Friends turning into enemies. Checked.
The crumbled remains of a lost city. Checked.
His own body locked in a cycle of decay and restoration. Checked.
Death all around. Death in the future, the past, and the present. Checked.
The shadow of a man-goat towered over the tiny stature of Sans Serif, foretelling an ill-omen.
The crimson trident danced in a flurry, faster than Sans remembered. Asgore cut off the Seraphim’s wings in one simple turn.
Karma splashed unto the cracked asphalt roads. Anything touched by the rot collapsed on itself, leaving behind liquid-shaped holes.
A direct, deliberate attack. That’s what Sans could conclude for certain. As for Toriel’s other plans? He had his guesses, but he considered them low priority for now.
It’s a surreal predicament. The reality of this situation did not correlate with any of his prior observations.
Sure, Asgore held back when he had trained Undyne. Did the same when Frisk battled him. But this much? The difference was staggering. No wonder he survived countless battles against Genocider.
The King’s biggest weakness was always his big heart. That’s not the case anymore.
Sans attempted to initiate a counterattack. His blasters were summoned to the command of his left arm.
Mode: Full Karma.
Precision: Mandatory.
His goal: To cripple the royal couple.
Except a spray of bullets from the side disrupted his attempt. Sans watched his arm shatter and tear into a liquefying mass of poisoned shards.
The ordeal hurt less than it should have. Then again, he had already resisted worse…
“Take THAT, Trashbag!!!” so mocked Asriel, the rotten prince.
The two little plane drones whizzed around. They continued raining their bullets on him.
Such a nuisance.
The skeleton thus teleported away from the meddlesome pests to gain some distance. Within seconds, his blasted arm restored itself back to its original state.
Tsk. The flower kids.
My Eye didn’t warn me.
Of course, of course.
I have infinite HP. By technicality nothing is lethal. Therefore, there’s no reason to avoid anything.
Sans tried to focus on the happenings at Lucidia’s channel, but the two brats kept yelling over her. The mix of insults, childish orders, and minor reports covered possible vital information.
Meanwhile, the King of Monsters approached: his very stride exuding power. Despite so, his running speed was slow compared to Sans’ recent foes.
He wanted to take full advantage of that weakness, but once again the pesky planes refused to let him do so.
A warning of his demise then flashed by his vision. If the flower children successfully compromise the Seraph System, death becomes permanent.
So he took protective measures. Shielded the crucial parts. As long as it remains intact, the rest of his being was nothing short of secondary.
This behaviour did not go unnoticed.
“I knew it! Your life is linked to that dumb thing!”
Chara laughed. “Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.”
“Isn’t he? The high and mighty Comedian, reduced to a ghost in a machine. Everything else is just for show!”
“That’s what a performer’s all about.”
By the time they finished their banter, Asgore had caught up. He lunged at Sans with a piercing attack, aimed for the Seraph System as expected.
Dodge. Teleport. Retaliate. Waves of corrosive bones dissolved the ground, forcing Asgore to retreat lest he falls through the gaps.
Didn’t I do this before? Sans wondered.
The White Eye fed him memories of Frisk’s wake.
It happened so, so long ago.
Right, I tried to trap that planty twerp.
I also figured, that if there was a superpower other than Frisk… he or she would not let the collapse of the stadium grounds remain permanent. Hello, Mezil Thyme.
Now? Totally biting me in the pelvis. Uncontrolled. Unintended. Karma turned against me.
“Hey, Tori,” he said to the woman by the sidelines. “You think you’re invincible? Protected? Because you’re you?”
“Why not? We’re best joke buddies, after all.”
“I’m a DEMON now, y’know. Heartless. Ruthless. A true nihilist. Love and attachments… they don’t mean anything anymore. I can kill you with a snap of my finger.”
She shook her head. “But that will go against everything you’re fighting for.”
“Heh. I’m a lazy bag of bones. Integrity is not my tune. When it comes down to it, I’ll finish the job.”
So the Queen challenged: “I dare you.”
Asgore pierced the trident into the ground. And when the husband calls, the wife answers. Queen Toriel lifted her arms, sending out resonance. Their magic sang united in a rolling shockwave of living flame.
Fire everywhere. Anything touched by their magic burned, even if there’s no fuel to sustain them. Should he have expected anything less from the couple who could ignite the rain itself?
Hot…!
Sans warped himself out to the edge of the radius. It’ll take a while for the Dreemurr couple to shift their new position. That should give him some time to analyze.
If the children would allow him to do so. Their small, fast planes made ideal harassers. They continued to pester him with potshots on his bones.
A splash of Karma here, a puddle of poison there. That’s not counting the constant flow from his wrecked wings…
At this rate, the city will crumble beneath his feet.
What about flight? Heavy suppressive fire complicated matters.
Sans had to keep afloat, close to the ground and out of the decay. Otherwise, he would sink into the dry quicksand of his own making.
“Hey Trashbag.” said Chara. “Don’t you know that the final boss always loses? Look at you. Powering up. Being uber cool. That’s all gonna fall flat.”
Asriel joined the mockery: “Been there, done that. So why don’t you just give up? That’s what the old Sans would have done.”
The skeleton replied: “What are you talking about? I gave up on giving up. All in character.” Capped the remark with his usual wink.
It earned the grimace of the ex-human. “I can’t believe you insist on maintaining that fucking act!”
“Welp, little Persona… I got nothing else to say to you.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Between the two, Chara’s flight path was the more predictable one. He had seen this behaviour too many times. Some bad habits refuse to die.
Sans capitalized on their weakness. All it took was just one well-timed bone to eliminate Chara’s drone, smashing it to smithereens against a wall.
Incoming flip in three, two, one.
Right on cue, the prince seethed. “YOUUUUUU--!”
“Alright Azzie, let’s go with Plan B. I fly, you fire.
The two kids teamed up to control a single plane. Asriel focused on the shooting while Chara kept their ‘vines’ on the steering wheel.
They continued to maintain pressure. A shot punctured his ribcage. Should have lost his 1 HP right there.
How strange it was to survive these otherwise fatal wounds. The sense of false immortality threatened to lull him into complacency.
…I need to break their teamwork.
Hmm. I don’t even need the Eye of Dreams to read these kids.
“So, Prince Asriel.” he said, “What if I tell you that your suffering is wholly self-inflicted?”
The firing rate intensified. More holes in his ribs.
Hot button, discovered. Sans is gonna press it for his life’s worth.
“The problem was never about your lack of a SOUL.” Sans tapped his cranium. “It’s right up here. You had no proper understanding of love to begin with. Limited. Twisted. No wonder you couldn’t recognize it as a flower and fell into genocidal despair.”
“Azzie, don’t listen to him!”
“SOUL or no SOUL, you’ve always failed to connect to others in a meaningful way.”
“W-we’re best friends!”
“Nah. You’re both parasites manipulating each other. All you cared about was Chara. Nothing but Chara. The person who gave the least damn about your well being. And your ‘best friend’ wanted the perfect tool for their revenge.”
“YOU won’t understand, you… you…! You FILTHY PSYCHOPATH!”
Despite the fury, none of the hits landed. Emotions had taken over his senses. Now all it took was just one final push.
“That reaction…” said Sans. “Tells me you knew about it all along. Subconscious or otherwise. Makes me wonder when your beloved Chara is gonna rob you of control again.”
“Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!”
“Argh dammit! You always break under pressure. Give it to me!”
“NO! STAY OUT OF THIS!!!”
The kids took the bait. Hook, line, and sinker. It’s an immediate breakdown. The plane teetered around as they squabbled, until another bone cleaved them down right through the center.
Like that, they’re down for the count.
Free of distractions, Sans had the Seraph System restore his being to completion. No more Karma leaks. At least, for the time being.
“…So, Lady Lucidia,” said Sans. “What’s up with the silence? Thought you’d slap some sense into those brats.”
No response.
“Was it not a part of your plan? Or maybe, you’re not in charge of this battle?”
Shadows lengthened, the air warmed.
The King of Monsters had arrived. Glowing fire perched on his back.
Asgore’s heated breath trickled between his clenched teeth. His back was hunched, and his arms trembled.
“Is that… what you think of my children?” The King asked.
As for Queen Toriel, her stern gaze locked square on her target. Unmoving.
So, they heard the full conversation.
Tori… what are you thinking? Maintaining morale would have been better.
“Yeah,” said Sans. “I pity you, King Asgore. Your wife too. You had such big plans for those two. Together, the future of monsterkind… It must have hurt to realise they had fallen so far short of your lofty hopes and dreams.”
“Well then, Sans Serif. Tell me. Who is at fault here? The parent, or the child?”
He pondered about this age old question.
When children don’t grow up right, who bears the ultimate responsibility?
Would it be nature? Or nurture?
“Both,” the skeleton replied.
“You yourselves were good kids to your parents. Made the right choices under hardship. As a result, you had an idealized image of parenthood. Didn’t realise the possibility of going bad with a cute face. Asriel was not lil’ Toriel or lil’ Asgore. Neither was Chara.”
“Ah… I see,” said the King. “I remember the days my father took me through his daily routine. Meeting the officers, visiting the citizens, striking dummies made out of straw…”
“Those were my fondest memories. But as I grew older, I wished that my own children could have a more carefree childhood.”
Sans shrugged. “It’s natural. Flowers always bloom brighter on the other side.”
Asgore pointed his trident at his foe. His arms, steadied. “You and I share much in common. Yet how different the outcome was.”
“None of that matters anymore. Ready for round two?”
“No. This shall be your end.”
Sans heard the rupture of metal. Multiple sources. It’s followed by the rushes of depressurization.
A dangerous scent began to fill the air. King Asgore covered his snout with his cape, coughing away.
Gas…?
The threat of infrastructural collapse was worse than expected. His Karma had consumed the active gas pipes, releasing mass volumes of flammable fumes into the ruins.
Toriel smiled. It had a sense of twisted morbidity that belonged only in the darkest shadow.
“My, my, my,” she said. “Fortune is on our side. This will be easier than I had ever expected.”
The Queen joined her King, gripping onto the trident’s handle. Their united might formed a brilliant sun on the edge of the prongs.
Larger and larger it grew. Soon it will reach critical mass.
The action set off a ton of alarm bells in Sans Serif’s skull. The goats may be fireproof. But, they are not blast-resistant.
Sans yelled. “Tori, stop! You’re going to--”
“I know, Sans. I know.” Toriel giggled. “Goodbye.”
Gasterblaster, summoned.
Mode: Full Magic. No Karma. His lasers won’t produce sparks. Not a fire hazard.
One shot was all he needed to prevent a colossal disaster.
One shot to obliterate the entities named Toriel and Asgore Dreemurr.
One.
Yet, despite all his claims about his descent to madness…
…He couldn’t pull the final trigger.
Husband. Wife.
The Underground’s ‘light’.
Together, they destroy the status quo.
Hot plasma plunged straight toward the fuel.
It set off a chain reaction of quaking proportions. For a moment, nothing made sense. Light and shadow rolled together, devoid of any sound other than a keen shrill.
His cochlea must have shattered. Along with it, all sense of balance.
Sans Serif lay broken on the baking ground, surrounded by inferno. Fractures crawled across every piece of his being. The only thing that survived wholly intact… was his heretical lifeline.
Damn.
I should have teleported instead.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, he heard a series of beeps.
THE SERAPH SYSTEM
WARNING: OVERHEATING.
CRITICAL FAILURE IMMINENT
Heat. Electronic’s worst enemy.
“System, erase fire.”
ERROR
“System, cancel vision world.”
ERROR
“System, reboot.”
ERROR
Sans sighed at his predicament.
The flames are blooming.
The winds are howling.
On nights like these…
Trash like me should burn in Hell.
“System, report.”
Only the medium and low intensity functions were available. Even then… their capacity was limited.
His bones mended just enough to stand. It’s awkward. Not to mention painful. Still, he forced himself to move forward. Urgency compelled him.
A sinking trail of sand followed his step.
Pieces of shattered armour lay scattered about. Where’s Asgore? It’s hard to see.
Am I too late?
Just a little further down… the King of Monsters had fallen next to his trident.
A closer inspection revealed critical internal injuries. Expected lifespan: 1 more minute.
…You’re lucky, big guy. For being a Boss Monster…
With Lucidia’s item-creating system under his grasp, Sans began tapping into its reserves to conjure a tool.
It’s a capsule: Gaster’s SOUL container reshaped into a palm-sized ball for easy transport.
Asgore, contained. The rest of the body dissolved into dust.
“I impose my will to…” Cough. Hack. Such ailments were never a good sign.
“‘Keep you alive’.”
The system planted a Seraph on the pod. It was a complete success. While the Living Victory survives, he will too.
Sans glanced at the weapon.
I see the trident outlives its owner yet again. Welp. I’m not gonna bother lugging that around.
Not too far from Asgore’s location lay Toriel, leaning against the rubble. She’s still breathing. But, there’s not much left in her either.
I can’t believe it.
That crazy woman. Always sending shocks through me.
The sudden knocks.
That pun level.
The drinking sessions.
And now… this.
“A suicide attack,” Sans remarked. “Why?”
Toriel replied with a different question: “…Do you care?…”
Do I?
Do I not?
……………………
I don’t feel the difference anymore. It’s one of the signs of becoming a DEMON.
That’s how Frisk could justify killing everyone, right?
“Mind satisfying my last shred of sentimentality?”
The Queen tried to laugh. It’s broken. Choked. Choppy.
“…You can’t rewind time… Any mistakes… You… I… Anyone… they stay…”
It’s the one flaw in his plan that he hoped no one would try to exploit. He expected Lucidia to do so if push came to shove. One of the main reasons why Sans was so careful around her.
And yet, it was Toriel who made the gamble: the most cautious, overprotective mother of the Kingdom.
“I tried so hard to keep you alive,” said Sans. “All of you. Delayed time. Played games. A wild ride. Hoped no one would notice.”
“…Ha ha ha… Think you could… escape from a mother?…”
“Guess not.”
Sans knelt by her side. Created another capsule, ready for use.
“I’m still determined to save you. Whether you like it or not.”
Life had started to fade from Toriel. Her limbs crumbled, starting from the hands and feet.
“…Then… will you please… hate me?…”
“Denied.” Sans didn’t even need to think twice. “Even if you had forced my hand in the worst possible way.”
“…Maybe… you’ll soon change your mind…”
In her dying breath, her expression changed to one befitting a malicious witch.
“Beware.”
Sans bottled Toriel’s SOUL in the second capsule. Planted the Mark for preservation.
He stared at it with a sense of emptiness: a familiar sensation that existed since the Underground days.
Then, the scorching air shifted. It’s not a random change of air pressure. Order permeated their movements, like a force marching through the windows, the alleys, and the streets.
There’s only one man in this skirmish capable of that.
Sans turned around. Clad in black and white, the personification of flame picked up the fallen king’s trident.
When he did so… the weapon released the united piece of lifeforce through its new wielder. His stature changed to one of single-minded conviction.
The city’s fires united under one banner.
Their commander, their captain.
Sir Grillbz Grillenn - Knight Infernal - bearer of the Dreemurrs’ final ‘Will’.
I see now, Tori.
You knew you wouldn’t make it. So you used your life to cripple me… while rallying your fighting force.
You are a dangerous woman. Heh. I like that. I like that a lot.
Humans named those of magic ‘Monsters’. Creatures of terror and destruction. For a long time, it was considered the result of senseless xenophobia. Perhaps they were right after all. Their forms reflected their hearts: be it good or bad.
How many adventurers fell to those who don the mantle of wrath?
I’m running out of chances.