Chapter Text
Dust, nothing but dust and sky filled his vision. He stumbled haphazardly onto his feet, drawing in belabored breaths, taking in the scene around him all the while. They were all laid bare in the empty wasteland, though discerning who “they” were was an impossibility.
They had all been reduced to dust.
He scanned the battlefield for any other survivors, for some grain of hope in the sea of dust and debris.
Hope eluded his grasp. He was all alone.
Before he could even process the situation he found himself in, wind rushed through the valley. The sand picked up, obscuring his vision for a moment before settling back down again. The dust that had once lain bare on the crusted earth had been buried underneath the sandy breeze’s remnants, countless generations swept underneath the sands of time and forgotten in a single gust; a single, cruel act of nature.
Finally, inevitably, the tsunami hit the shore, his knees buckled as he capitulated under the weight of the atrocity before him, naked in all its horror. He dug his claws into his scalp and wailed into the cracked, eroded ground beneath him, hoping to drown out the screeching silence of the waste with his pitiful lament. But that hope died, too.
After his throat gave up, he followed suit, sitting in agonizing silence and stillness, waiting in silent desperation for someone to approach him.
…
But nobody came.
Everyone. They had mobilized everyone and they had all just dissipated before his very eyes.
When their worst fears had come to fruition and it was revealed that humanity intended to eradicate them, monsters quickly rallied behind the House of Dreemurr, understanding the existential threat a united humanity posed to the survival of their species. To survive, it would have to be total war.
Every able-bodied monster was conscripted, not one monster was untouched by the war.
And in the end, not one monster would be spared the agony of defeat.
He thought of this as he disassociated, crumpled to his knees. His clan, his family, his… they were all gone or worse now. The armies of humanity had, with humiliating speed, annihilated their forces around the world, forcing the last remaining monsters to retreat into the desert wastes. This, the desolation that surrounded him, was the remains of the last of the monsters. Much of his family was in another wandering group. Uncertainty lapped at his mind, the feeling more unbearable than the abject despair of the unmarked mass grave before him.
He would have joined them. The only thing keeping him from falling down was the roiling hatred warming the core of his very being. As he knelt there for hours on end, horrible, endless hours, he kept close to that warmth if only to fuel the only spark of life he had left.
Eventually, they came back for him, he heard the thunder of around half a dozen iron boots barreling towards him, their pace unyieldingly slow and unnaturally even. One of the soldiers marched up to him, its shadow consuming his quaking form. The human said nothing, merely:
“Get up. Let’s go.”
He struggled to raise himself for quite some time, but, under threat of death, he dragged his knees off the dust coated ground and shifted unto his feet.
As the humans dragged him to his fate, he felt only two things: unyielding rage, emasculated by the sheer helplessness of his situation, and sheer terror, as his captors’ curbing of their immediate lust for blood and dust only made him question what torment was allotted for him when they reached his final destination.
They arrived.
Before him was a large mountain. They had left the wastes, and were now in a more verdant pine forest, the trees jutting out around the mountain and obscuring it from his full view, like bars on a cage. They reached the bottom of the mountain, and only then did its grandeur reveal itself, as it towered over the environment that surrounded it, almost sneering at the flora and fauna that thought themselves worthy to contend with the domineering presence of the monolith. The march up the mountain was treacherous, his legs cried out in protest of his ascent, but stopping meant certain death, so their pleads went unanswered.
At long last, they reached their destination, stopping at the mouth of a cave at the mountaintop. Herded there were around ten dozen monsters, all crowded together at spearpoint by the human soldiery, the maw of the gargantuan mountain ready to swallow them whole.
“This one here is the last of ‘em.” He heard from behind him as he was prodded into the crowd like cattle.
Turning around, he saw seven robed figures shamble out of the shadows, their whole bodies obscured by their garments, their robes laden with runes from a language alien to him. The figures each took their positions, evenly spaced two paces from one another, as the armed humans took several cautious steps back, their spear tips still poised to cut their victims down as they slinked back behind the wizards.
In a flash, the wizards wrought forth their souls in all their splendor, their captivating glow outshining the now setting sun.
Patience.
Bravery.
Integrity.
Perseverance.
Kindness.
Justice.
Determination.
He almost scoffed at the hypocritical perversion of virtues before him, as the wizards began to draw forth power from their essence, bringing to life a shimmering veil which began to form a wall between the victors and the vanquished.
The vanquished were all too mortified and defeated to protest, so they merely watched on with confused, dreading gazes as the wall slowly neared its completion. Finally, in a flash, the wizards, the armed murderers, the trees, the sun, and the sky were all wrenched from their vision. In their stead was a pulsating, radiant white light. A bright corridor that carried onto infinity.
Some monsters finally came back to their senses and tried desperately to burst through the corridor and back into the surface, but to no avail; those who tried either ended up right back where they started or were lost in the endless white glow of their new cage and never seen again. Eventually, he came back to his senses too, finally glancing over to acknowledge the last of his kind. Around two dozen had fallen down once the realization that they were trapped here finally set in, and the rest were on the brink. Extinction was dragging itself ever so awfully closer to their species.
He glanced down at his hands and noticed he was holding his staff. It was still in good condition, despite the humans’ merciless onslaught. The fox-eared bell at the head of the staff gleamed in the powerful light of the new barrier, tied to the staff th a red bow-tied ribbon, in the traditional style of his family. He meekly scanned the crowd, confirming that the staff he held was, in fact, the only thing that had survived of them other than himself.
He turned to the king. Asgore Dreemurr was an imposing figure, hulking over even the bulkiest of humans and driving fear into the bones of men with his mere presence. He was the best of their kind.
Asgore in no way resembled himself now, he had fallen to his knees on the hard stone, eyes downcast in shame and grief; no crown adorned his horned head. His wife perched next to him, pleading with tearful eyes to do something to stop the eradication of their subjects. But Asgore knew, they all knew now that there was nothing they could do.
They had mustered up every bit of strength they had, the soul and will of every monster around the world united as one for the survival of all monsterkind. And they had still lost, badly. They hadn’t captured a single human soul.
In the end, it was all futile.
---
Chujin woke up. His head throbbing in agony with the leftover despair from his nightmare. Seems even after centuries had passed that memory still held the same potency as if it had occurred yesterday. He shifted in his bed, wishing desperately that he could stave off the callous passing of time if he just remained at rest. He rolled over to his right, extending his arm fully across the bed. His migraine returned from its brief vacation with a vengeance as the empty space on the bed mocked him.
With that, he mustered the energy to get up, groggily swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Still in a state of malaise, he donned his kimono and shuffled into his sandals before acquiring his glasses from the bedside table. Finally, he ambled over to the door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway.
Judging by the silence permeating his home, his daughter, Kanako, was still soundly asleep. He spared a glance over to the clock on the wall; it cheekily informed him that he had gotten four and a half hours of sleep yet again, pointing to around 4AM. Sighing, he accepted another drowsy day as he made his way over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and halfheartedly examining its contents. Looks like it would be corn chowder again, as usual. No matter how much or how often he ate it, he never seemed to run out. Probably because it was one of the only things he knew how to cook. He snatched a serving from the fridge and closed the door quietly, trying not to wake his daughter. He dumped the chowder into a pot and cooked it over the stove, half-mindedly stirring the mix.
After the cooking was done, he took the bowl and sat down in the living room, slowly digging through his underwhelming meal while trying to ignore the silent judgement of the space beneath the kotasu. Once he finished, he trekked back to the kitchen, passing by the Founders’ Crest on the way. Its motto “Decisive, Devoted, Determined” serving as a sardonic contrast to the sagging plants around it, each leaf bent towards Chujin as if desperately reaching out for sustenance. Should probably get around to watering those sometime…, Chujin thought. He made his way over to the kitchen, tossing the bowl and utensils into the sink and washing them a bit. He glanced back over to the clock again, 5AM; seems he had really let himself get lost in thought.
Taking out more cooking supplies from the cupboards, he grabbed some noodles from the pantry and began making breakfast for Kanako. He lamented his inability to provide her with authentic, traditional Ketsukane family meals, but that was just the way things were now, he bitterly supposed. He absentmindedly hummed as he filled up a pot with scalding water, setting it on the stove and igniting the burner when it was full enough. He carefully examined the water as it heated, only taking his eyes from it when it started to boil. He removed the noodles from their container and gingerly set them into the pot, gently stirring them around as the boiling water subsided into a bubbly, simmering substance. Raising the stirring spoon from the noodles, he held them up to his face and inspected them. Now certain of their quality, he turned the stove off and carefully drained most of the broth into the sink. He took out a bowl from the cupboard and poured out noodles for Kanako, while also setting out a large, lidded cup and filling it with a portion of the noodles for her lunch.
After resealing the cup and scrubbing the dishes, Chujin picked up the bowl of ramen and brought it back to the living room, setting it down on the kotasu. He turned on the fireplace, not that the lighting was needed on account of the Dunes’ constantly blazing Swelterstone that, unlike the Dunes’ inhabitants, never slept. He shuffled over to a bookshelf in the room and, after thinking a moment, pulled out Chekhov’s The Duel. He returned to the kotasu and picked up where he had left off yesterday, scanning through the book while waiting for Kanako to come down, trying to ignore addressing the faint dusty breeze emanating from beneath the kotasu all the while.
After a short bit of time, he heard footsteps jovially rushing towards the smell of breakfast in the living room.
“Morning dad!” said Kanako as she entered the room.
“Good morning, Kanako.” Chujin replied, marking the place in the book where he had left off and promptly setting it off to the side. “Did you sleep well?”
She went to answer him but was unceremoniously cut off by a yawn, looking away sheepishly. Chujin sighed, not able to contain a small smirk, “Did you spend all night playing your Gameboy again?”
“…No”
“…”
Chujin sighed, “I never should’ve gotten you that thing.”
“Hey! I’m doing well enough in school, aren’t I? Besides, you sleep even less than I do!” Kanako shot back indignantly.
“I stopped growing ages ago, Kanako, you still need sleep far more than I do.” Chujin said, rubbing the bridge of his snout.
“Still doesn’t explain why you gotta get up so early…” Kanako hmphed.
Chujin smiled warmly at his daughter, “I just wake up early so I can prepare your meals.”
Kanako stared back at him with an unamused expression, “Dad, the bags under your eyes could carry groceries. By the time I wake up you’ve already eaten!” Kanako inquisitively poked at her ramen, “And this ramen’s been sitting out for at least twenty minutes.”
“All right, all right, I’ll try to get more sleep from now on…” Chujin relented.
The two then sat together and talked about their plans for the day. Chujin’s day would be filled with, as usual, commission jobs from various clients around the underground, and Kanako would be spending most of the day with her friends and in school. After Kanako finished up her breakfast, they packed up and set out to The Dunes School. Along the way, Kanako regaled her father with whatever recent teenage drama had erupted amidst her circle of friends, overtaking the usual silence of the desert plain. He tried to pay attention to what she was saying, but his thoughts were tossed about like ships on the unsteady oceans of his mind. He knew he could teach her three times better than the frankly lackluster underground education system ever could, and they would get to spend more time together that way. But, as he focused on his daughter’s exaggerated retelling of whatever mischief she had gotten up to this week, he reaffirmed his decision; she needed to live a normal life, especially after all that had happened to them… A happy life, unaffected by my endeavors… He thought. Besides, I’ll need privacy to continue my work.
Eventually, they reached the school. Kanako departed with a warm hug and quickly ran over to a gaggle of her squabbling friends. Chujin smiled, waved a goodbye, and set back out into the desert of the Dunes again. He trudged through the sandy plains, kicking up sand and bad memories as he tried to push his experience in the other desert to the darkest corner of his mind. He passed by Sunnyside farms, like he always did, and paused for a moment. Turning his head to the side, he acknowledged the warm dwelling next to him, taking special notice of the basket of corn on the front porch, waiting for him like always. The Sunnysides were worried for him, after… everything that had happened, but even after they agreed to leave out some corn for him to transport to Kanako’s friend in the Ruins, he could never, and would never bridge the emotional gulf that separated them. The Sunnysides were the most successful farmers in the region, but also the busiest; they had their own troubles.
Terminating that thought, Chujin resumed his march through the desert. He would deliver the corn, but it would have to wait. Finally, he came upon his destination, a steampunk-esque door jutting out of a sandstone cliff face. Sighing, he shambled over to the keypad and input the security code, opening the door with a rusty creak.
Chujin stared into the abandoned void that awaited him. He had to turn off the power every time he left this place; it was running on backup power already and he wasn’t all too enthusiastic about the idea of testing just how much he had left. He couldn’t let his plans fall apart because of a power supply issue again, he just couldn’t. He had given his all trying to ensure a better future for monsters, but failure always found him. It found him curled up, pathetic and helpless as the day he was cast down here, and yet every time it found a way to take something more from him. His last failure had almost made him quit altogether, but he couldn’t, not when Kanako’s future was at stake. No matter how much it took from him or how long he had to toil, he would never stop.
He would not let his efforts be a futility.