winged Mark of Volition had formed without the system’s aid.
[I-impossible!] Exclaimed Gaster.
Sans defied his mentor with one last smirk.
“I did it, huh? Just needed the bare minimum level of DT to pull it off.”
He rose to his feet and declared:
“I impose my will… to expel Wendell Dominic Gaster!”