A/N: That title isn't alarming, right?

Had my ceremony for graduating and it doesn't feel quite real.

alSO? https://www.deviantart.com/vcl2006/art/Grey-and-Gold-918611591 VCL MADE AN IMAGE FROM CHAPTER 11: CHECKMATE?? Erratum's little smug face after beating Nightmare in chess. UGH 😍

"I don't work based upon what is right or wrong, only on what I have been made to do. My morality is in shades of grey."

What an excellent scene and quote to draw. lOVE IT.

Enjoy

It had taken a few explanations, but eventually, Erratum's followers accepted (some begrudgingly) Dream's decision in the end. Erratum had assured them all that Dream had not turned his back on them or betrayed them, and in the end, no one was really all that surprised. Dream would most likely die a martyr if this conflict didn't resolve itself quickly. This was why Erratum had been planning how they would approach the creator without him immediately trying to kill them.

"hOI!"

Erratum exhaled slowly as they opened their eyes to stare down at the small creature. "You are looking well." They noted as the Temmie rested either front paw on their leg. Their fur was clean and kempt and they had returned to their rotund and stretchy form. Erratum patted their head and allowed them to settle in their lap, resting peacefully and watching as Temmie ran past the both of them.

Wait.

Erratum turned their head quickly to see the creature bounding off, looking back down at the Temmie still settled down in their lap. Small error windows popped up around them a moment as they tried to understand what they had just seen, but then they spotted someone slinking by their altar. They narrowed their eyes a bit at the suspicious behaviour of their most volatile visitor. They crossed their arms and frowned as the other tried to slip past them.

"Fresh..."

Said monster froze in place, turning their head and displaying their shades, spelling out a telling 'UH OH' on them. "Heya, fam! What's hangin'?" The colourful parasite greeted, attempting to hold his jacket closed with both hands. Erratum scanned him up and down with an unimpressed look, beckoning him closer with a curl of their finger. "Come here."

"Ahh, ya sure? I mean-"

"Fresh,"

Fresh quickly stepped up to the god as they rose to their feet and appraised Fresh's nervous form. They could hear faint noises now that he was closer, causing them to furrow their brow bone and zero in on the jacket he was holding closed. "What do you have there?" They questioned, watching as Fresh began to sweat a bit. "Nothin'! Just passin' through, nothin' to see here!" He insisted, as though Erratum would actually buy that. "Mhmm." The hum sounded doubtful as they gave him an impatient sigh. "Open your jacket."

"Actually I'm wicked chilly right now, so-"

"That wasn't a suggestion, Fresh."

"Yeah I get that but can we reschedule dis? I gots place t' be."

Erratum scowled a bit as they reached forward themselves and grasped the lapels of the brightly coloured jacket. Before Fresh could even process it, the other had already forced the other's hands away and the jacket open.

Small, numerous little monsters tumbled out from the clothing. Each of them gave little sounds and squeaks, various 'hoi's and 'awawa's echoing through the area. Erratum was completely speechless as they stared at the Temmies now swarming at their ankles with fascinated noises.

"Don't get mad-"

"Where did they all come from?!" Erratum sputtered as Fresh gave a sheepish grin. "Well, dat's the thing! Once the lil' guy was all healed up, they started... multiplyin'? It was mad weird to see 'em split apart like little amoebas, but ay, love dat for em! Now they got a dope lil family!" Fresh was grinning widely as he pulled his cap off, a smaller Tem sitting on his skull contently. Erratum ran a hand down their face with an exasperated expression. They couldn't believe they hadn't seen them multiplying! Then again, it looked as though Fresh had been hiding it for quite a while considering the sheer number of them.

"What am I to do with all of these creatures?!"

"Brah, you're da one with all the powers here. You can make 'em a little place to stay, right? Like what they used t' have? C'mon, ya can't just boot 'em back into Horrortale!" Fresh insisted, trying to keep a pleading face on and not let out a snort as the small cat-like monsters climbed their way up on the annoyed Guardian, who didn't seem in a hurry to do anything about it. Erratum pondered upon how their life had come to this; every single decision they had made led them to this very moment.

"Let me make sure I am understanding this correctly," Erratum started, their patience being tested to the absolute limit as Fresh stood there, grinning and holding onto a Temmie. "You want me to create a little village for these creatures to live. The very first homes I actually make... are for these?" They lifted on arm as a few clung to the threads of their robes.

"Erm... yeah?" Fresh grinned weakly with his shoulders hunched a bit. Erratum gave a heavy sigh and let their arm flop back down uselessly.

"Yeah, sure, why not..." This was their life.

And so, Erratum stood before Verse and worked tirelessly on the screen it displayed to them. Fresh hovered nearby, appraising their work while the Tem on his scalp leaned over as well.

"Nah fam, dey like cardboard!"

"Cardboard? That's not a stable material for-"

"YAYA! CawrDBOd!"

"Right... of course."

It was a strange creation of makeshift lean-tos and cardboard boxes, but the little creatures appeared delighted when they were introduced to it. In the end, Errataum had to admit it brought them the same warmth to their soul as helping another universe did.

It was a strange way to spend their day, but they decided it wasn't the worst way to do it.

-----------------------------------------------

"You have to swear to me that if things go sour, you'll call for us." Cross was staring Erratum down with fierce intensity as the other prepared to breach back into the Doodlesphere. Erratum had insisted the best way to approach the creator without starting an immediate conflict would be if they went alone. Cross had not liked this idea but had begrudgingly accepted that they made a valid point. Now, Erratum simply had to bear through his long lecture before they would be able to set off.

"Yes, I've kept a backdoor open into that world that will allow you to enter if it is so needed." Erratum reassured the tense guard, who only sharpened their glare. "I will call for you if things escalate to out-of-control levels." They assured him, which only did so much to relieve his anxieties. "Okay... because I'll be furious if you don't." He reminded him with a flash of gold pulsating briefly in their markings. Errata gave an amused smile, much to Cross's irritation, and rested a hand on his head. "Plus, I need you to stay behind. Reaper agreed to help with T.K, but so did Fresh. I would appreciate you ensuring neither of them pushes him too far. Even if they are Time's champion, they are still a child." Cross softened his expression a bit and sagged his shoulders with a sigh. "Yeah... I get what it's like to have such high expectations on your shoulders from a young age..." He agreed.

"Just as you trained Blue to find his strengths, I know you can help T.K to hone his powers without becoming... well," Erratum gave a soft laugh as they gestured to themselves. "In over their heads." They watched as Cross rolled their eyelights at this. "Yeah, no need to tell me twice. Get 'em while they're young before they become workaholics trying to fix the entire multiverse's problems."

"This feels like a personal attack."

"You'd be correct."

Erratum gave him a soft smile before a rift opened up behind them. "All right, I really must be going now. I will call for you if things go poorly, all right?" They insisted, to which Cross gave them a doubtful look but nodded regardless. Erratum knew there would be no convincing him entirely but was thankful he was willing to trust them regardless. Erratum stepped through into the vast floating island-like area before the rift closed behind them.

All they needed to do now was wait. The creator would come for them.

They settled themselves on the ground, folding their legs and waiting for the creator to appear. They weren't entirely certain what they were going to say, but they had a basic outline of what they wanted to convey to him. They hoped that was enough to springboard off of, and of course, that the other would be willing to listen to them. They perked up a bit as Ink suddenly landed on the ground a few feet away from them, looking less than pleased to see the god.

"You."

Ink's eyelights were a bright red, locked onto the passive Guardian sitting on the floor of the Doodlesphere. Erratum was watching them, appearing relaxed in stature though they were completely on guard with the artist present. "Are you that eager to die or something?" He growled as his brush bounced anxiously in his hands. Erratum shook their head a bit, not moving off the floor despite the other's hostility.

"No, this isn't about fighting. In fact, the best way to start this off is by apologizing."

Ink narrowed their eyes a bit, shapes shifting within them as he tried to understand what the other meant. "This whole multiverse 'war', the divide between universes, the way others have begun to scorn you," They could see the flash of some unidentified emotion pass briefly over his face as they said this. "It all has a common factor, and that is myself. I didn't know you or your story well enough to draw a proper conclusion, and yet I did anyway. For that, I am genuinely sorry, Ink." Erratum appraised the artist the entire time, trying to gauge how the other would take this.

"You think that means anything to me?" Ink snarled, though the rapidly shifting shapes in his eyes spoke volumes to Erratum about how the other actually felt about it. Erratum briefly wondered if anyone had ever owned up to a mistake to the creator before. Perhaps they all placed their flaws and faults on him for creating them in the first place. Erratum quickly brought themselves back to reality as Ink continued to glower at them. "You attacked me, you destroyed my worlds, you turned my friends against me, and a sorry is what you have to offer me??"

"Not necessarily, no. I want to make things right and explain to everyone what's truly going on here." Erratum insisted, getting to their feet now as Ink continued to show rising levels of hostility. The artist tensed as they did, but the god made no move to attack him. "They need to know why I'm here, why Dream and Nightmare are essential to the multiverse, why you make your worlds, which is something we can accomplish togeth-"

"What do you mean, 'why I make my worlds'?" Ink cut them off with a sneer. "You might win everyone else over by acting all-knowing, but that facade doesn't work on me. You know nothing about me!" Erratum gave him a sad expression, which only made Ink want to crack their skull all over again.

"Ink..." Erratum sighed heavily at the resistance the other was putting up. "I've been around nearly as long as you have. I've heard your stories from the Guardians themselves, I've seen your past, your actions, and your life through memories and through direct observations. I know more about you than you can remember about yourself." Erratum watched the other back up slightly, putting more distance between them. "I saw your creation by Fate; I live in the same place you were created!"

Ink seemed to freeze at this, looking uncomfortable at the mention of the antivoid. "The... the white place?" The slight tremble in his voice was audible, and Erratum had the natural urge to comfort him immediately. They resisted, however, and simply nodded their head. "Yes, though it is much different now that I'm there. I can manipulate that plane with almost no limitations, and endless white was simply not what I saw as homely. So, I changed it to be more inhabitable." Erratum explained to him. "I'm... sorry you were left there for so long. Alone and confused... I'm certain it was a horrible experience."

"Don't pretend to care. You would just as soon find joy in my death." Ink snapped at the audacity the other had to say this. "Not at all!" Erratum instantly denied with a wide-eyed stare. "Just like myself, you were never asked to be made. You were never asked if this," They gestured around to the floating land they were on, looking up at the hanging paper that decorated the world. "Was the life you wanted. We were created with a purpose from a higher being and we're doing the best with what we have." They watched as Ink wavered a bit, face contorting between agony and outrage. "I thought you made worlds on a whim, just because. I thought you made cruel worlds as an experiment... but I was wrong. I was so very wrong." The grim expression made Ink feel a wave of anxiety in the cavity of their chest, as though the other knew some terrible secret about him.

"Why didn't you tell any of them?"

Ink furrowed his brow bone a moment, attempting to understand what they were talking about. "Tell who what? What are you talking about?" He demanded of them, brush held in front of him threateningly. "Stop being cryptic and vague and just tell me up front!"

"About the voices. The muses that speak to you."

Ink felt that rolling wave of anxiety spike to new levels. "How..." He breathed as Erratum continued to watch him tremble and panic. "You can't know that... you can't possibly know about that!" He denied frantically as he backed even further away from the god. "There are many things I have the unfortunate knowledge of. In the end, it doesn't matter. I want to help you, not hurt you, Ink. I know it may not seem that way after everything that's happened, but I sincerely mean that!" They tried to reason with him, but they could see the other was hesitant to believe him in his defensive state. "I don't want your help!" Ink spit the words out hatefully, shaking off the anxiety with a quick taste from his red vial. "You're just trying to manipulate me!"

Erratum made a frustrated noise as they rested a hand on their forehead. "I just need you to give me a chance to prove it to you!" They continued their attempts to appeal to him, but Ink didn't seem willing to hear them out any longer. "You lost any chance to ask anything of me!" Ink swiped his brush forward, a slew of paint heading Erratum's way. The god jolted as Verse appeared before them, expanding their window and absorbing the messy attack. Erratum quickly hit the download button, watching a cloud of binary hover in the air beside them.

A blob of paint appeared from the code, falling to the ground with a crude 'SPLAT' while Erratum stared at it. Ink stared as well, befuddled and confused by the 'attack' the other made.

"I'm... not certain what I expected." Erratum admitted as they glanced away from the stain on the ground. They couldn't wield ink and paint the way the creator did, after all. Ink shook their head, snapping themselves out of their trance, and glared at the other. "You can't prove squat to me, so you might as well leave before I put another crack in your skull!" He threatened, but Erratum blinked at the words.

Maybe they could prove it.

Erratum held their hands up as the other took a threatening step forward. "What if I could?" They questioned, watching Ink give them a peculiar look and slightly lower their brush. "What are you talking-"

That was all the distraction they needed to shoot their strings forward. Ink gave a choked gasp as they pierced through the frontal bone of their skull, leaving no damage in their path into his mind. Once again, Erratum found themselves experiencing these memories in a first-person view from the creator's perspective.

They could see the shapeless form of Fate, cupping them in their hands as magic burned and throbbed within their chest to the point it was nearly unbearable. A sickening popping sensation resonated within their chest as shattered pieces escaped through their ribs. The pieces scattered like shrapnel, leaving a cold, empty and numb feeling within their body.

This wasn't enough, Erratum knew they needed more than this.

They could hear the soft words of Fate whispering to them, seeming to coil around their entire body.

"-My wonderful creation, and you shall show-"

Everything was fading in and out, and Erratum quickly recalled their theory that Ink may not have been fully conscious, or even entirely sentient yet, when this was being explained to him.

"-Too much, and the multiverse will-"

"-Will make due to give you the emotions the others-"

"-Create, my wonderful-"

Erratum broke away from their hold on his mind, trembling as they fell onto their knees. Their ears were ringing, marrow dripping from the acoustic meatus as they gasped for air. Marrow ran from their nose, and they could even taste it in their mouth. Their body was pushed to the limit trying to pull forward these memories to experience them, and they could feel how much energy it sapped from them. Their head felt like it could cave in and crumble away under all the pressure within their skull.

Ink was hunched over, black ink on the ground below him where he had presumably vomited from the experience. He looked up slowly to Erratum, face unreadable as the god tried to keep themselves from simply collapsing forward altogether. "I don't..." Ink trailed off, his voice raw from the screams he had let out. Erratum nodded weakly at his words, fatigue visible in their eyes. "I can see... why you may not have understood what they explained to you." They huffed out weakly. "You were hardly aware..."

"I don't understand..." Ink whispered as he clutched onto his brush, holding it tight to his body like a security item. "Ink... you're Fate's champion... you're meant to help this multiverse. You can't do it without guidance... without knowing what to do. Let me help you..." They touched Verse's screen, pulling forth a small shard from it. Ink stared wide-eyed, recognizing the fragment from the flashes of memories he had seen. "I know I can do it... I can help... I can save you." Ink watched as the small shard retreated back into the task menu, hands trembling as he dropped the brush in his hands. "I..." He clenched his eyes closed and gritted his teeth.

"NO!"

Erratum jolted a bit at the sudden outburst. "No...?" They grunted as they pushed themselves up with great effort. "Ink, please, I-"

"I don't TRUST YOU!" Ink shouted as he groped around his sash a moment in a panic. "You're... you're trying to trick me! How do I know those are even my memories? How do I know you aren't fucking with me?! You're trying to appeal to my emotions, my vulnerable side." He clenched his teeth as he withdrew a white vial from the edge of his sash, eyes peering at them with a wild expression.

"But I won't let you."

Erratum watched the other down the white vial with a frantic swallow, feeling a rising sense of dread in their stomach. Ink leaned forward and vomited a sludge brown slew of paint onto the ground, body stiff as he panted and braced his hands on his knees. He stayed that way for a while, the oppressive atmosphere weighing Erratum down further. Ink finally moved after another tense moment of silence, turning their head upward to stare at Erratum.

Their eyes were reduced to small, white pinpoints. Something about them brought genuine fear to Erratum's soul.

"Ink?" Erratum cautiously called out to him, watching the creator pick up their brush and appraise it with a blank expression. They glanced up to Erratum again after another moment, those same dead eyes staring straight through them. Then, suddenly, he launched himself at the Guardian.

Erratum gasped as their wall shot up for protection, but the fierce slam of Ink's brush combined with Erratum's already exhausted magic reduced it to nothing but pixels. Erratum stared with wide eyes as the artist swung the brush around with practiced ease, slamming it into the side of their ribs and sending them careening to the side. Erratum gave a shout of pain as they slid across the Doodlesphere's floor, winded and stunned from the sudden attack. They quickly noticed the warning window before them, barely rolling away in time to avoid the handle of the brush slamming down where their head would have been.

"Ink, stop!" Erratum shouted, wincing as they pulled themselves to their feet. "I don't want to fight you! Just-" They had to dodge a few more slews of paint, the other giving them no time in between attacks to even consider retaliating in any way. The artist moved one hand to the side, summoning a blob of floating black ink just above his hand. He flourished his hand, the ink snaking around and shifting to his will. It lashed out like a whip, which Erratum barely had time to avoid. The ink wound around their wrist, however, as it obeyed the command of its wielder. Erratum retaliated by shooting forth their own strings, which caused Ink's focus to switch to them and the ink holding Erratum to dissipate. The artist lashed out with their brush, a wave of red paint coating and dissolving the strings as they made contact. Erratum stared on with shock as they did, never having seen anything able to destroy the threads they had made.

Ink seemed to appraise the puddle of red paint on the ground, growing still again as he did so. Erratum took that moment to slowly begin to approach again, step-by-step, trying not to make it obvious. "Ink... please, we don't have to do this. We don't have to fight."

"You lie to Ink." Erratum stopped as the artist spoke, never taking his eyes off the red paint. "You hurt Ink. We won't trust you." The god noted the odd speech pattern the other adopted, assuming it was the result of whatever he had taken before he attacked. "I admit that I was wrong, that I've handled things poorly. Trust is something I want to earn from you, and I can only hope that I can prove to you that I truly want to help." That seemed to trigger a reaction from the artist, who moved their hand up again. Suddenly, the red paint jumped to life, flying toward Erratum in a surprise attack.

"We don't want your help."

Erratum gave a pained wail as the red paint collided with their face, slathering both orbits down to the sphenoid bones. They grasped at their sockets, only able to feel the burning pain as they desperately dug at the paint that blinded them. Their fingertips burned as they became coated with the paint covering their eyes, only bringing forth more searing pain. It was agonizing, and they felt for a moment that they truly might die at the hands of the creator.

But then, they could hear the sound of crackling magic and sense new souls entering the Doodlesphere. There was a brief sound of scuffling and screams, but they couldn't separate whose voice belonged to who, and they certainly couldn't see them. After a few agonizing minutes, they felt a set of arms attempting to hoist them up. They resisted immediately, uncertain who was attempting to manhandle them.

"Errata, relax! Shit, just hold still. Verse, open a portal back!" Erratum was relieved to hear Cross's voice. "I can't see!" They didn't mean for it to come out as frantic as it did, but they were terrified and completely defenseless. Cross hushed them, trying to keep them calm and their head still. "Blue, come on! Just leave him here, he doesn't take priority over Errata!" So Blue was here too? Of course, their call would reach out to both of them. They could feel it when they passed back through to their plane, landing on their back with their head in someone's lap. "Geno! Get some water, as much as you can carry in a bowl!" They heard Cross command. They listened to the sound of feet crushing grass around them, hurrying around in a frantic manner.

"Hold still,"

Erratum arched and jerked as water poured into their sockets, washing out the paint left behind from the attack. Cross sat them up after a minute, helping them drain the water from their sockets. The god gave a few hard blinks, staring at the fuzzy image of Cross in front of them. "Errata!" Cross breathed out in relief as he saw their eyelights again. "Are you okay? Can you see?"

"A little?" Erratum replied, reaching their hand out to feel how far the other was from them. "Shit... um, maybe it's temporary. You'll heal, right? You'll be fine." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "Brah," Fresh frowned as a metal bat appeared in their hand, moving to rest it on his shoulder. "It's on sight, my dude. On sight." Erratum shook their head quickly at this, not wanting to escalate this further. "No, we can't do that. He doesn't understand, and it was clear he wasn't in the right mindset. I'm not sure what was in that vial but-"

"Wait," Blue cut them off with a concerned frown. "What colour was it?"

"White?"

Blue huffed out a frustrated breath. "That's what I thought. Whenever he did that back when we were fighting as the Stars, he would just lose all control. He'd vomit this gross brown crap and then just attack, no mercy and no restraints." He recalled with a frown. "It was always kind of scary to watch." Erratum swiped uselessly at the air toward Blue, frustrated they couldn't properly see him to comfort him. "I believe it's a mixture of all the other paints he has consumed. It sets him to a blank state with no emotions, and apparently with no ability to hold back." They felt Blue press against their side in a hold, smiling softly as their champion squeezed onto them.

"Well," Cross sighed as he leaned against Erratum. "At least you called for us... a little late, but I guess it's something." He grumbled. "It wasn't going bad until the very end. I did what I promised to do, didn't I?" They felt the skeleton give another hard sigh. "Yeah... you're not gonna hear the end of this though. I'm gonna have to go back to following you everywhere you go again."

Great.

Now that the adrenaline had faded, a dull painful throb settled within their sockets. Fear gripped their soul as they silently wondered if their eyes would ever get any better than what they were now. What use would they be if they couldn't see? How could they navigate and assist others if they couldn't even see three inches in front of their face? They would be useless, worthless as a Guardian. They had too many people relying on them; they couldn't become the one relying on others.

As if sensing their rising distress, Blue and Cross pressed closer to them in a futile attempt to provide comfort. The rest of the group remained quiet as Erratum's breath gave terrified hitches every so often, trying to accept the sudden debilitating injury. 

A/N: WHOOPS.

My hand slipped.