When Sans Serif studied the Surface’s culture, he noted a certain fixation on the ‘expansion of the mind’.
Many claimed to have exclusive knowledge to go beyond. Rituals. Substances. Machines.
Forget all that ignorant talk. It will never compare to the truth.
His six wings spread apart. They gazed. They blinked. The ‘Fire of Humanity’ burned in each Eye.
Sans found himself afloat in empty space. For that moment, all was silent.
He breathed in.
I see everything.
…Yet I see nothing.
The annals of time reach far too deep.
‘The Void’. Such an ironic name, he thought. Others saw it as vast expanse of nothingness. In truth it consisted of countless invisible highways. A map of reality, one could say.
When he exhaled, the stillness was broken by the downpour of endless noise.
It’s the roars of the river.
It’s the song of the mountains.
It’s the screams of the damned.
It’s the melodies of life.
Altogether, they're a jumbled mess.
Knew that’s gonna happen. Focus, Gaster’s number one complaint.
You can do it, Sans. It’s what you’re best at.
Focus, he did. Tuned out each irrelevant detail. ‘Everything’ was put aside to face the Child of Calamity.
As expected, the angel’s sight couldn’t see Frisk past their aura of Determination. It’s whirling a maelstrom of hope and despair.
Nightmares… Dreams… forever in flux.
Their sheer power wrapped around the shadowed human, giving the impression of a burning star.
“Heh,” Sans began. “That look on your face… nah. I can’t see it at all.”
Frisk checked themselves, puzzled by the statement.
“Corrupt Determination enshrouds and obscures. Don’t bother making yourself pure. It’s humanly impossible.”
I wonder…
Sans played his card: chose to test the kid. “Maybe as the battle goes by, your killing intent will grow. Don’t blame ya for that, really. But you still gotta take responsibility.”
The aura darkened. Frisk’s human-form began distorting into a more demonic version of themselves.
Lucidia quickly halted the child. “Warning: Sans Serif is engaging in psychological warfare. Your anger is what he wants. Refuse to give in. It is imperative.”
Frisk muttered a soft ‘okay’. They calmed themselves down.
Thought so. The Eye of Dreams perceives Determination itself. Their ‘wishes’ and ‘curses’.
Frisk’s patience is wearing thin. I just froze Cenna too. Not expecting their corruption levels to remain stable for long.
Possibility one, they’ll become reckless and give me an opening.
Possibility two, they’ll become deadlier… and I’ll be in deep shit.
Before the kid could do anything else, he flapped his wings to trap them in a net of Purple.
Damn. In Seraph Mode, it’s one instant cast after another. No complex setups, no incantations. Magic flows instinctively, no matter how foreign.
If only I had this power in the Underground…
Frisk was not amused. “Come back here you fucking fartmaster!!!”
Voice, twisting. And they passed the Trial of the Crimson Hall?
“Dunno why your husband approved this kid.” Sans said, addressing Lucidia. “Look at them. They’ve lost their way.”
“………………”
No reply.
“‘Icy’…”
Puns aside, her mannerisms were cold enough to make the air freeze. Still she had a point; this was not the time for petty banter. Frisk could break free at any moment. Lingering only brought unnecessary risk.
The angel thus floated up high. Then, before the full breadth of all possibilities, he stretched all six of his wings. The Void’s howling black winds danced with the fabric of his new robes.
“Here we go. Show me. Show me why it’s impossible to avoid ‘The End’!”
The universe answered on behalf of his behest.
Relevant history flipped by like the pages of a book.
He understood the ramifications.
Welp, thought so. Now I need to make this clear to everyone--
Sans was interrupted by a host of unpleasant symptoms: a headache, coupled with a strange burning sensation building up around his sockets. The smarting stings made it difficult to see.
What the hell?
It’s tempting to touch, but chemical safety classes taught him not to contact an unknown substance. More so if it’s already on his face.
He turned the view of his visions to himself. Have them function like a camera.
That’s when he realised that he’s crying tears of glowing purple.
Tears?
No. Tears match a Seer’s main colour. Purple isn’t Cyan.
He did not weep the waters of emotion. No, he’s leaking liquidized Karma.
Wait a moment. How much HP do I have?
SANS SERIF
HP: ∞
ATK: ∞
DEF: ∞
Infinite?!?
…………………………
I should at least try to bring my KR back to manageable levels. For now.
The forced expulsion of poison set him ablaze.
It’s one thing to be the embodiment of sacred fire.
It’s a whole other thing to become the very fuel to feed it.
The flames extinguished a few seconds later. He felt his bones shiver from the strain. Wiped the sweat off his cranium.
Ugh. That’s nasty. Mental note: do NOT let Karma build up to those levels.
Sans then heard a high-pitched nerdy voice in the distance. It’s familiar: invoking the image of someone with a huge collection of anime merchandise.
“Alphys?”
He turned around. Frisk had broken out of the trap; they’re jetting towards him.
“Oh. My. God.” It was indeed Alphys over the line. “An angelic final form? With creepy eye wings?! Did he actually grow taller?!?”
If she’s here… Doctor Gaster should be near.
“Egads, we’re at the point of no return and THAT was your first thought?!”
Frisk responded, “I can’t believe he’s taller than me! I should be the one to have a growth spurt, not Sans!”
“You too?! Whatever happened to priorities?”
Sans chuckled at their reaction. In reality, he didn’t grow at all. The long robes hid his dangling legs. Combined with his wingspan and the lack of a concrete floor, it created the illusion of increased height.
Amusing. But he can’t fall for distractions.
Where did Lucidia go? I know she’s not the kind to take a break in the middle of a battle.
By tactical means, she’s Frisk’s best guide. Swapping out with this zero-experience pair is suicidal.
…Unless.
He was rudely interrupted by an ominous orchestra. It’s a classic epic by now, having inspired many to study the older roots and update them with new styles.
Here comes the choir. True to his wordy ways, Sans snuck in some custom lyrics for his situation.
“Estuans oculi--”
“Ioci vehementi--”
Doctor Gaster must have facepalmed on the other end. “Why???” he wailed.
“Er. A-a-a-atmosphere?” Alphys stammered. “S-should I turn it off?”
“No.” The music added fire to Frisk’s heart. “It fits the mood.”
They planted a renewed Yellow Star on their hand. Ready to fight. Tried to shoot Sans down in a chain of rapid fire. Their grasp on magic grew by the minute.
Instead of teleporting away, Sans’ instincts told him to shield the Seraph System. He folded his wings together and deflected the bullets with ease.
The kid dropped their jaw. How amusing.
Sans asked. “What, you think these extra limbs are just for show?”
Just when things began heating up, a grumpy scientist cut the battle short. Shut off the music as well.
“Enough!” Gaster exclaimed. “Let me talk.”
“Talking is pointless,” said Frisk. “He won’t listen.”
“Oh, but he will. I shall make a plea that he cannot deny! Sans Serif, why don’t you educate the Child of Mercy about what will CAUSE The End?”
“Declaring the guilty verdict first without reading out their crimes? How unbecoming of a judge!”
Give in?
Don’t give in?
Gaster had a point. Sans wanted to publicize his findings anyway.
“Welp. I guess as the saying goes… ‘seeing is believing’.”
He snapped his fingers.
Tiles began to build an enclosed world around the summoner and his opponent. Formed a ‘globe’ for a terrarium of history.
By the time it’s done, they’re on a mockup of a tropical island. It’s night. The scents of the ocean mixed with the warm air. Not a single detail was left out.
Frisk’s foot shuffled in the fine beach sand. They’re astonished.
“W-where are we?” asked Alphys.
“The Nation of Mu,” Sans answered. “Back in the day, they had three major islands. Lemuria, Atlantis, and the one you’re standing on.”
“Let’s skip to the fun part.”
Another snap, and the scenery shifted from the beachside to the city.
The streets were full of life-like dolls of its citizens. Upon command, they began to ‘live’ as they would in that era.
Sans tucked his wings and floated to Frisk’s side. The fabric on the lower half of his body slid on the ground. That’s fine: it won’t dirty or tear.
Hands in the pockets, he relaxed. “Go on. Lead the way. I’ll follow your pace.”
Frisk replied, “Are you serious?”
“Serious enough to give you money. Go buy yourself some snacks.”
A purse spawned in their hands. It’s filled to the brim with Mu currency.
Gaster grumbled. “Resist the temptation, Child of Mercy. He’s trying to con you into having feeling things that you shouldn’t have.”
Sans wasted no opportunity to throw a retort: “You keep calling them that, old man. But I don’t think you know what mercy means.”
Echoes of the past continued to play.
Wooden bamboo stalls of all kinds lined a crowded walkway. They bustled with advertising and merrymaking. Countless vendors sold their wares, from edibles to souvenirs, to jewelry and flowers, to other festive knick-knacks.
Every stall had their own style of lighting. Some opted for a more mysterious interior. Others thought a large electricity bill was the least of their concerns.
Likewise, one festive clothing stall played some hot beats, while another featured classic Rock. The owners tried their best to overpower each other by raising the volume. Around the bend, a band of buskers performed live for donations.
Lights and sounds.
What a chaotic mess. But, that’s half the fun.
Advanced technology existed side by side with the traditional nature decor. One stall was completely automated. It served ‘Sliced Noodles’. Customers select their desired meal, pay the money, and a system of robotics prepared the rest.
It’s close to a factory production: a dough-maker, a noodle-cutting robot, a soup dispenser, and more mechanical arms to arrange the toppings. All the owner had to do was to maintain quality. And maybe hire people to move the equipment on occasion.
Everything was done behind a transparent screen to serve as an attraction. Attract the youth, it did. Like bees to flowers. Sans understood the appeal.
Along the way, he spotted a pair of lovers walking down the street. Hands together. How sweet.
More children played at a balcony. They had cardboard model planes in their hands. One cheeky bugger kept trying to ‘crash’ his toy into his playmate’s butt. The other boy was far from happy. Nevertheless, their antics made their elders laugh.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
A group of friends toasted beer together. Ah, a Moldsmol’s part of the gang. Others started joking about their similarities to a friend’s jelly dessert.
‘Don’t get eaten by accident!’, they said.
But the gelatin monster jiggled in confident protest. Insisted that they’re way too chewy.
Then, while the kid didn’t pay attention, they walked straight into a running child.
Frisk’s power puffed away from the shock. What’s left was a faint red glow, thin enough to see their true face through.
“Ow!” they exclaimed.
The monster child responded with a quick bow of apology before hurrying off to catch up with their friends. Too stunned for words.
“Oh dear, a lone human child.” A clam monster noticed their presence. She asked, “Where are your parents?”
Alphys gasped. “Oh. My. God. They’reactuallytalkingtoyouIthoughtthey’rejustdolls!”
Ah, that superfast speech. It’s been a while. “Fits the atmosphere, no? By the way, I’m invisible to them. Non-existent. They’ll only respond to Frisk.”
The kid froze. They didn’t know how to reply.
“Are you lost?”
Frisk shook their head. “No. I-I… I know my way home.”
“Oh. That’s good. If you need any help, talk to those guys in uniform. Remember, don’t follow strangers.”
She motioned to a pair of nearby monsters: one skeleton and a fishman. Their police gear showed the clear influence of human society.
“Okay, thanks.” Frisk replied.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy the festival!”
The walk continued. More and more people reacted to Frisk’s presence. Vendors tried to catch their attention with their wares. Particularly those who sell toys.
An excited deer toddler exclaimed to their dad that they had seen a human. Embarrassed, the father apologized to Frisk. He picked up his child and excused himself to a quieter spot.
Groups of assorted monsters whispered between themselves. Adult humans were already a rare sight. An unescorted child amidst their festival? The most unusual.
Frisk finally stopped at a stand selling grilled fishcakes. ‘A Mu speciality’. The store owner asked if they wanted to buy any.
After a brief contemplation, the human shook their head and thankfully declined the offer.
The realism had begun to sunk into their mind. Everything’s going according to plan.
Time to raise the heat.
“You feel it, don’cha? Their hopes and dreams. I mean, these may be dolls… but they all represent real people. Someone who once breathed the same air as you.”
“Ever wondered what happened to these good folk?”
Frisk tensed up. Rightfully so. They had good instincts on their head.
Of the trio, Sans pitied Alphys the most. She had endured enough horrors with her botched experiments. From now, things will only get worse.
Snap. The world switched from the delights of festivities to a cold dark corridor.
Magic hummed in the air.
“This sounds familiar.” Gaster muttered.
“It feels familiar too.” Frisk agreed.
Onward, they went.
The mechanical sliding door opened up to a vast complex of technology. Intense whiteness radiated from below, supplying endless light to the myriad of walkways.
“The Core?!” Both scientists exclaimed at the same time.
“Half-right,” said Sans. “You’re inside Mu’s ocean-based power facility. Similar to our geothermal plant, except without the tile-switching mechanisms.”
Ever-curious, Frisk peered over the railings.
“Don’t wanna fall there, kid. You’ll either die, or get scattered in The Void.”
They asked back. “I thought we’re in an illusion?”
“Nope. Spacetime distortions are guaranteed whenever you see that white stuff. Not surprising, since it’s a key component in building Spirit Gates.”
“WHAT?!?!” Gaster flipped.
“…Sensei, what’s a Spirit Gate?”
“I’ll explain later, Doctor Alphys. My god, if that’s the case… How much potential energy does the ocean have?”
“Too much for one island.” Sans said, “I used to think that the Surface lagged behind in the magical energy department. But with this data, I think it’s safer to say that they lost most of their tech.”
A loud bang echoed in the air. It sounds like a gunshot.
Frisk got on their feet. They hurried to the source further down the facility.
They ended up at a long drawbridge connected to a circular platform. It’s suspended above the mass of white, supported by a pillar at the center.
A humanoid creature stood at the end. Light had no effect on him. If it weren’t for the glow of crimson outlines, he would have been a complete shadow.
“That’s young Mezil right there,” Sans pointed out. “Heh. No wonder he calls himself a DEMON. He’s almost all corrupt DT.”
Was that a bartender’s uniform?
It was indeed. That man had a very specific taste in clothing, no matter his earning bracket.
“I-i-is that a… a… dead body…?” asked Alphys.
When Young Mezil stepped aside, her worst fears were confirmed.
“Frisk, don’t look!”
Too late. The kid couldn’t take their eyes away from the grisly sight. A headless corpse lay front-down on the ground, soaked in its own growing puddle of blood.
Sans asked. “Too messy, heh? Funny, Monster dust didn’t phase you at all.”
Frisk wanted to answer back. But, their voice attracted the attention of the DEMON.
The illusionary Mezil pointed his gun.
Startled, the kid raised their hands. They had already gotten a taste of this man’s gun skills. Not going to risk eating a proper bullet.
“A child?” the vampire questioned. “What are you doing here? This is no playground.”
Mezil’s deep, stern voice hadn’t changed a single bit with the passing of time: an impossibility under any normal circumstance. His way of magic may have age-deterring side effects.
“I-I’ve come to help!” replied Frisk. “I’m a Magus too!”
They conjured a Yellow Star as proof of their power.
Yellow, not Red. Smart. This Mezil is on high alert. If he thinks of the kid as another participant in the war, they might just lose their head.
Gun, lowered. The man was nonetheless displeased. “Magus or not, you should leave. Escape before you suffer a fate worse than death.”
“What about you?” they asked.
“I have my ways.”
Mezil hurried over to the central pillar and armed his gun. Charged it with magic. Poised to obliterate this mechanism before it triggers the apocalypse.
Magic intensified. The scores of the platform’s flooring lit up, fully exposing its true nature…
A massive Arcanagram.
Gaster muttered disbelief over the line. “It can’t be…”
It’s a reaction Sans had long expected. “Yup. Who would have thought science could be so universal? Of course the humans would try to build a Soul Stealer.”
“Why?!”
“Why wouldn’t they? They have their reasons. And because they can, they have to.”
A magic-charged bullet shot out from Mezil’s pistol. The impact so great, it smashed a hole through reinforced metal. That explained how his unfortunate victim lost their head.
But… once he broke through to the pillar’s true mechanisms, Mezil was repelled by a flash of red.
“Argh!” He cried out. Staggered backwards. When he got his bearings back, he checked his chest.
It’s stamped with the symbol of a Queen: the ultimate Chesspiece.
When that happened, the DEMON’s aura dissipated. Drained. That Mark ate through all of Mezil’s reserves. Sans could finally see his face without any interference. A handsome chap in those days past.
“What the hell…? My Keys are gone!”
The younger Lucidia replied: “That Mark… is the false construct that killed Judge Pashowar. The ‘queen’ to his ‘king.’ How? It should only be limited to the Crimson Hall.”
“Hmph. For a Claim to be applicable, the reverse must also be possible. I’ll break it!”
Mezil focused his thoughts. Charged his SOUL with the most powerful butterfly that he could muster.
Alas, he failed. The attempt only drained his stamina.
“I hoped I would be wrong. As it stands, there were none stronger than Judge Pashowar. If he couldn’t do it, then…”
Fumes of Determination leaked between the gaps of Mezil’s teeth. “Dammit! Is there a kill switch?”
“T-there…” Lucidia’s voice wavered. “There isn’t any.”
“…Do we have any other methods that don’t depend on time travel?”
Only sobbing could be heard from the other end.
“I understand. We… can mourn another day. Damage control is our current priority. Good thing I still have my teleports. Recalling to base.”
Mezil used the last of his butterflies for the retreat.
“No, wait!” Frisk yelled. “I can break your Claim! Come back!”
“It’s pointless.” Sans had to remind them. “That’s the unchangeable past, kid. There's nothing you can do.”
They didn’t listen. That ominous maelstrom of Determination returned, swirling around Frisk as they conjured their true Mark with the intent of smashing it straight into the pillar.
A great white light then flashed upon collision. The impact reset the entire simulation back to blank ceramic tiles.
“Uh… what happened?” asked Alphys.
“Whoops.” Sans shrugged. “The simulation broke. Nothing to worry about. Right on time for a change of scenery anyway.”
He rose up high and stretched his folded wings. One last snap kickstarted the system.
Fumes of burnt fuel soon soured the sights and scents. Fire floated on the surface of the waves. Parts of broken battleships and aircraft bobbed around, waiting for their inevitable burial in the watery grave.
The deep blue ocean roiled around the Abomination, whose sheer amount of corrupt Determination dyed the white goo in bloody mud.
Frisk stood at the prow of the sole remaining battleship. The suffering monstrosity towered high into the grey, clouded skies.
It howled the broken dreams of all its victims.
A string of anime-jabbering droned over the intercom. Alphys repeated the word ‘muri’. It means ‘impossible’.
“Dust…?” the kid muttered as they looked around. “It’s everywhere.”
“What else did you expect?” Sans responded. “We’re talking about war here. Horrible isn’t it?”
“Fun fact: You’re looking at the Spring Mission of our current timeline. A future in which King Asgore absorbed Cenna’s SOUL and the Magi led a massive fleet to end the threat of the Abomination. Once and for all.”
“I gotta say, lots of money sure went into this. Bet Mezil spent decades getting this much backup. Welp. Sunken cash is sunken cash.”
The kid furrowed their brows and turned towards Sans; “If that’s the case, where’s Dad? Where’s Sis???”
“Good question.”
He floated back. Soon after, a great crimson trident fell from the sky. The sharp prongs pierced deep into the ship’s flooring.
Frisk jolted from the shock.
“Don’t tell me…”
Thus, the angel announced a grim declaration: “The King is dead. Long live the King. Take this trident as the symbol of inheriting his SOUL.”
“No!” They exclaimed. “T-this can’t be happening!”
The weapon began to peel. Papery flakes akin to dried flower petals scattered in the wind.
“Time is ticking, Frisk. If you don’t grab it, their death will be in vain. You don’t want that. Right?”
Panicked, the child grabbed the trident. The flaking stopped and the cracks healed.
Sans continued his narration. “You were one of the seven Magi chosen to cast The Seven Soul Barrier should things go south. A proper one. Not like ours and it’s Red-deficiency. Too weak, y’know.”
“Too bad your new friends didn’t make it out alive.”
Six human SOULS spawned before the child.
“You’re the world’s last hope…”
“So, answer me this: What does it mean to ‘save’ everyone?”
“Can you even save anyone?” Sans asked. “Just because you ‘have to’, doesn’t mean you ‘can’. But even though you ‘can’t’, you ‘must’. Sound familiar?”
“It’s the same deal since our days in The Underground. A destructive self-fulfilling prophecy, boiling down to your twisted sentimentality.”
“THAT is the true cause of The End. There’s just no sugarcoating it, lil’ DEMON.”
Frisk ripped their father’s weapon off the ground. Their silhouette twisted further and further.
They pointed the tip square at Sans Serif’s face.
“SHUT! UP!” they yelled.
“That’s your best answer?” The angel snickered. “It’s all within expectations.”
“You’re not cut out to be the Supreme Judge, Frisk. You never were.”
At last, the human broke under the pressure. They raged. They screamed. Their crimson aura burst like a solar flare.
They are the sun, wishing upon the stars to heed their call.
Specks of shimmering yellow dispelled the obscuring clouds. They shone so bright, so numerous, that they turned the whole sky gold.
That’s when Sans realised he had made a grave error in his calculations.
Maybe it’s a knee-jerk reaction. Perhaps he sensed that his lifeline -- the Seraph System -- was in danger.
Whichever it was, he cut a Sans-shaped hole in spacetime and dropped head first into the gap between realities. Anything that didn’t fit through the emergency exit got sliced off without mercy.
His six wings, gone.
It was Sans’ closest shave thus far. His White Eye showed the aftermath. The extra limbs he discarded burst into Karmic flame, consuming all of its Red fuel.
From the starlit sky, great beams of magic rained down upon the simulation: each with power greater than Papyrus’ Gasterblaster.
The total obliteration didn’t stop there; each laser tore apart whatever’s left of Megalovania until it ceased to be.
Bye-bye, Mister Moon. Nice knowing ya.
And so Sans eventually found himself in total darkness.
Where’s up? He wondered. Where’s down? Strange. I can’t tell the difference.
How far am I anyway?
Sans blinked once… he fell asleep. Lost his focus. The waves of vision worlds swept him away to wherever they flowed.
In the faded past, Sans saw himself as a young man just past his twenties. Doctor Gaster had him study the mechanisms of the Soul Stealer.
It’s fortunate that Alphys was an invisible teenager back then. The weight of this sin would be too much for her to bear. It’s worse than the botched experiments.
But Sans Serif?
He doesn't feel anything. Nor he had the right for it.
That’s what he told himself. Day in, day out.
“SAAAAAAANS! IT’S DINNERTIME!”
“K, bro.” Sans covered the doomed plans with all sorts of bad jokes. Papyrus finds them so repulsive, the mere sight would deter him.
Good. He doesn’t need to know.
It’s burgers and fries from the local joint today. Milk instead of soda. Little brother insisted.
Papyrus got taller, fast. He had his first growth spurt a few months ago. Just 13-years-old and he’s already half a head above his elder brother.
“Hey Paps, mind if I ask you some questions?”
“HM? WHAT IS IT, SANS? THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS READY TO ANSWER! NYEH HEH HEH!”
“I just read this book from the Dump. It’s a collection of stories about the end of the world. Death. Destruction. And worse.”
Little Papyrus frowned. “…I DON’T LIKE THAT BOOK ALREADY.”
“Me neither,” Sans replied. “But it got me thinking. For example: one smart cookie thought that merging people into a singularity is gonna save everyone.”
“WHAT IS THIS ‘SINGULARITY’?”
“There are several different forms of singularities. But, in this case… Everyone is everybody. Nobody dies. But you trade away your personal identity.”
“DOES THAT MEAN EVERYONE BECOMES THE GREAT PAPYRUS?”
“Nah. It means nobody gets to be anybody. I wouldn’t be Sans. You wouldn’t be Papyrus. Undyne won’t be Undyne anymore either. We’d just be alive. In a constant dream-like state.”
Papyrus took an aggressive bite out of his burger. “THAT COOKIE IS A STUPID COOKIE! IF NOBODY IS ANYBODY, WHO’S GOING TO MAKE ALL THE COOL PUZZLES???”
Sans snorted. He’ll take any jabs against Gaster, consciously dispensed or not.
“You’re right, bro. Okay. Now, the final chapter is where things get interesting. This is more mythical, so prepare your suspension of disbelief.”
“OOOOH THAT SOUNDS EXCITING. DISBELIEF SUSPENDED!”
“Alright. Once upon a time, there lived a wonderful young man. He was brave. Smart. Kind. But also wealthy. The people didn’t understand him. They thought he’s a weirdo. Some bad guys thought he’s an easy target because he’s always alone. They killed him without a second thought, just to loot his treasures.”
“The man went to Heaven. An angel came to meet him. Said that his boss took pity and he’s given one wish. The only catch? Bloke can’t revive himself. Why would he want to go back to that crappy place anyway?”
The little brother asked: “IS THERE ANY LIMIT TO THE WISH?”
“Nope.” Sans replied. “If he really wanted to, he could ask the entire army of Heaven to storm the world. Wipe it clean. Why should he care? They never appreciated him anyway.”
“THAT’S WRONG!!! E-EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN LIVES! EVEN THE BAD GUYS. MAYBE THEY’RE BAD NOW, BUT THEY CAN BE GOOD LATER.”
“IF THIS PERSON IS TRULY AS GREAT AS DESCRIBED, HE WON’T TAKE OFFENSE TO SUCH PETTINESS!”
“Murder is petty? Heh. That guy was denied of a full life because of greedy idiots.”
“PETTY IS NOT THE ACT. BUT THE REACTION! NEVER STOOP TO THEIR LEVEL.”
“Eh. Still need to use the wish though. Heaven won’t budge until he does.”
“THEN…. THEN…!”
After a whole lot of skull-wrecking, Papyrus came up with his final answer.
“HE WOULD ASK HEAVEN TO PROTECT THE WORLD HE LEFT BEHIND. IS THAT HOW THE STORY ENDED?”
“I dunno. The last pages were lost. I like your version, though. Heh, mind if I add my own spin to it?”
Papyrus groaned. “IS IT GOING TO BE A BAD PUN?”
“Nope.”
The elder brother showed his oily pinkie finger to Papyrus. “The angel seals the deal with a pinkie swear. On behalf of his boss, of course.”
“HMMM… THAT’S ONE OF YOUR BETTER PLOTS. OKAY, BROTHER! IN OUR VERSION OF THE STORY, THE DEAL IS SEALED! NYEH HEH HEH!”
“Ayup. It's a promise.”
Their greasy pinkies locked a binding oath. Little did Papyrus know that this ‘wish’ would one day save the entire Underground from the apocalypse.
I made that promise, didn’t I?
The Core Incident shook my skull pretty hard. That whole week ended up fuzzy. Spent many hours at Grillby’s wondering what I had lost.
I knew it was important, but I couldn’t recall what. Got the details wrong in so many ways…
Papyrus, I’m so, so sorry.
Sans then sensed the oppressive smothers of nearing killing intent. On high alert, he snapped wide awake.
The mass of dark Determination stood over him. They summoned a shining star, filled with a pure ‘Will’ of destruction.
“I will END you!!!”
The DEMON had spoken.
The Judgement was cast.
Sans readied his blade. One swift strike to the SOUL was all he needed to extinguish this anomaly.
He can’t let fear overwhelm him now.
‘Be Determined.’
But then, the roars of an engine fast approached. It swerved to Frisk’s side, and a familiar face plucked the pint-sized Living Victory out of the way.
“I got the punk!” Undyne lifted Frisk over her head like a trophy.
“GREAT JOB!”
That’s the voice of the god-brother.
The cavalry had arrived. It’s… Papyrus’ car? With jet engines?
It’s filled to the brim with everyone Sans had offended in the past few hours.
Papyrus. Undyne. The royal couple. Snakeface. Miss Vanquisher.
Even Grillby. He’s certain that the ex-Captain wasn’t here to settle a monetary matter. There’s a different kind of ‘debt’ between them now.
Then there was that mysterious fluffy dog. Sans noticed a distorting aura around it.
Is that… Determination?
Frisk struggled in the fish captain’s grip. She passed them straight into Asgore’s arms. Stats indicate that he’s cured of Gaelic’s toxins.
“Golly! Please, calm down.”
“My child. Mother’s here.”
When they realised that they’re in their parents’ presence, their anger and corrupt Determination plummeted. What’s left behind was a ball of violent emotions expressed in the most befitting manner.
They cried. Loud. They’ll calm down soon.
“There, there…” Asgore patted the child’s back.
Cenna was there too. Although she had her Ascension interrupted while inside the bubble prison. No 100% Hit bow on her. At least, for now.
She slumped. “Thank God. If Frisky became a Fallen… fuck, I’d be too ashamed to face Mama and Papa in heaven.”
“Language!” Toriel disapproved of the swearing. Mom will always be moms.
Gaelic laughed. “Oy, oy, methinks we be havin’ worse concerns than a smidgen o’ foulness.” Followed up with an immediate beastial hiss at Sans Serif: a complete 180.
Grillby didn’t need to say anything. That glare of his was enough to make a point.
Best get ready for the next phase. Sans thought. He thus commanded the system to build a brand-new set of wings.
Papyrus turned the car around to face his brother. He took a deep breath. Recollected himself. Tried to stay calm.
“SANS,” he coaxed. “IT’S NOT TOO LATE. LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER. STOP THIS MADNESS.”
“I PROMISE I’LL TALK TO MISTER MAGUS. WE’LL GET THE HELP YOU NEED.”
A part of him wanted to surrender. It’s easier. And he had hurt his god-brother enough.
But…
“…I can’t,” he replied, pained. “I made a promise to you. I can’t let the world die. I have to keep it alive. No matter what it takes.”
“THEN JOIN US. YOU’RE INCREDISUPEGENIOUSLY SMART. I’M SURE WITH THE POWER OF TEAMWORK, WE’LL COME UP WITH THE MOST GENIUS OF PLANS!”
“I don’t see that future. It doesn’t exist.”
The fishy captain fumed. “Oh that’s just negative talk! Tell him that, Paps!”
“ACTUALLY, HE’S RIGHT,” Papyrus replied.
“What?!?!”
“HE HAD ALL OF MY COLOURS. AND MORE. OUR LIMITS DICTATE THAT WE CANNOT SEE SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T EXIST. THEREFORE THE RESULTS SHOULD BE THE SAME.”
Frisk nodded, sombre. “Everyone died in the ocean battle. The Abomination is too powerful.”
“…BUT THAT’S BECAUSE WE’RE MISSING THE SECRET UNLOCKABLE PATH FOR THE GOLDEN ENDING!”
Sans sighed. “I’m the one with a Seven Aspect Eye here, bro. Peered into the code. Full walkthrough revealed. There is no golden ending. It’s futile.”
“We’re left with two options.” He showed the corresponding number of fingers. “Rewrite the entire game. Or abandon it for a new one.”
“If you ask me, forget about editing the past. Messing with broken code is a BAD idea. Break one thing, and you get a million other errors. Too much butterfly effect.”
“Which leaves us with option two. So, guys. Do you believe in alternate realities?”
That look on their faces… Didn’t need to pay attention to them to know they disapprove of his plans.
“That’s my last resort: finding a brand new world. One without the apocalyptic bits.”
“Magi. Gungnir. The Abomination. All gone. Erased.”
“Let this old doomed world stay buried forever.”