Even finishing a whole bottle of brandy didn’t make Dust pass out. The Phantom’s curse for insomnia was just that potent. All he could do was lean against the wall in the snowy cold with his tear-stained eyes gazing into nothingness. Good thing skeleton monsters didn’t depend on stable body heat to survive.

The silence was broken by the crunching of ice and the rumbles of an engine. It came from the road. Looking in that direction, Dust spotted the headlights of a jeep.

“Ugh, visitors? At this hour? Give me a break…”

Who would it be this time? More misguided fans? The military? Gang leaders? Heroes? Mercenaries? He certainly hoped that they weren’t hostile. Dying from drunkenness would be one of the most embarrassing ways to go.

Dust tried to stand up to teleport away, but he was indeed too drunk to use that magic. So, he got on his feet, stumbled into the house, and locked the door behind him.

He proceeded to hide in the kitchen. Should the need arise, he could use his telekinesis to fling various cutlery, cooking utensils, cleavers, and chef’s knives.

He then heard the jingling of keys.

That’s odd. Not even Dust had a proper set. He remembered how he broke into the farmhouse by teleporting inside and turning the doorknob. And yet, this person had keys?

“Mister Sans? Are you in there?”

Dust couldn’t believe his ears. It had been five years since he heard anyone calling him by his original name.

And then there was that voice.

So familiar.

He peeked from his hiding spot to see this visitor.

It was a human male with straw-coloured hair. He lifted his lantern close to his head, giving more illumination to his face. “Mister Sans.” he said, “It’s me, Stephan. I’m sorry for not contacting you sooner.”

Did he come alone? Or did someone track Stephan down to use as bait? Until Dust knew for certain that he’s safe, he wouldn’t answer.

Stephan continued: “I’m so sorry. P-please don’t be afraid. There’s no one else other than myself and a friend. She’s a necromancer. Just like you, apparently. Even if you don’t want to see her, please allow me to make things right.”

Another necromancer? If Stephan trusted this woman despite being well aware of her taboo expertise, then she must have come from the military. She might even be acquainted with the young soldier that he had met at the forest.

Dust emerged from the shadows. His intent was to observe Stephan’s reactions. What he tried to hide, what he wanted to show…

But when he faced the human, he was met with a troubling urge. A thirst. A craving. Powerful pulses of red coursed through the human’s body.

What’s going on? He never felt this before, not even the times when he faced those bandits.

Dust turned aside. “Don’t come close. There… there’s something weird about you.”

A woman in a black hooded cloak stepped between them. An otherworldly presence hung over her shoulders. Dust considered the possibility of her being of a higher rank than the poor fallen soldier.

“It’s as I had feared, Stephan. The overwhelming lifeforce from your Red Soul triggers his bloodlust. He’s claimed too many souls to turn back. Wear this to dampen your Aura of Determination.”

She tied a black fabric over Stephan’s head. The item suppressed the aura she spoke of, causing the sensation to subside.

“Interesting,” Dust commented. “You seem to know your stuff. Got my attention, lil’ lady. But… maybe you might want to wait a bit? ‘Cause, uh… I’m drunk. A whole bottle of brandy will do that to ya.”

The adrenaline from the initial spike of alarm had started to wear off, making it difficult for him to stay on his feet. He wobbled his way to the nearest chair to sit down, resting his elbows on the table.

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. Welp, it’s yours to begin with.”

“Oh, sure.” Stephan pointed his thumb over his shoulder, trying to put up a smile. “I’ll… go to the jeep to get our luggage.”

And so, he left to do his chores. He passed the lantern to the woman on the way out. Meanwhile, she stayed behind. Dust knew she’s watching his every move, maintaining vigilance around him.

Of all the times for The Phantom to appear, it had to be right now. He whispered rather urgently into Dust’s ears. “Kill her. Kill her, kill her! She’s full of EXP, full of life! I can feel it!”

“Not now,” Dust whispered back. “She has information. I need that more than EXP.”

“If you don’t do it now, she’ll kill US!”

“No.”

“Since when are you such a bad brother? Bad, bad, bad!”

Dust tried to hide from the voices under his hood, not having the mood or strength to shoo The Phantom away.

What could he do to reduce the fear of the unknown? A chat? That’s right, he used to chat with everyone. Get to know them. Just a little bit of smalltalk was often enough to calm the nerves.

The haggard skeleton wondered if he still remembered the art of socialising. It’s been too far long since he used those skills.

Act natural. Act cool. He leaned on one arm and asked: “So, you’re a necromancer, huh? …What’s your name?”

The cloaked woman went to the table, placed down the lantern, and pulled out a chair opposite of him. Though she sat only a short distance away, he still couldn’t see her face. It remained hidden behind a masquerade mask.

“…My name is Anya,” she introduced herself.

He lifted his head up in surprise. “Anya, huh? Uh… I didn’t expect that. No offense, but I thought it would be something more mature. Like Elizabeth. Isabella. Catherine.”

Anya chuckled. “I get that aplenty. I guess my parents thought of me as a cute little girl ever since they laid eyes on me.”

“Mind revealing your face?”

“My apologies, but I cannot.” Her fingers rubbed against the edge of her own hood. “My mask and my cloak are made of the same enchanted fabric that I used on Stephan. They’re designed to suppress a person’s magical aura. If you’re already reacting to his presence, I fear what might happen if I remove them.”

“Good point.”

The Phantom had given up by now. Again, he vanished in a puff of imaginary smoke.

Stephan soon brought in all their luggage in one trip and set them aside. It’s the total of two suitcases, one briefcase, and a backpack slung over his shoulder. That farmer was still a strong and healthy man after those five long years. Knowing that Papyrus had at least successfully saved someone warmed Dust’s heart.

The man then tried to turn on the lights. “Huh? No electricity?”

Dust replied, “Been that way since you left. I’ve clobbered together a windmill, but it’s nowhere near enough to sustain an average house. Just take a candle and a lighter from one of the drawers in the kitchen.”

So he did as he was told. It took Stephan some rummaging in the dark, but soon the kitchen space lit up in an orange glow. From that direction, Stephan exclaimed: “Wow! Everything is exactly where I left it five years ago! Including the coffee! Hey Anya, do you want some? We drove a lot today.”

Anya replied. “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Wait a minute, it already expired. But that’s fine! I brought us some instant coffee. Would you want some too, Mister Sans?”

“Sure. Welp.”

“Wait for me before getting to the big talk alright, Anya? I’m part of your team now!”

“That reminds me…” the woman asked: “What would you prefer to be addressed as? I lack Stephan’s familiarity to call you by your old name.”

Which name to choose? After some thought, the skeleton replied: “Whichever you’re more comfortable with. I don’t care either way.”

“…If that’s the case, I think I shall address you formally as Mister Dust.”

“Fine by me. So, did I hear that right? Did Stephan join the military? He doesn’t strike me as having the demeanor for that rank and file stuff.”

“No,” Anya shook her head. “Rather, he joined my sect: the Willowherb Society. He may not look like it, but he’s an acolyte necromancer now. Sought us out after The Celestial Calamity, and we were happy to accept him. See, we have a business -- a brewery operation -- that allows us to operate in normal society. With the world’s supply chains disrupted as they were, someone who knew how to grow crops locally was desperately needed.”

“I guess you could say he fulfilled the right role at the right time. Didn’t you say you’re involved with the military, though?”

“Yes.” Anya fidgeted in her seat, embarrassed. “When I was younger, I ran away to become a soldier, dreaming of being a part of the wider world. I thought my community taught only superstitious nonsense.”

How funny. Not even the edgiest secret arts were immune to the angsty rebellion of youth.

“However,” The tone of her voice turned solemn. “When the Celestial Calamity happened, it was the Willowherb’s knowledge and training that saved my squadron from a horde of The Dead.”

“I see,” said Dust. “The Calamity affirmed the validity of your ancestral heritage. All the same, your survival must have shown your commanding officers a proof of concept. Since then you formed this unlikely alliance.”

“Yes. Our cooperation has successfully reclaimed much of this country’s territory over the past five years. However, Ebott remains a major thorn in our side. Each operation ended in failure due to the briars. You’ve already met Lieutenant Morrison.”

Bowing her head, she said, “Thank you for giving him a dignified funeral. I know from the remains of his clothing that he wouldn’t have survived for long. What’s more, he struggled with nightmares of violent death for all his life. I’m glad you were there to end his suffering.”

“…I did what I could.” Even now, Dust found it uncomfortable to be thanked for his reaper-like deeds.

At last, the coffee was made. Stephan brought three mugs and set them on the table. “There we go. Are you two getting along?”

Smiling at him, Anya replied, “We’d like to think so.”

“Uh, yep.” Dust glanced to the side, hoping that The Phantom didn’t return. “How’s the wife and daughter, Stephan? Are they still alive?”

Stephan’s face lit up in grateful delight. “Yes! Yes they are, thank god. They’re doing very well in Anya’s village.”

“Heh. Good to know that Papyrus didn’t sacrifice his life in vain. Here I thought the universe was out to destroy his ideals.”

“S-sacrifice?” Hearing the news shocked the poor human. “Oh no. I’m. I’m so sorry…”

Dust took a sip of the dark, bitter drink. “It’s all good as long as you and your family are alive and well.”

They spent a moment of silence drinking coffee, honouring Papyrus’ memory. Dust appreciated the gesture.

“Y’know,” He pondered out loud, “I was astonished that my nation managed to migrate out of the mountain at all. We had a really peaceful life, however short it was.”

Anya clutched her mug. “I… wouldn’t be so confident. If you knew what brewed underneath the surface, you might not have thought the same.”

“Actually, I get what you mean. The peace we enjoyed was due to an element of surprise and confusion. Humanity didn’t know how to respond to a large population of unknown power appearing unannounced.”

“Have you always been aware of the possible predicaments that could befall your town?”

“To some extent,” answered Dust. “All it takes is some history lessons and some thought experiments. That’s why the whole deal about breaking The Barrier never appealed to me. Not in the slightest.”

Now that everyone had gathered at the table, he thought it’s time to pop the question. “So, what’s up? I bet y’all are here for more than a friendly visit. Pretty sure you’re representatives for your respective bosses or leaders. Is it for a business proposal? Or maybe an assassination contract?”

Stephan seemed disappointed to hear that. Judging from his expression, he genuinely wanted to catch up. He must have had a ton of questions on his mind… but Dust thought it was better to maintain emotional distance.

Nonetheless, the man played along. He retrieved a briefcase from the rest of the luggages and placed it on the table. “Mister Sans, uh, Mister Dust. This briefcase contains documents and artefacts relevant to our current discussion. You may review what’s inside later, at your own discretion.”

Running his bony fingers over the cover, Dust felt the emboss of the military’s insignia. “Go on.”

Putting his most professional front, Stephan explained: “The Military and the Willowherb Society seek your help. In exchange for your cooperation, we will provide for all your daily needs: Food, clothing, water, electricity, and more.”

“Well, what does this help entail?”

“First, it’s to vanquish the Ebottian Celestial Calamity. We understand that you won’t leave this territory otherwise. After that… we ask you to join our future efforts in tackling The Damned.”

Citing the Necromancy 101, Dust added: “The Damned - Souls who have forsaken their humanity for immeasurable power. Am I right?”

“Yes. You’re right. Also, even if we did solve the problem in Ebott, there’s nothing to stop others from trying to start another Celestial Calamity. As long as they fulfill all conditions, the same disaster can happen again.”

Anya spoke up, “Mister Dust, do you remember the incident that involved a giant floating castle one and a half years ago?”

The skeleton blinked twice. A second later he felt the edge of his mouth twitch. “Oh, that? The one with three Dark Lord wannabes and shifting rooms filled with The Dead, The Damned, and The Hollow? It really happened?”

Both humans stared back with slight confusion. The lady necromancer replied, “I was the agent sent there to destroy the castle’s source. They created a device that taps into the existing Celestial Calamity, then amplifies it with their own power.”

He took off the baseball cap and started wiping his sweaty skull, perturbed by the confirmation. “I… I thought that was an incredibly vivid nightmare. Every souvenir I brought back from the castle crumbled into nothingness. No physical proof of its existence remained. My clearest memory was hitting the hay after the carnage and waking up days later. Took me a while to recalibrate my calendar.”

“Wow…” Stephan muttered. “I don’t know which is crazier: thinking that the castle was a dream, or sleeping for days straight.”

“Heh. I was dog tired. Speedrunning takes a lot outta ya.”

The old Sans the Comedian would’ve slipped in a pun or two. But, Dust couldn’t think of any. He had grown too rusted to crack jokes on the fly.

Thinking harder, another detail bothered him. “Why the hell did the bad guys fly all the way here anyway? If it were me, encroaching on my rival’s territory would be the last thing I’d do.”

Anya replied, “I don’t know about the other two, but the one I tackled wanted to fight you. Everyone knew about The Lone Defender and his challenge. You’re the only soul who fought The Calamity for years alone and managed to survive.”

“Challenge? What challenge? When did I ever issue a challenge to anybody?”

“You…” Stephan gulped. “You pinned the corpses of the bandit bosses on the wall and wrote a warning with their blood. Isn’t that supposed to be a challenge?”

Hearing that, Dust exclaimed: “What?! That’s a deterrent! A stop sign! No entry! I wanted NOBODY to come to Ebott! Ever!”

Shocked confusion, intensified. His human visitors couldn’t believe their ears. That was when Dust realised just how much he had screwed up.

While the truth sank into his skull, he chugged down the mug of coffee. He set it down after he’s done and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

Then…

He proceeded to laugh like a mad maniac.

“Hahahaha! Seriously?! Oh my god, it was all a massive misunderstanding? I can’t believe it! Hahahahahahaha! This joke is too funny, sheesh!”

Alcohol and caffeine coursed through his bones. The clash of stimulants and depressants destroyed his sense of restraint on his emotions. He continued laughing for a few more minutes, letting the humans sit awkwardly in their chairs.

Anya stood up in an abrupt fashion. Her stoic front broke. Was it fear? She must have taken his behaviour as a possible threat against their lives.

“Mister Dust. I… I would like to confirm something.”

The woman carefully opened the briefcase. Sitting beside the boring old documentation was an ancient red-leather tome.

Anya pushed the briefcase aside to plunk down that hefty, heavy book. “Do you recognize this? Or, do you have anything similar? I found this in the heart of the floating demon castle. It’s the only object that survived the castle’s collapse.”

Dust examined the cover. “Hmm… This leather is dyed red. The magic star is fancier too. More layers. Extra runes. A dodecagon. But, the brass decorations look familiar.”

“Let me guess,” she said, “You have a black book with a pentagram in a circle. The first words read: ‘A day shall come when the Crimson Sun and the Bloodstained Moon will rise. Beware, for they bring forth unnatural darkness’.”

Dust glared at Anya, raising his guard. Perhaps The Phantom was right about her. Someone with that kind of knowledge was not to be dismissed. “…You better have a good explanation, lady. Spying is not one of them.”

“It’s because the Willowherb Society also owns a copy of that book. Over a thousand years ago, my ancestors chose to protect humanity instead of destroying or enslaving them. In secret, the masters formulated methods to counter other necromancers, and the acolytes illustrated the pages.”

“Sadly, only three copies were made before the world turned against us. The kingdom saw us as a threat. They allied with the Hero’s Guild, mobilized their forces, and attacked the village.”

“One copy was saved and now sits in our shrine, passed down from generation to generation. The second copy fell into the hands of the kingdom, kept in the libraries of the Hero’s Guild. The third copy was lost forever in the deep woods where monsters roam, or so I was told.”

‘Monsters’. It’s been a long time since Dust heard of that term. He asked, “Any descriptions about that monster territory? Like, notable people?”

Anya replied, “The legends of that region speak of a princess with pure white fur and an affinity for fire: a goat who walked like a human. Unfortunately, that is all I know.”

Just how long ago did it take place? ‘Over a thousand years’ could mean anything, from a thousand and one to a thousand and a hundred. Plenty of changes could happen in a hundred years.

So he asked: “How many years before monsterkind was sealed under Mount Ebott?”

“About about a decade or two. The Hero’s Guild ramped up their anti-magic efforts after they obtained the Willowherb’s black tome. This reached its peak during The Sealing War.”

“Then… I know the identity of that princess. Or rather, my queen.”

The memory of his beloved joke partner brought a twinge of pain on his chest. How he missed her dearly.

“Her name was Toriel Dreemurr, wife to Asgore Dreemurr. She was murdered before the black briars appeared, on the Christmas of 2016.”

“My condolences.”

“Thanks. Either way, you’re right. The third copy is currently in my possession. Originally, I found it in the Royal Library, and later in the remains of Toriel’s house.”

There’s more to that story, but the humans didn’t need to know that. “So,” Dust patted the red tome. “What’s up with this one?”

“We’re not sure how many copies of this exist out there, but you’re looking at The Book of Curses. And, of course, the greatest curse of all is The Crimson Calamity. It has the power to damn the world long after its initial activation. As long as the source exists, no one is safe.”

“Mister Dust, there’s a key weakness in the Willowherb’s books. Our ancestors intentionally left out the creation of The Celestial Calamity. They feared that the future generations of our sect may become tempted to enact it ourselves. But, without that information, we lack proper understanding on how to vanquish a source for good. Where to look, what to look for… It wasn’t until now that we had a complete picture. And it’s all thanks to the tome we found in the floating castle.”

“So…” said Dust, “You think that I’m in a similar pickle.”

“Indeed. Why else would you keep fighting the demon without destroying their source? The ritual calls for three key ingredients: a Red Soul, a corrupted heart, and great magic power. Once all three conditions are fulfilled, they crystallise into the ‘source’, and such an object is hidden somewhere in Mount Ebott.”

“Huh. Why a Red Soul specifically?”

“Legends state that the most powerful of Reds have the power to control time itself. Therefore, they’re the best candidates to distort reality under their will.”

“I see--”

A sharp, sudden pain surged across his ribs. He collapsed on the table, clutching his chest in agony.

“Mister Dust?!”
“Sans!”

Alerted, the humans tried to attend to him. But he quickly raised his hand to stop them. “Nngh, I’m fine. Just… just some old wounds acting up.”

A lie. He never did suffer a chest injury before. Yet it felt so real and truthful.

Then, he had a thought. What if he did, but he had forgotten about it? What if this was one of those ‘deja vu’ moments: little foreign events that felt familiar or repetitive?

Dust recalled the time when he was still ‘Sans’, living deep under the mountain. Not long after Doctor Alphys became the Royal Scientist, oddities began to happen. Certain days seemed to repeat themselves, to the point where he was able to guess little accidents or lottery numbers long before they came true.

Soon after, Flowey began to hang around Papyrus.

Then Frisk fell into the Underground.

And everyone was set free.

The pain subsided. He slowly pushed himself up, catching his breath. Trying to keep his cool, Dust straightened his clothes a bit. “I… I think I’m alright. Uh, anyway… any luck finding the source so far?”

After a moment of worried hesitation, Anya also resumed the talks. “The Willowherb Society, as well as the military, have attempted many times to track it down. Yet, our divinations always returned nothing, or our scouts were completely obliterated. I refuse to let anyone else die, and so I volunteered to speak to you in person to strike a deal.”

Stephan raised his hand with a smile. “And I volunteered to help Anya.”

Dust leaned on his chin. “That’s how we got here, huh? Welp, you’re half right and half wrong. Here’s why. You’re right that I don’t know why and how The Celestial Calamity works. But you’re wrong about the reasoning behind my choices. I kept fighting the briars not because I didn’t know where to strike. Rather, it’s because I can’t take the risk.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll cut to the chase. Skeletons are one of the fastest monsters alive. We have the physical strength of a well-trained human and a fraction of the body weight. This means we’re both nimbler and faster than you can ever dream to be. That’s where the problem starts. Those briars? They chase me right behind MY heel. If they could give me trouble, anything slower is totally a sitting duck.”

“In other words…” Dust slipped the baseball cap back on. “If I die, the world is more or less doomed. I guess I’m not called ‘The Lone Defender’ for nothing.”

“I see…” Stephan lowered his head. “Unless we can somehow solve the speed problem, we’re stuck.”

“Ayup. Okay. Break time. I really, really need to sleep. Or rather, vegetate on my bed. Continue our discussions tomorrow, alright? I’m just so done with the day. You guys can bunk here for the night. I’ll be in the guest bedroom. Feel free to sleep anywhere else. I don’t care. Just pick a room or two. As for The Book of Curses, leave it there on the table. I’ll read that during daylight.”

From the looks of their faces, both Anya and Stephan had mixed feelings. They were glad to have his cooperation, yet they were deeply concerned. Not surprising. After all, he did almost collapse right in front of them.

“Good night, Mister Dust,” said Anya. She kept her tone polite. “And thank you so, so much.”

On the other hand, Stephan steered towards cheerfulness. “I’ll make a special breakfast for you, Mister Sans!”

Dust waved goodnight and excused himself for the night. He threw himself on the bed, arms spread out. “Maaan, talk about a long night.”

The Phantom appeared again, crossing his disembodied arms in sheer disapproval. “You can’t trust her, brother. She could kill you in your sleep! You know how crafty humans are.”

“Don’t worry. Anya has yet to earn my trust. But, if she wants to con me, let her. I’ll take it as an elaborate prank. Don’t you think it’s fun? That will spice up our boring life.”

The statement was so outrageous, even the hallucination gawked in disbelief.

“Did you reduce her from a lethal threat to a mere conwoman?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re unbelievable,” The Phantom huffed. “Bah! I suppose it’s fine as long as you don’t get hurt. But, if they try to do anything weird, kill them with great prejudice.”

“So can I sleep now?”

Too late. The Phantom was gone.

“Oh well, I’ll just lie down and try.”

Somehow, through a small miracle, The Phantom lifted his curse. For the first time in forever, Dust fell into a deep, blissful sleep.