False host (undertale fanfiction)

chapter 13: The Crimson Grin

A/N: Hey there, lovely readers! Just a quick note before diving into this chapter—if you're into emotionally charged short stories, check out my other work, "The Sins We Bury". It's a tale about hidden guilt and redemption.

Also, I hope you enjoy this longer chapter! I experimented with writing some fight scenes, so let me know what you think. Your feedback keeps me going! 😊 Now, on to the story!

-30 HP

Smoke billowed from the aftermath of the explosion, curling in lazy tendrils that obscured the scene. As it cleared, a fractured Gaster Blaster was revealed, its skeletal structure barely holding together as it shielded Sans from the worst of the blast. The moment the smoke thinned, the Blaster fell apart, disintegrating into shards of glowing magic that faded into the air.

Sans staggered to his feet, dusting himself off with one hand while his other clenched tightly at his side. His jaw tightened as he scanned the scorched terrain, his grin thinner than usual.

"Should've seen that coming," he muttered, pulling up his stats screen with a flick of his wrist.

"You better not die on me, you over-confident skeleton," Chara growled, their translucent form flickering beside him. "I can't bring you back yet with that unfinished soul of yours."Relax, kid. I've got this." his hand plunged into the item slot, pulling out a chilled Spider Cider. The bottle's surface glistened with condensation, and the smell of fresh apples wafted up as he uncapped it.

This isn't a joke, Sans," Chara snapped, their sharp tone cutting through the haze.

"This stuff's still fresh," he said, finishing it off with a single gulp. "What is it, some kind of magic freezer in there?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, savoring the faint hint of cinnamon.

+24 HP

"Stop chatting like we're at a picnic!" Chara snapped, knocking on his skull like they were ringing a doorbell. "You're letting your guard down. Again."

Sans waved them off, letting out a quiet chuckle. "Relax, kid. I've got more than 1 HP now—I can afford to have a little fun."

Chara glared, their form crackling faintly before dissolving back into his mind. "You're insufferable," they muttered, their voice fading. "But don't come crying to me when you get yourself killed."

As they disappeared, Sans bent down, brushing off his pants. His grin faltered slightly as he heard it: the steady rhythm of boots crunching against the scorched ground. He glanced up to see a swarm of soldiers advancing, their formation tight and methodical.

Machines floated alongside them, hovering drones that whirred ominously in the heat. The soldiers themselves were clad in armor bristling with sharp edges, their weapons gleaming. Among them, smaller monsters like Vulkins and Pyropes shuffled nervously, their usual jittery movements replaced with an unsettling stillness.

At the rear of the formation, a ghostly shimmer flickered. Napstablook.

Their translucent form wavered, and they quickly darted out of sight when Sans's gaze landed on them.

Sans snorted, his grin returning. "Gotta hand it to Alphys," he muttered. "That's one hell of a spy you've got—he doesn't even need to hide."

The soldiers stopped just short of striking range. Their presence was a suffocating wall of metal and magic, the heat amplifying the tension in the air.

Sans summoned three Gaster Blasters, their skeletal jaws crackling with raw energy as they aimed at the Vulkins in the center of the formation.

The Vulkins didn't flinch. They stood rooted to the spot, their trembling replaced with a steely resolve. Their eyes didn't even flicker as the Blasters fired.