Chapter IV – Spared

I can't even begin to explain how frightened I am as I carefully walk down the trough. I take a good look around me; whatever fell down here had done a desperate attempt to stop its fall. A crash like this could have killed a human instantly – gives me hopes that the monster is dead.

I still have that feeling. It just takes one slash from the dagger to kill a monster (or, well, I hope it's enough with this one, considering the fall it went through). Why am I feeling bad? Monsters kill us and take our souls probably for the fun of it, and I'm not sure if to kill one? I almost see the logic running away from this. Plus, it's not possible that the monster survived something like this.

Careful with my footing, I slide down the muddy path after watching what's around me. Some branches and small plants in the middle of the trough are devastated –most of them look like they have been ripped off, as if the thing falling had tried to catch a hold of them to stop the deadly crash–.

I climb up a small bluff, look at both sides just in case-

And immediately duck down with a gasp that silenced the entire forest.

I swear I saw something down there, and I'm almost at the edge of screaming. I feel happy, but at the same time I'm so afraid I can barely move. I took down that thing with no doubt, but what if it's not dead, and has gotten itself free from the ropes? What if it's alive and is just trying to lure me towards it to kill me? Monsters that are wounded or defenseless know very well to play dead when there are humans around.

Gulping, I take the enough courage to peek over the bluff, just barely, making sure no undesirable surprises await me, before taking a better look at the sight in front of me. There are a couple of big boulders in the middle of a clearing – behind one of them is a small monster bound by ropes.

My heart races even faster and I'm afraid it's going to burst out of my chest. There's no movement whatsoever, but that thing could still be playing dead. My nervous hands uselessly search for the blade, and it almost slips off my grip as I take it out.

I take a couple of breaths to calm myself down. This monster has fallen down a hill with force, is bound by a strong bola, and is completely motionless. What are the chances of it being alive?

Holding the dagger tightly, I slide down a rock and jump off, hiding behind the other; making sure nothing sees me. I peek around it, huffing. When I manage to get a full view of the thing that has been tormenting us for so long, I honestly question everything. I imagined Sans as a scary, strong monster that should be bigger than the average Viking, and have an absolutely freaky appearance. It's none of that, actually.

Turns out it's a skeleton, roughly my height, with no odd details to its appearance whatsoever. Really, it's just a skeleton with clothes, and moving eyes apparently, as they are closed. I can safely guess this 'it' is a 'he'.

To think this is what causes such destruction in the blink of an eye… it's almost unbelievable. Then again, most things in the monster world are hardly believable. There are tiny, stupid things, like a Moldsmal (which is literally a living pudding), that can kill a Viking that's not paying attention at all.

Everything is silent know and I can only hear my own, shaky breathing. This thing doesn't move at all.

…but…

How did I not realize this sooner? My sense of triumph blinded me from the obvious. He's not dead. If he was, I would only find a pile of dust covering the bola I threw at him. He's not breathing or anything (can skeletons even breathe?), but he's not dead at all.

I feel this sensation crawl all over me again, but I brush it off. If this monster is not dead, then he's at the edge of death. Nothing could go away unharmed from a fall like this. Not that I know. "Oh wow…" I mutter, realizing that I was out of breath. I knew it. I did do the impossible. I took down Sans, and all I needed was my faithful, inert friend Mangler to do so. Only one bola shot by a poor excuse of a Viking defeated the creature that not even Stoick could take down with hundreds of them.

"I- I… I did it." I walk closer. "Oooh, I did it, this- this fixes everything! Yes! I have brought down this mighty beast!" I look up at the sky like a greedy Viking showing the Gods his proud kill, and laugh at myself. It's really a funny thing. I succeeded at something no one else did. It's just not possible. I wonder if I should slap myself to make sure this is not a dream – then again, if it is, I don't really want to wake up.

A low, steady noise fills my ears, taking me off of my moment of victory. He's breathing.

The ropes of the bola creak silently as the monster's arms rise and fall erratically with each pained breath. I don't even question how this is even possible as I hold the dagger in front of me as a measure of protection. I'm not out of danger. I've seen what this demon can do. Downed or not, he's still dangerous, and I mentally smack myself for letting the guard down knowing he's not dead yet.

However, he shows no signs of hostility. Perhaps he's way too wounded to even move. Monsters need a lot of concentration and stamina to create their attacks. I don't think a monster that has fallen off a cliff can summon magic, at least not one that is powerful enough to score a direct hit.

All he does is open his eyes. There's only a contracted, glowing white pupil in a sea of black, and it looks straightly at me. Sans does nothing else.

For a moment, the intensity of that one stare keeps me away from looking into his eye. There are so many mixed emotions in it, but there's one that highlights – fear. This monster, that could cause a giant catapult tower to crumble down with just one hit, is afraid of a scrawny boy. Well, after all, he's badly wounded and I'm here, perfectly fine and holding a dagger.

I look back at him. That eye doesn't get off mine. I swear it just got a little bit smaller as I gazed at it. I feel my legs and arms shaking, and take a few deep breaths. I can't show this thing that I'm afraid. I have the reins here. I'm the one who has the choice to kill now. This demon is defenseless, and I'm the one with the power. I have nothing to fear.

That feeling of guilt and regret is hitting me harder now, but I ignore it. Not now. Not now when I'm about to taste true victory. "I'm gonna kill you, monster. I'm gonna- I'm gonna turn you into dust and shot it to my father…" I remember everything this monster did to us. It's this thing's fault that we lost most of the raids. He has killed a lot of people. He has destroyed many things. It's my turn to end his destructive path. I'm doing the world a favor.

I almost struggle to take a good grip of the hilt as I point the blade downwards. It's now or never. "I'm a Viking." I look into those eyes. Still nothing. No blinking, no changes at all. "I'm a Viking!" I exhale. I must do this. Why shouldn't I? This is a beast. Something that should never have been created at all.

I raise the dagger above my head and close my eyes, but something stops me. It's like a regretful hand grips the hilt and stops me from striking down. I open one eye. Then the other, and the invisible hand tries harder to not let me kill this monster. Those black eyes widen, just a bit. He knows he's going to die. And he doesn't want to.

That look. That one look he's giving me. Somehow… I feel like it's killing me inside.

Taking this monster's life won't make me any better than the others. Vikings are supposed to be better than monsters, always. If we kill them for no reason, just because we think we can… then we are even worse.

No. What am I talking about?

I do have a reason. Many. Sans has also killed Vikings just because he could. I can too. I squeeze my eyes shut and raise the blade higher. I can hear the monster put his head down in defeat. The regretful hand keeps stopping me. I try, and I try again. I just can't strike down.

…just, what am I doing…

My arms loosen and I feel the blade resting on my head. It's not worth it. I can't take a life just to be popular. I can't do it. I just can't. I look at the dagger, then back at Sans. It almost looks like he gave up completely. There's nothing left for him. He can't go away, and someone will come around here and kill him anyways. But I won't be that someone.

There are several gashes on his clothing. He just…looks so pained… and to think this is my fault… What have I done?

I can't afford to look at him anymore. I can't even afford to look at myself, I ruined a monsters' life just because I wanted to be noticed. "…I did this…" I turn to leave. To run away in shame. But I stop.

I can't just leave him there. He's too weak to free himself, and no monster is going to come here until the next raid – by that time, the only thing that will be left is useless dust. Letting him die here is a worse fate than being killed straight away. I look at him. Still breathing heavily. Still unmoving. Still in pain.

I sigh, and close my eyes. There's only one thing I can do. The correct thing.

Hurriedly, I crouch and start cutting off the ropes as fast as I can. After he's free, I can just run away and never tell anyone this happened, even if it hurts me not to. But nobody is going to believe me anyways, even if I told them how Sans actually looks like. Not even Fishlegs. Vikings are stubborn. They won't believe that a so-called demon is a short, unsurprising skeleton.

Most of the ropes are already cut off, and I just finish cutting the last one when a mysterious force suddenly takes control of my body and I see myself surrounded by a blue hue. I feel numb as I suddenly rise up and get slammed against a boulder, and no matter how much I want to, I can't move.

I'm forced to ignore the pain on the back of my head when I no longer see that weak, frightened monster Sans was. Right in front of me is a vicious beast with the most piercing stare I've ever seen in my life, stronger than Stoick's. His right eye has no pupil, leaving it as a black abyss, while the other one is glowing in a blue flame. His left hand is extended towards me, and I wildly guess it's the reason of why I can't move.

I can barely feel my heart pounding as I simply stare at the deathly glare. If I could move, I would still be motionless. The intensity of that stare keeps me in place with more success than any magic attack ever could. I should never judge something by how it looks. This is a monster that would stop at nothing and could kill a horde of Vikings with a single hit. I almost see all the unleashed anger floating around this monster, and I regret setting him free.

Now the roles are reversed. I'm the one who is defenseless, and he's the one with the power. He's the one that can kill now. My eyes flicker towards the blade. I can still move my arms, albeit barely, but it's too far away from me to grab it.

The stare hardens, and I just know I'm going to die. I can picture one of those dragon skulls shooting a blinding light at me and everything ending. Now it's my time to wonder if someone would actually miss me.

I close my eyes. I can't dare to watch myself die.

But instead, I feel my limbs again, and open my eyes just in time to see Sans disappearing into the bushes. I see his silhouette running off through the rugged terrain, and crashing against trees and boulders as he leaves.

I hold my chest, and feel it throbbing. I go limp as I let out a breath that I was keeping in, and barely feel my feet touch the ground as I shakily stand up, grabbing the blade as well. I feel so numb I could fall at any moment; I look at the ground to see if I'm actually standing on the ground.

Erratic gasps come out of me as I turn around, one step at a time.

Now I wish this was a dream, because, otherwise, this makes no sense whatsoever. I survived a face-to-face encounter with possibly the most powerful and dangerous monster out there, and survived without a single scratch, except for the raising pain on my back. I will feel that in the morning.

I start to walk away, and I barely take one step before my body shakes and I faint.