Reincarnated as Sans twin brother

Shattered hope

*Sans' Perspective*

Once Gaster concluded his conversation with the emperor, he determined that the three of us were to be dispatched to the front lines without delay.

(Ya have'ta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me! Like this must be some sick joke! We’ve only jus' gotten here, n he’s ready ta toss us right into the thick of it!) Mincho shouted through our mental link.

I exhaled deeply, already bracing for the impending chaos. Papyrus and Mincho sensed my unease and shared a weary sigh.

(It seems like we have to be ready for whatever comes our way, huh, brothers??) Papyrus remarked, a tinge of sadness in his tone.

Gaster approached us, his expression serious as he commanded, "You better not let me down out there. Understood?" We all nodded in response.

(Absolutely, emperor asshole.) Papyrus quipped teasingly in our shared thoughts.

(NO, no, Papyrus. Emperor asshole is now the goat monster. Gaster is now jus' fuck face now.) Mincho countered, and soon we were all chuckling in our mind link.

We received our standard issue armor and were assigned a tent somewhat apart from the other troops in the camp, which we didn’t mind. The following day, we set out for the front lines. The air there was thick and acrid, tainted by soot, blood, and the remnants of monstrous magic. The wild sorcery swirling about only compounded the difficulty, yet we pushed through, determined to face whatever challenges awaited us.

With Papyrus and Mincho standing resolutely by my side, we reclaimed the territory the humans had seized from the monsters in just three short years. This victory was monumental for Monster Kind; however, it regrettably validated Gaster’s sinister theories about us. The emperor celebrated Gaster's accomplishments, treating him as if he were the one who had vanquished countless humans on the battlefield and single-handedly restored our lands, as though he had persevered through intense agony and emerged coated in dust and blood, all to fulfill his dark mission.

Upon our return, Gaster's insatiable thirst for improvement led him to whisk us away to the lab once more. This time, a chilling dread settled over us; we sensed that whatever gruesome experiments Gaster had in store would surpass the horrors he inflicted previously. Once in one of the vast, sterile chambers of the lab, he fastened us each to a table, ensuring we couldn't escape.

(Sans, what are his intentions? I’m frightened.) Papyrus conveyed through our mental link.

(Everythin’ will turn out jus' fine, right, sans?) Mincho chimed in, uncertainty dripping from his words.

(Regrettably, I doubt it, little bro.)

I longed to offer them a comforting lie, to assure them that everything would turn out fine. But they would see right through the façade given our mind link. With Gaster, every undertaking of his felt like a prelude to a symphony of suffering; his new tests invariably promised excruciating pain without exception. Thus, each fresh invention he conjured was synonymous with a novel form of torment for us. Now, we three must brace ourselves for whatever new agony Gaster devised in his twisted creativity. Oh, how fiercely I wish to put a stop to this madness! I yearn to rescue my younger brothers from this fiendish tormentor, yet I find myself shackled by these cursed metal collars. Before we faced the frontlines, Gaster had revealed their true, malevolent purpose.

**Flashback**

"Let me make it clear: escaping is simply not an option. These collars are designed to prevent you from fleeing the front lines. If any of you attempt to run, the collars will deliver a jolt of electricity to your neck. And should you persist in your attempts to escape, the collars will detonate. Understood?"

We made just one attempt to flee, yet, true to his word, those cursed collars sent a surge of electricity through us. I had no desire to discover whether his claim about them exploding was genuine, so we never tried again.

And so we find ourselves now, trapped once more in the wretched lair of that demon, strapped to one of his torture tables, waiting for him to enact his twisted whims, rendered helpless by my own weakness.

(Hey Sans, don’t beat yourself up over this.) Mincho reassures softly in our mental link.

(Absolutely! You stood strong on the front lines, safeguarding us all by yourself!! You guided us to numerous triumphs and protected us in every fight!!! Never doubt that you’ve let us down—not at any point, now or in the future!!!) Papyrus exclaims into the connection.

From my vantage on the table, I can see my brothers’ tears streaming down for me. Their dread of what’s to come hangs in the air, but it’s overshadowed by the depth of their love. I’m overwhelmed by the purity of their affection and begin to weep in response. Their fears resonate within me, yet their love shines brighter than any terror Gaster instills. I smile at them through my tears, but that smile fades to a frown the moment Gaster’s foul visage appears before me.