In what remains of the light of the day, without the bright glow and constant burn of vehicle fires, and with the distant thunder of collapsing buildings reduced to the occasional echo, a small group of survivors flees through the devastation.
It is as if they had escaped by miracle — something had been chasing them, something never seen, only felt. A presence beyond their awareness.
Their boots pounded against the cracked asphalt, weaving through twisted wreckage and pools of blood. Corpses and broken bones littered the streets, like a trail of silence left by the collapse. Vehicles burned. Shadows moved. And above, only smoke hid the heavens.
Then, something changed.
They found a structure that shouldn't be there.A museum — untouched.Its walls clean, its glass unshattered. Not a crack on its façade, not a trace of the chaos that had consumed the rest of the city.
They stopped.Panting. Breathless.Unsure whether they were saved or walking into something worse.
Jakob, hunched forward, spoke first:
"What… How is this place not down?..."
Tomás looked at the building, eyes narrowed, half-broken wrench hanging from his belt.
"Who cares? Anywhere's a base at this point. And this place? If the building looks that perfect, the security's probably intact too."
Without another word, Tomás moved toward the museum's front entrance.
Jakob hesitated, grimacing. He'd always hated museums — boring places filled with dust and silence. Having to use one as shelter felt like a punishment he wouldn't have imagined even in his nightmares.
Then, a hand patted his shoulder.
Lena offered a calm smile.
"Come on. It's not like we're here for the art… And maybe… it's better than you think."
Jakob met her eyes, still catching his breath.Neither spoke after that.They understood enough.
Alison didn't wait. She moved past them without a sound, following Tomás inside. She hadn't spoken once since the escape. No one expected her to now.
Moments later, Jakob and Lena stepped inside.
The silence of the museum was unnatural.
No alarms.No distant explosions.Just an empty calm, as if time had forgotten this place.
They looked around.
Tomás was the first to speak again, stepping slowly down the central corridor.
"Yeah… everything's untouched. Completely untouched… I wonder why this is the only place not buried in debris. There's gotta be something here."
Lena raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe… he likes the museum. Doesn't want to destroy it?"
Jakob scoffed.
"Well, at least that gives this sticky place a use. If he really likes the museum, we give him the art. Simple. Or better yet—"He pointed upward, smirking."We use the art against him."
Tomás turned.
"Elaborate."
"We collect the art," Jakob said, eyes sharp now,"and use it as a shield. If he really likes it, he won't destroy it. So, if we surround ourselves with it…"
Tomás blinked. Then nodded slowly.
"Huh… that's actually… not bad. Let's start gathering it. All of it. We don't know what piece he'd like most, so we get everything. Make it count."
Without delay, the two began to move through the exhibit halls — pulling paintings from walls, lifting sculptures, dragging old tapestries and rusted display signs. They carried them back toward the central lobby.
Alison didn't join them.
She walked alone through a side corridor, her eyes scanning the walls, steps careful. She ignored the noise behind her, the scattered laughter, the faint hope in their strange plan.
She didn't believe in it.
Not because it was foolish — but because the museum wasn't standing for that reason.
Something else was keeping it intact.
Lena lingered between both choices. She hesitated…Then turned back toward the main room. If this was their best chance at surviving — persuasion through what might be treasure — it was worth the try.Even if she doubted it.
Eventually, Lena returned to the central hall.
There, Jakob and Tomás had gathered a mess of color and canvas, artifacts and display pieces stacked against the walls and between benches.
Tomás wiped his forehead.
"This has to be enough to work with."
Jakob groaned.
"Yeah, I hope so. I'm starting to feel dizzy just looking at this stuff…"
Lena sat down nearby.
"Come on, don't exaggerate. It's not so bad to like art."
Jakob rolled his eyes, dragging a dusty piece of modern sculpture across the floor.
"But it's so boring. And everything's nonsense. The drawings… the weird stuff… none of it makes sense! Why is any of this considered art? Or beautiful? Just look around you. It's like someone's fever dream, and everyone claps."
Tomás chuckled.
"Someone once said… the trash of one man is the treasure of another."
Lena nodded.
"Exactly. For you, it's trash. But for someone else, it might be priceless."
Jakob groaned, sighing and rolling his head as if in protest.Still, he kept working.
Tomás paused.
"Where's Alison?"
Lena looked toward the distant corridor.
"I don't know. She likes being on her own. Maybe she found something… beautiful."
🔻 Meanwhile…
Alison moved alone through the museum, away from the others, following her own instincts. She searched in silence — not for shelter, but for the truth.
Her steps were slow and deliberate. Her eyes, sharp.Then she saw it — a hidden access door in a back corridor, half-covered by debris and faded signage.
A bunker.
She approached.
The entrance was sealed tight, reinforced with security layers she couldn't identify. Systems clearly still active.She noticed the faint shimmer of red light tracing the air near her feet.Laser sensors. Cloaked and silent, but watching.
Alison stepped back, cautious. The vault was untouched. Locked down.
Then, without warning—
Everything shattered.
A massive explosion tore through the museum from above — a blast of searing red and electric blue, converging into a flash of white.
The ceiling buckled.
Glass. Marble. Steel.All came crashing down in a heartbeat.
Tomás — crushed instantly beneath a falling slab of reinforced stone.Lena — caught in the blast radius, barely survived. Bleeding. Torn.Jakob — flung across the room, pinned beneath a steel beam. Broken. Burned.
Only Alison survived with any strength, thrown against a wall but still able to move.Ignoring the pain, she stepped into the now-exposed vault.The explosion had destroyed the seals. The path lay wide open.
Above…
Something descended.
From Jakob's perspective — dazed, vision blurred — it looked like a god had fallen from the sky.
UltSans.
Floating downward. Cloak fluttering. Silhouetted in blinding light.Arms crossed.Expression wide and twisted — a sadistic grin carved across his face.
He hovered on a single Gaster Blaster, unmoved, unbothered.
Jakob — broken but alive — reached toward the shattered artwork. His hand trembled as he lifted a broken frame.
Jakob:
"Look what you've done! How could you destroy what you like most? All this art… destroyed because of you! Now you can't enjoy any of it!"
UltSans tilted his head.Paused. Then laughed — low, cruel.
UltSans:
"Pffft... I don't even like art. It may look good, and sure, some things I like... but it's just decoration. Why would I care, if I can create whatever I want? Why would I want human things... when I despise humanity?"
He leaned closer, voice colder.
"Huh? Tell me... what do you think I do this for?"
Jakob froze.
The painting dropped from his hand.
The debris beneath his head shifted.
And then—A single bone erupted from below.
Straight through Jakob's skull.
Silence returned above.
Alison moved deeper into the vault.
The scale was massive — endless corridors lined with treasures, gems, gold, and stored wealth.
She walked past it all.
Until she saw it.
A podium. A display case. Perfect. Untouched.
Inside: a piece of obsidian.But not just any obsidian.
It glowed. Veins of red light pulsed through it, alive.Not a heartbeat — a signal.
She stepped closer.
And froze.
Blue bones erupted, pinning her in place.Steps echoed behind her.
UltSans:
"Wow… Such a shame… You could've gotten rich… Yet... none of this means anything now."
He stepped beside her.Eyes on the obsidian.
"From all the things… pictures, statues, anything… You knew what you wanted. I respect that."
He glanced at her.
She didn't speak.
His smile faded slightly.
He sighed.
UltSans:
"Alright, alright… I know that expression… Way too well."
He summoned a Gaster Blaster.The blue bones receded.
"Let's make this quick then, shall we?"
Alison lunged.
Knife in hand.Dodge. Sprint. Slash.
But UltSans was faster.A red, glowing knife clashed against hers — sparks flew.
His face changed — surprise. Recognition.
Her face never did.
Then—
Darkness.
Four blasters surrounded her.They fired.
She fell.
UltSans crouched beside her.
UltSans:
"…Get. Dunked. On…"
Bones tore through her.
He collected her soul.Sealed it in a jar — one of five.
He turned to the obsidian.
He stared.
Fascinated.
The light pulsed — brighter, dimmer.A glow without heartbeat. Hypnotic.
He watched.Time blurred.
Then he shook his head.
Breathed in.
Summoned a bone from below — it shattered the display case.
He reached in.
Grabbed the obsidian.
Opened a glitching portal beside him.
Stepped through.
It closed.
And the vault was silent once again.
But far beyond the veil…Something ancient had already awakened.
UltSans sat down on a chair in his lab, the obsidian piece resting on the surface before him. His gaze was locked onto it — not because he feared it, but because it intrigued him.
That strange glow.
The way it pulsed. Not like light — more like something deeper. Alive.
He didn't trust it, but he couldn't ignore it either.
So he studied it.
The analysis took time. A long time.
Eventually, the results came in. He picked the piece up with his right hand, keeping his eyes on the data floating nearby.
Magic signals — strong ones. But not just one type.
Two.
Two distinct magical sources.
They were intertwined, like overlapping frequencies resonating inside the obsidian. The outer shell was glowing, yes — but the power wasn't from the shell itself.
It was coming from something within.
UltSans didn't like that.
It meant the obsidian was only a cover — not the source of the magic. He was only seeing the surface. Not what truly mattered.
Still, he was curious.
And that made him act.
He hesitated, just briefly, before making his choice. He liked the obsidian — the red glow, the way its veins pulsed gently with light. There was something about it that felt… right. Like it wasn't just an object, but a fragment of something more.
But he had to know.
He tried to break it.
He used his magic.
No effect.
He slashed it.Stabbed it.Set it ablaze.Crushed it with force.Shot it with bones.Fired his blasters.
He even threw it against solid surfaces — nothing. No cracks. Not even scratches.
He ran analysis after analysis.
No answers.
No method to break it. No visible flaws. No clues.
He was left with nothing but guesses — and a growing frustration.
Eventually, that frustration built into desperation.
He summoned one of his most powerful attacks — a massive blaster that began absorbing everything: energy, magic, reality, void. All of it.
The force bent everything around it, fractured the space with pressure.
Then—
It fired.
A blast unlike any other — and then, an explosion.
The flash swallowed everything for a second.
White light.
Silence.
Then it was over.
UltSans lowered his hands. Everything was back to normal.
No sign of damage. Nothing out of place.
He sighed, expecting the obsidian to be just as untouched.
But when he turned…
He saw it.
Cracked.
Broken.
Shattered into pieces.
At the center of the fragments — something else.
A cube.
Bright blue. Floating.
Surrounded by a soft, runic aura that shimmered faintly in the air.
The cube rotated slowly above the floor, untouched by gravity. Strange symbols — runes — flickered into view above it, glowing faintly before fading into nothing.
UltSans stared at it.
This… this had to be what the analysis had detected all along.
The source.
He stepped forward. Reached down. And picked it up.
It hovered slightly in his right hand.
He looked at it closely.
The cube was glowing — vibrant blue light at its core, but lined with shadowy patterns across its surface. Faint trails of dark circuitry shimmered across the edges like moving scars. The runic aura gave off no heat, but carried presence — like it knew it was being held.
UltSans watched as faint symbols rose from the cube's surface, rotated, then dissolved midair.
He couldn't read them. But he understood something.
This wasn't ordinary magic.
This wasn't just power.
It was something else.