The snow crunched beneath his slippers as Sans blinked into a clearing—silent, isolated, and far from Papyrus's voice echoing through Snowdin. Just the way he liked it when he needed to think… or train.
He stretched out his hand lazily, a flick of his wrist summoning a small wall of bones that sprang from the ground with precision. Another flick, and they vanished.
He chuckled to himself. "Still got it… or I guess I never lost it."
This body—it was fully Sans's now, even if the soul inside it wasn't originally from this world. But with the powers came the burden. Memories from a life before, where Undertale was just a game. A game he had played, reset, and tried to beat. Where he had watched that little girl—Frisk—commit unspeakable acts… or show heartwarming mercy.
And it always came down to her choice.
Sans closed his eye sockets and let out a slow breath.
"No matter how strong I get, it won't matter if she chooses Genocide…"
His voice was flat, defeated.
"I could fight her. I have fought her. Over and over. And it doesn't matter. She just comes back. Reset after reset. Her Determination… it's stronger than anything else in this world."
He summoned a flurry of bones and Gaster Blasters in a flash, spinning them in a dance of deadly power—then let them all fade with a sigh. The energy drain was still real. He could only keep it up for so long before his body started to falter.
"One HP," he muttered bitterly. "All this power... and still just one bad hit away from a bad time."
But he couldn't let that stop him. Even if he couldn't win, he could stall. Slow her down. Maybe… just maybe, buy enough time for something else to change.
And if she chose not to go down that path…
He looked up at the sky—deepening into twilight.
"Let's hope this is the run where you don't become a monster, kid."
He stood up, brushing snow off his jacket, and gave a tired smile.
"'Cause I'm getting real bonely waiting for a happy ending."