After what felt like an eternity of running through the endless forest, the survivor finally reached the hidden entrance to the Secret Lair. He approached cautiously, eyes scanning the darkness within.He wasn't alone.
Inside—just as the Guardian had warned—the two Newborns were still present. The moment he spotted them, instinct kicked in. He raised his weapon and fired.
The first one went down—barely. It took everything he had. But the second one lunged before he could reload.
They crashed to the ground, grappling in a chaotic struggle. The Newborn was far stronger than it looked—small but unnaturally powerful. It snapped and writhed, trying to bite, claw, and tear. The survivor barely kept its gnashing jaws away from his face.
Just as he began to lose ground—a sudden blow to the back of the creature's head knocked it out cold.The Guardian stood behind it, holding a pipe in both hands, his breath unsteady.
They both got up, standing side by side in the dim hallway.
Guardian:"I would've preferred if you didn't shoot but... that doesn't matter now."
Survivor:"...How long have you been stuck down here?"
The Guardian hesitated. For a moment, he looked like he might not answer. Then he turned silently and began walking deeper into the lair, motioning for the survivor to follow.
Guardian:"...Since the beginning. I got trapped here somehow. I'm still not sure how those... things got inside. But if I hadn't barricaded myself... they would've had me eventually."
Survivor:"...Do you know what happened? How this all began? I need answers."
They entered the monitoring room, a cold chamber filled with old screens and humming equipment. The Guardian sank into a chair, rubbing his face with tired hands.
Guardian:"...From what I've pieced together, it has something to do with the custards. I can't prove it, but... it feels right. And I do know this—it started with Tinky Winky."
His voice lowered.
Guardian:"He killed Po, Laa-Laa, and Dipsy. After that... everything went dark. I don't know what changed him."
The survivor clenched his fists.
Survivor:"...Then those custards I found in the forest—they were traps. I knew something was off. If they're the cause, then that explains the placements. Bait. Infection points."
Guardian:"Maybe. Probably. But we don't have time to sit and debate it. This lair is the last safe place... and it's barely holding together. We need to think fast—and move faster."
Survivor:"Alright... What's the plan?"
Guardian:"I'll handle the Newborn I knocked out. Lock it up—maybe we can study it, figure something out. You... you're better equipped. Search the lair. Anything useful—tools, weapons, logs, power sources. Whatever you can find. Anything could help."
Survivor:"Understood."
Without another word, the survivor turned and headed deeper into the corridors of the Secret Lair, flashlight in hand, the weight of purpose replacing his fatigue.Behind him, the Guardian approached the unconscious Newborn, gripping it tightly as he began to drag it toward containment—before it woke up.
The shadows of the underground base crept around them both. Time was running out. And the infection was no longer spreading... it was watching.
The survivor moved quietly through the dim corridors of the Secret Lair, flashlight flicking side to side, illuminating broken remains of what once may have been useful. Shelves lined with rusted tools, cabinets hanging open with nothing but crushed cans, scattered junk, and the stench of mold.
Every room he checked told the same story: emptiness, ruin, silence.Everything was either broken, burned, or long forgotten.He let out a breath, frustration mounting.
Then—
CRASH!
A loud, metallic smash echoed through the lair, followed by a sharp, gurgling scream.
The survivor's eyes widened.
"The Newborn..."
He bolted, sprinting back toward the monitoring room. The hallway was chaotic now—a mess of scattered tools and shattered glass, as if a storm had passed through.And then he saw it:
A trail of fresh blood, smeared across the floor, leading out toward the lair's exit.
The survivor hesitated only for a second before stepping into the monitoring room.
It was a complete disaster.
The monitors—smashed. The chairs—toppled and broken.And then his gaze locked onto something that made his stomach drop.
On the bloodied floor—an arm.Cleanly severed from the elbow upward.
It was unmistakably the Guardian's.But something was wrong with it.
The flesh—if it could still be called that—was changing, decaying rapidly. The skin had turned a sickly greenish-black, bubbling and peeling like it was being eaten from the inside. Veins darkened to the color of tar twisted along the muscle as it visibly rotted, with fibers twitching unnaturally as if reacting to something unseen.
The survivor stumbled back, breath caught in his throat.
He didn't wait any longer.
Turning on his heel, he sprinted from the room, running through the halls and out of the Secret Lair without looking back.
Meanwhile, in the forest above...
A shimmering ripple cut through the night air—a glitching portal cracked into existence in the middle of the woods, briefly flashing between dimensions like a broken TV signal.
The sudden energy disrupted the nearby camouflage of the hidden Newborns, revealing them where they stood in silence—unnaturally still.
From the glitching portal stepped a tall, cloaked figure with a skeletal frame and glowing eyes that shifted like stars behind fog.
UltSans had arrived.
He stepped out slowly, the portal vanishing behind him with a flicker and a soft hum. His glowing eye dimmed, then adjusted to the darkness.
UltSans:"Welp... nighttime in... wherever I am... Forest, maybe? Trees and... more trees. Could be a park. Dunno..."
He looked around without concern, completely unbothered by the lurking creatures.
The Newborns, watching silently from the brush, didn't move. Normally, they would've rushed an intruder and torn them apart. But Noo-noo had given them strict orders: wait. Be patient.
One of them—larger and quicker than the rest—quietly moved through the trees, still cloaked, holding something in its clawed hands: a glowing custard bowl. It placed it ahead on the path UltSans was walking, then disappeared into the brush.
Unaware, UltSans kept walking until—he paused.
His eyes dropped to the bowl at his feet.
UltSans:"...A pink liquid? What the hell is this? And why's it in a... weird little bowl? This some kind of snack? Like... for people who can't chew or something?"
He crouched down, picking it up carefully.
But as he examined the custard, his expression shifted—slightly darkened, as if a thought had disturbed him.
UltSans:"...Great. Now I'm hungry for thinking about food..."
He sniffed it suspiciously, visibly debating with himself.
After a long pause, he took a cautious sip.
He blinked. Swallowed.
UltSans:"...Meh. Not bad. Could be worse... At least it's edible."
He proceeded to drink the rest like water, finishing the bowl and carrying it with him as he wandered further into the forest.
Behind him, the hidden Newborns remained motionless, watching... waiting.
Back at the forest's edge...
The survivor, now above ground and breathing heavily, followed the trail of blood through the trees.The path led him to something grotesque.
A mutilated Newborn, crumpled against a tree, its body barely recognizable. Its chest was caved in, bones snapped in unnatural ways, as if it had been used like a punching bag by something far stronger than any infected creature should have been able to resist.
He stopped and stared.
This wasn't the work of the Guardian.
Something else had arrived.
Something that didn't follow the rules of this world...