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sophtoart · 2 months ago

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More surprise fanart! Thank you very much! You may be wondering what happened here. The short version is, Sans went to infiltrate a void-space world of a criminal named Weiss. He was trapped by Weiss. He used Frisk's star to inject boosted Karma into the criminal. For the full chapter, I copy pasted the pairing chapter with no context which you can read under the keep reading. If you like what you see, the full thing is on Ao3 as moth had posted. Thank you again!

Chapter 263: Hellish Hack

Progress towards the brain was going far too smoothly for Sans’ tastes.

Every puzzle, solvable. Every threat, controllable. Every hurdle, navigable.

Another uncoordinated, instinct-driven group of prisoners charged towards him. He faced them head on.

Teleport, stab, teleport, blaster, Karma, cleave, teleport… Each foe required but one strike to their vitals to dissolve into dust.

These rampaging skeleton prisoners don’t even seem to have a mind of their own. Devoid of will, they lack the most basic intelligence, showing zero signs of strategy and tactics: traits that made humanity the most successful species on the planet.

Odder still, whenever the prisoners met their untimely demise, nearby electronics and machinery came to life. Sans activated his Seer’s Eyes to observe their inner workings. The absorbed lifeforce flowed through the facility’s circuitry, behaving more like capillaries than proper electronics.

Cybernetics, thought Sans: a mixture of organic and mechanical components.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Pawn kept their sapience stored elsewhere in order to better control his prisoners. All the more reason I gotta reach the brain, pronto.

Meanwhile, Gaster’s little skull had hitched his ride under Sans’ hood, tucked in firmly so that he wouldn’t fall off in the heat of battle.

Looking around, he commented out loud: “My oh my, this facility is fuelled by Execution Points. What an interesting mechanic. Do you have to be fanciful to make the most out of the kill? What do they call those again? Combos and finishers? Bonuses?”

Sans snorted. “Flair is a waste of energy. This hellhole ain’t looking for style points. It only seeks raw EXP.”

In the middle of his run, he heard a bunch of frightened screams coming from straight ahead. He braced himself to take down more frantic prisoners that might try to trample over him.

But then, just when they emerged from the deep dark, they were mercilessly gunned down by the facility’s own security systems.

Sans dodged out of the way. A thin yet high powered white laser zipped right past his shoulder.

“Turrets.” Sans sighed. “And this prison is too dark to find their source. Fun. Real ‘fun’.”

Doctor Gaster mused out loud: “How very nostalgic. I recall training you with similar trap-infested exercises. Didn’t you used to complain about how they were supposedly useless skills in your adult life?”

“I dunno, doc. If you ask me, your training is still useless for 99.99 percent of the population. I’m just the exception instead of the rule.”

The density of the lasers intensified the deeper he ventured. It was as though they were defending something very, very important.

“The brain is up ahead,” said Sans, “I can feel it in my bones.”

Doctor Gaster, however, had other matters on his mind. “By the by, my wayward student, why didn’t you jump after Queen Toriel?”

That awkward question shook Sans enough to break his concentration. A beam grazed past his cheeks as a result.

Grumbling, Sans snapped back: “Oi, are you trying to get me killed? You could have dropped that hot potato on me before or after the laser run, not in the middle of it.”

“Should you perish, then the Child of Mercy will simply use the Keys of Fate. Perhaps you could better protect Her Majesty in that new timeline.”

“…You really didn’t realize it, huh? The Keys are offline. No SAVES, nada.”

Gaster’s little skull gasped. “What?! Why?!?! How???”

“It’ll take too long to explain. Tell ya later.”

The further Sans travelled, the more complex the laser patterns became. This newest section had additional colours thrown into the mix. By the rules of magic, they went:

Cyan, stay still. Orange, keep moving. White, avoid at all cost.

And, always confirm the truth. Coloured lenses might disguise the output, tricking the intruder into making the wrong choice. Sans carried on navigating through security with those rules etched into his skull.

Gaster cleared his throat. “Well, lasers or no lasers, I refuse to let myself be brushed aside! The Sans I know would have sacrificed an arm and a leg to guarantee Queen Toriel’s safety. And yet, you left her to our mystery necromancer.”

“What can I say? I trust that old grandma. Her sense of professionalism is leagues above yours.”

“Even though you barely know her? Hmmm… I don’t think that excuse makes any sense unless you know more than you let on. Well then, how about an idiom? ‘Too many cooks spoil the broth’. Whatever you’re planning requires as little interference as possible, am I right?”

“…Sheesh. I must be getting rusty if you can read me like an open book.”

Delighted, Gaster’s perked up. With a big smile, he said: “It’s part of the benefits of having been your mentor.”

Sans faced the mother of all laser arrays: a mixture of every prior combination. They sprayed in a dazzling display of fanciful beams of light, criss-crossing each other like a net of death.

“Dammit. I gotta trim them down.”

Sans added one additional colour to his set.

[ACTIVE: R / C / Y / P / O] [INACTIVE: B / G]

With the aid of Bravery’s long distance trait, he was able to locate the most troublesome turrets and shoot them down. Limited in stamina, he had to remain economical with every shot, especially with the Seraph System in full swing.

But there was a saving grace. In the far distance, he spotted a hole in the wall, noticeably caused by his own Blaster. Purple embers of remnant Karma prevented it from instantly sealing.

He planted his foot to prime himself for teleportation. Then, in one big leap of faith, he zipped past all the lasers.

It was a success. Sans landed safely on the other side and promptly sat down on the ground, panting. The mad gauntlet had really pushed him to his limits.

[ACTIVE: R / C / Y / P] [INACTIVE: O / B / G]

“Whew… I really gotta… train more… Ayup…”

Looking around, a thick, warm fog obscured any vision in an already dark environment.

Sans asked: “Where the hell are we?”

Gaster wasted no time to wax his medical knowledge. “Based on what my Seer’s Eyes can see, we’re in the equivalent of the cerebrospinal fluid. Think of it as a suspension that protects the brain and spine from all the jostling of daily life. Thus, it also seems that we’ve just crossed the blood-brain barrier, which your Karma cut a hole through.”

“Cool.” After catching his breath, Sans stood up and stretched. “Okay. I’ve recovered enough. Time for the next step. I’m gonna go in there and plug myself into the brain.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? I don’t know what that pile of neurons would do to you.”

“Welp. I can’t negotiate with a babbling bag of bones, y’know. Based on how the other prisoners are behaving, I think Weissy’s mind is separated from his body and stored in some kinda database. The brain should be the best access point.”

“…Hold on. A negotiation?!?” The tiny Gaster gasped. “You are NOT planning to kill my great-to-the-power-of-N grandnephew behind everyone’s backs?! Truly?!”

Sans dangled the gifted crucifix necklace before his former mentor. “I wanna try the merciful way this time. Let’s just say it’ll make Frisk and Tori happy.”

Overjoyed, the skull spun, rolled, and vibrated in excitement. “What an early Gyftmas miracle! I shall do my best to cooperate. I’d say you even found the best person for the job. Certainly, young Weiss would be more amicable knowing that I’m both his relative and a fellow peer! Egads, how do I make myself presentable as a fragment? Maybe I need to shape my cheekbones better--”

While the scientist fretted and fussed over his own presentation, Sans grabbed him whole.

“Sans?” Gaster exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, G. I can’t let you stay.”

“You’re going to throw me out?!? Y-you can’t do that! Is it because I talk too much? I promise I’ll keep my yapper shut--”

“Nope. A skel’s gotta do what a skel’s gotta do.”

Before the tiny fragment of Doctor Gaster doth protest some more, Sans chucked him out through the closing gap.

Then, once the Karma had fully exhausted itself, the wound healed up, sealing Gaster outside the walls…

The future is not set in stone…

Yet, somehow, the present repeats the past.

Sans reached for the back of his neck. Mezil had planted the tiniest red butterfly there, hidden between the joints of his spine as their private little radio.

With a bit of hacking, the Mark lost connection to its owner and dissipated into nothingness.

Sorry Thymer, I can’t leave any vulnerabilities. You’ll understand.

Sans henceforth resumed his journey towards the brain alone. Unlike most fogs he was familiar with, this dense, muggy swamp was closer to a steamy sauna.

Hot… So hot… It’s suffocating to walk in here, let alone run or teleport.

And yet, cold shivers spread throughout his sweaty bones despite the heat. Danger lurked nearby, someway, somehow.

The foggy air grew thicker and thicker. There was so much vapour, a human might risk drowning from those alone. Fortunately for skeletons, they had more than one way to get their oxygen.

He bumped into a wall: an unexpected obstacle, albeit nothing a little Karma couldn’t burn away. Even so, it made traversal slower than he would have liked.

Past the first wall… was another wall. Although annoying, it at least didn’t have any deadly security measures grafted onto it.

Past the second wall was yet another wall. Nothing unusual. The brain was one of the key organs, after all. Having this many levels of cushioning made sense.

After the third wall, the fog dissipated completely.

Finally. I think I’m in the brain.

In the space before him, red, green, and blue LED lights dotted the darkness like stars in the sky. As they blinked and strobed, low hums of machinery whispered secrets through their circuitry.

What’s more, the air thrummed with the sound of whirring fans and the gentle gurgle of cooling pipelines: the type of constant background noise that was quiet yet unsettling.

The brain was also darker than any of the previous areas he had come across. Not a single emergency light could be seen. Therefore, he summoned a small shining bone to serve as his lantern. What little illumination he had revealed towering servers that stretched so tall and wide that he could see neither end.

On both left and right, he saw vast rows of identical devices in all sorts of odd directions, likely leading into yet another labyrinth.

Touching the nearest surface with the tip of his finger, it felt as warm as living flesh.

This… is the same class of magitek as Lil’ Miss Lucy’s Chronograph. Whatever is in there can only be accessed and read by Seers.

All the same, when Sans activated his Seer’s Eyes for a quick inspection, white glitch squares blocked his attempts. It didn’t surprise him that a machine made for Seers had its external casing constructed out of anti-Seer material. Not one single bit.

He chose to go straight down the first aisle he could see, marking it as ‘Number 1’ on his mental map. His intent was to work in one section at a time, covering as much of the grounds as he could without getting lost.

The further he traversed, the more features he could see with the limited light. Cables ran along the walls: some neatly arranged, others a disordered tangled nightmare.

Terminals lay scattered at different levels, their monitors darkened from inactivity. Curiously, they had a keyboard for manual operation.

Looks like Pawn could choose to stroll around his Dreamworld in person. Perhaps by possessing any of the prisoners in the facility.

No ladders, no stairs… Doesn’t look like I can reach up there without teleporting. I’ll resort to that only if I can’t find anything at ground level.

Before long, Sans came across a suspicious implement dangling from the wall. It looked identical to the cables he had seen, except for the clawed end. Red Mithril tipped the fangs, ominously gleaming out of place in a standard server terminal.

Hmmm… If it’s anything like one of those toy-grabbing machines, I should be able to pull it out of the cable.

With telekinesis, he gave the claw a gentle tug, but it wasn’t budging. He then applied more force to yank it harder. Out came a long, segmented spinal cord, spilling lubricating mucus from within onto the floor alongside it.

What the actual fuck.

The impromptu mess of a biohazard was swiftly absorbed by the facility for reuse elsewhere.

Welp. Guess I now know why this place has so much liquid piping.

He angled the contraption to face him for a quick inspection. A small needle made out of dense, intertwined nerves stuck out from the centre of the claw portion, ready to pierce through the bones of a skeleton like Weiss and his fellow prisoners.

So that’s what this is. A direct connection to the user’s brain, huh? This is good as becoming one with the machine. I bet it’s the height of Seer technology, but also the most taboo. Though, if you ask me, my invention is not that much different, common principles and all. Which means…

Sans rolled up his right sleeve. The Red Mithril of the Seraph System resonated in response to the Dreamworld’s atmosphere, repelling the lingering corruption in the air.

Yeah. I can totally do this in reverse. Processing the data through The Seraph System may be slower than a spinal link, but it’s hell a lot safer. Like the old man said, I have no idea what this pile of neurons is gonna do to me when I try to plug in.

He enchanted his lantern bone with Karma and used it to cut the claw head of the spine. As long as the poison was in effect, the object shouldn’t heal right away.

Next, he drove the blade of the Seraph System through the nerves, establishing an indirect path between himself and the brain with his machine as the intermediate.

I’ll use a tiny bit of Determination to soften the entry point. Turning that part into an Amalgamate reduces the chance of rejection as well.

Alright. Let’s get some information first…

The moment he burned his Seer’s Eye, nigh-infinite data flooded his mind as gibberish noise.

Tsk, of course it’s not gonna be easy. I gotta move fast. Let’s see, how can I do this without exploding my own noggin?

[ACTIVE: R / B / G / Y / P] [INACTIVE: C / O]

Reinforce… Restore… Appraise… Archive… Imagine them as files… and narrow down any that catch my attention…

In his vision dive, shapeless noise turned into mental paper files, floating weightlessly in the air. It didn’t take long for Sans to spot a book. He imagined his left hand reaching out to grab it.

The title read: ‘Operating Manual.’

He wasted no time to process the data.

In summary, the brain is a giant black box with multiple partitions. Different parts manage different functions, and I’m currently in the ‘hippocampus’ that’s supposed to manage memory, learning, navigation, and perception of space. If I want to change the layout of the facility I need to be at the ‘basal ganglia’ instead.

Dammit. What the heck is a ‘basal ganglia’? What does it even look like? If Gaster was around, he could guide me to the right place. But had I kept him he’d DEFINITELY fuck everything up by being himself.

Lil’ Miss Lucy would have been perfect for the role but… nah… I don’t wanna drag her in here. She ain’t on my speed dial anyway.

The book disintegrated in his grasp the moment he let go of the book. The internal firewall was already punishing his invasion with hostile inconveniences.

Where’s Weissy? Come out, come out, wherever you are~~ I’m here to talk.

…Staying silent, huh? Don’t mind if I help myself to some juicy information then.

He searched through the scattered papers for any signs of his target. There were many interesting tidbits, such as the location of past colonies, a map of the ‘down under’, and plans to make multiple new ones.

What’s this? Malaya was supposed to be sent to a new skeleton colony in the Down Under after completing her mission in Ebott. Her final job, huh? No wonder she was so hostile towards me. I was her one obstacle to freedom.

Heh, Pawn had already matched her with a fiancé around her age. Guess the engagement’s cancelled, cause Snakeface is definitely not gonna marry off his new daughter to anyone anytime soon. That’s the least of our worries, though. Now that their head honcho is dead, I’m not even sure if the colony remains operational. A rescue mission doesn’t seem likely either since the Ocean Battle takes priority.

Had Thymer’s niece become a skeleton, I bet she would’ve been sent there too. Why is Pawn targeting the Winston family for his grand eugenics plan?

Sans fished out a mugshot of Rosemary. In doing so, he reeled in multiple threads from news clips, reports, to photographs.

What caught his attention the most was a piece of paper with moving pictures: film. Sans plucked it out from the air before it floated away.

Playing on a loop, the clip showed a few seconds of a full crimson eclipse against a dark starless sky, looming over what appeared to be an abandoned nuclear power plant. It didn’t take long for unseen nightmarish fiends to destroy the camera.

Isn’t that… a full blown Celestial Calamity?

The back side listed a bunch of names and dates.

Vinland, 1970 Albion, 1945 Yamato, 1815 Omni Itari, 1600 Romanesca, 1476

Interesting stuff… But, I’m running out of time. I gotta focus on Weiss next.

Despite going deeper and deeper, he still couldn’t find any traces of Weiss or how to contact him.

Tsk. No dice. I should try elsewhere.

Disconnecting.

Thus, Sans ended the dive. The images of floating papers vanished, and he was back to staring at the server wall. He ejected the Seraph System from the horror-esque cable as soon as he could.

He turned away and walked down the aisle to search for a new place to dig for data.

Alright, where should I check next?…

His pondering was disrupted by a flash of bright light. He instinctively shielded his eyes and prepared to teleport away, thinking that he had been busted.

But the light didn’t come from a security spotlight. Instead, it came from a monitor screen. Mechanical arms took it out of the wall and brought it right up to Sans’ face.

This screen showed a rippling grey door, struggling to remain intact Black smoke threatened to swallow it whole.

More mechanical arms then pushed the screens his way. This time he saw Gaster’s tiny communication skull desperately barrelling down a path, trying to outspeed the aims of various laser beams.

As for the rest of Gaster’s body, his liquid self was clinging to the inside of Anya’s Arcanagram-anchored bunker entrance for his dear life. The facility had shifted to an awkward angle, precariously hanging him over a bottomless edge.

More monitors popped out from the walls, shoving the scopes of a great many turrets into his face, each of them targeting his friends.

Cenna trashed another group of berserk skeletons with her SOUL bird. Frisk protected their sister with a mixture of Cyan and Green stars from the onslaught.

The biggest, brightest screen showed footage of Anya and Toriel. They cautiously navigated the dangerous prison complex upside down and downside up. Smarts and an army of ghosts helped a long way.

Sans was utterly glued to the screen, his SOUL beating with heartfelt concern for Toriel’s safety.

Suddenly, every monitor switched to showing Sans himself surrounded from every possible angle.

Then they cranked up their brightness far beyond comfort, flashing, distorting, and cycling through neon colours at a rapid pace. The flickering lights flooded the once dark server room, overloading and stunning his senses. Light was a Seer’s absolute worst enemy, especially for those who suffered from Overburn.

In that brief moment of weakness, the regenerated spine cable struck Sans’ back with great precision. The claws tore through the cloth of his clothes and gripped on tight, melting straight into his central nervous system.

When the neural needle pierced into him, he felt the worst pain he had ever had the misfortune to experience. Not even his worst self-experimentation with the Seraph System came close.

His first reaction was to try to counter the invader with his decaying touch, but foreign hostile data prevented his arms from moving properly.

Another cable latched onto his spine. And another, and another, and another. With every addition, the drowsier he felt.

His consciousness fading, the prison complex dragged him into the embrace of darkness…

Dreamy thoughts ebbed and flowed.

Heavy…

My back feels heavy.

What a chore… What a chore…

It’s a chore to think.

It’s a chore to move.

It’s a chore to breathe.

Everything is a chore, really.

Ah… Nothing’s better than snuggling under a warm baby blanket…

I just wanna go home and rest, forever and ever and ever and ever…

……………

No. Wake up, Sans. This is neither the place or the time to be a slob.

He snapped wide awake, discovering that he had grown three familiar pairs of wings, folding over his body. Each of their feathers consisted of artificial Seer’s Eyes, the same construct he once made for parallel processing.

Talk about a blast from the past. This… is my Seven SOUL form.

His spine remained fused with the server. No matter how much he commanded his limbs to do anything, he was still unable to move. The creepy clawed cables had ensnared him through and through.

Against his will, Sans then spread his Seraph wings. Every feather opened up their burning Seer’s Eye, and their irises shone in pristine white. Chapter 264: Hallowed Hack

Just as Papyrus packed away the last of the assigned shopping supplies into a shopping bag, he heard the synchronous melody of marching drums, trumpets, and horns. The sound quality screamed ‘electronic speakers’, but even so, what event required such a scene?

When he looked out, a procession passed by the shop window. Many black fancy cars flew unfamiliar flags as they drove down the street.

He wondered out loud before the cashier: “THOSE CARS… ARE THEY FOREIGN AMBASSADORS FROM A DIFFERENT COUNTRY?”

Garamond replied, “No. They’re heraldry flags of the local Royal Family. I see… They’re probably on the move to Mount Ebott.”

“IS THAT A GOOD THING OR A BAD THING?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know enough to answer that.” He paid for the goods with the company credit card and kept it away in a safe place.

Growing nervous, Gaelic took as many bags as he could carry, his shoulders hunching more than usual. “‘Tis best we leave. Crowds bring only trouble.”

Once the procession passed, Papyrus spotted a streetwear store right across the street. Placed right at the window view for any buyer to see, that store had a man’s blue and white hoodie draped over a mannequin.

“THAT’S MY BROTHER’S HOODIE!” Papyrus exclaimed, wide-eyed and a little teary. “I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SO HAPPY TO SEE HIS LAZY SENSE OF FASHION OUT HERE! SO CONVENIENTLY PLACED ACROSS THIS VERY ROAD, I MIGHT ADD. GENTLEMEN, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK!”

The young skeleton thought it was going to be a quick purchase. In his mind, he already pictured himself hopping into the store, buying all the necessary Sans-approved clothes, and getting right back into the car. The whole operation should have been a flawless success.

‘Should’, was the word.

A half-finished soda can struck him on the shoulder, spilling some of its sugary contents on him.

After that, he heard angry, frightened screaming from all around.

“Aieeeee! A skeleton!” “The Devil’s minions!” “He might blow up the town like that giant werewolf!” “Don’t let him get near the King!!” “FUCK OFF, DEMON!!!”

Papyrus tried to speak. “W-WAIT! I JUST WANT TO BUY CLOTHES!”

But nobody listened.

The populace continued their angry screams, throwing whatever they had in their hands: half-eaten food, water bottles, even more tin cans, pieces of rock, and even garbage.

Papyrus raised his hands to protect his head. He didn’t dodge. He didn’t cut anything down. Instead, he endured the abuse. His Seer’s Eye didn’t awaken. Rather… he refused to let it awaken.

* * *

Sans snapped out of the vision. His perception cleared and the mental fog dissipated.

Trying to override me? Joke’s on you, this ain’t my first rodeo fighting against mind-control shit. You got that Spamton fella to thank for.

Still, I’m still left with three huge problems: I blacked out, unwillingly transformed into angel mode, and I’m performing vision dives against my will.

Since I’m connected through my spine, I should also assume the mastermind can read my thoughts.

Not long after, a voice similar to Gaster spoke through what sounded like an old analogue speaker. He could hear the family resemblance.

“You.” said the voice. “You’re Pawn’s favoured assassin.”

Sans dished out his signature wink and got right to work. “Hi there, Doctor Weiss. Nice meeting ya. The name’s Sans: Sans the Skeleton.”

“How do you know I’m this ‘Weiss’ to begin with? I could be one of the many other unfortunate prisoners erased of their name and identity.”

“I’ve heard your voice before, bud. Vision dives and all.”

“That’s not enough evidence. All those trapped in here are clones from a common base, enhanced or otherwise. Plus, you’ve seen how Pawn had the ability to mimic others. How are you so sure I’m not another facsimile of him?”

“Heh,” said Sans. “If you didn’t know, I shoved the prison complex’s ownership to someone else. Who? That doesn’t matter. Definitely not some distant relative of yours or anything. Yet, for some reason, he’s not able to be recognised as an admin. It proves to me that no random Schmuck or Joe can take the empty seat. If we entertain the fact that Pawn is an AI clone of Doctor Weiss, then wouldn’t that make the original base the next best candidate? None of his copies would've made for as exact a match.”

A moment of contemplative silence hung in the air. “I concede. Your streetwear belies your intellect. I am indeed Doctor Weiss of House Ariella. Or, should I say, ‘formerly’ of House Ariella. I cut ties with them a long time ago.”

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Tell me, is it your style to fraternize with your victims before stabbing them in the back? Your master surely trained you well.”

“C’mon, is that how you see me? A sick freak? No sirree, that ain’t me. I’m just your resident funny guy. Not out to kill ya. Not in any way, at all. See, hypothetically, if I really wanted to do that, I would have used a completely different approach to snuff you out. But here I am trying to chat up a storm.”

“I suppose that explains why catching you was easier than I expected.”

“Ahuh, ahuh, let my guard down and all. Y’know Weissy… you sound pretty sane for a guy tortured by a DEMON for god knows how many decades, being an Amalgamate and all.”

“My renewed mental clarity is a recent development, returned to me the moment Pawn was vanquished. The torturous imprisonment you speak of has become nothing more than a lingering nightmare, swiftly forgotten.”

“Convenient. Let’s cut to the chase. We got a Red and a Boss Monster in here really wanting to put this hellhole to rest and save you. I personally don’t care what you’re up to, but Frisk? That’s a different story. So, all you gotta do is give me what I ask, and I’ll help the kiddo do their thing.”

Weiss replied, “How presumptuous of you to think I want a second chance in life to begin with. And this so-called negotiation… you act more like a human than a monster.”

Sans replied, “Figured you might say something like that. Pitch me a counter. What else do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m fine with any outcome. Know, though, that this renewed clarity may not last long. Evolution requires sacrifice, after all. Our agreement could be null and void at any time.”

“Bummer. That’s a wrench in the works. Looks like a stalemate, huh? Welp. If nothing matters, might as well spill the beans, right? Me and the kiddo got some lingering questions, like: why did Pawn target Rosemary? His methods were weirdly long term. In case you don’t know, we only have about two more weeks before the Ocean Abomination rears its ugly head and the world ends. No babies are gonna be born in that timeframe, y’know. Nevermind refining them over generations.”

“The Supreme Judge would never let the world perish prematurely. It only makes sense to prepare for the inevitable future where The Ocean Amalgamate is dealt with. What a simple question.”

“…Simple? Nah. It’s not simple at all. I’m gonna spin this in another angle. If Thymer’s success is an inevitable outcome, then all Pawn’s gotta do is to sit tight and wait, right? But… he didn’t do that. Bugger came out of his hidey rat-hole this round. He even tried to kill the very same Supreme Judge that might’ve saved his bacon. Why? What changed?”

“What else? You changed. It’s the Butterfly Effect at its fullest.”

“C’mon, don’t put the spotlight on me like that. I’m not the protagonist. The Red is.”

“That Wanderstar child is irrelevant to Pawn.”

“They’re relevant to me. I wouldn’t have done any of the things I did if I didn’t make a promise with the kiddo.”

“I shall break it down into irrefutable terms. The Core is an asset. The technology of reincarnation is an asset. The Seraph System is an asset. You are an asset. That human, on the other hand, is a threat.”

“No one credits the pouring rain for the invention of the raincoat, or the drowning sea for the boat, or the baking sun for shelter. Recognition is instead given to those who invent ways to counter those threats.”

Sans narrowed his gaze. “Fair point. Welp. Is the Ocean Amalgamate an asset or a threat then?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Nah. See, from what I’m hearing, Thymer started out as an asset. I mean, just gotta wait for Mister Dark Hero to save the world, right? But then, because of me, he suddenly became a threat to be eliminated.”

“Once Pawn killed Thymer, he would have had to fill the Dark Hero shoes all by himself. How exactly would he have saved the world? Maybe… by absorbing the threat of the Abomination? Y’know, making it an asset by keeping the masses corralled under one mind. Persona, with his lightning, had a similar ability to chain the beast to his control.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t Pawn do this sooner rather than later? When you’re an artificial Mark sapient Amalgamate, overpowering that uncoordinated mass of monsters comes with little to no risk. Even if he doesn’t want to be a hero, absorbing a living Philosopher’s Stone strikes me as a huge boon to his eugenics project. More species, more samples, more of ‘everything’.”

“You are correct, Sans Serif. This particular vessel lacks variation. As you have seen… all within this facility are Weiss, and Weiss is all. Once upon a time, Pawn did seek to merge himself with the Abomination in hopes of improving his genetic diversity.

“And yet, that’s not what happened. Why? Here’s what I’m thinking: it’s the same reason why Thymer always loses the Ocean Battle halfway through the mission. Every future I’ve analyzed showcased a really, really consistent turning point where that big blob of suffering turned into a perfectly organized army, complete with the most crushingly efficient counteroffensive. This tells me… there’s something inside. Something that Pawn can’t defeat on his own. Or rather, I’d say… ‘Someone’.”

Another accurate assessment. Indeed! Pawn feared... another. A greater will within the Abomination. Though its existence was not a certainty. Only a mere possibility. He dared not challenge it, instead seeking to curry favors for survival.”

“Yeah… As is, Pawn would’ve needed an edge to even begin to challenge the mind behind the Ocean Amalgamate. And the Seraph System is the ultimate weapon against Reds. No wonder he coveted it.”

“Correct, again and again and again. A frightening yet exhilarating display of intelligence. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this entertained. Since we’ve made ourselves clear, allow me to continue borrowing this wonderful asset you’ve invented.”

“Wait. Hold up-”

Before he could fully voice his objection, an uncomfortable shivering sensation shot through Sans’ spine, sending foreign signals against his will.

* * *

This vision showed Frisk and Cenna, the Wanderstar siblings.

They had holed themselves up in what appeared to be a forgotten inventory room. Cenna secured the place with some Arcanagrams, while Frisk lay down on the ground, panting heavily.

Cranky yet tired, the child complained: “Where… Where is the SOUL room…? Why can’t I use my SAVES???”

Cenna placed a juice box next to Frisk. “Better rest up while you can, Frisky. I can’t have ya losing consciousness on me. Sure, you’re fit enough to run all the way from town to Mount Ebott, but fighting at the same time is mighty tough on your body. Here, have some juice. I snagged a couple from Madam Willowherb just in case.”

The kiddo sat upright, took the box from the floor, and started angrily poking the straw through the hole. Upon the first taste, however, their eyes opened up in delight. They proceeded to slurp the contents down in one fell swoop.

Afterwards, Frisk let out a huge sigh of relief. Their irritation all but gone, they clasped their hands together and expressed their gratitude for the small precious comfort. “Thank you Scary Grandma for the glorious rejuvenation juice.”

Frisk then asked: “Hey Sis, why aren’t you tired?”

“I’m a trained grownup, y’know. Even then…” Cenna opened the last box to drink its contents. “I still gotta pace myself.”

“Oh okay. Also, Sis, did you say ‘hours’? We’ve been running around for hours?”

“Feels like it. But, I don’t have the Trap Harvester to keep track of void time anymore.”

Frisk mused out loud, “I wish Snakeface was here. I bet he could find that doodoobutt in a heartbeat. X-ray eyes for the win!”

“Yeah. We would be way less confused too.”

A moment passed, and then Cenna started to sound more serious. “…Say, Frisky. What were you planning to do?”

“I… I was thinking of releasing everyone trapped in this place. And then, maybe, reincarnating them with Goopdoc’s help.”

“Including the bad guy?”

Frisk nodded with determination. “Including the bad guy.”

Cenna asked, “How are ya gonna go about it?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’ll have to see the SOUL room first.”

“Promise me that you’ll be careful. I keep getting goosebumps, telling me this place is more dangerous than it looks. Call it a Vanquisher’s instinct.”

* * *

Sans wrestled control back over his own body to cut the vision off. “Hey. What’s the big deal? Antagonising each other ain’t gonna help with negotiations.”

Weiss chuckled, cutting and warping into popping static. “As I’ve said: I’m fine with any outcome. There’s nothing for me to buy and nothing for you to sell. Therefore negotiations have broken down.”

“What you just witnessed was an event that took place ten minutes into the past. Back then, I saw it play out exactly as you just have. Now that I’ve assessed the system’s ability to view the past, we shall proceed with the next experiment; its capacity for futuresight.”

“Really?” Sans scoffed. “We’re having another go at this so soon? And I bet this all seems so very, very interesting to you.”

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, even after so many generations. Weiss had the same mentality as Gaster when it came to his research.

Without further ado, the invader forced yet another vision upon Sans.

* * *

The high density of Determination distorted the environment, preventing it from rendering beyond vague red-tinted shapes and blobs.

The people, however, were as clear as day.

His beloved Queen Toriel lay on the floor, unconscious. The hems of her clothes were frayed and her fur singed. Odd. As a Fire-based Boss Monster, she should have been immune from the lick of flames. The only other possibility was intense electrocution.

“Mom…?” said Frisk. They sat down and tried to shake her. “Mom, wake up. We… We’re not out of trouble yet… Mom? Mom!”

But there was no response. Frisk looked at their hands and their eyes widened in horror. They were coated with monster dust.

Whatever caused Toriel’s defeat, it was fatal enough to break Frisk’s otherwise stoic composure. The child cried as they continued to try to wake their mother up.

“Mom!!! Don’t die!!! Please!!!”

When it became clear that Toriel was in great danger, Cenna rushed to their sibling’s side. “Green Star, hurry! I’ll help!”

Frisk planted their healing Mark on Toriel’s chest, still sobbing despite their actions.

Joining their efforts, Anya Willowherb reached her hands over the Queen, softly chanting: “O’ wounded soul… divine restoration mend thy wounds. Upon this name: Toriel Dreemurr, Queen of Monsters, I proclaim.” The symbol of the shepherd thus supported Frisk’s star, providing additional guidance to an otherwise tricky procedure.

“She’s safe for now,” said the old sage. “But she must leave the Dreamworld immediately. Tarry any longer and the beloved Queen might truly perish.”

Cenna switched from playing the role of a medic and back to her usual Vanquisher self. Her breaths heaved from boiling rage. “Weiss, you fucking piece of shit…! No more mercy for you!”

But Willowherb instead ordered: “Stop! Judge Caraway… No, Cenna Wanderstar. Your duty lies elsewhere: the Spring Mission.”

The sage stepped forward, putting herself between Weiss and the group. “Everyone, please listen. I’ve lived a long and fulfilling life. The least I could do is to end this spectre of my past. Weiss is my war – my graveyard – not yours. I’ll keep him busy until you escape.”

“What the…” Cenna protested. “I’m not trading one mom with another mom! Lady Lucy will take my head if we lose you!”

“She won’t. In fact, she expects this outcome. Now go. You have a new mother to save, don’t you?”

Though hesitant, Cenna conceded. “Give Mom an extra Blue Star. We gotta get out of here. I’m worried about lingering damages caused by DT...”

Still sobbing, Frisk asked, “But, what about Scary Grandma?”

“We can only respect her wishes. C’mon. Up we go…”

Though reluctant, Frisk and Cenna carried Queen Toriel out of the battlefield.

Meanwhile, Anya Willowherb the Necromancer materialised a glowing, crimson staff.

“O’ Restless Dead, rise from thy slumber! Be my sword, my arrow, my shield! Unite under my banner to end this nightmare! Our last stand is here, now or never!”

An army of ghosts formed behind her, decked in full gear. Each and every one was a person who pledged allegiance to follow her to the end of her existence. Their numbers, tens of dozens, perhaps even hundreds, and each one of them a force to be reckoned with.

Sans could tell from the look on Frisk’s face that nothing went as they wanted it to go.

Absolutely nothing at all.

* * *

“Dammit,” Sans grunted. “Why is the future always doom and gloom?”

Weiss replied, “Don’t you like it that way? Is it not the path you’ve set yourself upon? The moment I saw that Boss Monster and that Red child together, I knew what you were trying to do. To save or to condemn, both require the greatest magic, borne from the unity of humans and monsters. It is, after all, the very same magic that powers The Celestial Calamity.”

“Indeed, how else do you hope to tackle The Celestial Calamity embedded within this facility? And yet, as you’ve seen, you’re gambling on frail mortals. One misfortune is enough to shatter their lives.”

“Look, can’t you see I’m trying to save you? Stop making this difficult.”

“Why do you wish to save me? Is it because it’s ‘the right thing to do’? Does that appeal to your Yellow? No, you’ve made it clear that such an outcome is not your own desire. You’re trying to appease the sensibilities of others, hoping that you’re the fool and they’re the wise. In other words, you yourself wish that your cynical mindset is an error.”

“Pathetic. Hope cannot avoid the inevitable. Death, destruction, evil: all are inevitable. What you pretend to follow is nothing but the puerile imaginations of the naive. I can only fathom it’s because you hold your little brother very close to your heart. Too close for my liking. Such a squander of potential.”

“You--!”

“As punishment for straying from enlightenment, I suppose I shall have to make you suffer.

Weiss zapped Sans’ nerves with distorted signals, sending torturous pain throughout his bones. It served no other purpose than to inflict agony for a perceived flaw.

Once more, a vision was begrudgingly compelled upon Sans.

* * *

Sans saw a certain red car, parked in an underground parking lot. An old, eroded Magus Association symbol on a nearby pillar hinted that this was one of the Magi’s many city hideouts.

Gaelic got to work patching Papyrus’ injuries with the contents of a first aid kit and some cleaning wipes. Any missing medicine was made up with a bit of pharmaceutical spit.

The tattooed one exclaimed: “Cor Blimey, yer bleeding dust. Why dinnae ya do anything??? Ah seen yer skills and yer Eye. Ya could have just smacked ‘em flying nonsense out o’ the way!”

Papyrus glanced to the side, touching the leaf plastered on his face. “I DIDN’T GET ANY WARNING VISIONS. SO, I KNEW NONE OF THEM WOULD BE FATAL. BUT. UM. I… I HAD A FEELING THAT IF I FOUGHT BACK… THE HUMANS WOULD GET SCARED OF ME FOR REAL. I’D NEVER MAKE FRIENDS WITH THEM AGAIN…”

“That not be a reason to let yerself get this hurt! …Bah. Who am I to preach? Meself a feared outcast fer a reason. Perhaps yer way o’ restraint be better in the long run.”

“MISTER GAELIC, THIS LEVEL OF REJECTION, IS IT WHY YOU WERE SO ANGRY AT ME? FOR… FOR RUINING MISTER MAGUS’ REPUTATION BEFORE FRISK AND THE REST?”

“What balderdash are ya yapping-- Yer speaking o’ that kangaroo court? Aye aye aye! That be why! Ye greenhorn whelp, ya only clicked two and two together right now? Brutish misery awaits those cast out!”

“IT NEVER REALLY SANK IN… UNTIL NOW. AND… AND… I THINK… I FINALLY UNDERSTAND WHY SANS HID ALL HIS COOLNESS FROM THE PUBLIC. MAYBE… EVEN EBOTT’S OWN MONSTERS WOULD BE SCARED OF HIM IF THEY KNEW…”

Papyrus sobbed before he could finish his sentence, still shaken by the violence he endured. The stress from the hectic days had piled to their breaking point. “I just want to get some clothes for my brother…”

Patting him on the shoulder, Gaelic said: “Lad, there be extra clothing in the Magi’s stock. He not be running around in his birthday bones, ah guarantee it.”

“Okay…” he whimpered. “If you say so.”

Although Papyrus tried to put up a strong front, Sans knew from the tone of his diminished voice that he was deeply distraught from his worldview being broken.

* * *

Sans woke up to find himself hyperventilating. By sheer force of will, he tried to calm himself down, knowing full well that this was but bait set up by Weiss to try to pull whatever little emotional heartstrings still existed in his heart.

“I sense cold anger. Fear and concern as well. I understand that a piece of your sibling’s Psychia was used to patch certain areas in yours. Yet, you were surprisingly high-functioning even before your surgery. To the people around you, you would have been considered ‘normal’.”

“You? Trying to psychoanalyse me? That’s rich.”

“It was a part of my doctor’s training to study those affected by your affliction. Except, those patients were impulsive, irresponsible, and parasitic. Combine that with their inability to process negative stimuli of any kind, they behaved in offputting ways, ill-suited to society.”

“So, what is the true extent of ‘your’ Overburn? Which parts of your brain still function without alteration? Why do you differ from the broken shells that others became? How do you stay sane? Who motivates your apparent normalcy? Surely it's not that half-wit brother you’re so fond of.”

What followed after was a flood of mind-altering signals. Chemicals? Electrical signals? Magical manipulation? All of those combined?

Nevertheless, Sans persevered through the cacophony of senses, thoughts and emotions.

In the midst of it, Weiss changed his subject. “The humans hurt him. They hurt your dearest younger brother. Don’t you wish to punish them? Stalk them? Haunt them? Let them know there is no peace to be found anywhere on Earth?”

Sans answered without hesitation. “No. Papyrus wouldn’t want that.”

“Don’t you wish to punish their leaders? Make them lose everything they hold dear? To deliver justice denied?”

“No. Papyrus wouldn’t want that.”

“Don’t you wish to see the world burn? To cast divine judgement? To charge alongside The Almighty to cast all the unclean and unbelieving into Hell?”

“Fuck no. Papyrus wouldn’t want me to become a goddamn supervillain. Tori won’t. Frisk won’t. My parents won’t. Nobody I know would.”

“But I know deep down in your burning heart, you desire all those things. You want to, but you can’t. That’s why you smothered those desires with nihilistic passiveness. I can feel what you’re feeling, you know. We are connected through the same mainframe after all. Do not be ashamed. It is only natural. Everyone has fantasized about unleashing their hate at one point or another.”

Sans ignored the devil’s whispers, still trying to regain control.

“You’re showing active resistance. It seems being on the brink of losing your sanity multiple times has made you rather resilient.”

Sans snorted. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to entertain every damn desire that goes through your head?”

“Oh, many have taught me aplenty. My mother. My father. My brothers and sisters. My cousins. My great ancestor, Ariella herself. They all made sure that I knew when to apply restraint and when to apply assertiveness. To move only by the will of others.”

“Certain parts of their teachings remain consistent and true. The strong survive, the weak perish. Strength doesn’t always equate to martial prowess, however. Having a stable reputation is also a form of strength. Having a loving, hardworking family is a strength as well. Your beloved brother suffered mockery and scorn because he’s weak in his societal standing, yet refused to keep himself hidden in the shadows.”

“Still, there’s a way to turn this around. The Calamity has deemed you fit to become my Immortal Guardian. As such, it materialized your inner world – evolution once denied – reconstructed using this facility’s very own cells.”

“You are thus as you are now by the grace of the celestial: The Seraph of bountiful Seer’s Eyes, burning white and processing in parallel. Undeniably, the sheer quantity of information you can gather in that form, from past, present, and future alike, is the ultimate weapon to destroy the established order no matter what era.”

“Imagine – Sans Serif – we could make a paradise for the irregular. You and I, together.”

Sans raised an eyebrow. “Paradise? In Hell? Complete utter fucking bullshit. Nothing good comes from a rotten core. You can take your offer and shove it where the crimson sun don’t shine.”

“Hmm? How crass. It appears that you’ve forgotten that you’re connected to the facility’s mainframe. With your magic under my control, you can barely act without permission. Not even Karma, your body’s natural defence, has the efficacy to change this circumstance. My regeneration already outpaces its rot, as evident by the aforementioned. All that remains is for your will to be broken. Therefore…”

“Witness your inevitable submission.”

The vision switched to viewing Sans from a third-person point of view, a disorientating, depersonalising angle.

SERAPH SYSTEM V3 OLD ADMIN: SANS SERIF NEW ADMIN: DOCTOR WEISS

INITIATING OVERRIDE

TRANSFERRING PERMISSIONS TO NEW ADMIN

5%… 10%… 60%… 80%...

Sans grunted and fought back, mentally undoing Weiss’ command. A tug of war over the Seraph System erupted.

INITIATING OVERRIDE

REVERTING PERMISSIONS TO OLD ADMIN

80%... 60%… 10%… 5%…

INITIATING OVERRIDE

TRANSFERRING PERMISSIONS TO NEW ADMIN

5%… 10%… 60%… 80%...

Sans’ prosthetic arm began to move against his will, along with the system embedded within. The blade snapped out of its holster in preparation to Mark its target.

“By King’s Decree, Weiss declared, Become my Immortal Guardian!”

The arm turned inwards to stab its own owner. However… it didn’t land its strike. It stopped right before impact.

90%… 95%… 98%… 99%...

One missing percent hovered precariously over the tipping point, refusing to budge.

Weiss questioned: “You! Why do you continue to resist?!”

“Welp. A certain herbaceous vampire gave me a warning.” Sans answered. “He said: ‘Angels who rebel become demons. They’re destined for eternal condemnation’. And I agree. Turning into some twisted version of myself is no different from becoming a demon. I don’t wanna put him in the tough position of an executioner, y’know.”

“Another pathetic excuse. You don’t fear death. Give me the honest answer!”

“Heh. Do you even care? No amount of explanation is gonna get through your thick skull. I’ll just have to show you that every connection is a two-way street.”

Sans gritted his teeth and motivated himself for one final push. “I am Determined to persevere on Hopes and Dreams.”

The Claim on his SOUL responded by resonating with his will, amplifying into a great shining star, bright and golden. Lifeforce and Determination began filling up his bones. He could feel himself getting stronger by the second.

At the same time, his Ascension kicked in, bathing his whole body in a faint purple hue.

“Who ever said I need control over my magic to begin with?” Sans said, deviously smiling. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been at 1HP whether I wanted to or not. Anything above that gets eaten by Karma… especially something so brilliant as lifeforce fuelled by the entire world’s Determination. And the higher the number, the more violent the reaction.”

As his LV and HP rose, Sans’ instinctive immune response grew unrestrained. To the point where Weiss could no longer hold it back. Before the doctor managed to comprehend the nature of his oversight, the corrosive poison had already begun gushing back through the spine cables and straight into the rest of the prison complex

“AAAGH!…It burns!… IT BURNS!!” The whole facility screeched alongside Weiss from the sheer agony inflicted.

“Enjoy the souped-up Hopes and Dreams edition, on the house.”

The rotted cables released their grip, freeing Sans from his entanglement and Weiss from his suffering. Sans braced his landing on his feet and knees. It would be funny to land face first on the floor, but the comedy act would have to wait for another day.

Still reeling from what had transpired, Weiss seethed in rage. “…You… You have forced my hand, Sans Serif!…

Regaining his composure a bit more, Weiss resumed his mocking: “What a shame… You’ve forfeited your place in the Elysian Ark.… And here I thought of giving you a spot as a fellow superior mind.”

The term ‘Elysian Ark’ was new to the skeleton. Curious. Throughout all his vision dives, the results of the bad endings, and the spiralling doom he had witnessed… he had never heard of it before.

Could it be a clue to their golden future? Or was it a sign of worse to come?

“I am Determined to persevere on Hopes and Dreams.”

- From Chapter: 264 of the Fanafic The Golden Quiche by @sophtopus

#gift #undertale #the golden quiche #archive #sans #two whole chapters as a preview

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