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.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  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.