Monster Age: A Fantasy Epic

by GR Griffin

  Before they resumed their place, the child at least had the added assurance that they were returning to exactly where they left off with no hidden surprises. Fleck blinked was found themself staring straight into one of the pillar's four faces. Their hands cold and wet against it; shield strapped to forearm.

  Sans nearly lost balance. He caught himself before he could tumble.

  "Are you alright, Sans?" Toriel asked. "Feeling dizzy? Nauseous?" She felt his forehead.

  The easy-going skeleton touched her fuzzy hands. "Relax, I'm cool – check for yourself. Just had a major case of déjà vu just now."

  "Well, your bony butt better not pass out on us now," Undyne said. "You're our ticket out of here."

  Seconds ago, Sans could have sworn he was back in that old guy's lab, at the part where he opened his pocket to make that joke involving the relish. Alphys was halfway through her retort when – BAM! – they were all back here. Had the kid loaded a save just now? This same feeling of reliving small glimpses of the past had happened a few times over these past couple of days. Sans held a certain confidence that the human would surely fail on their first attempt and condemn the entire universe to the same ten tedious minutes until they got a tricky part right, but that never happened. At least, Sans thought it didn't.

  Fleck turned upwards at the impressive scope of the Obelisk. Now, having witnessed the power of their Determination, the reason why they were brought to the Outerworld in the first place, why they were made the main protagonist in this tale from within the Outerworld, this… Outertale, then it should activate… or do whatever it does.

  Will it sing a song or talk? Glow? Fly off into space? Possibly explode like a firework? Zap them to an alternate dimension? Fleck waited. Everyone waiting, locked in silence.

  It did none of those things. It did nothing at all.

  Fleck gave the stone a soft slap. Not even their power – the ability to defy death and redo history – was enough for this rock's high standards.

  The faces of these monster flashed in the blackness beneath their eyelids: Sam; Rita; Barb; Rickard; Haze; Geoffrey; Dom; the angsty restaurant clerk; the soft-spoken ticket master; Birgir; Private Perro; those shop assistants; Mika; Roy; Versa; Kenny; Johnny; Lena; the soldiers who gave chase; those hotel receptionists. Countless lives all riding on what was inside the hunk of rock.

  Their forehead met the slick surface. They were not strong enough. Fleck had defeated the god of hyperdeath, saved existence from oblivion and yet they were not worthy of its secrets. They really weren't the chosen one. The heavy burden of responsibility crushed on their tiny shoulders, all those lives depending on them, doomed because of them. If they could not save this world, then what good were they? If only they were stronger. If only they knew the answer.

  If Fleck had one desire, it was to give this thing a mouth so it could tell them what needed to be done. Tell them how to save these people.

  "Fleck," Asgore said softly, "you tried your best. But we need to get you back home."

  Fleck remained motionless. What about the others…?

  Sans answered, "Just because I delegate my shortcuts to us don't mean I can't do it for others." He crackled his finger bones. Alphys did not like that either. "Leave it to me. I'll get as many people as I can outta here before these islands blow up or something."

  After a heavy sigh, Fleck stepped back from the stone. Their palms and forehead were cold. The secrets of the Obelisk were lost. Possibly, in another timeline, the enigma of the Outerworld could be broken, but not this one.

  Fleck agreed it was time to leave; although, they wanted to help out with the evacuation.

  Sans snapped a sideways glance at Toriel. "Not sure mommy boss monster would approve, but—"

  "If you wish to help," said Toriel, "then I feel obligated to help as well."

  "If we all pitch in," Asgore added, looking at those present, "we can save a lot of people."

  The other's agreed, especially Mew Mew. "Teamwork is very important."

  "Yep, we heard you the first time, Mew Mew," Sans said. "C'mon." He pointed thumb over shoulder. "Let's blow this elbow-joint."

  * * *

  From the cusp of the dark interior, Flowey and Brute had seen everything. Every swipe and magic attack and gunshot – wrapped up with a move straight out of professional wrestling. The same leader whom Advisor Flowey offered sound advice and solutions and titbits of juicy information lay face down in the dirt. The monsters of the Underground made it look so easy.

  Brute, quivering a little, dared to speak without being authorised to. "Emperor beaten. Do something?"

  Flowey squinted. Look at Fleck with their friends – so pleased, thinking they had won, believing their fate averted. Why wouldn't they? The big bad master of the Outerworld was beaten. The danger had passed and everybody came out on top, except for, well, Zeus. No obstacles remained apart from this world's demise, a problem easily solved thanks to Smiley Tras… Sans. A problem easily solved thanks to Sans.

  Fleck's happy ending was in sight: a warm house surrounded by friends and the savoury smell of butterscotch cinnamon pie. One final shortcut and it was over, their adventure at an end.

  Flowey bit his lip. To dream of events to come was daunting. To relive them was the true nightmare.

  "Trust me." Flowey spoke to monotone, keeping on his assistant's level. "He's not."

  As someone once said, "It's only half-time."

  * * *

  Cold, slimy mud smeared against the fur on Zeus's cheek as he lay there, stricken with pain. The air he took in carried the earthy, plastic scent, thinly reminding him of his worst days. On his front, he struggled to breath under the weight on the plate; the dent protruded into his diaphragm. He turned over, rolling into a puddle, and forced his eyelids open to a blank slate of grey. The darkness circling the rims brought back the memories that haunted every waking second of his life.

  He was six years old again, lying at the bottom of that cold, wet pit. His ankle twisted, stomach burned, the coin of grey above was the opening of his grave. Weak. Powerless. Helpless. All those monsters, slaughtered, and there was nothing he or anyone could do to stop it. There was no way to escape his past, he could not run from it, he could not fight it, he could not even hid from it at the bottom of that quarry.

  His grandfather; he was no warrior. On the ground. Eyes closed. Breathing slowly. Mortally wounded.

  He felt it inside him. He felt the hate, the rage, the anger flowing through his being. He remembered all those who were lost, fuelling the rush.

  His mother by his grandfather's side. Crying. Holding his grandfather's head to her chest.

  Zeus pressed his fists down, practically punching the ground.

  The humans were whispering in his ear.

  "You are weak. You are powerless. You are worthless."

  His grandmother knelt by her husband's side. Gazing upwards with pleading eyes.

  Zeus began to rise.

  "You were a mistake. You should never have been born."

  The raw emotions surrounding his soul gave him strength. The human was slowly getting away, back turned, those traitorous monsters at its sides, treating it like one of their own. After all the humans had done, it had been forgotten, swept under the rug like it never happened. No punishment. No comeuppance. No retribution.

  Villain, the henchwoman named him. Fiend, the skeleton said right in front of him.

  Just the sight angered him. He had never been this angry before in his life. The hate was overwhelming. The rage, unimaginable. Anger, uncontrollable. He hated everything. He wanted everything to burn. He wanted more. He wished death and destruction to everyone and everything. He just wanted the world to end.

  The human standing above them. A man in a farmer's robe. An indescribable look in his eyes. A pitchfork held high. The prongs coated with dust.

  "Where… do you…" Zeus got to his feet, staggering against pain, fatigue, and dizziness with nothing but rage to fuel himself. Heaven's
Shard was five times heavier. Fleck stopped and turned as did the others. Zeus stopped himself from falling, appearing broken in their philistine looks. "Where do you think you're going?" he yelled. He wanted to bring pain and suffering to all those who stood in his way, and to those who wronged him in the past. He desired to hear their screams, their cries for mercy.

  Asgore gently took Fleck by the shoulders. "Stay down. It's over, Zeus," he said.

  For years, Zeus envisioned himself the future of monsters, the one who would not allow such atrocities to happen again, not allow the human's deeds go unpunished, and lead his kind to the beginning of a new epoch. These fools should be with him, not against him. Everyone should be on his side. They weren't.

  His father, kept secrets against him out of fear; Barb, abandoned him long ago; Master Scribe Rickard, disobeyed his orders; Professor Haze, created an entire army to destroy him; Now King Asgore – the one person he thought would share his pain –, his hands gentle upon a human.

  Was Zeus the one who slaughtered those monsters? Was he the one who exiled Asgore underground? He could not understand. He was doing everything in his power to stop mankind and free his people. Why – oh, why – was he being treated the bad guy? He was the victim! He was destined to be the one humanity would regret letting slip! He was supposed to return as the hero of this story! Not the villain… not the villain…

  Although, every villain was still the hero of their own story.

  "It's not over…" Zeus whispered.

  The anger. The rage. The hate. Zeus could feel it inside him, thick and black like tar, slithering like a snake. If he was destined to be the villain…

  The human roared as he drove the pitchfork down.

  The manifestation latched to his soul, coating it black.

  "It's not over!" Let him be the villain!

  As his white soul changed, his body pulsed with ebbs of black energy. Zeus thundered as a feeling so unbelievable consumed him. His entire body transformed, growing in height, muscles expanding. His father's armour warped and darkened as he grew, grafting to his skin, becoming a part of himself. The spikes upon his shoulders multiplied. His cape grew bold. Heaven's Shard altered also, the smooth edge grew teeth. His golden hair dimmed into a gruesome shade, as did his eyes, losing their valuable shine.

  This mysterious, cancerous anomaly seeped through his veins. He had never achieved this level of feeling so intense, like scratching a thousand year old itch. It was extraordinary. Zeus could not get enough.

  The group from under Mount Ebott, once confident in their victory, now stood wary against the emperor, mouth agape and gasps stifled. This phenomenon, Toriel could have sworn she had read up on it. Asgore, on the other hand, this tale had been passed down his line. Monsters were made of magic, their emotions and feelings played crucial in their development. That much was certain. Positive emotions – such as compassion, kindness, honour, generosity and love – bred a positive outlook. But what happened when a monster exhibited too much negative emotions over too long a period of time?

  Zeus was the result.

  The colour thought a myth. In every monster lay a soul of light to symbolise inner hope and goodness, that every monster can be good if they just tried and nobody was ever truly lost or without hope. Zeus's was pitch black: dark. His soul no longer shone light, it consumed it. The embodiment of all things negative: hate, anger, greed, gluttony, selfishness, cruelty, impulsiveness, arrogance, obsession, intolerance, and coldness. So cold. Zeus was all these things.

  The sky rumbled with thunder.

  The soul of malevolence. Evil incarnate.

  Chapter 33: Emperor of Evil

  Zeus was no longer just a monster, but another kind of monster. A higher being, above all others, having unlocked his hidden potential and ascended onto a new plane of existence. With monstrous sword in hand and his new layer of metal skin, he had never before been this powerful.

  A being of myth, made up of a thousand years of hatred and anger. It was widely believed that no monster could accumulate enough within their lifetime to become this being reborn. Until now. No longer was he the emperor of the Outerworld. He was the Emperor of Evil. Soon to see his will and image imposed on the world below. If this was the price to see justice served, then he would pay it in full.

  He advanced. Time to enact his revenge. First these traitors, then the human, then all the rest. He basked in his newfound power and imagined how incredible he would feel with both this unadulterated control and a human soul together at once. He would be unstoppable. And why stop at one soul? He could have all the souls he wanted. Reshape the universe. Make all the wrongs right. Become a god.

  Fleck and their friends took the slightest nudge backwards, cautious. This emperor went down easily before thanks to their combined strength and teamwork, but against the horror before them now, they were not so sure. None of them had ever encountered anything like this before. Fleck fought a being of a thousand souls, but not a being of a thousand years of hatred.

  Undyne created stars of light overhead then released a volley of harpoons with a war cry. As vicious as her attack was, they bounced and broke like toothpicks against Zeus's new skin. Papyrus, following his captain's lead, sent bones skimming across the ground; Zeus sliced them down into stumps. Toriel threw her fire only for Zeus to bat them away with a swipe of the hand.

  Sans's eye socket twitched. "Now there's a megalomaniac if I ever saw one."

  The Emperor of Evil's turn. He lunged and swung one massive, horizontal swing with the mutated Heaven's Shard. Everyone hit the dirt to dodge the swipe, with the tip of Undyne's hair getting trimmed into a confetti of red strands. Zeus followed with a giant overhead swing toward Asgore. He moved just in time, but the blade impacted the ground with the force of a meteor, punching a deep crater that sent all eight combatants flying in eight separate directions.

  When the litter of falling debris faded, Zeus scanned his downed opponents, licking his wet lips in anticipation of the first kill, deciding who to go for first. Would he begin with the human and devastate the rest with godlike powers? Or perhaps he shall pick off Fleck's precious 'friends' one by one. Let's see how determined that little insect remained when they are kneeling in a pile of their buddies and their hands are encrusted with what used to be dear old mommy and daddy.

  "Zeus!" Asgore pulled his red trident from the ground; mud clung to the tines and his knees. Dirty water dripped down his shirt. "This is exactly what I warned you about! L-look at yourself – you're losing it!"

  Zeus snapped, "Shut up!" His voice was deeper, darker, and eviler. He automatically zoned on Asgore as his first victim.

  Asgore ducked to the side before the first strike could connect, and delivered a fierce jab that barely left a dent. Zeus swung around with a fierce forearm into Asgore's jaw which knocked him down and separated him from his weapon.

  The next thing the Emperor of Evil knew, he was stumbling forward as someone latched to his back, cursing and stabbing rapidly.

  "YOU – DON'T – HIT – ASGORE – DREEMURR!" Undyne bellowed. Each strike felt like a pinprick.

  Zeus envisioned Undyne on his back, snarling and throwing spittle with a spear in hand, making wild thrusts into the nape of his neck. Zeus reached over his shoulder, grabbed the stabby growth, and tossed her at his feet. Undyne groaned as a numbing sensation ran up and down her spine, then opened her eye to the ecliptic sight of a large boot sole coming down. She rolled out the split-second before his stomp could met her, instead slamming into the muddy ground; the tremor to follow reached the four corners of their arena.

  With the analogy that the best defence was a strong offense, Undyne conjured a spear and delivered punishing blow after blow to Zeus's reinforced chest. All her further spear thrusts and wild slashes bounced off harmlessly, akin to a gentle massage. Zeus allowed a few moments to indulge her before he cracked his forehead against hers and threw one kick before she could finish a profanity regarding an individual who performed raucous
deeds to a parent. Undyne rocketed across the garden, into the western wall of the enclosure, smashing an Undyne-shaped crater of broken brick and mortar.

  "Undyne!" That scream plus the return of a whirling drone drew Zeus to that accursed teenage schoolgirl robot and her scientist master. Mew Mew's miniguns were back on her arms. Alphys stared horrified at where her soulmate slumped against broken bricks before tightening her claws on the controller and facing Zeus with a flared brow and gritted teeth. "Why, you!" She slammed on the shoulder buttons extra hard and Mew Mew's guns ignited in a spray of hot, yellow-orange muzzle flash. Emperor Zeus brought his sword up to shield his face as the rest of him lit up in a grand display of bouncing, ricocheting bullets. He was pushed back by a couple of feet, stopped, then pressed forward one step at a time, closing the gap.

  Doctor Alphys repeatedly thumbed a button and another payload of Mew Mew's apparently unlimited arsenal launched in contrails of spider legs. Zeus acted as the missiles were in the air, homing on him; he span on his feet and swung his sword high, delivering a shockwave which careened them back. There was an audible gasp, the narrowing of pupils, the drop of the jaw and limp in the doctor's tail as the warheads fell toward both her and her robot. She dove and ducked for cover as the explosions happened behind her, Mew Mew becoming lost within clouds of black smoulder.

  Alphys turned frantically to the smokescreen. "Mew Mew!" she cried, reaching out. Such despair, Zeus thought. He liked it. Now, if only he could annihilate one of these stubborn monsters.

  Zeus remembered King Asgore and found him on the ground with Toriel knelt beside him. Her hands, against Asgore's cheek, glowed with a soothing orange light which made the blackened fur return to its original whiteness. This got an annoyed grunt out of the Emperor; a healer would make this battle longer than it ought to be.

  "Thank you," Asgore whispered with gratitude.