Daybreak [ Error!Sans x Reader ]

9. Mors Omnibus

Before it had begun, before the true battle had commenced, before you had even met Nightmare on the field of battle, the war was already over. You were helpless, hapless to the flowings of the world around you. From a stupid mistake, an arrogant choice that could have been so easily avoided! Despite the insistings of those around you, despite everything, you blamed yourself. Because it was like you had told Error, it wasn't fate or destiny that decided the future, it was your own actions and the results that followed. You had done this to yourself and in turn eradicated any hopes of defeating Nightmare.

If you had just been able to summon that damn magic! If you had been able to use your powers against Dust than there would have been no need to use the knife and in turn bind a piece of your soul to the wretched thing and be in the mess you were in now. But in the heat of the moment you hadn't been able to summon the magic like so many times before and picked up the blade, sealing your own future in the process.

"I'm going to kill us all, aren't I?"

Error looked up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. In his clutched hand was the knife, your knife, the very thing that called out to you and sang throughout the whole time you marched. It hadn't even been two hours since the conclusion of the battle and already you were feeling the effects of having your soul split in two, part of it in the knife that was meant to be in your hands. You needed it and it needed you!

The glitch of a comedian seemed to want to make a sarcastic remark and then thought better of it. This was something new you also noticed in him, the development in being able to restrain himself. But you wanted a witty comeback. a snarky remark, anything but this damn pity everyone kept shoving down your throat anytime you tried to talk to them.

It had been a subtle change but one you noticed well. When your group set up camp for the night, a watch was established. Fresh and the others assured you it was only for the reason of making sure that there were no midnight ambushes like last time, but their wary glances and nervous postures suggested that they were doing more than that, making sure that you didn't get any bright ideas and take the knife to slit their throats while they were sleeping.

"I can't go on like this," you shuddered, feeling cold. "It's hard to explain, but having a part of myself in the soul weapon, I can almost see myself inside of it at times. It's like being in two places at once all the time, never quite staying in one body. With every blink it feels like I'm going to detach from this body and wake up in the knife or the knife is going to wake up inside of me."

Error wasn't much at offering comfort and surely offered no relief. "Well when you kill us all, at least make it quick. No sense in drawing it out." But as he said this there was again that flash of remorse as if the comedian actually wished he could do something to help, the thought of that! The destroyer of worlds wanting to help someone!

"I guess I'm not fit to replace Ink after all," you chuckled. "Maybe I'm meant to replace you and there's someone out there already who's probably the spitting image of the painter." It was something you had thought a lot on recently. There was no way you could replace Ink, not the way you were now. If this so-called balance actually existed, how could you take the painter's place when you now couldn't go a second without wanting to kill something? Maybe Error was destined to die and you would take his place alongside another chosen to replace Ink.

Assuming the artist was dead. You refused to truly accept that untl you saw his ashes for yourself. Your eyes flickered back to the knife and a strange sensation ran through you, a longing so great and powerful that you felt you would collapse right then and there if your hands didn't wrap around that damn hilt and cut a few things down. Oh how much you wanted to kill, to see them all scream and bleed...