Daybreak [ Error!Sans x Reader ]

20. Hate

Nothing is ever perfect.

In every utopia, in every perfection lies a flaw, always a maligant disease that lurks in the shadows, waiting patiently for the moment to strike, to tear the whole system apart and start anew. And that fault lay with you for no matter how hard Gaster struggled, no matter how many times he rewrote your code and stuffed false memories into your mind, every part of you rebeled, fought against it.

Something is wrong here, isn't it? This wasn't your world, this timeline was a prison, not your home. You came from a dead world from a dead time with ghosts to remember you, nothing alive came from your universe. It was gone and you were its echo, the last survivor from a civilisation that had endured for centuries, eradicated in the blink of an eye.

The memories were seeping through, breaking past Gaster's grasp around this universe and tearing the bloody thing apart and nothing he could say or do would change that. For you, for everything was not just a mere string of numbers, it was so much more than that. You were a living creature. a living, breathing organism and so was everyone else around you. You were not a string of unimportant numbers that could be destroyed in a single thought, in the blink of an eye. Even if you were wiped from all of reality, a whisper would remain, something would serve as a reminder that you had once lived, had once talked, had once breathed the same air as those that continued to live, that you had once loved.

These were the thoughts that swam through your mind as your being drifted in and out of reality,walking between the world of dream and the world of reality and the world of dream was a world that Gaster could never control for it had no code to manipulate. In your dreams you were free, free to think as you pleased and act as you would.

He is not a god, you realised, feeling the tug of reality slowly releasing your hold on this world. For gods can control everything and Gaster gets his power from manipulating code, but there are some things even he can't control. And still, gods can be killed just as much as the next man. My gods are dead, the ones from my old worlds because no one lives to remember or worship them. Religion is a thing of man for there was no god in the beginning of the universe or when the first bacteria swam through the oceans. A god is an idea created by those who seek reassurance in a higher power and give the title to anyone willing to do the things they cannot. That is a god, not a being of infinite power, but one of finite, limited and weak.

But then your musings ended and you were pulled from the world of dream and thrown back into reality. Gaster's name once more escaped your grasp for here in the physical world you had still not broken free of the strings wrapped around you, pulling you like a puppet in Gaster's game of chess.

You found yourself on the ground, circled by a group of skeletons or at least what remained of the army. A part of you felt relieved noticing that the humans you had commanded had at least managed to deal several blows to the wretched creatures, but did any humans even remain? You weren't in your old camp but somewhere far away, which prosed the question, why had you been spared?

Your gaze fell upon the black skeleton, the one clad in insanity with a stream of glitched code following him around like a loyal companion. What was the purpose in keeping you alive, you held no value and no human lived to care for you. The humans that you commanded were most likely dead in the aftermath of the battle. You attempted to stand up but found yourself immobile, soul pinned to the ground.

"It's just for safety precautions, I'm sure you understand," the glitch of a skeleton smirked, sitting down in front of you so that the two of you could see somewhat eye-to-eyesocket. "Leave us," he barked the command to the growing crowd of skeletons which then dispersed amid mumbled grunts about how they were never paid enough for this hellhole of a job.