Rising Storm [ Ink!Sans x Reader ]

Prologue - Calamity

You can't remember a time when you were free. Freedom never existed in the minds of the enslaved, had it not always been this way? They lurked in every corner, they watched in the minds of those weak enough to succumb to their power. There was no where to run, and there was no where to hide.

They went by many names. Some often called them the Elite, the Dark Brotherhood, Children of Shadow. Whoever the bastards were, they were a mysterious group of dictators that had emerged shortly after the Great War, a conflict of such a magnitude it was rumoured whole universes died in the chaos. It had been a desperate power struggle between an unnamed enemy and an unnamed adversary. But when the Elite had emerged victorious, their wrath was felt in every corner of the known universes.

Not one reality was spared their wrath. So much as a stray thought of opposition often left many disappearing in the middle of the night, only to turn up three days later in some dumpster behind a rundown building, throat slit. But no one cared and no one mattered, there was no hope for resistance no matter how many times brave souls would speak out against the sheer brutality of life.

But most did not have the will to retaliate, simply content with their living conditions. What chance did they stand against a regime that could kill you if your mind so much as strayed, if you looked the wrong way, if you failed to play your part? What hope was there against an enemy that know and saw all, powerful enough to destroy entire worlds?

There had been a time, you were sure of it, one not so long ago where you could think for yourself, where it was safe to go to bed and wakeup the next morning alive and well. It was rooted within the very core of your being, what screamed in protest that this was not right, that you had once lived a better life in a better world and time.

The work hour bell chimed twice overhead, a long and monotonous sound that was rumoured could be overheard in every universe and world alike. You bit your lip as you set your pickaxe to the ground, wiping the sweat from your forehead and leaving a trail of coal dust smeared on your cheek in the process.

You had been assigned to work in the mines over a year ago and you hated every minute of it. Forced to draw out the meager supplies of fossil fuels still left in the earth, it was a job that offered no pay, no anything. It wasn't like there was a job that offered pay, paychecks hadn't existed since forever. The Elite often called them jobs, it sounded better than slavery.

You carefully skirted a dead body, not paying a second thought to the man or his name. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see a corpse rotting here, not when you were forced to work eighteen hours a day with little food or water to compensate. But the next morning some other damned soul would be thrown down here to take his place and life would continue like the deceased had never existed.

"No!"

You stopped dead in your tracks, mentally cursing the idiot who dared make an exclamation. The woman who was kneeling over perhaps the body of her dead husband sobbed into his overalls, clutching the ripped fabric in her hands. "Damn you all!" the woman roared, her voice ridden with grief. You felt a pang of annoyance at the commotion, wishing the crowd could move and you could get back to your hammock in the factory that acted as your only home, eager to delve into the few rations that you could call your own.

"Help him!" the woman continued to shriek, her eyes swerving into the crowd. Most ducked heads or avoided eye contact, wanting the guards to come and drag her away so life might once again resume. "We're better than this, we can fight back! We can - "

There wasn't much time for the woman to say anything else as a blue spear sprouted in between her eyes, a glowing weapon that hummed with a life of its own. A fish woman in rusted armor pulled her weapon from the woman, nonchalance on her features. It was something the guard had probably done a thousand times over and would do the same a thousand more. You often wished you had been drafted into the Royal Guard. Even if it meant killing any opposition to the Elite, innocent people, anything was better than spending the rest of your life in this damn mine.