Rising Storm [ Ink!Sans x Reader ]

7. When Shadows Grin

Shoutout to Ashgamer91 for coming up with the idea of Nightmare's castle!

"You're going to get us killed."

More than anything you wanted to leave this castle, to walk out those front gates and put Nightmare's fortress in your rearview mirror. But the painter was insistent upon retrieving his paint brush, not bothered the slightest that the two of you were walking into the literal embodiment of hell. "Well on the bright side," Ink laughs humourlessly, trailing his bony fingers against the crimson brick wall. "I don't have a soul, so if we do die, at least I won't have to spend the eternity of an afterlife with you."

That seemed to strike a nerve as the two of you ventured onwards. "Doesn't that ever bother you?" you asked. "The thought of simply passing away into nothing? One moment you're here and the next you're nothing?"

"I wouldn't care," Ink replied nonchalantly, eyeing the shadows that seemed to trail after the two of you, hiding unknown dangers within.

"How could you not care?" The idea dumbfounded you. "Even without a soul, even if you can't feel a damn thing, surely the thought must be terrifying?"

"I suppose it would if I cared," Ink mused. "But if you look at it from an objective rather than a subjective viewpoint, simply dying and having my consciousness erased from all of time and space would literally mean that I wouldn't care because not a part of me would exist to even care."

"I don't believe you," you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "How can you not care about dying? You sent a dream to me and Fresh, practically summoned us from two different corners of the multiverse to come and rescue you. How can you then not care about dying if you were pretty damn terrified of doing so only a week ago?"

Ink stopped in his tracks, empty white irises blazing into yours. "Humans are so thick, it's almost unbelievable. Haven't you been picking up on anything I told you? When I ripped out my soul all those years ago, I tore out my emotions as well. Because that's what a soul is, it's basically like one great big hard drive that acts as the pathway to every thought and feeling that ever existed. At first it was great, living without a care in the world. But then it got boring over time so I got creative, I found a way to engineer emotion supplements to act as a sort of makeshift soul. So while I still didn't have a soul, it felt like I had one. But those emotion supplements burned out a few days ago for me. When I phoned you and Fresh, that was when I was still hopped up on them, the old me if you will. Now what you see before you is me, what I really am. So get used to it, sweetheart."

"We can fix it," you reassured him as the two of you continued winding your way down the paths. "After we get the paintbrush, I'm sure the others know how to get more of those supplements. Maybe we can even find your soul if it's still out there."

"I don't need to be fixed," Ink snapped. "This is how I am, this is the real me. Those emotion supplements are nothing more than a disguise, that's all they are. And after we get the paint brush, it's all yours. I'm going into retirement after this is all said and done, I think I've pretty much earned it after working nonstop for the last century or so."

"Century?" That word caught you by surprise. "But that's not possible! You don't sound any older than - "

"Shut up!" Ink snapped, holding up a hand to silence you.

"No!" you retorted, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. "That doesn't make sense, none of this does! How can - "

In a final effort to silence you, Ink kneed you once in the ribs, knocking you to the ground. "That's a lot better," he hissed underneath his breath and peered from out the corridor the two of you were taking refuge in.