Archemedies sits and listens- or rather watches, as Gaster finishes his long story, his pearl white eyes shining as he processes all that has happened in his absence. A lot has happened in his absence. So much he's missed…so much grief and joy and life experienced while he sat alone…and so much lost when his friend joined him.
'And, well, that was the day I fell…'
Gasters finishes, and his hands sink down. the mangled and shadowed skeleton chuckles, wiping away tears from his sockets with one hand as he falls silent, the memories fresh as he himself goes over them.
He misses snowdin so much…
He misses sans, and papyrus…his wonderful sons. Their smiles, their laughter…and all the townsfolk too. Most of them only knew him as the quiet neighbor with two loud kids who told good jokes, but he had a few close friends…the old shopkeeper with his daughter, for one. Mochi too…the guard captain was almost like an aunt to sans and papyrus. Heck, she and her daughters had made snow monsters with them, babysat them so many times…And not to mention grillby. The quiet fire elemental was one of Gaster's closest friends. They had a sort of solidarity, two monsters with voices no one understands…and of course, being a cypher himself, Gaster could understand grillby- and vice versa. He was one of the only monsters that ever did. He misses the quiet monster with his crackling, slashing font that used to twirl colorfully through the air whenever he swore- under his breath for the most part- or spoke. Though sometimes he gets this feeling that he's forgotten something very important about him…He doesn't like it when he's found he's forgotten things…
When you're trapped with only your memories, that can be distressing.
In the gray room, far away from the warm hearths and glittering lights of snowdin town, Archemedies looks down at the gray floor- thinking, then remarking plainly;
"You have done so much…met so many wonderful people…"
He looks up at Gaster, and adds;
"…She sounds like she was a wonderful person. I am glad you met her, even if I never will..."
Gaster smiles a little, grateful for the consolation. And though his grieving is done and over now, she still paces through his dreams now and again…and each time, she's happy to see him. He's made peace with her tragedy. After all, she gave him his boys…And what better way is there to honor her than to keep fighting to reach them? He swore to her he would protect them- and even if he hadn't, he would still fight to get back to them. he loves them, after all. They are his family…they're his whole world. The thought of getting back to them is all that keeps him going, all that's kept him alive… Then, Archemedies speaks again, sounding slightly wistful as his tail coils around the shimmering cloth.
"And your boys sound wonderful, too. I can't believe you had kids…I wish I could meet them, papyrus sounds like such a cheerful skeleton…"
He pauses for a moment, then adds;
"I need some cheerfulness…or rather we both do."
He says, looking around at the gray room, then down at the shimmering cloth. Gaster nods sadly, signing;
'He was always so positive…so full of life, and sans…so passionate about what I had to tell him…'
Gaster looks away, his hands shaking slightly.
'I…miss them both, so, so much.'
Archemedies looks up at his friend, and tells him in his quiet, whispering voice;
"I can't believe that you have…done all these things, even in thirty years, it seems like a feat to make so many wonderful things and meet so many wonderful friends…"
Gaster shrugs. He just…lived. He met Her. He made a family…those things just happen, if you try hard enough, or are lucky enough, or love someone enough…
That's just life.
"Not to mention, this means you are almost over seventy years old now, you know…"
Archemedies remarks distantly, Gaster blinking at the number, surprised. Being a boss monster, that never seemed that big of a number to him…but it must be staggering to Archemedies. The gray reptilian monster pauses a little before adding;
"You're old, period."
Gaster starts at the remark, making an indignant " ︎? ᄌホ ︎ ︎✡︎!" and whacks his friend, not too lightly, over the head with one hand, signing with two others he summons behind him with a crackle;
'Excuse me! We are both old- and you are not a boss monster!'
Archemedies laughs, removing the hand with his tail, and shrugs a little, his expression growing somber once again as he stares into the gray.
"That is true. Technically, I am 68 now…"
He looks down at himself, seemingly haunted by the figure. 80 years is the lifespan of a lucky monster, so 68…is considered very elderly. But boss monsters…they can live for hundreds of years, meaning Gaster is technically on the nearer side of middle aged by skeleton standards…It's a sharp contrast, considering they were both around the same ages, barring a couple years, when they last spoke in that hall outside the experiment. Gaster thinks for a moment, then signs, grinning;
'Do you need a walker in your old age?'
Archemedies snorts in surprise, his spined eyebrows raising at the sudden joke, and Gaster grins, summoning a wobbly-looking 'walker' out of bones with a small crackle of magic. He makes it wobble through the air of the gray room, grinning smugly. Archemedies stares at it for a long moment, then points at the wobbling bone structure with his tail, asking incredulously as the cloth shimmers at his feet;
"You…can still cast magic? Even here?"
He asks, staring in fascination, having forgotten his unsettling age in the face of the phenomena. Gaster nods, unsummoning the structure of bones with a wave of one hand, signing;
'Not as well as I used to. I believe it takes much magic for me to simply- well, for me to exist, so to speak.'
he shrugs, then summons a large wall of bones, which glitch slightly, but stay in place.
'I cannot do coloured attacks anymore, unfortunately.'
He summons another row, all different shades of gray, and points to each one, naming a different type of magic with each, his hands making signs unique to monster sign language.
'…puppeteer, movement, gravitas, halting, pulse…'
he continues until he has named them all, all of them slightly different shades of gray. Archemedies inspects the bones curiously, winding around the attacks and eventually asking;
"…what happens if I touch one?"
Gaster shrugs, signing;
'You are the first monster I have seen in thirteen years. I have no idea.'
He glances at Archemedies nervously as he inspects the attacks closely.
'But…perhaps let's not find out.'
Archemedies chuckles a little, squinting at the 'movement' attack and trying to tell if it's radiating heat.
"I am not weak myself, old friend."
Gaster watches nervously as the reptilian monster darts from one attack to the other, mumbling to himself. Gaster glides in front of him, already signing;
'well, can you sense your HP?'
he asks, his hands emphasizing the 'you' with a soft glow in the center of the holes as Archemedies blinks at him, caught off guard.
"…I had not thought of that…"
He mumbles to himself, then looks up at Gaster, squinting. The mangled skeleton simply stands there for a moment, a little surprised at the sudden scrutiny. Archemedies mumbles to himself a moment, then suggests;
"I have not learned to properly summon attacks like you…but perhaps I could summon your soul…?"
Gaster perks up, exited by the prospect, and quickly signs his approval, unsummoning the attacks around him with a loud crackle. Archemedies steps back, taking a deep breath and leveling his gaze on the part of gaster's darkness that covers his soul, his white eyes glinting in concentration.
There's a faint glow…
Gaster feels a faint tug on his soul, and Archemedies lets out a sharp breath, energy suddenly draining out of him as Gaster starts in surprise, feeling his soul vibrate a little at the weak pulse of magic. He glides forward, concerned, but Archemedies waves him away with his tail.
"I…I am fine. I just…have not performed blue magic in a very, very long time…"
Archemedies huffs, out of breath. Gaster retreats slightly, then looks down at his hands thoughtfully, the familiar holes smoothed and nicked by age. He wonders…
could I manage to…? I must try, right? Archemedies would take such comfort in seeing his soul, in knowing it is still there…Assuming he does still- No, he does, he does. I'm sure he does. Hopefully this works…He has been such a great friend, I just hope I can repay that debt in some small way. He deserves it…
Slowly, he gathers his magic like a handful of clay, feeling the familiar power crackle through him, and searches for Archemedies soul, reaching out with his magic, his eyelights off and unseeing. Though faint and warbled, he finds it, feeling a rush of relief at the familiar glow that was ambient in so many of his memories. His old friend still has his old soul…
And as long as they both have souls, there's hope.
Slowly, slowly, he begins to mold the magic around it, stopping whenever there is a spike or a twitch in the connection as he tentatively winds the magic tighter, smoothing it into a strong, powerful bind as best he can. Eventually, he closes the last seam in his mind, his magic now tight around his friend's soul as he quietly labors to keep up the connection, the reptilian monster still trying to catch his breath, oblivious.
Then, slowly, he lifts Archemedies off the ground.
The reptilian monster gasps slightly, and then stares in shock, gazing into the flickering gray glow of his soul, with a bright silver glowing from deep inside. It is cracked and battered, glitching and warbling, but still it slowly emerges from his chest as he is held a few inches off the gray ground, his tail limp behind him.
he stares.
He has…a soul.
It's still there, it's…it's still all there, cracked and faint but…
…it's there.
Gaster can feel his friend's soul beat gently against his own magic, the pulses weak, but familiar, as Archemedies smiles shakily down at his own soul, closing his eyes and pulsing his magic outward gently in a silent thanks. Gaster, his own eyes closed, can sense Archemedies thanking him through the connection he has wrapped, and sends out a gentle pulse in return, meaning simply an '…any time.' as he quietly holds his friend in the air with magic he nearly forgot.
…But the void was not made for magic.
The void exists without it, because the void is what is left when magic and matter are consumed.
And it's still hungry.
The door creaks open, and the void creeps in.
Though Gaster can't see it, his eye sockets shut as he concentrates, darkness coils towards the thin thread of magic between the two monsters, hungry. It is always, eternally, hungry, vying for any trace of reality so it can swallow it whole...And so, it begins to gnaw. Suddenly, Gaster feels something in the soul shift, and his magic is disrupted as the soul seems to glitch and phase in and out of itself, layers of light warbling around it as Gaster strains to hold it together, to keep it stable as his magic spikes and stutters, too weak to handle the strain.
he can feel something happening, and it is not good.
It is not good at all.
The soul is fracturing and phasing, the magic spiking and dipping wildly as some darkness pulls at Gaster's own magic, this unfamiliar power sinking dark teeth into the connection as something tries to consume the link with a ferocious hunger.
A terrible hunger, raging and eternal, it's endless torture echoing to Gaster even though it has no soul- writhing as it tears away at both the connection and the silvery soul of his friend, Archemedies soul pulsing in fear and confusion as the reptilian monster shakes. The soul- Archemedies soul, by now it might simply fall apart, something is very wrong- it's as if the guts of his soul are laid bare, the physical shell torn away by darkened teeth and pure magic leaking out as Archemedies panics, the darkness drooling nothingness in its hunger. without Gasters magic holding it together, his soul could collapse entirely- and he can't let that happen.
he can't let his friend die, not again-
He will not fail him again!
Then, suddenly, as Gaster collapses to the grayed ground, something changes.
DETERMINATION
Gaster's soul seems to crack, the scars that he has grown used to beginning to glow, red light filtering out in a forceful pulse of determination that pours from old, old wounds and scars as if his soul bleeds it, beats it outwards in waves of impossible red. The pulse crashes over the dark thing, winding around Archemedies soul, the connection strengthening with a roar of magic that turns angrily on the darkness, magic and determination coiling together as has never before been seen.
I WON'T LET HIM DIE
This thought pulses through the soul that holds the other, and Archemedies soul quakes under the vibration with a weak pulse of panicked gratitude, the dark thing recoiling, but not as if it was hurt-
As if it was commanded.
Gaster keeps going, forcing waves of determination through the cracks in his soul, green magic winding in tendrils outwards like vines from a seed as he tries desperately to hold Archemedies together, to keep him alive, to save him as he should have all those years ago- to do what he should have done. To save who he should have saved. It's his fault he's here- he never should have let him volunteer, he should have cancelled it, he should have done something- His soul pours out magic and determination, roaring for the darkness to go, to stop, to leave the shaking unstable soul alone as Gaster's own boss monster intensity power blazes.
The darkness listens.
Beyond the space between souls, Gaster is collapsed on the floor of the gray room, determination pulsing between him and Archemedies, who still hangs in the air, limp and seemingly unconscious as his soul fights to stay together. The darkness quietly retreats away from Archemedies, but lingers in the corners and cracks as it waits, eternally hungry, eternally hunting, its shadows pulled into something resembling a mind by the red glow. After all, you cannot command the mindless. It stays there, commanded back by the glow of red that pulses in the room, Gaster's soul laid out in the open as he shudders, trying to pull his friend together with every ounce of power he has left.
The darkness watches, as Gasters boss monster soul- though cracked, still powerfully tainted with green- supports the shaking and dripping silver soul with powerful determination. But the fight is not over. Archemedies soul still writhes and phases, reacting violently to the wounds of darkness and the cracks that scar it, damage dealt by some variable he can't remove, something he cannot know or understand, the strain of being lost for so, so long-
Gaster fights harder.
A soul cannot stay together this way- only existing as magic, with no physical presence. Archemedies soul has no shell, no armor- no protection. Without it, his soul will fall apart. But Gaster is not giving up yet.
He has to try.
He has to fix it.
He has to help the only friend he has left.
I am not going to fail you again, I am not going to let you die a second time because of my mistakes- I will not let you die period- Archemedies you old fool, I will not fail you like that day in the hall when I let you go to your death-
Gasters mind forces out a last pulse of determination, the red wave crashing over the desperate and dripping soul, filling the gray room with blood red light as his soul screams into the darkness that remains-
LET US GO!
His soul roars into the void, as the void circles around him as a dog circles his master. The darkness responds, coiling and writhing as the determination Gaster should not have, cannot have, the determination that defies the script itself commands it, guides it, forces it-
To let go.
For a split second, he floats in darkness once again, whirling through blackness as the darkness rushes past him like a pack of wolves, its endless void echoing a sense of feral purpose, the purpose of a mouse commanded by a god. Because in this place, determination is more powerful than time itself.
And suddenly, magic fills him…
It's as if for one moment, he's himself again, his body glitching between his familiar lab coat and the coiling darkness as magic pulses wildly through him with a vibrance he had forgotten, a brightness he had forgotten. He feels alive.
Archemedies scales ripple between a gentle yellow and a muted gray in harsh glitches as the determination tries to pull them both together, tries to force the pieces to fit- It tries, and for a moment the room cracks open, shards of reality rushing inside with a waterfall of shattered images that crash down on the souls that writhe in the darkness, screaming for freedom. He sees snowdin, he sees the castle, he sees forests and distant caves all as if through fractured glass as Gasters soul spins through the reality that roils in confusion as he strains to grip to Archemedies dripping and phasing soul, his determination forcing him to keep going, one more pulse, one more breath, one more moment that stretches and strains.
He can't think, his consciousness forced directly into his straining, cracked soul-
Then, something calls to him. He can feel a pulse of determination, weak, but adding to his own. It's faint, but it glows blood red in a determination that calls to his, and Instinctively, he reaches out with his soul and latches onto it, his determination merging with another- because now, there is another- a third soul writhing red and silver as he spins through time and space, two of the three straining souls determined to live for very different reasons and one just grateful that it still is living.
Archemedies has long since grown tired, spent and weak, but he holds on as best he can, his soul warbling weakly as reality shifts and shudders in this one frozen moment that stretches and begins to crack- The moment stretches, time whirling and confused and- and he's nearly there. Gasters soul- dragging two others behind him- hurls towards the shattered doorway, a reverse of his fall, as his soul grips tightly to the others, combined determination straining as snowdin tumbles closer-
And then the moment ends.
The script, duck-taped together and rewritten by a frantic time, stops it. It is dominant above time and space itself, a basic overarching law of this reality held together by pins and paper clips, so fragile and lenient that it had even let this begin at all. A mistake. Determination is not the most powerful of the souls, of them all- no, not here. Not anymore.
But the determination insists, two souls banding together to scream out in a desperate plea for survival, one of them confused and pulsing weakly, the other determined to finish seizing its freedom with powerful waves.
The script resists.
The determination insists harder, the first soul roaring out, while the other one whimpers, the undetermined soul held between them and together by their will for both them- and him- to live. They are determined.
And the script recognizes that.
Something echoes within it- a copy of the very code that birthed the multiverse, something from before it was rewritten. Something ancient.
The Undertale.
Every script has a writer, and the Undertale is a story that shifts and changes, but somewhere, down in its core…it stays the same. And in almost every single story but this one, the Undertale dictates that determination is powerful.
…perhaps It can make an exception for someone…
The script tears and reassembles, its ending changed.
Better? Worse?
I'm not telling you.
But still, it writhes and begins to change the world it is assigned to, space bowing to its will as time protests, a fickle thing, the laws of all reality merging and changing as it rewrites the rules. Time rumbles and bucks and protests, halting it's ticking path as the power of determination- and the script itself- forces it to still, forces it to let go, forces it to hurl a flickering soul out and away.
A single soul, or the flicker of a thought of one, glows silver and red in the space between life and death, responding as time hurls it out with a rumble of dissatisfaction, the script beginning to settle as space quietly works the space between spaces where its laws are bent, the faint soul hurtling through time and space and the barriers of death as the script dries its ink and begins to churn again. A flickering echo of a soul, red as blood with silvered streaks, is suddenly enveloped in the darkness of the voids endless grasp and is dragged back, back, back, to the space between spaces, time forcing the determination to flow into it instead. The roaring determination fills it, almost bursts it as one soul, one cracked shaking soul supports two others, one being blasted with determination from the universe itself as the other nearly falls apart from lack of it-
The script is satisfied, and life goes on.
-There is a rush as time and space collects the pieces, timelines whirling as another new thing comes to pass, the confused soul slamming into the plane of gray as time retches up the memory of what once was as everything falls into being-
And then, gasters magic contracts, forcing the phasing soul together again with a harsh clash of magic as two bodies thump to the floor.
no- wait, three.
