This was your first question in the ‘Sans’ branch of discussion:
> Tactician
What’s with the training?
Why must it be so brutal?
What does it mean to be a Tactician?
Papyrus waited together with you for the answer.
Doctor Gaster sipped his tea in an attempt to recollect himself. He then breathed out a quiet sigh.
“Frisk,” he asked, “How much do you know about the concept of war?”
What you learned from media and history books. Lots of fighting, conquering, and heroic limelights. And also suffering.
“But, do you know what goes on behind the battlefield?”
Not much, you had to admit. What you studied in your human school surrounded solely on the events themselves.
“That’s just the tail end, dear child. The results. War begins long before the clashes happen. It’s all about preparation. Logistics and resources must be carefully planned, or else defeat will follow.”
Can’t Dad just zap everything with his seven-soul godhood?
Doctor Gaster shook his head. “Never ever depend on a single method, no matter how powerful it may sound. Too many other monster nations made this mistake and paid the ultimate price.”
“Even if King Asgore broke the Barrier, I wouldn’t want him to take to the front lines. First, he would be targeted by any time-travelling assassins out there. Second, he would not have the heart to end the lives of millions.”
“If possible,” he stopped for a moment. “I wouldn’t want King Asgore to kill any more. The Six had burdened him enough.”
But, what about the war promise…?
“Out of sight, out of mind. I’m sure you’ve heard of that phrase.”
You did. Then you asked: does that mean Dad needs to stay in his private garden, while Doctor Gaster and Sans push the campaign proper?
“Yes, dear child. You are correct. The sheer devotion of his citizens will always be King Asgore’s true strength. Not the SOULs, not godhood, nor his magic. It’s his love for his people, and his people's love for him. We’re more than willing to sacrifice our lives.”
“But we do not intend to die without meaning. In order to survive our own quest, we need strategists to plan our missions: to handle logistics, survey the terrain, delegate tasks, and ultimately decide our course of action.”
“The best of those minds would bear the title of ‘Tactician’. That is your friend, Sans Serif.”
> Sans’ life.
Is it true that his entire life was decided since he was a baby?
Gaster answered, “Yes. Us Seers can examine a child’s potential while they’re still taking their final form. Think of it as a more thorough and accurate ultrasound procedure.”
“Just the news of the birth itself was a miracle. Roman and Helvetica were so weak in their magic, they never awakened their Seer’s Eye. Let alone expected to have any children. And yet, Sans happened. He was a powerful, powerful child.”
“Around the same time, King Asgore requested me to be his Tactician. I declined. A genius I may be, but I know my own limits. Instead… I offered the child that would one day be named after an angel.”
An angel?
You pointed at yourself. Weren’t you the angel of prophecy?
“Oh no, he’s not an angel of mercy like you,” said Gaster. “The ‘Serif’ part of his name is a reference to ‘Seraphim’. According to human legend, these six-winged angels are the primary guardians of their deity. And that’s what he should be.”
“Sans Serif’s true duty is to protect King Asgore -- and by extension the entire nation-- through any means necessary. Even if it means resorting to human cruelty.”
> Human cruelty.
You’re not sure if you’ll regret it, but you asked that question anyway.
“Guile. Foreknowledge. Sabotage. Assassination. And all the underhandedness that comes from stealth and spying. These too are valid tactics. In fact, they’re the same methods that the ‘Legendary Hero’ used to bring us monsterkind to our knees.”
“Humans often redirect their extensive supply of determination into themselves. This breeds selfishness. Misanthropy. The idea of ‘I, me, and mine’. As such, many would not hesitate to take the most efficient route to get what they want, whenever they want. Even if it means being cruel.”
“So I trained Sans to think the same: search for a weakness and strike there. Why start small? Why inflict warning wounds? Why explain your powers? Go straight to the point. Find the crack in the enemy’s tactics. Take to the field and break them down from the inside, if that’s the path to secure our survival.”
“Strike the enemy from the shadows, in the shadows.”
Sans was raised to think like an assassin, like the Fallen Hero. That’s why he insisted that he’s ‘human’ in his thoughts.
It’s hard to say that he rejected his purpose. On one hand, he’s a bitter drifter. On the other hand, he always watched out for the people he cares about.
In the end, he’s still a ‘seraphim’. Albeit a fallen one.
The tea had gone cold. Doctor Gaster held the mug closer to the heater in an attempt to warm it up.
“…To be honest, Sans could have gone down the same path without my influence. He had a certain cunningness since his baby bone days, as my dear friends experienced first hand. Not even padlocked drawers were safe. He’d somehow find the keys no matter where you hid them.”
You looked at Papyrus, wondering what his toddler days were like.
Your curious friend used his powers to take a peek. “APPARENTLY I’M LOUD, RESTLESS, AND VERY ACTIVE IN IMAGINATION. BUT OTHERWISE A GOOD BOY. I AM SO RELIEVED THAT I DIDN’T GIVE SANS MUCH TROUBLE.”
The brothers are complete opposites in every way!
“Ah, but what am I rambling about?” Gaster took another sip, “Nurture still goes a long way. If he was raised in a different environment, he wouldn’t be so extreme.”
You drank some of your cold tea. You’re not used to the bitterness, so you asked for a sandwich to mask the taste.
It’s dinnertime anyway. Papyrus offered some to the elder before helping himself.
You thought about your own life while you munched on your meal. Cenna told you about her plans to send you to magic school. Although it involved nothing grander than a family reunion, it’s still a locked path.
The main difference? You never realised it until this timeline. Sans was completely aware of his chains.
It’s hard to imagine that kind of life.
You thanked Doctor Gaster for sharing the story. Then, you promised to him and the skeleparents that you’ll help Sans live like a normal person.
The old goopy skeleton continued to frown. You asked him why.
He answered, “Help is only useful once it's accepted. More so when it comes to the heart. You saw how he rejected King Asgore’s apology.”
It’s alright.
You’re determined.
“Frisk, Child of Mercy. It’s good that you try, but please don’t neglect your own well-being.”
The questions about Sans ended at the Doctor’s advice. There were no more prompts, only an arrow redirecting you back to the very first page.
It’s greyed out with the word ‘DONE’ now. You took this moment of rest to finish your sandwich.
You stared at the schoolbag at your side. Oh man, you had tons to catch up on your homework. Your timeline adventures taught you most about geography, but that subject doesn’t exist in the monster syllabus. They concentrated on language, art, culture, math, and science.
You’re good with cultural topics and language. Fine with art. Sans helped you a ton with your scientific knowledge. Math? That stuff will eat up HOURS.
The urgency prompted you to check your homework. You’re left with the one subject that bothered you since the first day in school.
Math.
The thought alone made Papyrus rattle his bones, “OH, I REMEMBER THE HORROR OF COMPLICATED NUMBERS. I HAD TO THINK LONG AND HARD TO REALISE THAT I WAS ONCE A DOZEN AWAY FROM A TWO DIGIT NUMBER.”
Papyrus! Can’t he peer into the future and give you the correct answers?
That statement earned you a light chop on the top of your head, executed by none other than Doctor Gaster himself. You squealed. It didn’t hurt though.
With a disapproving glare, he said: “The three of us agree that you shouldn’t depend on Papyrus’ clairvoyance to cheat on your homework.”
But, it’s math. If you don’t cheat, you won’t have time to discuss about the more important topics!
“May I see your work thus far?”
You handed your math workbook over to Doctor Gaster. His mental gears clicked together as he analyzed your handiwork.
“Frisk,” he said, “You went to a human school before your adventures. Am I right?”
You nodded.
“From what age?”
Six, you said.
“How well do you understand the four basic mathematical principles and their application?”
Your inability to answer was all he needed to know. Doctor Gaster set your homework on the table and got up from the stool.
“That explains why you had so much trouble. It’s not that you’re ‘bad’ at math, Frisk. You merely lack understanding. Coincidently, math is my life. By the end of this lesson, you’ll finish your task in a blink.”
Those are some fancy words of promise. You pulled the stool over and plopped your butt on it.
Challenge accepted. There’s a reason why your teachers had no time to help you.
Gaster smirked. “Do not underestimate me.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
He then asked, “Oh, by the way Papyrus… what were you trying to calculate back then?”
Papyrus answered with great pride: “MY FOLLOWER COUNT, UNCLE GASTER! A POPULAR COOL SKELETON SUCH AS MYSELF MUST HAVE PLENTY OF FANS!”
“My boy, a dozen is a set of twelve. The minimum count for a ‘double digit’ is ten. I don’t think it’s possible to have negative-two followers.”
“WHY NOT?”
“Well, do you think it’s possible for a living person to be less than zero?”
Papyrus’ eyes bugged out. His mind got blown away by sheer revolutionary logic.
The prison soon turned into a maths classroom. Doctor Gaster first taught you addition and subtraction, and then their relations to multiplication and division.
With the aid of an empty scrap exercise book, he showed you a visual calculating method. Just to help you get started. It’s much easier than trying to recall solely on your rickety foundations.
Thanks to his guide, you finished your homework at a speed you never thought possible. You pinched your cheeks in utter disbelief.
Doctor Gaster won. Cue a classy sip of his tea as he checked your answers.
“All correct,” he said, “See? Math isn’t an impossible roadblock. It’s about understanding, practice, and application. Much like everything else in life.”
Doctor Gaster was one of the best teachers you’ve met. Mom will always occupy the number one spot in your heart, but this man is a close contender.
Sans didn’t go ‘wrong’, instead he went ‘horribly right’.
Since your homework was out of the way, you returned the stool to him. A teacher must be respected with a proper sitting space.
“Thank you very much, Frisk.” He slid over the seat and rested his goopy self there.
You occupied the floor once more.
Then, you prompted your remaining question for tonight.
> Seven Sages.
The moment you said that, Gaster widened his sockets and leaned backwards. You thought he’s going to fall over.
Both you and Papyrus tried to catch him, but it turns out he didn’t need any help. Still, he appreciated the sentiment.
“W-what…? How…?” Gaster muttered, “The only way you’d know anything about them would be--”
Details clicked in his head. “I see. Judge Thyme sent you to me, didn’t he?”
Papyrus was faster than you. “OH! HOW DID YOU KNOW, UNCLE GASTER?”
Gaster then replied, “I once told him about my father’s love for nature. He knows his history well to notice that small detail. A man like him surely understands the need to learn from the follies of the past.”
After taking a brief moment to regain his composure, Gaster began his story.
“You see, children. In the ancient days, ‘Humans’ and ‘Monsters’ ruled the lands. Rule they both did, but there was no mutual cooperation.”
“Each side lived separately. We monsters noticed early on that we frighten humans with our presence. Their fear was so intense, they retaliated with physical force.”
“It was then we discovered that us monsters are very weak to violence. Further compelled by our distaste for needless conflict, we hid ourselves from sight.”
“We favoured the forests, marshes, mountains: anywhere that’s difficult for humans to traverse. Puzzles, the combinations of contraption and diversion, were installed around our territory to further discourage encounters with their kind.”
“They’re designed to be harmless rerouting schemes. Sometimes, however… accidents happen. Often it’s due to failed safety checks or poor construction. Humans mistook them as death traps, further fuelling paranoia.”
“The intrepid ones began to form adventuring guilds. Mercenaries, treasure hunters, warriors, what have you. Heroes, they were called, working together with the local armed forces to ‘clear the land of possible threats’.”
And thus a monster hunt began.
“Yes. That’s correct.”
“These exceptional humans broke through our puzzles and raided our settlements. Killed every man, woman, and child who failed to escape. Whatever riches and resources we had left behind became a bonus for their efforts. Their LOVE increased unchecked.”
“We responded by further isolating ourselves: building more complex puzzles, creating illusions to confuse intruders, increasing warning patrols so we could evacuate the citizens well ahead of time. We also sent emissaries to other monster nations, plotting escape routes should any of us fall.”
“…Our numbers declined. Too many died too soon. There was a pressing need to replenish our population. Without people, important jobs can’t be completed. Our survival as a community hung at a precarious edge.”
“Thus began the Reanimation Project.”
A new prompt appeared to you. Could this be the beginning of the skeleton people?
> Reanimation Project.
Gaster said, “It began with one nation, far away from our current location. A human civil war broke out nearby. The king witnessed fields of corpses left behind in the aftermath. He thought, ‘What a sad and wasteful tragedy. If only they could have a peaceful second chance within our kingdom’.”
“It was a moment of epiphany. He gathered his wise men and asked if it’s possible to give these poor souls a new lease on life.”
“No one knew what would become of this, but they’re willing to try out of desperation. Scouts brought back six corpses from the edges of the battlefield. Fed those magic, using their own bodies as the catalyst, thereby creating a brand new monster SOUL.”
“Four failed to produce any results. Caught fire, disintegrated, and assorted other mishaps. You can’t expect people to get science right on the first try.”
“Then they managed to reanimate one. You know this being as a ‘Zombie’. Unfortunately, they’re unstable. The first successful subject behaved much like some of the less conscious Amalgamates. To make things worse, both their mind and body broke down at rapid pace.”
“It was then Monsterkind recorded their first extensive study of the decaying process. It was as messy as you can imagine; they ‘fell down’ within a day. None of us were sure if they were even conscious of their own existence.”
“The scholars then discovered that the same corpse cannot be reanimated twice. After giving the poor soul a proper burial, they discussed another possibility.”
“What if we strip the corpse down to the remnants left behind: on these things called ‘bones’? The nation had one last corpse remaining, so they tested their theories on that specimen.”
“The experiment was a success. The enchanted bones awakened with the basic knowledge of a young adult. Identified himself as a male and was fully sentient. In time, he adapted to life just like any other monster.”
“News of this discovery spread across the royal networks. Bolstered with hope, their respective monarchy called for all to donate their collection of human bones. From there, the first skeleton society came into existence overnight.”
“See, a person's essence tends to linger after the destruction of the SOUL. For humans more so than for monsters; it stays near the deceased body, rather than scattering as dust. It's for this very reason that these skeletons managed to retain certain skills prior their first death. Some better than others. Mind you, none of them remember anything of their past selves.”
Your tall cinnamon roll friend screamed out of excitement. “OH MY GOD, IT’S JUST LIKE ANIME!”
Anime is real Papyrus. Get used to it. Well, the realistic historical bits anyway.
Gaster chuckled in response. “Interesting, isn’t it?”
“All of us agreed that we will never kill a human to get their bones, directly or otherwise. So these skeletons were all harvested from crypts, graveyards, battlefields, or secluded accidents that happened near our territory. Success rates differed by how long ago they had passed on.”
“Then one day, we found several humans on the verge of death. Fatal wounds, malnutrition, disease, to name a few causes. Strong-willed they were: still clinging to their human SOUL despite their failing bodies. ”
“We took pity on them, offering salvation through application of our rites. The result was a groundbreaking accidental discovery that allowed monsterkind to understand a human’s strength. From these records, I would later refine them into the Determination Sciences you know today.”
“They became what the humans call ‘Liches’, the strongest of all the reanimated dead.”
The next prompt appeared, but you didn’t press it right away. You needed a moment for the details to sink into your head. Drink some tea, munch on a cookie, feed some sugar into your brain…
> Liches and Seers.
What made them special? How could one tell the difference between a Lich and a normal skeleton?
“Colour.” He said. “When a Lich awakens, their eyes glow with the colour of their human SOUL. These cannot be dispelled and they’re purely cosmetic.”
“ARE THEY HUMANS IN A MONSTER BODY?!?” asked Papyrus.
“Both yes and no. Their SOULs had transformed into the white and fragile forms we’re so familiar with. Complete with the inverted shape. However, they exhibited raw strength greater than any monster ever known. A normal Lich can lift tremendous weights. A warrior can swing around a tree log as if it’s a mere pole. Captain Undyne’s famous suplexes? They’d be right at home.”
“Study their bones under a microscope and you would see the bone tissue, no different from the other skeletons.”
“The secret? It’s the remnants of their human SOUL spread throughout their physical bodies. Its vast innate power boosted their beings to the levels of legends. Hence why they’re considered ‘Pseudo-Boss Monsters’.”
“The same cannot be said for their descendants.”
Descendants? Like Doctor Gaster and Papyrus?
“Indeed. We call ourselves Seers, but that was not our original terminology. Before Seers existed, the descendants of Liches were called ‘Lichborn’. The same goes for subsequent generations of Lichborn children.”
Wait. How are monsters born in the first place? Nevermind skeletons, who are nothing but bone.
“Uhhh…” Doctor Gaster flustered, his cheekbones blushing dual-coloured. “We’re… uhm… the result of a magical union between a male and female skeleton. I don't have any experience firsthand, but it's… a beautiful process.”
“A VERY BEAUTIFUL PROCESS!” Papyrus nodded. “UHH, WHAT WAS IT AGAIN? SANS NEVER TOLD ME WHAT HAPPENS AFTER DATING! SHALL I USE MY POWERS TO FIND OUT?”
“NOOOOO!!!” Gaster leapt out of his seat and slapped both hands down on the youngster's shoulders, pinning him down on the spot.
You imagined the skeleparents yelling ‘OBJECTION!’ at the top of their inaudible voices. You were also sure that those arms moved at their own volition to save their son from seeing far too much.
“Papyrus…” He said, “Once you find a proper lady skelly that you like, you will understand. For now, just know that after a union, there’s a chance that a magical orb will form. That's all.”
Good call.
If it's anything like what humans do, then…
You know.
Papyrus doesn't need ANOTHER lifelong scar.
Gaster soon turned to you with renewed composure: “Child of Mercy, think of it as an egg, if you will. No bird or lizard jokes please. And certainly no chicken jokes. I find them rather degrading.”
Okay. No jokes. You’re fine with that.
Moving on.
“These orbs would be nurtured and protected as the union consolidates into its final form. Once completed, the orb loses its shine, and the newborn’s SOUL absorbs their parents attributes. Naturally with Lich or Lichborn parents, an aspect of their ‘colour’ is also inherited.”
“Because Lichborn are born of magic, we do not have physical bodies. We’re only generated in the likeness of our parents. Thus, we’d be subjected to all the typical weaknesses of other monsters… But, we still bear human roots.”
“These are our primary proof.” Gaster pointed two fingers at his own set of the Seer’s Eyes.
“Unlike the Liches whose colours are cosmetic, our Eyes have special power. Determination is key, except our bodies could never contain the quantities required for such magic.”
“What do we do then? We burn them as fuel.”
Gaster set his Eyes ablaze as a cool visual demonstration of his statement.
“See these flames, children? It’s burning Determination alongside the ‘colours’ of inheritance.”
Both the flames and colours faded back to their default white state. “Now, before I can tell you more about Seers, you must first understand the repercussions of the Reanimation Project; it triggered a tragedy that monsterkind failed to anticipate.”
“As I had told you earlier, Humans and Monsters live apart from each other. They’re ignorant about us, and we’re ignorant about them.”
“One day, a mountain settlement fell to the first security breach in fifty years. There was only one survivor old enough to tell the tale: my mother.”
“She testified that when the humans saw the skeleton people, they went pale from horror. That horror soon turned into indignant fury. They razed the town to ashes and spared none, especially the Lichborn.”
Why? You asked. You just can’t understand. Judging from Papyrus’ shocked expression, he didn’t get it either.
The elder one who knew too much stared back at you with a solemn gaze.
He then closed his eyes in painful confession. “Youth, do you know why we’re called ‘monsters’? It’s because our appearances remind humans of their helplessness and fear. What irony.”
“Skeletons are a symbol of death in all human cultures. We mirror their own fleeting and fragile mortality. When they saw the ‘dead’ alive and procreate entire families… well, we were seen as blasphemy. And blasphemy demands a ‘cleansing’ massacre.”
“While my mother brought the children to safety, her father -- my grandfather -- fought the humans by himself. The Lich of Bravery, she called him. He defended the backlines with nothing more than his axe, shield, and sheer skill.”
“The human ‘heroes’, however, recognized my grandfather. They called him by his former name. ‘You wear his gear’, they said. ‘You use his style’, they said. ‘Don't you remember us? Your former comrades?’”
“Futile, of course. My grandfather declared himself a new man, and his family are the ones fleeing in the cave behind him. The humans thus condemned him. Cursed. Evil. Possessed. A desecration of his memory. He only laughed back, prepared to become their worst nightmare if it means that others will see the next sunrise.”
“He then collapsed the tunnel, sealing his own fate.”
“My mother did not see what happened after that. But legends state that he had decimated dozens before a hail of arrows smashed his skull.”
“She described his berserked howlings as the most unearthly thing she had ever heard, and will ever hear. He’s no longer her father: just a killing machine determined to protect his new society.”
“Two things, she learned on that day. One: life can be cruel. Two: everyone has a dark side. Monsters included.”
“Needless to say, the terror of The Lich became imprinted deep within the human psyche.”
The cinnamon roll in the form of bones trembled. His right Eye shone bright: there’s a chance that he’s recalling visions of past human violence.
You tried to shake Papyrus out of the bad stuff.
“I’M OKAY,” he patted your hand.
“Sans said the same about me, didn’t he?” Gaster commented. “‘You’re an abomination. A desecration of their memory.’ That’s exactly what the humans thought of us skeletons.”
“The news about Liches spread amongst human society like wildfire. It spoke of lies that intensified oppression. ‘Monsters steal our human SOULs’. ‘Monsters are making armies of the dead’. ‘Monsters have declared a war’.”
“The Waterfall history plaques state that the War did not last for long. Yes, that’s true… if only for the Dreemurr Nation. We’re the last to experience the horrors of human violence, while the other kingdoms had fallen one by one, across the span of decades.”
“The king who started the Reanimation Project? He was publicly executed in a human capital. Since that day, the human depiction of the ‘Devil’ took on the form of a goat-person, leading an army of Grim Reapers. I’m sure you are familiar with such imagery.”
“In the end, the survivors were pushed to the only remaining kingdom that’s still intact: The Dreemurrs. Young King Asgore and Queen Toriel accepted everyone. Cared for the refugees as though they’re their own citizens.”
“Our hardships created a unique culture: Everyone work together. Live together. Survive together. No matter the species. No matter the origin. As long we’re good to each other.”
“…But many realised that it would be a matter of time before we’re wiped out by human fear and hatred. Some of the Lichborn were already troubled by visions of calamity.”
“No one will help us. No one could help us. Except… for one. A human. Or rather, a monster who retained all aspects of his past humanity.”
“He's our very first ‘Sage’.”