Forced God of Destruction concept by harrish6
Nothing belongs to me apart from my little ideas :3
Please check out harrish6's story "Healing What has Been Broken", it's a really good story and is what this book is based on -___-
*spoiler alert*
*jazz hands*
It's always nice to check out the original.
If you've already read it, well, enjoy (even if you haven't). I tend to leave out some important details too, so please read it!
This is the result of me being awake at 1 AM for a week or so with 'fancy' vocabulary on
Cringe alert?
I'm not editing this >:3
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White.
A blinding white stretches on in an infinite void for miles on end.
Numb.
Heat never existed here, nor has cold.
Pain.
In the middle of it all sits a dark-boned skeleton, made of broken bones, an unstable mind, glitches, and pain.
This particular skeleton's physical features is one of the reasons why he's set apart from the others. Dark bones, forever glitching, mismatching eyesockets, the colours, and size don't pair up, tattered clothes, too broken to piece together, just like his state of mind. Bright blue tear-like lines are visible on his cheeks, starting from his eyesockets down to his chin, not unlike those used for stitching and sewing his clothes and SOUL. The latter is his most private possession, made up of different colours, perhaps beautiful once, but cracked beyond saving and barely held together by glowing blue strings. It pounds softly inside his rib cage, the beat much slower than what the rhythm is supposed to be. His scarf, his most prized possession, is torn into ragged bits at the end, however, the blue and red gradient is as vibrant as ever.
This broken skeleton is none other than the famous destroyer, Error. The monster of the Multiverse. The Destroyer of universes. The Puppeteer. The Soulless freak. The true monster. Abomination. Glitch.
Many names are assigned to him, but he prefers being called by Error, even though it means 'mistake'. Technically, it described him. A Monster without an AU of his own, thought to be driven mad by loneliness and rage.
What was he doing here?
Fixing his scarf and tending to his numerous wounds as well as possible. Wounds such as snapped bones, large gashes, fractures, welts, etc. The list never ended. Perhaps attempting yet another way to kill himself. Of course, that was futile, since Fate prevented him from obtaining the sweet relief of death.
He gave up a couple of minutes ago on settling himself into a more comfortable position and just sat in a crossed-legged fashion. His round red-rimmed glasses are perched on the tip of his nose, while his eyes are forced into a squint.
"DaMn... CaN thEsE neEdlES gEt aNy SmaLlEr?"
His scarred hands gripped two razor-sharp knitting needles. The project was a midnight blue scarf, fading to black at the end and purple at the front, with small white stars scattered around. At the tail, he embroidered a large silvery crescent moon.
He sighs, putting down the needles for just a second.
"ThIs fEeLS sO NiCe... CoMplETe sIlEnCE," he murmured, closing his eyes.
'Hey, you piece of shit!'
'What are you doing here?'
'YOU HAVE A JOB, SO DO IT!'
'Why are you sitting here twiddling your thumbs? Worthless.'
Error let out a groan of frustration. "AlMosT coMpLeTe SiLEncE."
The Voices, as Error likes to call them, haunts him in the Anti-Void and sometimes outside the blank space. You could only hear them when you entered the Anti-Void bearing no ill will, or if you were a demigod, like Dream and Nightmare, a god, like Error and Ink, or a deity, such as Fate and Destiny.
Not so long after the voices began their hellish chorus, Error received a sharp pain in his SOUL, another hairline fracture spreading across the middle and adding on to the entirety of marks. He doubled over in pain.
"I-InK, yOu sh*TtY rAinBoW ***hOle, wHaT haVe yOU mAdeE nOW?" he muttered feverishly under his breath. He could've sworn that a pair of warm hands were ambracing him, though that could've been a hallucination from the intense pain.
The dark skeleton ripped open a glitchy portal between his 'home' and the new AU, in which he landed softly. However, something wasn't right.
His bad eyesight took a moment to focus on his surroundings.
A white world, stretching as far as the eye could see. A few ragged trees spotted the landscape, shrubbery dotting around the trunks. In the middle stood a sea of different Sanses and Papyruses, copies and originals alike, murderous intent made obvious by the expressions they wore. If Error had a regular blood circulation, his face would've been drained of blood immediately. Ink and Dream stood tall and proud, armed with their preferred weapons. Blue, beside them, was standing meekly, not at all wanting to fight his best friend.
A few years back, Error had accidentally taken Blue from his own AU. It had been a troublesome day, having earned a few beatings on the skull, and could barely see straight. Thinking that the Underswap he had stumbled upon was a copy, he commenced the destruction process. At Judgement Hall, he realized his mistake, but it was too late. He couldn't take both of them to safety in the Anti-Void, based on Stretch's personality, so he swiped Blue. Ever since, the Multiverse believed that Error had kidnapped sweet, innocent Blue, unaware of their secret friendship.
Ink, a pale-boned skeleton, with a distinct ink splotch marking on his cheek and swirling ebony tattoos covering every inch of his bones below his skull, was the Creator of the Multiverse and Error's enemy. He wore a leather sash, vials of colourful ink attached to it. A long brown scarf, fading to beige at the end, was wrapped around the Creator's neck. He wore a dark brown long-sleeved shirt with intriguing electric blue patterns on the sleeves beneath his pale ash t-shirt, triangles of the same colour in the middles of the sleeves. A cloudy blue fur-lined hoodie was attached to his waist, shorts on top of half-length pants visible underneath the garments. Fingerless gloves covered most of his hands. Broomie, his enormous wooden paintbrush he used for attacking and leisure arts and crafts, was gripped tight in his hands. His ever-shifting orbits changed with his feelings.
Dream, right next to him, looked slightly less confident than his friend. A light skeleton, clad in a turquoise and golden suit, a golden circlet atop his head, marking the keeper of hope, happiness, dreams, and wishes. He used a golden staff, stars on either end, in battle, specializing in sleep magic. His eyelights were of a golden yellow colour, in the shape of stars.
Blue, the cute little skeleton, dressed in a white 'battle body' along with black shorts with a white stripe on either side of the fabric. A cyan bandana was tied around his neck, the colour matching his round eyelights. Tall blue boots helped him look taller than he actually was; even Ink's height was greater than his. He held his arm with the other, staring intensely at the ground, not wanting to meet his friend's gaze.
"Error!" Ink cried, "This is your last chance to surrender and stop destroying! I will no longer tolerate your cruel actions!"
The glitching skeleton stared numbly at the short stack.
Earlier that week...
Error stepped into his glitchy portal into a newly-made AU, fresh out of the canvas, though incomplete in some parts. This was the last world he had to destroy today, and he was glad, though he didn't let even the slightest amount of that relief seep into his empty mind; Dream could easily track him down with even the slightest shred of positive emotions.
The AU he entered amazed him. Birds of paradise soared across a baby blue sky, clouds like cotton candy dotting it. The melody the feathered creatures produced soothed the troubled skeleton's nerves. Ancient trees grew as a forest in the distance, a cleared path in the middle. Lush grass waved in the soft wind, flowers of all kinds bobbed up and down with the breeze. The warm sun chased away the cold that had seeped into the very marrow of his bones.
Error took a deep breath, the sweet-smelling air filling his ecto-lungs. He shut his eyes and imagined what it would feel like to live here forever.
He let his thoughts wander for a bit.
Did he ever have a brother?
What did his AU look like?
Did he have a family?
People who cared about him?
A home?
A dark blue translucent tear glistened on his cheek. The feeling of bittersweet happiness was enough for Ink and Dream to find him. What they didn't expect was the famed Destroyer silently crying in the middle of the prosperous meadow, head titled to face the sky. However, the moment the pair took a step towards him, Error immediately jolted back to Earth, tears drying, the positivity extinguished. He muttered a few words to himself, and then, with a look of regret, smashed the code to bits, since there was no Sans or anyone to dust. The Star Sanses stared at him with horror. They didn't catch Error's last words before departure:
"InK, wHeN aLl oF tHIs iS sOrTEd oUt, PlEAse rEbUIlD ThIs AU."
****
"InKy..." Error murmured, "wHaT a PlEAsAnT suRpRiSE." He shut his eyes, brow furrowing.
"If i sToP dEStroYiNg... WiLl yOu sTOp crEaTiNG?"
Ink's eyesockets widened. "Why should I? It's not like I'm the problem here. It's you! You end all of those innocent lives every day, and I'm sick of it! So, no, I'm going to continue creating. I create life. You can only destroy it. You're nothing but a glitch. An anomaly in the code," he declared while pointing his weapon at Error.
He sighed. He thought that Ink's response would be something of the sort. "I gUeSS i cAn'T sToP dEStRoYinG tHeN," he shrugged.
"It'S nOt lIKe I hAvE a ChOiCE..."
No one heard that last part.
With incredible power, Ink leaped into the air, brandishing his beloved paintbrush, the tip coated in red ink. As he swung it, the thick substance flew in an arc towards the intended target. Error dodged the attack, hands behind his back. The ink landed onto a poor shrub behind him, the acid sizzling and eating away at the plant. It seemed to be the attack signal for everyone let out normal and special attacks, as well as different offensive combinations, all headed towards him.
During his earlier stages of madness, he would've taken on this battle, trash-talking his opponents, no questions asked. Back then, he was fueled by rage and fear. Now, with fatigue creeping upon him like a shadow of some sort, Error let out his longest sigh yet, summoned his strings, and wordlessly charged into battle.
.
.
.
.
During that fatal battle, Error was badly injured.
.
.
.
.
The usually unorganized group of skeletons were perfectly in sync. It took all of Error's concentration to block the incoming attacks. The Fells ganged up on him, hundreds of copies throwing crimson red bones at him like darts. On the other side, the Swap Papyruses made bones shoot up unexpectedly from the ground, trapping the destroyer and allowing the other parties to land some clean hits. Error tried his best to avoid all of them and to string up many onto the white void above, never harming them too much.
Soon enough, Error was outnumbered. Blood and dust flowed off him in a dull mixture, new fractures splashed across his figure. His right leg was rendered completely useless, it being almost split into two parts, and his arms weren't doing much better. A shoulder blade was cleaved in half, dust leaking out of the wound. His ribs were completely shattered, spine broken in multiple places, and a large, gaping hole in his head from a heavy wack from Ink's paintbrush. The hit made him temporarily blind and more prone to ambushes. He was exhausted with the dregs of his magic reserves. You can imagine what his clothes looked like.
But he was still standing.
Ink saw this, and wasn't happy about it. He wanted the skeleton dead.
"Everyone, summon your Gaster Blasters! We are going to end his reign of destruction once and for all!" He cried once his enemy was incapable of defending himself.
Error simply closed his eyes.