The survivor hesitated, staring at the mutilated corpse of the newborn. Its body was twisted and mangled, as if it had been used as a punching bag by something far stronger than it. He didn't know what could've done it—and honestly, he didn't want to find out. But he didn't have the luxury of time. The Guardian could still be alive… maybe. With a determined breath, the survivor continued onward, following a thin, inconsistent trail of blood droplets that led deeper into the woods.
After a long while of silent pursuit, he finally found him.
The Guardian was slumped against the base of a large tree, head tilted slightly, his body motionless… and horribly changed.
Half of his right arm—gone. Torn off from the elbow up, leaving behind a twisted, infected stump. The area around the wound was blackened and pulsing, veins bulging unnaturally with a sickly green glow. The white of his fur had dulled, patches replaced with dark, cracked skin spreading from the wound like a spiderweb of decay. His face, once determined and proud, was pale, drenched in sweat, and his eyes… they were half-lidded, unfocused.
Yet despite the corruption, he was still recognizable.
The survivor stepped forward, cautiously kneeling in front of him.
Survivor: "Guardian? Are you alright?"
No response. He wasn't moving—but the helmet's readings told the survivor he was still breathing, and burning with a dangerously high fever.
Gently, he pushed the Guardian's shoulder.
Still nothing.
Then, with a sharp gasp, the Guardian jolted—his chest heaving as if dragged from the edge of death. The survivor recoiled slightly from the shock, but quickly leaned back in as the Guardian blinked slowly and turned his weak gaze toward him.
Guardian: "Oh… you're... still alive... good... Listen… you might be the last one left… that thing—it woke up while I was trying to trap it… it bit my arm... tore it off. I… I don't think I'll make it. But you— you still have a chance… You need to leave this place."
Survivor: "And go where? They're everywhere, and I've got no ammo!"
He clenched his fists and stood up, pacing slightly, his body animated with frustration. Then, he knelt again, face-to-face with the Guardian, voice shaking with emotion.
Survivor: "Guardian, you've survived everything since this nightmare began. You even killed one of those things—with one hand! And now, just because you lost your right arm, you're ready to give up?! What will be left if you stop here?! What will you have, if you do nothing?!"
He motioned to the forest around them.
Survivor: "Look at this place! Look around you! You could've saved them—but now they're all dead! Everyone is gone! And you—you're the only living Tubby I've seen in weeks!"
He paused, lowering his hands, his voice quieter but more intense.
Survivor: "You were supposed to protect them. That's what 'Guardian' means. But you hid. And now the world's rotting around us."
The Guardian lowered his gaze, visibly shaken.
Survivor: "…This is your fault. All of it. Because you stopped. You let everything decay while you waited. But there's still a sliver of hope—so take responsibility and act. Let's make the lair safe again, or somewhere! I don't care how hard it is—we'll figure it out. But if you give up now…"
He leaned in.
Survivor: "Then I'll make you stand. Because I'm not dying because you don't want to try. If I have to become your drill sergeant to make that happen—then so be it. You hear me?"
The Guardian didn't speak, but his head slowly nodded. He was trembling—not from fear, but from the war inside him. His eyes shut tight as memories of the original four flashed before him… Po hanging lifelessly… the others screaming in the distance…
And then, with a grunt of effort, the Guardian started to rise. His legs shook violently, body nearly collapsing—but he endured it. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet, sweat dripping down his face.
The survivor stepped forward and offered his left hand.
Without hesitation, the Guardian lifted his own left hand and clasped it—strong and firm. What started as a simple handshake turned into a grip full of renewed purpose.
Survivor: "Glad to see the Guardian finally came back to his senses. I need you—and you need me. Let's get to work, before everything gets worse."
The Guardian gave a slow but determined nod.
But before either of them could speak further, a voice echoed nearby—oddly casual.
UltSans: "Hello? Someone here?"
The two Tubby survivors froze.
Out from the trees walked a tall, humanoid figure—holding an empty custard bowl in both hands, his head tilted in a mix of curiosity and confusion.
UltSans: "…Seriously? This better not be my schizophrenia again… You've gotta be kidding me. No? Just the wind? Great…"
The survivor and Guardian were stunned. Not just by the fact that someone human was standing right in front of them—but by how calm he seemed. And… tall. Very tall.
UltSans noticed something on the ground—the Guardian's hat. His eyes followed it… then trailed to the two Tubby survivors staring right back at him.
A long, awkward silence passed between them.
UltSans blinked.
UltSans: "…Uhm… wow. A mini soldier and… a mini gentleman? I didn't know this world had figurines."
He turned around, calling out again.
UltSans: "Hellooo? Someone else nearby? I heard yelling! Come on—don't make me think I'm hallucinating again!"
No response. The survivor let go of the Guardian's hand, stepping forward with a sigh.
Survivor: "Over here!"
UltSans turned quickly, scanning the area.
Survivor: "Down here, the 'figurines'!"
UltSans looked down—and froze when he saw the Tubby looking up at him.
He blinked, processing.
UltSans (whispering): "…Oh. So… robots? Wow…"
Survivor: "We're not robots! We're Tubbies. Teletubbies!"
UltSans recoiled slightly, his eyes wide, utterly baffled by the reply.
The Guardian stood there, barely balanced, his one remaining hand clenched slightly at his side. His breathing was uneven, and sweat glistened across his pale fur. He looked to UltSans cautiously, watching the tall human as if unsure whether he was friend or foe.
UltSans, meanwhile, blinked a few times, confused and trying to piece everything together. After an awkward silence, he swallowed nervously and spoke.
UltSans: "And... what is a... 'Tubbies'?…"
The survivor let out a heavy sigh, then looked down and slowly shook his head.
Survivor: "I'm a tubby. We are tubbies. We're like you—alive, thinking, sentient. You're human, right?"
UltSans tilted his head slightly but nodded.
UltSans: "Yeah...? I am. But what is a tubby, exactly?"
Survivor: "Tubbies were created by humans, originally. But then... we evolved. We began creating ourselves. We're not robots—well, not really. We're organic. We live, we bleed. We feel."
UltSans raised a brow.
UltSans: "So… like a type of robot?"
The survivor sighed again and rubbed the back of his head.
Survivor: "If that's what helps you wrap your head around it... sure, we're like a type of robot. But it's more complicated."
UltSans: "Right… got it."
A pause fell between them, a strange moment where none of them knew what to say. Then, the Guardian's gaze narrowed as he noticed something in UltSans' hands.
Guardian: "Wait... are you holding a custard?"
The survivor's eyes followed the Guardian's, and UltSans looked down at the strange container he was carrying.
UltSans: "This weird but actually good soup? I guess that's what it's called—custard, huh? Yeah, I found it while walking. Tastes kinda nice, actually."
The Guardian's expression darkened with dread.
Guardian: "No… it's not about the taste. I think… the custards are infected. They're the cause of all of this."
UltSans blinked, clearly startled.
UltSans: "Eh? Infected? Like… parasites or something? You're saying it's the cause of everything? What do you mean by 'everything'?"
Both tubbies glanced at each other grimly, unsure how to explain. But they didn't have time.
Suddenly, a deep, bone-rattling noise echoed through the forest.
CRRRRAAAAAK!
The ground seemed to tremble as something massive stirred. Without hesitation, both tubbies turned and sprinted through the woods toward the ruined secret lair.
UltSans stood frozen for a second, then decided to follow, walking at first—but as the noise grew closer, he broke into a full run.
After a short, frantic dash, they reached the lair—what remained of it. The entrance was shattered, debris scattered across the ground. Emerging from the shadows was a monstrous creature, its twisted form towering and trembling with rage. The Cave Tubby.
It turned toward them, its grotesque mouth twitching, black drool oozing from the corners. Its one eye locked onto the tubbies—and it screamed.
SKRRRRREEEEEEEEEEHH!!
The ground cracked beneath its heavy steps as it charged.
But just before it could close the distance, UltSans suddenly threw the empty custard container—smashing it straight into the Cave Tubby's face. The impact stunned the beast for just a moment.
Seizing the chance, UltSans dashed forward and grabbed both tubbies, one in each arm.
UltSans: "Hang on!!"
And with a burst of speed unnatural for a human, he bolted into the forest. Trees blurred past as he sprinted at breakneck speed, leaves slicing through the air as he cut through the underbrush.
The Cave Tubby roared again, but didn't pursue.
Eventually, UltSans slowed and came to a stop in a clearer section of the forest, setting the tubbies down gently. He leaned forward, panting hard.
UltSans: "What... the hell... was that giant?!"
Guardian: "That was the Cave Tubby… he used to live in the cave by the cliffs. But why did he leave?"
Survivor: "He must've followed me. I came through that cave to enter the forest."
The Guardian frowned but didn't scold. He simply sighed, his voice grave.
Guardian: "Doesn't matter now. The lair's destroyed. We have nowhere safe anymore. We need to get out of Teletubby Land and reach the Satellite Station. It's our only hope."