Of a Better World

A Ruined Routine

Summer was over.

That meant no more adventurous hikers would be climbing Mount Ebott and that meant no more unlucky hikers would be falling in.

Horror had a very objective sense of seasons seeing as he had never been to the surface. The seasons had no sway in the underground, Hotlands stayed hot and Snowdin stayed cold year-round. He knew nothing of the changing colors of leaves or migration of birds.

In Horrortale, the seasons were only known for the amount of food they raked in.

It had been years upon years ago that the core had failed; the very source of the clean air they breathed and the energy they used and the food they ate. But it was fine, humans made a fine substitute for at least one of those things. Summer was a bountiful season, the monsters of Horrortale knew, apparently perfect hiking weather for the humans on the surface and apparently Mount Ebott was the perfect place to hike. The summer season saw the fall of many clumsy and foolish humans, adults and children alike, into the gaping maw of the underground. There they hardly lasted long in the mercyless hands of the starving monsters that occupied it.

Fall saw the sharp decline in curious adventurers and in winter many monsters had to go without. A few unfortunate souls never got around to seeing spring after the cold season. So little to go around meant some never lasted long enough to see abundance again.

Yes, fall was the beginning of a dreary time Horror knew. But he carried out his task dutifully.

His single remaining eyelight scanned the snow as he patrolled the Snowdin woods for any evidence of a fallen human. Perhaps a scent or footprints.

Horror was all too aware that being out patrolling this time of year was pointless, with the chances of actually finding something so abysmal. But he couldn't risk not looking, lest he miss the small chance of catching a meal.

Of the entire cold season, on average he only ever found one or maybe two humans, but those measly scraps were still important. A human carcass, if rationed carefully, could last the small town of Snowdin and it's inhabitants a week if they were lucky enough to snag an adult. It wasn't much at all, but it brought about another day where the monsters of the underground weren't forced to cannibalize each other. So as long as there was a chance something could be found, Horror had to look.

The wind was bitter cold and Horror was still drowsy and irritable from sleeping, but he still managed to make his rounds. He had woken up early, if he was quick enough then maybe he could get back home before his brother noticed his absence.

Today's search wasn't the most throughout. He was sloppy today, skipping over routes he usually took when surveying the forest for humans. But he could still see pawprints in the snow and pick up the smell of a wet mutt, meaning the dogs were out. Horror couldn't risk a run in with them, not now.

They'd gone feral from starvation a while ago and were best avoided and left to their own devices in the woods they had named their home. A scuffle with Greater Dog over a kill had left him with lasting scars and it was only pure luck he was able to shake the thing. His energy was best preserved for the long, hungry months ahead of him, not fighting with dogs.

Horror picked up his pace as he approached the door to the Ruins. With a quick sweep of the place he'd be done and would have to report back to the citizens of Snowdin that their stomachs would have to go empty for another day.

It was routine, a normal day with a normal outcome. At least that's what Horror thought before he caught sight of a cyan boot sticking out of the snow.

The large skeleton perked up. A boot. Maybe it belonged to a human who had succumbed to the cold. Maybe he wouldn't have to go home empty handed after all.

He paused for a minute, listening to ensure no danger was present, before began to walk over to the boot.

It could just be garbage, the pessimistic side of him was convinced. But the logical side of him argued; all human trash ended up in the dump. Even if a boot had mysteriously fallen into the underground without an owner, how had it made its way all the way through the Ruins into Snowdin? The door between the two places never opened unless Toriel allowed a human to walk into their doomed fate.

It was implausible it belonged to a monster, no one wandered out this far into the Snowdin woods with so many feral monsters hiding in it. If it belonged to a human, the dogs had gotten to them first.

Horror got to the cyan blue boot and fell to his knees, using his hands to brush away snow. Digging vigantly, he slowly uncovered the leg the boot was attached to and then the body until he was face to face with… himself.

He was almost surprised.

Horror knew the multiverse theory. Horror knew that it was real. He had met other sanses before. After years of slaving away, working to create a machine to do the impossible- he did it. He met all sorts of other sanses and papyruses, versions of him and his brother. And they taught him an important lesson too. Horror knew he wasn't welcomed by any of them.

He had gone to them for help and had been shunned. They were scared of him and his universe. Terrified of his appearance and strangely high LV, disgusted by the state of his world. He knew better than to interact with them.

It took barely one second of decision making for Horror to decide the best choice of action was to leave the guy where he found him.

Skeletons were incredibly hardy creatures, able to withstand bitter cold, the guy would most likely be fine. It would only take a while for him to get up, brush himself off, and figure out a way to leave. And if he didn't… well that was the dogs' problem, not his

Content with his conclusion, Horror stood up and began making his way back home, cutting his morning patrol short. That's what would have happened if he didn't hear the sans groan and shift behind him.

Horror steeled himself, determined to go back to Snowdin and have a regular day. But thoughts began to trickle into his head regardless of his will. If the guy managed to wake up and wander back into the town before he was torn apart, then it would cause a ruckus.

A copy of him running around would cause confusion and unrest. And of course he'd be expected to supply answers to any questions. The last thing he needed was an unsupervised loud mouth spouting about alternate universes in places where such a subject didn't need to be mentioned.

Before he knew where his feet were taking him, he was right back beside the unconscious skeleton. Horror knew what he had to do as he grabbed his leg, the one that had been sticking out of the snow, and began to pull it. It took a while before he was able to completely pull the smaller monster out of the snowdrift parts of his body had become stuck in.

Careless was the only word to describe Horror as he dragged the limp body behind him. If the guy got his skull busted open on the sharp rocks underfoot, he couldn't care less. The fucker wasn't even supposed to be in his universe. He needed to get the little shit home and hide him in a closet or something.

Horror heard the howls of the dogs somewhere in the distance as he began to formulate his next plan of action. He just needed to get home quickly, he had shit to do.