White Rune Circles would begin to draw themselves together, forming a barrier around the humanoid. Readying himself by keeping his arms stiffly locked into just the right position, he'd throw them outward, with the circles blasting outward around the two. They would expel rapid oscillations, spinning in rapid succession as they'd gather energy. Sans' pupils would dart around the area, simply sighing.
"Right." With the ecstatic expression behind Sans' face wavering, his ecstatic poise would begin to show. Yet, behind the facade of focusing on environmental utilization, Sans' real attention would be wrapped around the actions Aeron would be making with his hands. Observing, watching each small movement, the expression told the tale of Sans' deduction of picking out each small detail of what each small gesture did. Yet, clearly, The Ancient One was oblivious to this.
As the oscillations would continue within the runes, they'd all grow a vibrant and aggressive glow. Sans' eyes would narrow, his attention grasped by the problem at hand, almost as if it was tied to the vessel it sprouted from. Ligatures would beam from the runes, with the links all swiftly connecting to the hands of Aeron. With the fabled warrior's hands mixed up in his own labyrinth of gesticulations, he'd curl his pinky finger into his palm, followed by his ring finger and his thumb. With his index and middle finger stiffly straightened out, he'd throw his arms out towards the sides at overly excessive force, causing the bonds between the runic magic to tear instantly.
With Sans remaining completely and utterly still throughout the whole act, curiosity acted as his ultimate demise. It was an impetuous for Sans to completely disregard any sign of danger when the desire of curiosity comes in between his sights of the fight. Yet, despite the apparent semblance, Sans would always stick his head into the hell on high waters.
The thrill, the learning experience, all of that was something that was mandatory to the Skeleton in order to gain some sort of sentimentality from the event. Despite ruminating in his own choices, Sans' protruded demeanor stuck to the physical conflict, awaiting some sort of attack from the clearly not confident Ancient Being.
With the shimmering glow behind the runic circles glowing, they'd suddenly burst into a large gleaming energy, almost as if set ablaze in the mystical magic fuming with the odd flow of energy pouring from it. An odd hum would emit from the energy, Sans watching as they'd spin in synchronization. Aeron, with his all-seeing eyes gazing upon the situation would realize the lack of action coming from the Comical Skeleton.
As it'd happen once before, perturbed thoughts would begin to spiral, whirling up and running all throughout his head. Pondering at the anxiety inducing feeling that he was doing this with some sort of scheme shrouding his very essence. Was he doing this as a bait? Or was this nothing more than a show to inflict discouragement right through the thick skull of the ignorant warrior?
This had to be a bait. There was no way it wasn't. With one quick swoop, Aeron would swipe his hands into the air– then back down, almost as if the runes were extensions of himself, they'd all attempt to blitz the Skeleton, narrowing in at hasty speeds. Catching Sans slightly off guard, even he would be surprised at the speeds they were capable of traversing.
Flexing his forearms out, Sans would throw his arms towards his sides, causing a large orb to form around his body, before bursting aflame with Aspirate Aura. With the runes in hot pursuit, and Sans partially cornered, they'd make contact with the barrier, rapidly keeping steady pressure in an attempt to burst through the shield.
As his stare would close in at the defense, confusion would, just then, strike Aeron like a punch to the face.
The runes... they're incorporeal. They should've easily phased through the bubble, maneuvering through it as if it wasn't there to begin with. The complex– and confused surge of thoughts streamed through his head, an aggressive river of just... attempting to comprehend what he was seeing. Prism Magic– and the Energy alike was anyway capable of phasing through inanimate objects, anything that wasn't its oppressor.
Anything that would prove a hindrance, The Prism Energy's properties would so casually defy that, just as consistent as it'd show throughout the years. Through a simple means of a simple technique, Skeleton would so casually deny the capabilities of what was instilled alone.
It's that Aura.
The realization– the only justification his mind could muster would scream at him, his eyes trembling from the uncertainty interrupting his flow of consciousness.
Aeron would descend to the level of Sans, twisting his wrists to intertwine the two of his palms out, before cuffing them and pushing his hands outward; almost as if a slow invisible wall seemed nigh-immovable between the execution of his actions. His gesture would seem meaningful, looking as if he had truly affected something with the influence of his hand movements, nit-picking the smallest of movements. The burning passion of the offensive measures Aeron previously enforced within the runes would slowly begin to die out, and the mixture of the transparent, white-tinged energy phased into the vigorous blue surge of Sans' Aspiration would begin to fade, only leaving Sans' defense.
Just as quickly as Aeron's attempt faded, Sans' flaming bubble he trapped himself in would in return. The flames would swirl around Sans' two Skeletal hands, the interest and continuing pulling Aeron's eyes to the mystery would tatter his expression, leaving a dazed and off put look. An ocean of confusion made his thoughts even fuzzier as his attempt to think would splash around in his mind, disorienting the tugs of the strings that would not only engulf him in excitement but more or less shock. What he thought was an impervious, forever standing axiom, was torn down to shreds in a simple conclusive act he'd never think he'd lay his eyes upon. Engaging in a fight with this being... It created so many new possibilities. So many new questions.
This... had to be one of the best moves Aeron has ever made.
"You're something else."
The vibrant, shimmering blue pieced together and sculpted into a small little orb would begin to crumble, the paradigm that was the blue reflectance of Spherical Defense fading out by each second, crumbling under its own influence to slowly but surely dissipate as it would descend from the skies.
"You can't just give me that look and not expect me to question you."
Sans' compendious words were exact verbatim towards the thoughts he was forced to physically project. Aeron's understanding of all that he previously knew was slowly beginning to collapse, distorting with a bombardment of personified capabilities unforeseen by any of them. Not for a second would Aeron let the thought trail him through a run-down, old hellhole of an improbability forged by the worst of what he could delude himself into, yet this was formed due to a sense of... modesty. What he believed was absolute in the flow of what has been was so casually crumbled within the palm of the hand; the clenched of an unintentional hand compacting the enforced knowledge into a small gesture, then shattering it to pieces under a simple realization.
He needed to draw out more.
In a sudden charge forward, Aeron would throw out a punch, which Sans would simply move to the side to avoid it, catching the forearm with his arm of his own, before proceeding to simply backfist him in the nose, causing him to levitate back.
"Seen what you want too yet?"
Aeron would spin his forearms in a circular like motion, a white energy trailing the movement of his hands, before he'd extend his arms out towards Sans, projecting a large wall of what appeared to be something similar to light, before it was pushed towards the Skeleton.
"Not yet."
Sans would release an empathic sigh. It was blatantly obvious Sans had a good understanding of the reasoning, yet he couldn't grasp the redundancy. Upon his cast of the move, Sans hastily activated Aspirate Aura around his knuckle, dashing forward as he'd throw his arm out, punching straight through the technique.
Utilizing the factor of Aspirate Aura coming into contact with the attack, he'd switch the leftover shards of the attack into blue tinged fragments, before, with a simple point, they'd all hurl themselves at Aeron. Aeron would cast an expansive spell, causing the shards firing towards him to suddenly drop, released limply into the dirt.
Aeron and Sans would make their descent to the ground, their gaze locked within the cooling breeze of nature. No words spoke from the top of their heads off of the bat, but they both could tell they shared a mutual thought.
"If your peers are so obsessed with a conclusion... then I'll give them what they desire."
Aeron would stare precariously at the Skeleton, his eyes embellished within the Skeleton. The thoughts convulsed through his mind, oscillating with a constant need to grasp whether or not this was right or not. Out of a singular bad experience with one of higher power, they automatically demand acts of 'proving' oneself for the sake of their comfort.
From Aeron's observation, Sans seemed to be nothing less than a fighting fanatic. With the erudite signs Aeron picked up on, Sans definitely knew of the subtle compulsion to engage in combat with the Ancient One, but he still did it out of free will regardless. Was this a means to simply satisfy the five? Was he truly being candid in his empathy, or was he doing this out of his own enjoyment for physical conflict?
In speeds unparalleled, Sans would speed blitz Aeron, the Skeleton aiming to throw his fist right into the chest of the Ancient One.
...yet, Aeron would observe the Skeleton. Other than his pupils following him; trailing the Jester, locking upon his subtle movement. His speed was unbelievable, bolting from one place to another, his fists a peripatetic towards however his foe tried to evade. The Skeleton's combat prowess was remarkable, and it showed.
His strength, endurance, durability, his precision, it all showed with each move he made. Responsive, offensive, defensive, anything in-between, and everything beyond. The experience showed and shunned any rebuttal. Though, with each blow, with each swap of hands, Aeron realized... those hands were the Skeleton's weapons. The experience and skill all spoke for itself, but, outside of that, his capabilities... they were insignificant.
Within the depth of Aeron's all-seeing gaze, he perceived the Skeleton's movements as infinitesimal, the normally hasty acceleration grasped within his control, the tamed speeds utilized to blitz whoever falls victim to it, reduced to a slow and stolid effort. With a simple slow of perception, Sans' movements were barely what they once were held to. As if the flow of time had fallen to a sluggish halt.
Aeron would stare on, his wavering expression fluctuating through what he endured now nothing more than a stoic and harsh glare. His eyes locked with Sans', the Skeleton had no choice other than to sit there, still, chained down by the trickery Aeron's intellect imposed. Despite his hindered movement, Sans' perception in what was actively displayed before him was just as sharp as Aeron's. His pupils were absorbed within the almighty glance that the Ancient One towered upon. Even with Sans' understanding and viewing of the situation... he couldn't help but be held at a standstill.
In a swift counter, Aeron grasped Sans immobile wrist, pulling Sans' dormant body towards him, utilizing the now motionless momentum the Skeleton built up. Aeron would curl his arm over Sans' wrist, effectively trapping him in an exploitable position. In a punctual gesture, Aeron would shoot his palm into the Skeleton's chest, upon contact being made, the perception manipulation would fade.
Sans eye sockets shot open, dazed, having found himself in an entirely new situation. Whilst he was able to vividly understand what occurred, fighting back against Aeron was redundant. The performance, the action, with the twist of his capabilities and intelligence, Sans was binded by the immobility that was ultimately irrefutable.
Like a tear through the waters, a simple impact into the waters rippling through the Skeleton's understanding, with a simple push of Aeron's hand against the Skeleton's chest, the perception that made up the now insular reality would begin to come to fruition, twisting and distorting, blending together the real and fake. With the simple press, Sans found himself being propelled backwards... before... it slowed. Slowed to a halt. Again. The Ancient One before him, Aeron, came to a complete stop.
Everything around him felt... cold. Surreal. His vessel was nearly frozen, this was similar to the experience that occurred just a moment ago, but this was a toil he was compelled to bear, it had nothing to do with the other manipulating their perception, no, this was an effect upon him... well, it seemed that way. It was apparent it had nothing to do with influencing the Skeleton, justifying the perplexity written within the deep eyes of the Skeleton.
His fierce and worried gaze would dart to meet Aeron's, who stared back with a cold, lifeless glare. A heart-racing panic crushing his chest, the jester was dumbfounded. Yet, as their eyes locked, Aeron's vessel would slowly begin to fade, falling from the Skeleton's sights, almost as if incorporeal, only for what was the now see-through vessel of Aeron to be replaced with the uncanny picture of Aeron... not exactly being what he was previously. There was a questionable amount of... depth.
A depth that seemed to reach beyond that of the materialistic realm, almost as if Sans' sights reached into the realm of spirituality. His never-ending gaze looked past the body the Ancient One had, displaying an enigmatic embodiment, the culmination of something beyond the physical realm. The world slowed, as if all around Sans was irrelevant.
It was so slow it was nearly unnoticeable. Just as quickly as the effect was pumped into action, the world bore an opposite effect, slowing down to a near halt, before it all seemed to become... irrelevant. Gone. As if life itself removed the need for the physical realm to begin with. Confusion hit the Skeleton like a slap to the face, whilst he didn't budge an inch, it was apparent to Sans that he was unaffected by the anomaly suddenly invoked.
"You're confused, that much is apparent." Aeron deducted. With each syllable, his voice boomed, echoing through ways that stretched beyond the forest, beyond the world, beyond this plain.
"...and, since it's quite obvious you aren't able to do much here... I think it's only fair to explain." Aeron concluded. Each word the transcendent being spouted, it shunned any comprehensible form of communication, projecting a harmony that extended into a world Sans had never hoped to witness. Yet, with a studious fixation wiring together Sans' focus, he was able to make out whatever it was he was saying. It felt otherworldly, his mere expression of words felt like a shockwave pulsing through Sans' entire body, the mere volubility of his statements made barely fathomable by Aeron, just so Sans could grasp the slightest of comprehension behind it.
His perception was only so limited, it felt like trying to stare the sun in the face, yet it wasn't exactly light that was proving a slog for the Skeleton. But even with the lack of movement, it was hard to understand, no matter how the mind of the Skeleton attempted to make sense or depict the being before it in any conceivable way, it was all futile.
"You are abnormally deductive, Sans. And, from this quarrel alone, I am nearly positive you've already grasped what's happening." The incohesive figure, unparalleled within its stray from understanding, further amplified its axiom through a sudden shift in its poise, towering over immobile warrior, its differentiation in posture resulting in a further obnoxious yet inundating gleam.
An extension of the Skeleton's worry would attempt to bolt out of his throat in the form of words, yet nothing had come out. In his stilled breath, the loquacious jester would attempt to search for his drowned words, trying to release them through his throat in coherent statements, yet the method proved to be something only toppled by redundancy. A superfluous way to attempt a retort against the transcendent being.
"We, or, I am unrestrained from the materialistic realm, and now embody our spirits." Aeron would raise his arms, gesturing a presentation toward what was once the world, now dearth of physicality. "We are beyond the physical realm, and indulged into abstractness, within metaphysicality, within our spiritual selves." Aeron's glare would sharpen upon the Skeleton. Faced with his lack of capability, sitting in taciturnity is all he could do. "Your thoughts are more than apparent to me, Sans. Seeing as you're forced to retain your physical form... this is quite contrary towards what I am saying, right? Well, that's the elephant in the room, and it's something puzzling to me, as well." In a short pause, it would seem as if Aeron was collecting his thoughts.
"... you do not possess a spirit to embody. It's... as if you are a mere husk, a simple vessel, or puppet, rather than a being. This is a realm beyond all materialism, beyond all spatial or physical restraint, something metaphysical, and beyond what you are, which is a vessel within the realm of physicality, Sans. You lack a spiritual presence, which is why you aren't capable of anything here."
Aeron's incomprehensible gaze fixated upon the dilated pupils of the Skeleton, the all-mighty figure seeming to examine him, in and out.
"Which leads me to my next point. You... are able to perceive me, and the world around us. Not in our entirety, but you are capable of it to some degree. Your physically restrained vessel is still bound, yet, that gaze of yours... it supersedes it. It transcends it. I can see it in your eyes, you are able to grasp this one way or another."
"You see our reasoning? Do you understand why we take precautions? Why we sought to establish an understanding to begin with? You stray from the principle that is a ubiquitous fundamental, which is why we seek to understand."
Aeron concluded.
"...I must say, I appreciate your cooperation, Sans. Your doughty efforts are truly deplorable. As established, I believe that I should abolish this fight."
Now having reached a satisfactory complacency within Sans, what could only be understood Aeron's arm would rise, fully stretching out the limb. Already joined by what was Aeron's impervious radiance, what could only be deducted to be a measure to end the conflict would stem from his arm, appearing to be luminescent in its nature, endless rays of its blight shone upon the loquacious enigma. With all that was needed reaching its grand finale, Aeron's arm would promptly swing down upon its victim.
Yet, before Aeron had the chance to unleash his fury, an abrupt strike burst through the abstruistic mystical realm. A fist would rail Aeron's spiritual embodiment directly in the chin, the sheer unbridled power of the blow rattling the realm of abstractness upon impact. The dealer of the blow would pour more force into its strike as his fist was plastered to his spirit, moments from when the attack made contact, the Ancient One was sent flying from the uppercut.
Being hurled, flipped up and down from hit, Aeron would make a swift attempt to regain itself within its fit of damage and disorientation, halting itself momentarily. It needed to reevaluate what just occurred. Glancing down towards his foe, Aeron could see that he hadn't budged an inch, not even the slightest of movements had come from him.
'What?' Aeron couldn't help but question himself, considering the issue at hand, yet the inquiry itself being beyond the state of matter, questioning the sights he was bearing. That wasn't a delusion. That wasn't some trick– there's no way one could've pulled off something like that. Aeron descended, reaching the Skeleton's level. The Ancient One felt like barraging the Skeleton with hundreds of questions, yet the superfluous thought dragged the association of idiocy within his own impulses.
With his gazes pinned upon Sans, and his attention focused on his rumination, another strike from the being came once more, decking Aeron right in the face. The punch would force Aeron to be blown, though, he'd make an effort to regain himself much quicker this time. His fixation now diverted; his suspicions were confirmed.
Aeron would glance at the figure.
In oppression against the Ancient One, a humanoid figure of a dark blue luminosity stood in his way, elevated between it and Sans. It stared on with no emotion, gazing with no life, other than bellicose intentions. A deep flowy aura surrounded its body, barely outlining each inch of its vessel, it didn't show any signs of sentience, other than having its motives locked on the defeat of Aeron.
...It was that aura. Aspirate Aura.
Straying from its usual properties, it was functioning, acting, all aligning in accordance with a way beyond physicality. Hell, Aeron himself knew describing it with such words were ultimately fallacious. It was as if an embodiment of it jumped from Sans' body to defend him. Sans hadn't acted once upon being locked within the realm of abstractness; the capability of the Skeleton was diminished to nothing. Yet, the aura transcended the principles that the Skeleton bent around, even within the realm beyond materialism, the aura still acted in their quarrel.
Was it a means of an endless surging capability the aura retained? Or was it a ubiquitous fundamental that Sans was able to bend to his benefit? The thought forced Aeron to associate the aura with Prism Energy, and its anomalous power.
The aura, not seeking to waste any further moments, would flare up its poise, striking a battle position. The sights left Aeron dumb founded. Either this was the greatest and most inconvenient coincidence, or Sans was a far superior fighter than he initially thought. Was Sans even aware his aura could do this? Bending the fundamentality that they've lived their lives upon?
The aura would proceed in blitzing Aeron, reaching him in quite literally no time. It wasn't a movement, similar to how Aeron wasn't reacting, moving, or attacking. It was something beyond that, something beyond speed, something beyond time, something beyond space. Anything it did, it was an 'action' beyond that of an action. Anything it acted upon, was something beyond the mere understanding of the physical realm. Yet, as Sans' eyes were pinned upon their fight, such alienated elements were something foreign, something unable to be perceived, all descriptions of the force at work, beyond the capabilities of physicality were merely second hand, hyperbole to its true selves. The aura's fist would "swing" at Aeron's chest, who attempted to halt the strike with a Prism Barrier. Yet, the power behind the aura's blow would crash directly through the attempt at protection, ramming its knuckles into the Ancient One's chest. With the brief stagger of its own world that the spiritual embodiment faced, Aspirate Aura would continue in kicking him "upward", continuing its combo.
Aeron would act in refuting, halting its motionless form of action, that was beyond its definable state, aiming to block an incoming punch. Yet, as if the aura embodied the mind of the Skeleton, the strike shot straight through the attempt of a block, a clear and clean blow whipping Aeron across the face. In a subtle move, the aura barraged Aeron with countless punches, bashing endless impacts throughout each lasting inch of the Ancient One's body. It'd uppercut him in the face, before swinging down upon his chest, hurling him into a battered descent.
Blow for blow, the aura seemed impervious within its methods of combat, almost as much as the Skeleton did. Not a singular word spouted, yet Aeron understood each expression it gestured through mere movement. Hand-and-hand, the two worked as almost one, a fresh blend of their mysterious variables, almost as if one was the host when indulging into the physical and verbose means, whilst the aura acted in ways beyond that.
The Skeleton and the aura seemed like two halves of the same person, two sides of the same leaf. As if compatible with embodying the same identity. It was like... having a best friend, but that best friend is yourself. Or was there something more sinister about it all?
Aeron would release a glimmering blast, the attack ravaging through the realm as it shot on. Yet, as the aura was faced with the beam, it would casually swipe it away, dissipating it in a swift deflect. Dashing further, the aura would rock Aeron in the chin, sending the being gliding into the sky. In a culmination of its ability, it would extend its arms out, blasts gathering into the palms of its hand. Before reaction could occur, the blasts would fire, colliding against Aeron's metaphysical embodiment.
Aeron flew back in confusion. The enigma he was fighting further enforced said truth... the realm, his being, it is metaphysical. The fact this entity was capable of transcending and working outside of its laws was anomalous enough, but the thought of it being capable of harming something metaphysical was entirely out of the question. How could something of that magnitude be possible? It was impossible.
Piercing through his thoughts like a cleanly swung blade through the softest of butter, another blast came, bashing into Aeron, further staggering the being. A thundering groan of pain echoed through the abstract reality, expressed through means beyond what was simply an 'echo', or any reverberations or oscillations at all. They were functioning in ways beyond movement, beyond physicality, yet the very situation Aeron was forced in perplexed him; forcing him to question his grasp upon what they thought of a lasting foundation. Though, as he regained himself, it only to be followed up with the horrid booming of the aura striking Aeron once more, blowing the Ancient One off balance. Grabbing him, the aura would expel an unbridled, massive blast from its palm, pressing into the being that was the spiritual embodiment of Aeron.
The attack sent him soaring, yet it did not let up. Appearing behind him, the aura continued by kicking him in the back, launching him forward. It appeared above him, hammering him back down. The aura would wrap up its assault by channeling a blast once more, tossing it down toward the Ancient One. Yet, instead of remaining as a singularity, it would split into a multitude of blasts, all blitzing throughout the realm, pinpointed upon the Ancient One.
Aeron acted in summoning a multitude of wings, blooming from the incomprehensible figure, with a single flap, they'd discharge a massive expulsion of Prism Energy, aiming to dissipate both the blasts and the aura. But, even with the force of the Prism Energy, the blasts soared straight through it, crashing straight into him.
Damaged, Aeron would recoil in shock, perplexed at the sudden shift in tides. As he'd attempt to recompose himself, another devastating blow was shot right into his face, diminishing any focus he regained. The Aspirate Aura figure would lower its head, before concluding with a heavy kick towards the chest area, sending Aeron down towards Sans... and right back towards his suspended body, as well. Before he was knocked into his vessel, he halted himself.
Before the consideration of the situation, or any hope for a contingency plan could come flowing in, Aeron was kicked in the gut once again, this time, the aura would rub in the blow, prying his foot deeper into his gut. Before he'd get the chance to do anything, he was suddenly grabbed. The aura held him up, a firm grasping over his being. Aeron tried to interject, experiencing an impetus to throw his arm up to punch the entity, yet his attempts found nothing. Nothing but the chilling stillness that his very being felt under the grasp of the aura.
Just like Sans, Aeron was immobile. The Aspirate Aura would turn its head towards Aeron's vessel, before glancing back at the spirit. In a sudden press compacting upon the being, the Aspirate Aura would throw the spirit into its physical being, forcing the abstract entity from its stray of the physical realm. As quickly as he was thrown in, the Aspirate Aura figure would dash into the body of Sans.
The second the two regained the extensions of their quarrel, the world warped back into physicality. Almost as if life was restored within the Skeleton, Sans instantly reacted in sweep kicking Aeron in the chin, jolting his jaw from its normal location. Sans would run forward, swinging his fist into Aeron's chest, pressing against the vessel, before punching him into the ground in a swift downward motion. Aeron would act in refute, shooting his arms out to counter the Skeleton, but before he could muster anything Sans launched himself forward, running his fist straight into Aeron's head. Contact was delivered, with Aeron's blank face being... crushed by the punch. His arm shot through his head, the humanoid once written with fear and mystery, diminished to a mere... glass. Reflectance shone through the exotic forestry like a mirror, an array of sunlight beaming from the mirrors across the endless plain. Sans' forearm grazed across the shattered glass; shock being deplored all over the Skeleton's face. Sans would retract his arm, observing Aeron's now shattered visage.
'Was this another one of his tricks?' The question was written upon his face, like whispers whistling from his skull, reading out his every supposed thought. Now understanding more of what Aeron was capable of, Sans looked more than demurred, more than ready for anything. Another binding technique? Or maybe something more extreme?
"I do hope you don't mind a little alteration of scenery." The shattered head spoke, pulling Sans' attention back into it. He stared with a cold stoic glare, Sans looked unsure, conflicted at most. His easy-going smile dropped to a tense agitation. The shattered body would raise its arms, and with a grand dramatic swoop, the glass-like material plastered across its vessel would be embodied by the land, a thundering shockwave rippling through the expanse, littering it in its glassy form. Sans observed, remaining the only existent entity or thing unaffected. Every animal, even string of grass, every tree, the skies, it was all tainted in the sudden glass plague Aeron inflicted, everything was replaced by the sudden expansive influence.
Before words could leave Sans' throat, reality itself would begin to... break down. Piece by piece, the glass that was now made ubiquitous would begin to fall apart, as if the conflict was some sort of simulation. With each bit of reality torn down, a misty enigma would begin to flow in. A realm seemingly hidden outside of reality itself, shrouded in its incomprehensible properties, all too familiar to the occurrence moments ago. Yet...
Sans was able to move.
As the glass parted from the world, it'd all fall to the level of elevation Sans was on, constructing a runic rocky platform under his feet, seemingly made up of the glass, despite the contrary appearance. It'd continue, expanding further and further as everything deconstructed around Sans. The enigmatic reality covered the area around the limited platform, a hazy atmosphere parted the physicality from what seemed to be the same abstract plain the Skeleton was indulged into previously.
"What are you-" A sudden loud blare of a bullet-train horns cut through the Skeleton's words, muffling each syllable as it grew closer. Sans whipped his head around, focusing on the noise, but before his reactions could take over, the train railed the Skeleton in the back, knocking him off of his feet. Sans groaned, lowering his head as he clutched the metallic construction of the vehicle. Sans would press his feet against the ground, before swiftly spinning to face the conductor's cart. The enigmatic Skeleton pressed his arms against the train, slowly sliding back as he halted the full weight of the bullet-train, bringing its rapid acceleration to an almost immediate halt. Sans would act in jumping onto the train, walking down the train carts, his steady eyes batting all around the place.
"So, is this your tactic? Throw things at me?" A booming echo rippled above Sans, his eyes darting up to the noise. A rock of uncountable size warped from nowhere- there was no end, it seemed as if it was endless in its width. Sans would raise his arms, as it'd make a rapid descent, catching the endless rock structure, nearly unbudged from the impact. The metal surface keeping the Skeleton's poise nearly crushed under the weight, the shoes the Skeleton retained imprinted cargo's roof, the train foiling under the pressure.
"C'mon! I expected better from the almighty Ancient One!"
Within Sans' grasp, the mountain seeming construct would vanish, dispersed into illuminated beads of energy that would fly into the sky, vanishing as they grew distant. Under Sans' feet, the bullet-train would vanish, causing him to fall back down onto the seemingly impenetrable surface.
A brash kick would bash into Sans' face, the cold plated armor plastered upon the boots of the kick further stunning the Skeleton. Sans fumbled back to his feet, regaining himself as his eyes homed in on the target. Aeron stood before Sans. He could feel it. The physiology and attire of the god-like figure were different, but Sans couldn't take a moment to care. Sans dashed forward, running his fist directly through the face of the being, causing it to rock back in pain. Sans would follow suit with a devastating swoop kick to Aeron's chin, causing the entity to fly back.
Loitering throughout the air, the being would elevate upward, utilizing Prism magic to create an unstable sphere, whole bits of the Prism magic, whilst the sphere shape was tethered together by small chains. Runes marked each surface island that the sphere shape retained, wasting no further time, Aeron threw his arm out, the chained islands of energy acting in bursting out into specific directions, whipping and wrapping around each bit of the opponent's area.
Sans' thoughts were littered with the idea of dashing forward, rushing and avoiding the gleaming capsules of energy, yet the repulsive nature of the attack seemed to force Sans to reconsider. Rather than budging from his spot, Sans stood with a stoned stance. Regardless of the lack of expressive gesture, Aeron was precarious when it came to acting offensively. The stoic and distant position the Skeleton wore was explosive; one foul mistake by Aeron, and he'd be met with a dreadful consequence.
The patterns of energy circled around the Skeleton, as if sharks circling its prey. White chains attached towards the back of the detached projections of Aeron's arsenal, as if tails, the shimmering chains fluttered within the wind, gliding as if unbound from the restraints of weight. With each lap, their speeds grew. Each moment that breezed by, they grew hastier. Their movements were mesmerizing, their elegance trailed through the air, glistening echoes of their motions. Sans' eyes bolted back and forth, his pupils dilated, darting across each gesticulation the runic energy made.
Tap.
The orbs speed blitzed towards Sans, their swift movements whipped through the air, tearing through the atmosphere itself. The Skeleton would react instantaneously, deducting the cues that led to the sudden assault. Hastily, Sans would smash his fist into the ground, burrowing deep runic concrete. The blow caused the terrain to launch upward, throwing them up into harm's way. With a manipulation of Aspirate Aura, multiple arms would extend from Sans' torso, all gripping onto different parts of the rubble, utilizing their capabilities to enhance the cement as a shield.
The beading pellets of energy rammed into the debris, attempting to thrash their way through the perilous path. Sans, above all else, had his attention directed towards one minute detail. As the orbs closed in upon Sans' efficient defenses, the chains plastered to the back of the attacks would begin to rise, extending out from their backs, before they'd begin to spread, spreading as if an invisible circle surrounded the fighter. The brusque differentiation in approach snapped Sans' attention, the rambunctious energies served a greater purpose beyond attacking the Skeleton. Just as he deducted. Sans would swipe the Aspirate Aura arms upward, the limbs tossing the rubble into the areas the chains were yet to shroud.
Gifted room to act offensively, the orbs would manifest into spikes, darting right into the torso of the Skeleton, the chains tugging and pulling at their movement, their exuberant gleam already spoke volumes of their intentions; they sought to bind the Skeleton. The strained debris was moments from being crushed upon the constant pressure that the chains induced, though, before Sans could find himself trapped in the lateral influx of spikes, he pushed himself from the ground as busted through one of the rocks, glaring down as the chains proceeded to smash in onto each other. The chains grated together; the once coherent attack was dissipated into a misty mush of unstable magic.
Sans tapped back down, wasting no time to admonish the faulty attempt, or act in the contrary. He stomped down into the ground, a large rock busted from the ground as he did so. Sans grabbed it, immediately hurling it towards Aeron. The Ancient One acted swiftly, tearing a wormhole throughout space time, and linking the gateway to appear right behind Sans. Yet, as the rock was thrown through, Sans acted even quicker, kicking it right back through the wormhole, granting him more time to close in on Aeron.
As the rock came out of the wormhole again, Sans grabbed it, jumping over the portal before he smashed the boulder into the ground, the brute force of the attack disorienting the Ancient One for a mere moment. Sans would shoot out a web made out of Aspirate Aura, it flying and sticking right behind the Ancient One. Sans would yank himself forward with the web, Sans would proceed to use the momentum to throw out a devastating punch, running his fist straight through Aeron's head.
The Ancient One recoiled, every physical aspect of his being felt like it was getting slaughtered from blow-to-blow. Each strike, he felt the life and stability get shot out from his body, each punch, each kick, his ability to keep up was drained from his body. His eyes were drained of the rambunctious glare they once had, nothing but two dull pupils stared at Sans, now. Each push, each technique, every move he found himself trying faltered, only for the ramifications of the attempt to sock him right in the face. No matter what he tried, no matter the effort, the Skeleton either instantly adapted, or did so after experiencing it once. No matter the thoughts the Ancient One came up with to overcome or outsmart the oppressor, it was met with the fact he was always one step ahead.
Aeron slid back against the runic platform, the perilous situation he was in vexed the divine figure, the abrasive audacious vibration of the Skeleton's every movement irked the Ancient One, being forced within the bind under the pressuring dread that was the situation he threw himself into, he was confined within a trap; mere prey towards a horrific, adaptive and cunning beast that read him like a book. Each of the Ancient Ones were amazing, tactical fighters, each one adaptive and deductive further complemented with the endless experience they possessed, only for it all to be humbled with the quintessential prowess that Sans wielded as his weapon.
His heart was pounding through his chest, the dread toppled a feeling within him that he wanted to vomit out. He stared into the Skeleton's eyes, a chilling coldness running down each inch of his body. He wanted to stop looking, but he felt frozen. Frozen in fear. It went from acknowledging his unmatched prowess, to the realization slowly being drenched in a sudden horror. Aeron felt his breath tremble, he attempted to calm his rapidly pounding heart, he felt bits of his soul escape through his throat with each petulant and distressed breath.
Did he do something to his head? His body? Was it the punch? As illogical as the conclusion was, Aeron's thoughts drifted to a possible concussion, or head trauma. That... wasn't possible. Not from how the Ancient Ones were constructed as beings. Yet, from the sheer irrationality that surged within the horrified Ancient One, he couldn't help but attempt to search for any answers, no matter how fortuitous or abstract they seemed.
The longer Aeron's glistening gaze stayed locked with the Skeleton's, he couldn't help but notice the gleaming eyes of the Skeleton grow larger. The itching, aching feeling curving and twisting his very understanding tore into the divine one's head, his own thoughts, drowned in a deluded consciousness he couldn't resist. He perceived little to no movements from the Skeleton, nothing but his fixed, sharpened gaze, running through him as if he weren't even there. As if he was nothing in comparison. And it was horrifying.
All of a sudden, Sans would take one singular step forward. A mere tap, a tap with his foot that echoed all throughout the metaphysical plain, shrouded in Aeron's divinity. The cacophony of what he thought was a light footstep rocked Aeron to his very core, the ancient entity jumped, a foreign concept jolting into his very body. The concept of actually having control over his own body... something that was stripped from him, something he hadn't had in what felt like eternities. Immediately, Aeron let his instinct overpower each other's sense he had, jerking his head away, breaking the stare between him and Sans.
His once trembling breaths finally fell under submission once again, his once anxious and shuttering body steadying itself as the Ancient One demanded. In a singular, calm sigh, the Ancient One turned towards Sans once again.
"'How?'" were the only words that escaped the Ancient One's mouth, even with his spirit calmed and his body still, he was still left bewildered. Shock carried out the words for the precarious being, his mind sought after answers for one thing: information. Disclosure. Enlightenment. What the hell just happened?
"I'd gaslight you as a joke, but that probably wouldn't be very worth it, or funny right now." The response made Aeron grit his teeth, "Stop dodging the question," he admonished, "I... need to know what that was. What you did to me. You DO remember wh-" The Ancient One was interrupted. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Seeing me out n' all that jazz, it's why I did it in the first place. It's a trick of mine," Sans explained. In a quick flourish, the jeering Skeleton swung out from his idle stance, swiping his arm out, his overcoat being shot within the wind as he did so. "I trust ya with the information, after all." He'd shake his head, closing his eyes as he tittered to himself. 'Trust'. That word seemed to make him laugh, as if it reminded him of something... or, sparked a sight involving the premise of such a word. Like it was a joke to him. Not as if he was to be distrusted, but like he experienced such misfortune himself.
"Well." Sans opened his eyes, sighing, batting a glance towards Aeron, "As much of a red herring this is, I, uh, also have a form of precognition." The sudden dump of information compacted into a sentence caused Aeron to flinch, whilst it was a mere drop into the abundance of knowledge, he was aware of, it was still ever so slightly unexpected. Before Aeron could respond, Sans continued.
"It's... a simple trick of mine. That's all. Something I've picked up on, something I've had for a while, that's all. I don't use it during combat, during fights like these. But since you wanted to see my all... I have nothing to hide from you. You've probably seen things freakier, anyway" Sans concluded with a light shrug, blowing off the situation as if it were nothing. Aeron huffed, as much as he wouldn't admit it, he was still slightly perturbed by the occurrence. Yet, the Skeleton brushes it off. Albeit, as nonchalant as he seemed... deep within his eyes, the Ancient One knew that Sans, behind the facade, was observing him just as closely as Aeron was observing him, deducting and examining his response to such lighthearted nature. It all was just that: a facade. And Sans was holding a front up to his face, a mask, to shadow his true all-seeing glare.
With the lack of words continuing the conversation, Sans would sigh. "Alright," he quickly continued, "I feel like you'd be reasonable enough to call it quits if you were actually done with me. So, I'll wrap this up quickly, 'kay?" Sans would raise his foot into the air, his leg fully extended outward. Before, swiftly, he'd slam his heel into the terrain, the impact causing a chain-reaction, heaps of rubble were thrown into the air, launched towards Aeron in a pattern. The Ancient One acted instantly to the attack, zipping upward. He'd shove his arms outward, casting an influx of magic circles. Each one gathered energy, their outlined patterns glimmering, before inevitably hurling endless amounts of blasts towards Sans. The Skeleton, having already reacted, would dash from his spot, hoping to the nearest piece of debris he launched into the air. Dashing from rock to rock, Sans would skillfully elude each beam, ducking and bending his body as they homed in upon the fighter. Swiftly, Sans would propel himself from the debris he was positioned on, speed blitzing above the Ancient One. Before Aeron could properly defend himself, Sans raised his leg into the air, before hammering his heel down Aeron's skull.
Though, before contact could be made, Aeron formed a Prism Barrier, using the Runic Magic as a defense, the shield taking the full force of the impact. The hit still caused Aeron to stagger– floating back as the blow connected. Sans remained elevated within the sky, glaring down at Aeron.
Sans tossed up a light shrug, his jeering grin carved deep within his expression. Not a single word was spoken, yet hundreds of messages screamed from the allusive grin. From the center of Aeron's palm, he hurled another blast that soared through the air, cutting through the atmosphere as it progressed. Sans would launch forward, shrouding his palm in Aspirate Aura as he pressed down upon the blast with his hand, before he'd push himself off of the beam, propelling himself above the Ancient Warrior. He'd dash downward, rocking his fist directly across the fighter's cheek.
Each jab, each blow thrown out, each one was guided skillfully, each futile attempt acted upon by the Ancient One was swiftly eluded by the erudite Skeleton. Groaning, Aeron formed another prism magic rune, throwing it before him, before a massive narrowed blast spilled from the patterned circle, as it shot into Sans chest. With the grown distance between the two, he seemed vulnerable to the expansive efforts from the warrior. This fact grasped his attention. Sans flew away from the attack, though the time he took to recover himself was minute. Through the clearing smoke, Sans lowered his raised arms that promptly raised into a guard. His tense and now further guarded vessel perked up, eyeing the more blatantly lethal creator. "I was wrong about you, frankly." Sans would raise up, proceeding to limber his seemingly stiff bones, "You don't lack experience. Quite the opposite, actually." Sans would return to his pugnacious nature, dropping his stance as his grin drew itself once more. "Was the dishonesty prior a mere means to trick me? It's pretty self-evident you've done this before." Aeron retorted with a mere smirk. The reaction was more than enough reassurance.
"You finally figured it out. Tell me, who was it that made you last put your capabilities up to the test?" The jarring words struck Aeron's heart; the subtle implication followed with what he knew from his experience caused Aeron's already racing heart to further spiral. His already mysterious tone further dug into his skin as the Skeleton tilted his head, albeit Aeron couldn't let the entity get to him. Not again. Sans lowered his stance; his eyes batted an intense glare. "That's quite off topic. Are you that ostentatious?" Aeron tilted his head in response, almost as if denoting a mockery of some kind.
"Yeah? Is it enough for you to treat this seriously now?" Sans shifted his poise. His previous confident posture, a healthy stance and aligned spine fell under Sans' attentive nature, bending his knees, keeping a smooth and steady bearing. "Come and find out." Aeron chuckled, "I'd rather not." Sans' eye sockets widened. Aeron instantly burst into a flight backwards, swiping his forearms outward, several prism runes conjured their physical form once again. Sans rolled his eyes.
"This just got a lot more annoying," Sans complained. To not be a sitting duck, he'd vanish from his spot, reforming throughout the environment in different areas, warping from place to place in order to burden Aeron with more things to keep attention to. The Ancient One would elevate his arm, pointing it in Sans' broad direction, before the glistening runes began to gather and dawn their capabilities in their gleaming light, moments past, their magic and energy swarming and binding together, illuminating the patterns and symbols written upon the circles. His observation remained keen, his once vapid attempts against the Skeleton would no longer shine in his performance. The second he found the right moment, the runes fired out their gathered magic, quickly firing the beams, scorching and ripping through the skies as they instantly zipped towards Sans.
As expected, Aspirate Aura would blaze around his skeletal hand once again. Whilst the unparalleled and instantaneous speeds shot through the air, Sans was quicker. Sans dashed upward, slightly painting his way from the beam's course, although not fully. He threw his arm down upon the top of the culmination of lasers as the two met, Sans would flex his arm out, utilizing his grip upon the blast to flip himself over the attack. Sans would twirl midair, pushing himself beyond the magical incursion.
"Try harder." Sans would fire a blast from his hand, the beam rivaling the instant speeds Aeron just produced. Similar to the efforts Aeron brought to the table, it seemed Sans was reciprocating with just as much effort. He stretched his arms out, summoning yet another prism barrier, as it halted the aura that proved impervious in its utility time and time again. Potentially even beyond that of the prism magic's capabilities. It irked Aeron. It was as if this absolute foundation Sans was capable of bending and manipulating was formed as a complete and utter rebuttal to theirs, it seemed almost too convenient.
The abnormal adaptation, the unmatched power, it was practically impossible. Even with the reinforced and strengthened barrier, the blast managed to still make it recoil from the unstinting impact. Flames from the attack spread throughout the shield like wildfire, shrouding and tearing at the stability behind the defense. Aeron grumbled under his breath, dispersing the barrier into bits, carrying the raging flames with them and flying away from the attack.
As Aeron soared into the sky, he noticed where the Skeleton was prior... they were missing. Panicked filled his heart once again, his eyes shot around the environment, ignorant to what laid around him throughout his blind spots. "Where-"
Sans' fist shot straight into his head. Volatile, strength and velocity the Ancient One could never expect his already lethal physical capabilities amped with Aspirate Aura collided against the side of his face. The blow rocked Aeron to his very core, the impact unleashing a thundering boom across the endless field. With the unbridled force being dumped from his fist, Sans would throw Aeron to the ground with one gigantic hammer of his hand.
THUD!
Sans would tap down onto the tattered terrain. His expression asserted nothing other than... neutralism. His light gaze declared that the fight was over, that this heated sparring was finally at a conclusion. The once eldritch delicacy of the purple runic sanctum seemed devoid of its intrinsic encapsulating nature of sanctity, faltering to a hollow and thrashed crumbling realm. The looming enigmatic spatial properties of the gargantuan proportions behind the realm, it all seemed abstract, metaphysical with the chilling functions of the place, the concentration binding the realm together? In one final, singular clean punch, it was shattered, just like every other extraordinary measure Aeron went through to land some sorta good damage on the Skeleton.
Slowly the combat had begun to switch from a willing and light test... to a strive for experience. A misnomer of his original ambitions– their original confrontation. As harmless as they both depicted it, this was a new thrill for Aeron. A new face, one of few he'd never get the opportunity to bare. Ever. There was no deferring the chance handed to him on a silver platter, now was there? He had to learn somehow.
...And he was sure that he would definitely need it for later. Aeron always had a keen eye, always was the perspicacious one of the groups. It's how he saw through it, after all. He would rise to his feet, his once stiff and tattered body no longer gesturing the effects of what had previously been beaten out him. Sans was taken back, of course. How could one not be? For him to still be standing? Absurd. Was it out of some sort of determination? Maybe to verbally come to a conclusion for the fight... or was this something more? Did he want to keep going? Or was this to express a concession?
This time, Aeron was unbelievably opaque. Sans' eyes that normally cut through people like butter, only for the skill of his to be diminished to nothingness in an instant. Sans couldn't make out anything below the surface of the Ancient One. It all was a thick, foggy white haze. No matter what he tried, his sights simply bounced off the being, it all just being a ravishing billowing shroud of white. The silence pierced the vacant realm, with no words spoken between the two... only confusion lingered within the Skeleton's expression, and the chilling silence that emphasized the ubiquitous, cold and chilling silence.
The stubborn scenery refused to create a clear understanding of the place, a stunningly mysterious spatial seeming realm unlike anything Sans had ever witnessed, at least judging based off of what stood beneath his feet. With their quarrel being broken by the odd actions, Sans had finally gotten a chance to understand what exactly what was around. The realm seemed... abstract. Metaphysical in a sense. Whilst it looked just as spatial as the next guy, it all seemed to be some representation of embodiment of a fundamental throughout physics. Some things seemed incorporeal, a simple visual depiction with nothing else to be displayed other than that, or a precedent presence that seemed disorienting to even focus on. It was obvious the Skeleton would seek some sort of disclosure once this is finished.
A light sigh hissed from Sans' oppressor, grasping his attention near instantly.
Aeron's arms would drop limply to his sides, his shambled poise slowly regaining stiffness.
"Are we done here?" Sans would snap towards the sign of life, wanting to address the elephant in the room before anything else. Yet, as the seconds passed, nothing came from Aeron... other than that of a light smirk. Sans raised a non-existent eyebrow, watching as obvious cockiness came from the entity. Although, Sans was unsure of the implication. That was obvious.
...As for Aeron, the perdurable pressure would suddenly begin to shift and contort the exuberant realm in an incredulous manner, stunning Sans with the sudden alternate flow of things. A wheezing whistle washed over the realm, a mighty vacuum drawing everything within, squeezing every bit of balance retained. A harsh wave of force built up from a sudden distillation through reality, tearing the atmosphere down to its knees. It felt nearly crushing to bear. Through what felt like sheer minutes of combat, head-to-head, the two understood each other superior to that of brothers, yet were so ignorant when it came to knowledge about them. Two sides of the same apple, yet with two differently written stories. Two halves of the same blade, the ultimate bonding of what resembled the same identity, similar belief, all distinguished by the lack of history between the two.
An eruption of an unrestrained, gleaming energy illuminating the endless world of the dimly lit spatial realm. Sans would stand halted, unturned from the ravaging power shooting through each inch of the conceivable plain. As the force of the sudden Prism Energy surge would expel, Sans would raise his arms. His feet were hastily planted into the ground, Aspirate Aura doing its absolute best to remove the friction under Sans' feet to keep him plastered to the ground. Yet, even with the efforts exerted, Sans was lifted from the ground; tossed into the roaring winds deep within the abyss.
Aeron's stoic glare met Sans' meek gaze, the shimmering and spine-chilling light flooding from the Ancient One's eyes shot across its limited yet vast expanse it was allowed to access, as if he was a abnormally bright light in a dark yet recluse room, every inch of the tight and cramped realm would gleam from his mere presence alone.
"A transformation?" Panic spread across the Skeleton's face. His fists balled up, his stare equivalent to millions of daggers shooting through Aeron's heart. "Not exactly," he'd quickly respond, "the Ancient One's possess many, many tricks. They've attempted to be exploited in the past, yet it was all futile." Aeron cracked his neck, the omnipresent glow beginning to die down, becoming more recluse in shrouding the warrior. "You did exactly as I asked, Sans. You showed me what you were capable of, and, ultimately, abolished all concerns I had. You don't possess the same threat Primrose did." Sans' eyes lit up in surprise. 'Primrose'? Even with the lack of understanding such an entity's thoughts, it was self-evident something correlated to the ladder was sparked within his head.
"As you've done with me, I shall reciprocate." Aeron would bow, grinning. "It's my turn to show you a hint of what we're capable of." In a burst of unmatched speed, Aeron zipped towards Sans. Even with his heightened perception, Sans wasn't able to see him move. He closed the distance in an instant. The Skeleton nearly lost his balance, stumbling as the Ancient One's infinite pressure hurled Sans back. He'd make an attempt to rebut, channeling Aspirate Aura around his hands and throwing his arms out to attack, yet Aeron countered far swifter than the Skeleton could. His hands locked with Sans; the raw power poured from his body endlessly. He began to push Sans back, his feet skidding across the platform. Something he once possessed over the warrior was robbed from him. Sans' eye sockets widened, he'd quickly pulled Aeron forward, attempting to throw a kick one, amping the blow with Aspirate Aura and directing it at his ankle to disrupt his footing, yet, as if he was a statue, he didn't budge.
He attempted to pull his arms back, yet Aeron's grip around them proved it futile. He attempted to barrage Aeron with kicks, utilizing Aspirate Aura for more efficiently. Nothing. Aeron's already infinitely tight grip around Sans' hands grew stronger, suddenly, Sans felt a jolt zip through every inch of his vessel. Overpowering even Aspirate Aura, Aeron's power began to shroud Sans' body, overlapping and covering him. He felt his ability to react, twitch, move, anything of the sort, slowly be hindered, that fire within the Skeleton diminishing to a cold nothingness. Sans' eye sockets, with the last of his power, widened.
It was unavoidable.
The Prism Magic shrouding Sans slowly began to constrict, contracting and squeezing around his body. Aeron's grip would loosen, retracting his arms. As the energy began to blitz around his vessel, tearing and blasting its lethal power into him, Sans felt a sudden, cold fist shoot across his face. He recoiled; his entire body thrown back as he struck. After Aeron's fist collided with his head, the searing, surging power surrounding Sans' entire body began to burn into his bones, just moments after the physical attack, Sans felt the magic erupt across his vessel, before swiftly exploding.
He felt every small bit of the blast, slowly crawling, and crushing every piece of his body. The more the explosion crashing against his bones would echo through his consciousness, the more he felt his clenched physique and headspace begin to loosen, falter at the unmatched attack. As it creeped up his body, within a swift, yet subtle instant, it all fell to darkness.
A light discomfort shot through his already aching head. He felt his body, loosened and weak, shift to cater to its own comfort. Yet, the discomfort came once again, as he came to consciousness, a distant thumping sound echoed from the distance. He'd groan, tossing and turning to ward off the feeling, yet it came once again. A sharp, yet light impact smacked his skull. His head flinched; he felt his body consistently attempting to jolt him back to sentience. Slowly, Sans' eye sockets that felt clamped together began to pry open, his flickering, dazed eyes adjusting to the gleaming sunlight that towered over the light blue sky, the wavering, intense orb dilated Sans' still adjusting eyes. It only continued to loosen, its forever cast of its blinding rays upon the land remaining a firm and ultimate arbiter. Sans' eye sockets constricted, his body moved instinctively, slightly turning his head from the sky as a means to shun the agitating light.
Sans swiftly sat up; he gently rested his palm up against his forehead. His eyes, still adapting to the return of consciousness and the shift of scenery, finally managed to focus in on his surroundings. Sans rubbed his eye sockets a little more, before finally discerning what was before him. It seemed to be the season of Fall. Orange and yellow leaves fell from the surrounding forestry, the trees crept up from the ground, extended across the vast yet beautiful landscape, positioned upon a steep hill. Sans noticed that he was positioned under a plethora of leaves, brittle and crunchy, yet soft and relaxing. Normally for the skin, it would prove itchy just as it was fun, yet, for Sans, it made quite the decent bed. Whilst the autumn environment seemed intrinsic to the beautiful nature that the Ancient Ones created, it was oddly different to what Sans was previously accustomed to.
"You got something on your head," a familiar, yet oddly feminine voice spoke out. Sans reacted to the alert, glancing upward. Sans felt an ever so slight weight lift from his skull, as he witnessed a blue feathered bird fly into the distance, consistently flapping its beautiful wings as he moved. Sans quickly turned to the voice, curiosity reaching beyond his expression. Sat at the edge of the hill, looking down at the vast below, seemed to be a youthful, somewhat slim woman. As he laid his eyes upon her, she would quickly turn to face the Skeleton. Before him sat a beautiful and soothing girl, her face seemed to nearly glisten under the sunlight. Her beating and buggish blue eyes followed with her calm yet friendly smile contrasted with her happy and outgoing demeanor.
"...er..where...am I?" Sans asked. "Back at the Ancient Grounds, silly goose!" She'd quickly jump up to her feet, walking over to Sans, before squatting down before him. Sans flinched at her rambunctious and light movements; it was as if she was walking on clouds. It definitely added to the environment, as well. "Mm..." She'd glance him up and down, before her eyes would eventually meet his. "I'm super sorry for what Aeron did back there, he can get... a little too riled up, sometimes. He knows self-control but letting him off the leash is a bit of a hit or miss." She'd chuckle, slightly leaning forward. Her eyes darted across Sans' body again, as if carefully examining the utterly confused Skeleton. "Speaking of which! He did quite the number on you! Obviously, it's evident you would survive, he wasn't going for the kill. But, sheesh! I thought it was only a sparring match. Treating your wounds was quite the hassle!" She'd pull her body back to its previous position, giving Sans another toothy grin.
"Oh, pardon my manners! I'm Hadassah!" Sans lifelessly blinked at the girl, who only seemed to give him a cheery smile in return. Still regaining himself, he'd rub his arm awkwardly. His eyes trailed off, attempting to observe the surroundings once more. "...Where is... Aeron?" Sans glanced at her once again. "Aeron? Oh, he's waiting for you on the path to the temple! He wanted me to tell you to meet him there once you woke up." She'd happily exclaim. Sans nodded; his pupils instinctively darted over the vast valley before him. As they sat upon a hill, it was evident that the temple was likely down the pathway before him. Though, as he was now, he couldn't see down the landscape. Sans looked back towards Hadassah. "And... you healed me?" He tilted his head, "Yep! Oh, speaking of which, are you doing alright?" Hadassah moved her hand to caress Sans' shoulder, her head ducked down to his shirt, before she pulled it up, observing his chest and rib cage. "Any fractures? Sore bones? Any damage I missed?" Slightly flustered, Sans quickly swatted her hand away, dropping his shirt back down. "I'm fine, thanks... just, a bit dazed n' sore." Hadassah blinked in rebuttal, as if taking a moment to process the action. Her upper body rose up, facing Sans face-to-face. "If you say so! I can help, if you'd like." The cherry girl flopped back onto the leaves, simply smiling at Sans. He'd take a few moments to reply. He was ever so slightly bewildered. "Um... yeah, uh, no thanks."
She'd give an understanding nod, still expressing her sweet, caring attitude. She'd tug her smooth, nearly glistening legs into her stomach, lightly crossing the two. "It was quite surprising. You really had Aeron on the ropes, huh? The last time someone contended with one of us was suuupppeerrr long ago! Then again, we're past that area now." She'd quickly fold her arms over her legs, giving a light hearted chuckle. Her lead lowered onto her arms, resting it as she kept her attention and the direction she was facing pinned upon Sans. "Even if you lost, you surely had him for the majority of the fight. Can't believe it took him exerting that to actually take you down! That alone is really impressive."
Sans stared in confusion, his questions and perplexed state only worsening by the moment. Breaking the prolonged eye contact, Sans hastily shut his eye sockets, grumbling under his slurred words as he shook his head. Recollecting himself, he opened his eyes once more, moving to look at the slightly confused woman due to the sudden gesture.
"...sorry about that. So, you healed me after I blacked out?" She'd perk up, "Yep!" She'd swiftly reply, "You fell unconscious from the damage. Aeron sorta just... had to overpower you. There was no outskilling you, even for someone of our stature! Which... is quite odd. Normally our prowess supersedes practically anyone, how did you develop your skill, Sans?" She'd cock her head in curiosity, "A long story not worth telling right now. Though, I do appreciate your care. I feel almost brand new, aside from the light soreness from my body after I woke up." Sans glared down at his body, raising his skeletal arms into his sights. He shifted them around, observing. "And I look brand new, too. You're quite the talented healer." She'd giggle at the compliment, "Thanks! It was rather basic, you didn't require anything advanced. How enduring you are, Sans." He'd mumble in agreement, before looking back towards her. "You're an Ancient One as well, right? I saw you there whenever I first entered the temple." She'd nod her head in response, "Yu-huh! The rest of us saw the entire fight, we were quite astonished. Though, after the fight, I actually offered to treat you. Plus, I wanted to meet you! One on one. And... hey, sorry if this all was super extreme. We were going to heal you regardless of what happened, and we just had to be sure of a few things. Events of the past that were out of our control left some of us paranoid. Though, you were fully on broad with the idea of fighting Aeron, so..." She'd slump down, her sincere eyes demonstrating the notion that she did feel sympathy for the measures they had to take. Sans tittered, "Just as you said, I didn't mind." He'd get up from his makeshift seat, composed of, now, mostly scrunched up leaves.
"Haha, that's good!" She'd spring up in return, giving Sans another gleeful grin. "I probably shouldn't keep Aeron waiting for too long." Sans would begin to walk past the ecstatic Ancient One, who merely watched him walk by. "I'll catch ya later, yeah?" The Skeleton turned, waving his hand. "Oh, and thanks again for healing me." Hadassah waved back, "Of course. Please, come back soon." She lightly smiled.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." A voice exclaimed from behind the Ancient One, their stance dormant in patience. Aeron turned toward the sound, shifting his body to meet the new presence. As his eyes laid upon Sans, Aeron couldn't help but show a genuine smile. "Glad to see you're okay. Hadassah treat you well?" Sans chuckled under his breath, "Yeah, maybe a little too well," he joked. "Haha, yeah, she can be like that." Aeron empathized with the Skeleton, casually laughing off the implications as he could only imagine the situation Hadassah pulled him into. The two, having only met in what felt like the span of the day, conversed with each other as if they possessed an intricate friendship, joking and jeering around with each other as if it was never anything unnatural for the two.
"She told me you were waiting for me here," Sans followed through, his banter quickly subsiding as he turned to the more grander matters. "So... why?" Aeron let out a light huff, shifting his body to glance down the path Sans previously took before reaching the temple. "I think it's best if I just show you." He looked back at Sans, "Willing to walk with me?" Curious, Sans nodded.
Crunch after crunch, their footsteps smashing the influx of leaves step after step, guided amongst the innate pathway towards their inevitable destination. Almost rhythmically, the two old friends seemed to mindlessly walk off amongst the enchanted and wonderful forest. Repetitive, yet complimenting to the silent serenity of the woodland, decorated with the beautiful pasture created by the man only but a few feet away from the Skeleton. Whilst Aeron himself was all too used to it, Sans' surprise never seemed to get old, his expression torn in surprise at the beauty around him. It seemed fictive– almost as if he was dreaming. The perfect and distilled weather, the sights visually intrinsic towards what one could only view as perfection in the belle of Mother Nature. Stimulating every singular sense down to the smallest detail, the Skeleton hadn't regretted his visit into the flourishing wonderland in the slightest.
Yet, dazed by the entangled merit of the abnormal benevolence carved in detail behind the soul-shaking beauty of the plantation, Sans' detour from reality– immersed within the ravishing realm of tranquility very few would get to experience, it was all cut short by a sharp and a sternly acoustic voice, enforcing the initial purpose of their presence in the luxurious boscage to begin with.
"Keep your head up, Sans. We're nearly at the place."
"Mm..mhm." Sans would reply, stupefied by the interruption. Keeping his head from fading out from the world again, Sans would try and 'wake' himself up with a quick head shake, keeping his attention strictly towards what was before him, whilst, of course, allowing his eyes to trail off towards the wonders around him every few seconds or so.
The repetitive sound of leaves being crushed under the weight of soft footsteps would prove acoustically appealing to the ravishing and arresting enchanted forest, Sans' beating eyelights scoured throughout the infinite wonder of nature. From the animals, to the bits of grass, he seemed to appreciate each bit of it. The relaxing trans it wrapped the Skeleton in strayed from his understanding of time, as what felt like mere moments, Sans' unattentive vessel would bump into Aeron.
"Uh? Oh," Sans would back up, "we're here... already."
Presented in front of the two was something foreign from the Skeleton's guesses, a picture he never thought to paint when picturing whatever it was Aeron wished to show him. A mossy, run-down, nearly crumbled structure. It looked ancient, the hand of nature itself having blended with the 'man-made' construct. Sans' eyes would flow over the structure, gazing up and down. His expression confirmed one of the Skeleton's many wondrous thoughts; 'Was this all he brought me here for?' What was so tantalizing about this place that the Ancient One needed to bring him to some crumbling construct?
With Sans' gaze scanning over each minute detail of the place, he noticed a... pattern. A pattern similar to the one that the temple retained. Linked to that pattern was a circular image of the Ancient Ones, albeit, there was one more included. There were five Ancient Ones from what Sans definitely recalled, yet... there was a sixth. Connecting the patterns together, elevated above the five others, was a hooded figure. An eldritch, white smile painted its expression, two gleaming white eyes being its only facial details. It retained an overcoat, similar patterns to the one at the temple and on the structure carved all throughout.
It was exactly what Sans saw back at the temple. The exact same being.
"You recognize the thing?" Aeron would speak up, cutting Sans' deduction short. "Huh?" Sans would snap back towards his friend, "Well, no, can't say I met the guy." Sans folded his arms uncomfortably, he'd return his eyes to the picture carved into the stone. "Before we met, back at the temple, it illustrated some sorta story involving the guy... also involving you five." Aeron's face turned cold, silently nodding his head at the explanation. Doubts swirled his mind, his cautious thoughts yelled in a detached part of his mind, had the cold and callous finally returned? They never felt candid comfort within themselves, not with the looming knowledge of it still being present. Did it finally seek in acting against the five? What they did was for the greater good, nothing more. Though, even with that knowledge, Aeron knew that it was unbound from such compunctions.
Aeron shook off the feeling, not wanting to disturb his company. One step at a time, Aeron approached the entrance of the building. The doors, once mobile, were now stuck in a shroud of vines, moss, even the doors themselves were off of its hinges. Aeron would grip the slightly parted entry, before swiftly tugging them apart.
"We're here. It's dark, so, uh, don't trip." Sans gave a nod towards Aeron, before the two trudged into the dark hallway. The expanse was very barely visible, pieces of the building had fallen from the roof or the walls, allowing for small bits of light to spill in. Sans' reflective eyelights darted around, before continuing his way deeper into the structure. Broken glass was scattered across the floor, bits and pieces of rubble and rocks were plastered against the cold, hard seemingly concrete like material. Veins crept their way down the sides of the walls, moss was spread upon the decayed and destroyed structure, and grass poked up from small crevices in between the broken walls and floor.
"What happened here?" Sans gazed over the result of nature's unbridled decor, it was painfully obvious Sans knew of the Ancient Ones titles as creators; the sole fact they're responsible for all existent matter within the endless realm. Sans' face was written with one question: what was the purpose behind this frivolous structure?
"It was our old residence," Aeron explained, his eyes lit up with nostalgia as he took in the surrounding environment. With each step, memories flooded his head, recalling what once was. His eyes laid upon the influx of rooms that the hallway divided off into, recalling the times his peers and it were together, flourishing as a group and seemingly aligned in ambitions. At least, that's what they all thought. It had other plans. The foundation all of the Ancient Ones were once present in, they all shared endless memories in the expansive location. "It's where we all used to stay, similar to the temple. We abandoned it. Long, long ago. We left it behind us, and let time run its course."
"Why did you want to show me this?" He asked, still continuing to observe. "It's not this I wanted to show you, it's nearby." Sans turned to Aeron, nodding his head. He stopped briefly, allowing the Ancient One to walk in front of him, leading the two of them forward.
Soon, after a time of walking within nothing but mostly darkness, Aeron came to a halt, as did Sans. He extended his arm out to the side, reaching for something within the wall, just out of Sans' vision. Just moments after the gesture, a sudden beeping notice occurred, before the room was suddenly illuminated, a gleaming light filling the room. Sans walked next to his pal, glancing across the area. Oddly enough, the area was devoid of any distinguishing construct forming a light source. It just... magically filled the room up with light.
As Sans dawned his eyes upon the structure, similar to the temple, the rundown, destroyed, yet expansive area showed six doors. Five of them were spread against the opposite side of the wall, all relative in size. Although, there was one in particular, one of a much more vast height and width. Throughout the landscape were glowing, pulsing lines of light all connected, forming a pattern, similar to the one within the temple. With each door, there was a being carved within the middle of it, the illustration illuminating similar to the pulsating light. Positioned above each door was a beating ball of this same light, shooting down a line into the door, causing the carvings to gleam, seemingly due to this light. They all held some sort of elegant posture, intrinsic with their seeming nature as a person. At least, that's all that could be assumed, especially with the screaming implications following their clothing.
One was Aeron, on the right closest to the middle, his arms poised as an X across his chest, his hands resembling similar gestures to the ones he performed during his battle with Sans. On the opposite side was Hadassah, her arms were tucked into her chest, her hands cuffed in one another, her eyes shut tight, as she had a light smile across her face, beautiful and composed. Though, within the middle, was a slightly larger door, exalted above the rest. It was a... shadowish entity. Its eyes were a cold, lifeless white, it smiled with no teeth, it was just... pure. Purely... white. It dawned a large overcoat, patterns similar to the ones scattered across the floor, walls and room were spread across its odd attire. Beyond that, upside down triangles, alongside other questionable shapes covered the mysterious vessel's overcoat.
"...This is it?" Sans slowly walked deeper into the room, twisting and turning as he glared at the convulsing lines that seemed to connect. "What's so special about this place that you'd wanna show me it?" Aeron would swiftly brush past Sans, approaching the door placed within the middle. "This is what I wanted to show you."
He'd lift his hand, before softly pressing it up against the passage. The Ancient One closed his eyes, releasing a shaky sigh.
"The thing you've been catching glimpses of... their name is Primrose." "Primrose?" Sans slouched down upon a nearby table, "Yes." A shaky sigh escaped the Ancient Ones mouth, his very core was visibly shaken, convulsing in... dread? "Primrose was an Ancient One. Though, not in the same way the others and I are. Primrose joined us, rather than being formed as an Ancient One. Primrose was the first time any of us let an 'outsider' become one of us. We've been a group from the metaphorical start, and we have never taken it upon ourselves to be present within the lower realms."
Sans nodded his head, listening to Aeron carefully. "Which... is why it was weird whenever it came to us. It was slightly similar to the way you popped in, yet, it was a lot more grand." Sans popped up from the table, trudging around his surroundings as he inspected the details. "So, what's so special about the guy?" Aeron dragged his fingers down the wall, his sullen eyes tracing his infinitesimal movements. "Well, the Ancient Ones naturally grow in capability. We weren't as experienced, nor particularly as capable as we are now. Primrose arrived during our 'newer' days, offering more pragmatic solutions, offering to aid us in bringing our mutual ambition to fruition." He turned to Sans, "We are Gods, Sans. I don't say that for the title, we are creators. Our beings fundamentally work differently than lower life form, and, don't get me wrong, we don't utilize the capability to crumble the multiverse down to its knees, or rule it with an iron fist," Once more walking past the Skeleton, Aeron made his way to the dusty table located within the center of the room. He'd extend his arm over the construct, utilizing Prism Magic to entirely brush the debris and grime from the table. It revealed a large, overarching scope of the forestry, projected upon a holographic, advanced screen. Several dots, similar to the billowed room connected on the outsides of the map. More information, written within an unknown language surrounded the fathomable details on the screen.
"We are creators. We did not create the Multiverse, though we do take part in the Multiverse's flourishment and expansion. But even us creators start somewhere, especially in our endeavors, something Primrose evidently wished to have much more than a hand within. Going as far to conjure something similar to a macrocosm, justified as another 'side' project, though it was ultimately irrelevant to us and our goal. But I guess that's something for a different time." His eyes, dull and mundane, ruminated on what once was, what to be an indescribable number of thoughts swirling around in his head from even simply talking about what once seemed to daze the Ancient One.
"Primrose took advantage of that. We weren't misguided, we weren't lost, though we lacked all we had now. The experience, familiarity, capabilities, it was something we were yet to fully grasp, or attain. We didn't stray from our path, although Primrose attempted to stray us. Primrose attempted to take us under his hand, to guide us in the light it wanted, rather than keeping according to the foundations we've established. We didn't see it at first, so, ignorantly, we accepted." Aeron paused for a few moments, taking in his own information he just spouted. Glancing towards one of the dots, he'd elevate his hand over it, before pressing down upon it.
The text, shown within a completely foreign language, would suddenly glisten, reacting to the tap. "This," Aeron called out, "you... hopefully don't know this language." He released his finger, and from the location he pushed upon, a large, incomprehensibly technologically advanced city bloomed from the table.
"This is NovaTale. One of our most ambitious and grand projects, something we worked on forming during Primrose's time with us. A type 6.8 Civilization." Aeron inhaled, within his deep ruminating of previous events, he seemed to recall one aspect that caused the Ancient One to perk up, turning to Sans quickly afterwards. "There... is actually a being here similar to that of yourself, Sans." With those words, the Skeleton perked up, his pupils darting to the projection. "Hold on, is this in real time?" Aeron would nod, raising his hands onto the projection, before swiping and moving its angle across the city, zooming across the expansion until it landed upon a specific being. It would focus on him, from his physiology to his looks, they were oddly similar. Although, the skeleton presented seemed awfully shorter than Sans, who towered at 5'8. Sans rose up in curiosity, maneuvering to gain a better view of what was shown. "NovaTale... you said?" Aeron quickly responded with a light 'mhm', "I know you said you didn't create the Multiverse... but is this a Universe you created?" "Oh, no, of course not," Aeron was swift to retort, "this was a pre-existing Universe. Its current existent properties are contributions we added, that's all."
Sans nodded his head, his distant motions lackluster in comparison of his attentive eyes, observing the person the Ancient One presented. "So, this is another Sans of this Universe?" Aeron dragged his feet over towards Sans, scouring over each detail of the clearly different yet resemblant skeleton before them. "I believe so. Though, as of now, he goes by 'Crimson'." Sans' eye sockets slightly widened as his seeming nickname was disclosed. As if a realization hit him, he could only let out slurred murmurs in between his thoughts.
"'Crimson', huh?" Aeron slouched onto the table once again, his eyes bleak, devoid of the glistening white they once were. "Yeah. NovaTale was an idea we constructed far before Primrose was a part of us. Though, it sure as hell enforced its guidance once it got its chance." Sans got up as well, staring over the unreadable table. "Why didn't ya cha communicate?" Sans inquired, "We did," Aeron's fists were quick to curl up, "we did, although it was quick to lay down the impression that it was simply trying to drive out the best. Yet, always, it seemed to work ever so slightly against us. As if taking what we were doing and contorting it in its own... twisted light." Aeron's head rose from peering down at the hologram text, batting his eyes towards the city projection. "Inevitably, it worked, of course. It was one of many ideas of ours that came to fruition." Sans nodded his head, conceding with the information. "Right, so, what made you guys split?" Aeron forced a chuckle, almost shot out in a cough.
"...you do know that Prism Magic isn't ours, right?" Sans cocked his head in confusion, turning his body towards the Ancient One. "What?" He shook his head, "It was Primrose. All Primrose. From the very start, it tried to subjugate and misled us, forcing us to misuse our capabilities under his guidance. Primrose tricked us. Into creating a building block to existence that he controlled. It's a variable we're able to utilize, but for Primrose, I guess... guess it thought ahead." Sans blinked– puzzled. He stammered over his words, but, before a coherent statement could be made from Sans, Aeron intervened. "Primrose... sort of viewed us as threats. Not competition, or anything like that, genuine threats. Hurting us, would ultimately hurt the natural process of driving out things. It's cunning, not reckless and stupid, afraid to admit." He glanced back up; NovaTale, the wondrous, impervious, technologically advanced city, dawning the execution of going beyond any possibility or flaw humanity could see. Yet, even with this fact in mind, Primrose wasn't satisfied with it. It wasn't something it could bend, which perturbed Aeron beyond belief, as stoic and brooding he could seem.
"We cut ties with the thing when we realized what it was trying to do." Aeron expressed, "How'd you do that?" "See those doors behind you?" Sans would turn, his eyes meeting the pulsating gateways once again. "Yeah." Aeron got up from his slouched position, "They're... our 'Chambers'. The ones at the temple are a lot more expansive and connected in comparison to the designs here, also hence why the Temple is so lackluster in design compared to here. Every Ancient One has one, and they all connect into one sort of meeting room." As he explained, Aeron strided towards the middle door; Primrose, the most outstanding in comparison to the other four. He laid his hand onto the door, pushing into it, before it began to dematerialize. Sans, from the innuendo, walked after Aeron, entering Primrose's Chamber with him.
"We used it for things beyond just privacy. It was to focus on creation, our fundamentals, meditation, spirituality, all that. Projects were one of many aspects we worked upon within our Chambers, and we especially did that with the others. Though, I guess we couldn't say the same for Primrose." The mystical room gleamed in its harsh details. It seemed like something of royalty. They walked across a red carpet, pillars and little floating trays, seeming as if they wished to display something spread across the sides. There were passages, gadgets, yet, most prominently, seemingly hologram blueprints. It showed a grand, vast Sanctum of sorts. Sans leaned his head forward to gain a closer look, yet, before he could, Aeron cut his attention back to the task at hand. Aeron swiftly pinned the edge of his two wrists together, sticking an index and pinky finger out of his two other curled fingers, he turned his wrists. Another runic circle formed around his forearms, shifting the room.
With the sudden warp, the once palace presented itself to be another projection of a city. Though, rather than the tranquil, serene, advanced city that seemed to be beyond any flaw or possibility, this seemed more... battle centric. As opposed to NovaTale, this idea seemed to be more homed around superiority. Sans turned; his face written in awe. "What... is this?" Sans muttered, astonished. Though, the question resulted in a light cackle from Aeron, "It's the result of us being too trusting." He'd walk further into the holograms, casually manipulating and maneuvering the projections as he strolled. "Primrose was never truly on our side. It was never really trying to flourish the Multiverse, it was taking what we were doing, every minute idea, every detail that results in something grand, it was taking it for itself, to act and flesh out in its own image." Aeron would continue to walk forward, before halting before a large dome, overseeing the advanced urbanity within. "It's dubbed 'The Paradigm'. Seemingly, NovaTale's oppressor's... done within the image of Primrose, as per the many things it has and would have tried to warp in its image." Aeron glanced down at his clenched fist, his teeth slightly gritting.
"We messed up. Allowing for such a fundamental to overcome existence itself." Sans, still behind the Ancient One, popped over his shoulder, his arms formalled positioned behind his back. "Then... why not overwrite it?" Aeron shot a glare towards Sans, before returning his eyes upon Primrose's Chamber. "Because it was right." He concluded, trudging off. "It's a fundamental that we don't exactly want gone, either. As worrisome as it could prove, it's just as important. Primrose made sure of that." He lowered his head, sighing. "It wasn't stupid. Just, we knew how to perform things it didn't. Especially done correctly, above anything else." Sans nodded, "How does it even work, anyway?" Sans crossed his arms, brushing over Aeron's shoulder. "Prism Magic? It's... more of a drawn source. It isn't something that naturally lies within a user, or something ubiquitous throughout the surrounding area, it's drawn from somewhere." Aeron admitted, quickly raising his arms, before casting a spell that seemed to remove them from the room. Albeit it didn't seem to faze the Skeleton. "Where is it drawn from, then?"
"The Alter." Aeron rebutted swiftly, sighing. "Which... is something, admittingly, Primrose solely possesses. We don't know where it's located, we don't know what it's done with it, we just know... it has it." Aeron concluded, hastily glancing back towards the active, drawn-out civilization that was a result of their abilities.
"...Hey, I know..." Aeron approached the table once again, "You're clearly capable of dimensional travel, why not go ahead and visit this realm?" Sans darted towards Aeron, "What?" His eyes elevated towards the gleaming hologram, "You mean NovaTale? Why?" Aeron would lift his hand across the table, drawing the projection back into whatever caused it to form to begin with. "You've seemed interested so far," Aeron chuckled, "and, I'm sure the interest stuck with the whole Primrose ordeal." Aeron rose up, a healthy and aligned posture smoothing out his back. He took a sharp inhale, "I'm not asking you to get involved, Sans. But..." He'd turn, eyeing Sans. "It'd be nice having someone erudite, whilst unbound from the compunctions hindering objectivity. You know what I mean." He'd squint, "So, I'm merely asking for you to go see things out for yourself. Primrose is gone, evidently... for now." He'd mutter the last part, "I'm simply asking, from one keen eye to another, to go investigate the scenes. From what I've disclosed, I think it would be best if you see things for yourself, if you reached your own conclusion, your own understanding from experience, rather than vague knowledge." Sans' eyes slightly widened, not in a way that'd express contentions, but it clearly shot a few thoughts through his head as Aeron asked. If anything, Sans expressed glee that Aeron had asked. He'd let out a shambled, empathetic sigh, fluctuating in its depth as it was let out.
"Won't lie, I'm curious to see what such a civilization holds." Concluding their meeting, Sans rose up, adjusting and dusting his coat off. "I thank you, from the bottom of my metaphorical heart." Sans smiled, "I trust I'll see ya again." Aeron smirked, nodding his head in agreement. "I should probably get back to the others, anyway." Sans, giving his Old Friend one last glance, moved towards the exit of the hallway.
"Wait!" Aeron called out. Sans halted, turning his body to face the brusque voice. "Before you go," He'd trudge up to the Skeleton, extending his forearm out. Within his palm, Aeron's magic would begin to take form once more, a sudden gleaming, coherent form shaping just above the Ancient One's hand. A very small white and red dotted dox dropped right within his grasp, swiftly, he'd toss Sans over the confined item, the Skeleton being swift to catch the item as it flew toward him. "Just... a small contingency. You could call it a parting gift." Sans turned the box around, carefully examining the item that coursed his expression in curiosity. "Oh, thanks." Not exactly wishing to open it, Sans continued to deduct the shape and size of the box, "Is that so? Well then, spill it." Sans lifted his head, his eyes shooting towards Aeron.
"What is i-"
"..."
Sans stuffed the gift box into his coat, his observant and serene smile ever so slightly widening. "Touche," The Skeleton admired. Sans' glistening eyes scoured across the vacant, deep darkness; every previous sign of life present just moments ago vanished alongside the Ancient One. Though, almost as if proud, Sans, satisfied, spun off, turning from the abandoned room, and slowly trudging away from the crumbled, toiled expanse, before, ultimately, the beating, shimmering blue that shined across the rundown hallway faded alongside the darkened corridors.