Sans sighed as he slammed his last book shut.
“Another bust,” he muttered to himself. “Damn, they should have information somewhere.”
The Spire’s Grand Library was divided into two sections.
One: the public ‘outer’ library accessible to both visitors and students alike.
Two: the private ‘inner’ library restricted to professors and other high-ranking staff.
The information he sought for would be impossible to find in the public zones, so he broke into the staff-restricted area with the tools he had once made to weasel into Alphys’ Lab.
Despite being roughly half the size of the public zone, the private section still covered about five floors of nothing but books, computers, chairs, and tables.
After six hours, he had scoured the entire pin-drop silent library. To his fortune, not a single person came inside.
Odd, right? Sans couldn’t help but to feel like he’s being lured into a trap.
Jeez, I’m feeling tired. Been going on nonstop for an entire day now. My bones aren’t made for this.
Two books caught his personal interest. One of it was a geographical survey of the region, the other an Arcanagram engineering compendium.
I’ve always wondered if there’s anything underneath our feet in the Underground. We never had the means or motivation to find out. I should take a peek and see what they discovered about Ebott.
After taking the extra books, he dragged himself to a quiet corner with his backpack. The results of his research piled around in an organized mess.
Sans popped open a fresh bottle of ketchup and started drinking it to replenish his stamina.
He felt like guzzling at least half the bottle down. But after taking only two gulps, he screwed the lid back on and stashed it in his bag. It clanked with another empty bottle of ketchup.
There’s no telling how long I’ll be here. Better be conservative.
He read the geography book. The first thing he checked on was the year of publication. This book was written about two years ago. It’s still reasonably new, hence the information should still be serviceable.
The first chapter elaborated on mountain elevation.
The second chapter discussed about the flow of water.
Hm? What’s this? It’s a map of the region’s groundwater. Successive drought has prompted the surrounding settlements to drill more wells.
Not all of them are safe for consumption. The ones along the coast are too brackish. The west side has contamination from natural arsenic deposits…
What’s the scale of the Barrier in the first place? It’s huge, but what’s the exact diameter? If Waterfall dries up, would we still have a source of clean groundwater within reach of the Underground?
…Sigh. Why am I even thinking about this? We’re free now. There’s no pressing need to answer those questions.
He switched to the Arcanagram engineering book. It detailed attempts of hybridizing physical science with magic. Some efforts succeeded enough for practical use, while others remain experimental.
Production’s small scale due to the limitations of magical energy sources. Conventional electricity is much easier to generate with the technology of humans.
I hate to admit it, but reading this makes me appreciate Gaster’s Core. That one structure pumped out more magic-based power than the entire Surface.
Exhaustion started to overtake him. Sans tried his best to remain awake, but his eyelids kept on drooping.
In the end he fell asleep. It’s more of a light nap. Semi-conscious. He’s in a restricted zone after all. He must be ready to flee or suss his way out of the library the moment someone spots him.
It reminded him of his battle with Chara. He still had to dodge, even at the brink of exhaustion.
For the first time in a long while, he had no dreams or visions to haunt him. He thought he might get a good rest for once.
Then he heard a woman’s voice whisper into his mind.
“Wake up.”
Sans snapped wide awake.
That’s not Mom’s.
Toriel? No no no, definitely not Toriel. Not Undyne or Alphys either.
Who the fuck?
He sensed a familiar hum in the air.
It’s magic.
Cautious, Sans picked up his bag and investigated the source.
It’s coming from the center of the library. There’s an airwell there. From that point, you can see all five levels of the library at once…
When he arrived, he found himself staring at a disk-shaped floating platform.
Okay. That thing was definitely part of the ceiling when I first broke in.
Hmm… Sans pondered.
Will this take him somewhere gently?
Or will it attempt to crush him on the ceiling?
Welp. If anything happens, I’ll turn my SOUL blue and fall sideways. I still have that option.
Sans stepped on the platform. Vigilance hid behind his relaxed grin.
To his relief, it floated upwards at a stable, constant rate akin to an elevator.
Heh. Maybe it’ll instead attempt to crush me at a slow and peaceful pace? ‘LOL’, as Alphys would say.
None of his fatalistic expectations came true: the false ceiling parted ways to reveal a pitch-black shaft.
This is a claustrophobic’s nightmare, I tell you.
The platform continued to ascend. When the ceiling shut beneath him, he was greeted by the soft glow of rainbow-coloured guiding lights. He could sense that they’re all fuelled by magic.
It’s enchanting, even by monster standards. They left Sans too stunned to make any witty personal remarks.
The vertical tunnel stretched on. From the amount of time passed, he sensed that he’s at least twenty floors above ground now… if not more.
Then, the platform slowed to a stop. The north wall slid aside to reveal a whole new library.
“Holy hotdogs.” Sans muttered to himself. “It’s a hidden library inside a private library. These guys are serious.”
I have a feeling that I’m going to trigger a trap if I step off the platform. But… I don’t feel safe standing on this floating disc either.
Despite the risks, he entered the hidden library. The elevator descended back down the moment it detected no more passengers.
Contrary to his expectations… nothing happened. Again.
Sans knew he can’t go back now. Finding an escape route will have to wait.
He ran the tip of his skeletal fingertip along the shelves. The books were all bound in the same reddish-brown canvas, identified by a serial number instead of a title.
He stopped and curled his hand into a fist. Then, he tapped his knucklebone on the shelf twice.
“Knock, knock,” he said.
No reply.
Sans resumed his walk along the shelves. Time and time again he’d pause to repeat the Knock Knock joke.
He did it again.
And again.
And again…
Until he’s back at where he started.
At long last, he said: “Knock, knock. I know you’re there, lady.”
Seconds passed before he received a response at last.
“When did you notice?” she answered. It’s the same voice as the one who woke him up.
Perhaps a maiden in her twenties?
No. I can’t guess her age. If she’s a Seer, her expected lifespan stretches on for centuries. She won’t age anywhere as fast as a human or a normal skelly.
“Since the beginning,” Sans replied with a slight chuckle. “Let’s have a little ice-breaking session, eh? ‘Knock knock’.”
The woman shut down his attempt on the spot. “This is not the situation for subpar corny jokes, young Lichborn! I refuse to participate in your nonsense!”
That shocked him. Sans never, ever had a joke rejected in such a vehement manner. The most he’d get was some annoyed yelling from Papyrus, and his younger brother secretly enjoyed it.
“Whoa. Okay. Chillax.” He replied. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you with bad puns.”
“Assassin, I know what you’re capable of. You won’t lull me with your amiable front.”
Her voice is full of defensiveness.
She’s scared.
“I think you misunderstand, lady.” Sans replied, “You’re not my target. Not at all. In fact, I’m not here to eliminate anyone.”
“Even if I stand in your way?” she questioned.
Sans gulped. This was the first time he ever met another person who thought on the same wavelength. It’s… unnerving.
“May I offer you my hypothesis?” He asked. If she’s not the kind to joke, maybe he could impress her with a serious analysis.
After a brief hesitation, she agreed: “…You may.”
He leaned back against the shelf. “This entire library is trapped with hidden binding seals. If I were you, I’d have placed an extra strong one at the elevator entrance. You could either trigger it the moment someone steps in, or when someone attempts to escape.”
“So, if I try to do anything funny, you’ll tie me down tighter than a Sunday roast, right? I won’t be able to run. Nor would I be able to strike. My cannons? Unavailable because I’m sealed.”
“You’re a real expert when it comes to Arcanagrams. No doubt you could write a clause to completely lock the rest of my magical ability as well. Once immobilized, you could shoot me with your gun. Either at close distance, or point blank.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Why a gun? First of all, I doubt you’d want to wreck the place. Secondly, it’s loud as hell. It doubles as signal for all the hidden bodyguards you’ve stationed nearby. Maybe the floor above us? Or under? I don’t know. Oh. You emptied the private library for the staff members’ safety, I bet.”
“No offense, but I don’t think you could pull any of that off. Sure, you probably know how to maintain and wield a gun. It’s just that you’ve never fired it other than in training. The only reason we’re having this conversation now is due to your own curiosity. I don’t think we ever talked in the past timelines.”
The lady behind the shelves neither confirmed nor denied.
“State my colours, please.” she said.
Sans answered without hesitation. “Blue, Green, Purple. To draw in relevance. To reconstruct images. To remember. Tri-colour. Mid-range. Information based.”
“Your main strength comes from gathering intel and piecing them together to form a bigger picture. The more you know, the better your analysis. Handy when time starts looping, but you cannot predict the future.”
“See, Judge Thyme may be a sneaky cheater, but it’s impossible for him to scrutinize every tiny detail. …That’s where you come in.”
A tensed silence hung in the air.
“You are correct,” she answered at last. “Down to the final statement. Your greatest asset is not your magic. Rather, it’s your mind. Sealing your Eye won’t change that fact.”
“Hey, hey. You’re no slouch either,” said Sans. “What you did there, that’s some crazy prepared stuff.”
“It’s only logical.”
“Yup. I understand. We both have ‘Perseverance’ as a defining feature. Logic is our forte.”
He heard a soft, cynical giggle.
Guess my plan worked. Sorta.
Oh man, I can’t believe she’s Lichborn. The way she thinks chills me to the bone. I’m so lucky that she also has Kindness as her trait. Things would have gotten much worse otherwise.
Huh… should I?
Sans decided to grab the rare opportunity. “Maaaaybe this question is a bit too personal. You don’t have to answer it if you’re uncomfortable. But. Were you raised to think like humans?”
“No,” The lady answered, “I was raised by humans. My nanny was a human. My teachers were human. The few playmates I had were also human. My grandfather too… he might as well be human.”
Well fuck. That explains everything. Here I hoped that her monster heritage would cut me some slack.
Stay calm, Sans. Just. Stay calm. Put all those PR skills to use. And no jokes. She takes those as an insult.
“Uh, okay then. Have I proven my trustworthiness yet? I’m not hurting you despite knowing everything.” Sans winked even though he knew she can’t see it.
The slow, hesitant responses stirred more uneasy tension than he expected.
“What do you seek?” the lady asked. He noted a slight relaxation in her tone of voice. “Which book?”
“The one about that big Living Victory skirmish. There has to be a reason behind that upset. Frisk told me that the Supreme Judge before Mezil Thyme was one of the strongest in history. Yet, he got overpowered by some random chessmaster. The whole scenario screams of secrets.”
She said, “…You are correct once more.”
One of the many books glowed blue. It floated to Sans and hovered there, waiting for him to grip it.
“This is the ‘War of the Red Victory’ in its entirety.”
He took the book and read it posthaste. The covers may be traditional, but its contents were about as modern as it got. It’s printed text on acid-free paper. Complete with colour, whenever applicable.
The lady broke the silence this time. “Your colours,” she said, “Cyan. Yellow. Purple. I told Judge Caraway that your magic deals with the ‘death of existence’. The End.”
“Huh, she did mention something like that.” Not that Sans would deny.
“That’s just a simplified explanation. Judge Caraway… She’s not very good with science. But you… you would understand. Do you wish to listen?”
“Shoot, lady.” Then Sans hoped so hard that she won’t take his pun literally and attempt to fire a loaded gun.
Fortunately, she did not take advantage of his loosened tongue. “You can accurately perceive the strengths and weaknesses of everything you see. The shelves. The walls. Spacetime itself. All have cracks otherwise invisible to others.”
“But you don’t merely see. You understand the very nature of reality, subconsciously or otherwise. It is due to this knowledge, you can cut space to teleport and create a ‘poison’ that disintegrates matter into the tiniest particulates.”
“These powers have made you into the ultimate weapon, Sans Serif: the last defense against the creation of the Seven SOUL DEMON-GOD. Sealing you was the correct choice. Still, your colours wouldn’t be anywhere as effective if you didn’t also have the mind of a supercomputer.”
Sans laughed out loud. “Ooooh boy, that’s the most accurate description ever! Hell, not even Gaster nailed it. He’s close but not close enough. You got it spot on. Props to you, lady. Props to you.”
“Thank you,” She seemed happy. “I wasn’t sure until I analyzed your wormhole mechanics. It’s a very specific science that’s beyond my comprehension.”
“Meh, it’s nothing great.” Sans replied, “The wormhole looks cool. But frankly, it’s useless. Besides, it's not like anybody remembers that I've saved the world.”
“…Sans Serif, you underestimate yourself.”
“Nah. I’m trash. Trash can’t go any lower than being trash.”
“It infuriates me to hear such negative opinions of oneself, more so after you've openly demonstrated your superior intellectual capabilities.”
Sans started sweating bullets.
Did she snap at me again? Yes. She did.
Help me, this woman is waaaaay too stressed out. It's like I’m walking on eggshells here. I really should shut up before I make the situation worse.
Shut up, he did. He focused square on his reading material without making any excuses or witty comebacks. Not even an apology.
It’s not that he wanted to be rude… he just doesn't trust himself to sound sincere. There’s been enough misunderstandings for the day.
He heard another hum of magic. The lady withdrew a different book from the shelves. She read it to pass the time and to suppress her own anxiety.
Sans’ grin slowly faded as he got deeper and deeper into the most well-kept secrets of the Red SOUL skirmish.
When he finished his reading, he put the book down on the ground. He then slapped his own face to chide himself for his own tunnel vision.
“…That’s it?” said Sans. “That’s the secret? It’s so damn simple, I can’t believe I didn’t consider it until now.”
“Do you want to read my book?” the lady asked. “It’s all about Determination.”
Sans turned the offer down. “Nah. I’m good. I understand what’s going on now. All I need to do is get back home and start the real lab work.”
“And the Trial of the Crimson Hall?”
“Figured that out too.”
She giggled. “And you say you’re a piece of refuse? As I have said, you underestimate yourself.”
Time to make my exit.
…Actually, no. There’s one more question.
It’s something he won’t find in any book.
“Why are you helping me anyway?” he asked back. “Of all the people in the world, you should know just how much of a wildcard I can be. Who says I won’t use this information against you and your boss?”
“Insufficient data to formulate a concrete conclusion,” she replied. “However, there are some scenarios of which I’m certain. For example: if the continuance of Sans Serif changes from true to false, Judge Thyme will reset.”
What the--?!
Her speech patterns flipped from ‘polite lady’ to a full blown ‘mother computer’!
This is teeth-chattering level of freaky, man. No way this is normal human behaviour.
“And what if you die?” Sans asked. He’s curious to know more about the man behind this dangerous gamble.
“…He will reset, even if my death ensures a thousand percent chance of attaining certain victory. Therefore, my danger quotient must remain at zero.”
It’s all within Sans’ expectations. “Yup. Thought so. Don’t worry, you’re safe. Wrecking my best bet is the last thing I want to do.”
His eyes shifted left and right. As far as he could tell, the hidden library had no alternative exits. “Uh. I'd like to go home now. Mind helping me take out the trash?”
No reply.
“Lady…?” Sans asked.
There and then, the smoothest skeleton in Ebott realised he had screwed up yet again. Sans’ every bone was ready to bolt through the elevator shaft despite the certain trap. Anything to get away from a ticking bomb of goodness-knows what magic.
Crap crap crap crap I pushed the wrong button!
This is a recipe for disaster!
Sans felt his SOUL turn blue. He thought he’d get used to it by now, except… this lady’s magic was stronger. Different.
He never felt lighter in his life. The lack of weight was so numbing, he thought he had turned into an incorporeal ghost like Napstablook.
Fuck.
Drenched in cold-sweat, Sans pitched his chill-act for all its worth. “Wh-whoa. Lady, please. This is not worth getting worked up over--”
She snapped back: “You are NOT worthless!”
The short skeleton then found himself flung into a shortcut. He emerged in a place where crystallized vapours blew with the wind and the sprawling lights of heaven stretched overhead. The horizon that separates land from sky gleamed far away in the golden light of rising dawn.
He’s upside down, high above the clouds, more than twenty kilometres off the ground…
Winds rushed through his bone cavities. The elements played him as a trombone while the weight of world dragged him down to certain doom.
Never before had Sans cursed so much at his own puntastic habits.
Never before had Sans screamed louder than Papyrus either.
…He didn’t think it was even possible until this very moment.
His Blue magic can't save him now.
Oh god oh god oh god oh god--
FUCK.
MY.
LIFE.
Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, a pair of crane skulls flew by. They snapped their beaks wide open and fired their charged magic at Sans Serif.
To his surprise, the beams of magical light didn’t hurt him at all. Instead they turned his SOUL Purple, binding him to their grip. They slowed him to a gentle descent before stopping his fall.
They then dragged the defenseless skeleton back up above the clouds, where the silhouette of that long-haired woman blocked the rays of dawn.
Ah. There she is.
Her elaborate sapphire dress fluttered against the twilight sky. Long black hair flowed in the wind, still maintaining their large curls despite the constant blasts of air.
Sans Serif, you’ve gotten yourself into some astronomical trouble.
You’re about as dead as a dead bone can be.
Her cannons drew him ever closer.
Closer and closer.
The magical bindings shifted his back against the sun. He’s face to face with the mysterious Seer of the Sky now.
A human-featured white porcelain mask hid her true face. It appeared custom made.
Perhaps a recreation of what she would look like were she born of flesh? He wondered.
Behind it, in the dark depths, two fires lit up: one of rich blue and the other one of brilliant green.
Two Seer’s Eyes? Like Gaster?
Left Blue, Right Green. One of them should be a Pure. Which is the Mixed?
Ah. What difference does it make?
The tip of her gloved fingers then touched his SOUL. Point blank, ready for the killing blow. As a 1 HP wonder, Sans knew that a single jab was all she needed to shatter his dust across the sky.
Except, she didn't.
C’mon Lady, you're gonna kill me or what?!
Again, another contradiction. Instead of finishing him off as he expected, she drew a nine-point Arcanagram at the center of his cordate monster essence.
An imbuement Gram?
Then, Sans felt another change in his bones. His bindings loosened.
Instincts told him to back away from the lady. And…
His airborne body obeyed to his wishes.
When he wanted to move left, he moved left.
When he wanted to move right, he moved right.
I… I can fly?!
The woman explained in the language of hands: [Do not panic. I did not do this to lash out against you. The sky is home to many stable portals, and it’s also the only place where I could travel without being seen.]
[I’ve imbued you with the ability of flight. Once I stop channeling my power, you’ll have ten minutes. It’s more than enough to return to safety.]
[Oh. Uh. Thanks for not killing me?] Sans signed back, [I mean, I’m sorry to rile you up with my own issues.]
[I am not that petty.] She replied. [Besides, as I had said: if the continuance of Sans Serif changes from true to false, Judge Thyme will reset.]
The lady clenched her hands to a fist, trying to muster herself to say what bothered her heart.
[Sans Serif,] she said, [I envy you.]
[You’re blessed with a gift many can only dream in fiction. And yet, you deride yourself. It’s as though you’re not grateful for what you have. Frustrating. Infuriating.]
[If only I have what’s yours… I could have spared Judge Thyme of countless suffering.]
Sans now understood the context behind her behaviour in more ways than one.
He shook his head. [Lady, it’s all about luck and circumstance. If the cards of fate stack against you, no power or genius is going to help. I’m serious here. I mean… reality almost ended despite my best efforts…]
[I’m sure Judge Thyme would have said the same. He wouldn’t want to see a brilliant woman so down in the dumps.]
Though Sans couldn’t hear it, her body language told him that she’s giggling.
[You certainly have a way with words. Is that part of your Tactician training?]
[Nah. That’s just cold, hard experience.]
Sans looked past his feet. Stars glimmered in the yonder, soon to be outshined by the scattered rays of the sun.
When he was a boy, he wondered if some monsters launched themselves to the fantastical world of space.
What if they resettled on the moon?
Or the neighbouring planets?
Or even beyond the galaxy?
These thoughts he had long since dismissed as childish fantasies. But now, he’s facing a prospect that’s almost too good to be real.
What if monsters were more resilient than history ever gave them credit for?
Sans let his growing curiosity loose. [Just… how many of us are still out there?]
[Confidential.] The lady replied.
It was an answer without giving one.
Indirect. Subtle. Weaved in subtext and interpretation.
It filled Sans with both hope and horror.
[May I at least know your name?] he signed back.
The lady removed her mask.
It stunned Sans too much for words to see there’s no real difference between her true face and the mask. Sure, it’s wide-socketed and missing a nose, but everything else might as well be the same.
Refined cheekbones. Delicate jawline.
Sans noted that she lined her upper sockets with purple to give the illusion of elegant eyelashes: choices that reflected her upbringing.
She’s the ‘threaded-teeth’ type. It’s skeleton lingo for a closed-jaw structure that showed only the tips, mimicking the stitches of a doll’s mouth. Dear mother had that too. It’s considered a trait of ethereal, delicate beauty among women. An accurate description for the female Seer before him, he thought.
Against the magnificent celestial backdrop, she looked less of a skeleton and more like a surreal fairy.
[Please address me as Lady Lucidia of Berendin. Spouse to Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme.]
Sans realized then and there. His attention went towards the white cravat around her neck, no doubt wrapped there to hide any hint of bone.
Pinned on it was a sapphire butterfly brooch.
…The design matched one-to-one with Judge Thyme’s mark of power.
Is this for real? How the heck did I miss the most important clue?!
With a kind and genuine smile she bid goodbye: [It was nice meeting you, Sans Serif.]
One moment, she flew before him.
The next, he passed through another shortcut.
The sapphire lady did not follow.
I’m still upside down though.
When he looked toward the ground, Sans saw his own house. He’s in the skies above Ebott, but far below the cloud line.
He touched his sternum.
I see. She used the imbuement Gram to maintain the enchantment without her presence. This particular design has a battery life of ten minutes. But, if she made a few adjustments here and there…
…I can see where the Living Victories learned their tricks.
Hmm. I don’t want to go home though. There’s another place I need to be.
Sans set his sights at a different direction: right at Alphys’ Lab.
I really hope Muffet didn’t try to make doughnuts out of the Determination I left in her care.