Bad Time Sans

sketchfab

The fate of humanity hung in the balance as Sans trudged along the desolate route, a trail of death and destruction stretching out before him like an open grave. His once-peaceful town was now a mere memory, consumed by the very monsters that had once been its protectors. The weight of his actions bore down on him, a constant reminder of the genocide he had unleashed upon this world. As he walked, the silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of his own footsteps and the distant rumble of thunder. It was as if the very earth itself was weeping for the loss of life that had occurred here. Sans's heart felt heavy, weighed down by the guilt of what he had done. The creatures that once called this place home now lay dead, their bodies scattered across the landscape like so many broken toys. The air reeked of death and decay, a noxious odor that clung to Sans like a shroud. He felt a deep sense of sorrow wash over him as he realized the true extent of his actions. In the distance, the sound of running water grew louder, a stark contrast to the desolate landscape that surrounded him. The river, once a symbol of life and renewal, now flowed with a tainted water that seemed to mock Sans's very existence. He felt a wave of despair wash over him as he gazed out upon this desolate scene. As he continued on his journey, Sans couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The trees seemed to loom over him, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch him from his path. Every step felt like a betrayal, every breath a reminder of the lives he had taken. The weight of his guilt threatened to consume him whole. The farther Sans walked, the more he began to question his own sanity. Had he truly committed such atrocities, or was it all just a twisted nightmare? The lines between reality and fantasy blurred as he stumbled through this desolate landscape, unsure of what lay ahead.