"In the next following sentences, I will explain a very complex concept to my followers. I will store this report in my addendum for further notice.
There is a layer of reality that cannot be seen with the naked eye. This reality borders on the edge of our reality and a seemingly uninhabited reality. It is a form of purgatory, and can manifest monsterkind's deepest nightmares. There is a subject in my experiment who entered the alternate reality. When I questioned her about the world, she stared at me and muttered,
'The puppetmasters. They control all.'
I will keep the subject in for further testing.
- W. D. G."
Frisk's eyes open wide. They seem to be in a bedroom. The spirit disappeared again. They stood up of the bed and opened the wooden door across the room. The walls are rusted again.
'Not again...'
The narrow hallway was illuminated by Frisk's cellphone light. There was writing on the wall. Each new message unnerved the human more.
"Child, how are you?"
"What are you doing?"
"What is that on your hand?"
"Wait, what?"
They received a new voicemail.
"All your fault."
Frisk reached the end of the hall. The door stood like a sentinel. Like a rope ready to hang them. Their hand shakily grasps the cold doorknob. They quickly open the door bracing for whatever was awaiting them across the door.
Darkness.
Deep breaths. Frisk's eyes refocus on the sight before them. It was a mess. Dust spattered all over the once pristine walls. Their body heaved like they were heavily wounded. They look down at their abdomen to find a severe burn wound. Reality came back to them as pain seared through the wound. The skin was singed off. They ran to the kitchen, and to the sink. They sat down on the counter and ran cold water over the burn.
It stung, but it was helping very much. The pain subsided, giving them the chance to grab some ointment from one of the drawers. They grabbed a towel hanging on the stove. The pain started to surge within them again. Adrenaline rushed through them as they took off their shirt, quickly applied the ointment, and wrapped the towel around their stomach. They put their shirt back on and sit down.
Panting, Frisk started to put some things together in his mind. They had been obviously burned by an unknown assailant, but the question still remained: Was it accidental or on purpose? They thought of all the people who could use fire.
'Wait a second...Tor-"
Groaning. Frisk stood up slowly, hearing the audible sound. They trembled in place. Frisk opened the door widely, an undeniable dread filling them. They were in the living room again.
"Why did you?" A feminine voice rang out.
Frisk could hear the sound of...a music box? Pop goes the weasel. The hallway leading to their room and Toriel's was dark. Frisk once again turned on their phone. The walls once again reveal a message.
All your fault.
At the bottom of the scratched in "t", there was an object pinned to the wall. Frisk knew it was the same object as before.
The knife.
They had been treating it like a messager. One that would bring the delivery of death. A harbinger, to say the least. Arrows were carved in the wall. Leading to a lone mirror. Their reflection stared at them, seemingly with a depressed look. Their hand touch their own in the reflection. They blinked.
In the mirror, their reflection changed.
The brunette staring at them had ruby red eyes, a green and yellow stripped sweater, and short shorts (as one would call it). Frisk couldn't look away from her gaze. Their eyes admired the rosy red cheeks and that eerie smile that petrified them to the core. Their hand pulled away from the mirror and saw that, in the exact spot their hand was on, there was a bloody handprint on it. Frisk observed the print before they felt an agonizing pain in their head.
Their hands grab their head roughly, but the minor pain was in no way compared to the headache they were having. They closed their eyes tightly. The pain started to subside and Frisk's eyes flashed open. They were laying on a bed. Their room in Toriel's house. In a way, it was different.
The room was a bright red color.
Frisk was unnerved, to say the least. Their hands slowly pull the sheets off them. Their gaze never left the inscription painted into the wall, in a dark ink. No, not blood, but it was something akin to it. The same phrase was written in the same ink on all the walls of the room.
But nobody came.
They stood in the middle of the room. Their eyes focused on the door leaving the room, chained and locked with an ancient padlock. It was rusted, but functioned well. They thought back to the events before. One struck out like a sore thumb.
The girl in the mirror.
They never saw the spirit again since they walked through the passageway to Toriel's house. They looked to one corner, and a jack-in-the-box with a note on it:
"My favorite."
Their phone started ringing. The caller was Toriel. Frisk was reluctant to pick up, but decided to do it anyway. They answered.
"My child, would you like some butterscotch pie?...Why aren't you answering?...Please answer me, dear...Why do you have a flower sticking out of your mouth?...Is that?...Oh my...are you okay?"
The call ended. Frisk examined the box, missing a handle to turn. They walked to the closet in the back of the room and pulled it open. Inside was the knife, holding another note. They tore the paper off the wall and read it.
"Picture of me and my little brother."
Frisk stared at the photo, two figures in the picture. Their faces were scribbled out with permanent marker. They also noticed something else about one of the figures.
Someone drew a smiley face in red marker on its scribbled out face.
They put the photo back and walked to the drawers in the other corner of the room. I pulled one out and found a screwdriver along with a tape recorder in it.
"Log date 09 20 0X. The subject is in critical condition. Further attempts to help the subject recover is turning futile. Our chances of her surviving is very slim. However, we must hope for the best and find the last piece of data to accomplish our research. The whole Underground is depending on it. Signing out, W. D. G."
'W. D. G.' doesn't ring a bell in Frisk's mind. They place the recorder back inside the drawer and take out the screwdriver with them. They go back to the jack-in-the-box and insert the screwdriver in the hole where the handle is supposed to be. It fit, to Frisk's surprise. They test it out, turning it slightly and it was sturdy. They keep turning it, and the music starts to play. It sounds melancholic, but soothing.
The top popped open to reveal a flower, and on the petals was a key. Frisk takes the key and unlocks the door. They walk out the threshold and onto the hallway ahead. The door slams behind them. Frisk jumps in surprise and continues down the hallway. Using their phone as a source of light, they walk down the long hallway.
Its looping again.
The hallway began to become ruined, deteriorated. The wall turned into the same rotting condition and water dripped from the damp ceiling. They kept going, albeit faster due to the new realization. Frisk got another call. From Toriel.
"Run."
The phone started to emit a screeching noise, and a thick dread was weighed onto their shoulders. They start to jog. A new sound appeared which made them run swifter.
Groaning.
Frisk turned around to see the mass of dust fused to create the shape of the inhabitants of the Ruins pursuing them yet again. The sounds of groaning and crying only gave them a reason to run faster. The sound of the static intensified the chase so that there were no room for errors. Their legs began to give, but they wouldn't become a victim to this abomination. A tentacle slithered to Frisk's leg, and they started to kick back.
"Let me go!"
The monster had gotten ahold of their leg and started to pull them towards it. Frisk shined the cellphone light at and pulled away from the beast, running as fast as they can. It was impossible, but the creature caught up with them. Within the static, they could hear a voice.
"...Give up..."
Frisk encountered a dead end. They cursed to themselves as he smacked the wall, trying to knock it over. He futility pounded on it. Their back hit against the cold wall and they prepared for the end. As the horrific mass of dust pushed itself towards me, and stopped a few feet from me. I searched for what made them stop. In the corner, shining on the cellphone light was what made them stop.
The knife.
It was embedded in the wall, cracks appearing that dark, thick liquid spilled out of, like blood spilling out of an open wound. They looked back to the monster, its body squirming and twitching like it was intimidated. Out of instinct, Frisk pulled the knife out of the wall. They held the weapon with two hands, and moved forward.
"Get away!"
They slashed the weapon at the creature and surprisingly, the beast was hit. As they backed away from the creature, they saw they had created a deep wound by slashing diagonally from the chest. The monster didn't have anytime to react and froze there, unmoving. The same black liquid exploded from it, soaking Frisk's body. The burning sensation they felt was singing their skin. It quickly dissipated. They were left there, their screams of pain left unnoticed.
Chanting started in their head as they kneeled down.
"You called for help."
"You called for anyone."
"But nobody came."
Frisk was now laying on the cold, wet floor, the burning never ceasing. They were about to pass out. They closed their eyes. The sound of a scream echo through their ears. They open their eyes.
Toriel.
Frisk was now on their feet, staring wide-eyed at Toriel, their eyes focusing on the wound on her body.
The exact same wound on the monster.
"Do...do you...really...hate me that much?" She wheezed, obviously in pain.
A tear went down her cheeks as she instantaneously fell, limp on the floor. Her body turned to dust as they stood there, softly sobbing.
"No...why?" Frisk asked between deep threads.
Their focus changed to the object resting in their hand.
The knife.
Frisk threw the knife down. They kicked it simultaneously, stomping on it with their shoes. They heard a crack as the blade shattered beneath their feet. They turned back to the dust that now covered the floor. They kneeled and saw the note on the floor, sealed in an envelope.
"My dearest child,
I am writing this in hopes that you will recover from your illness. Your mother, father, and siblings have the best of hope for your well-being. It is so lonely without you here, without you to help us through our day. We hope you are feeling better.
With hope, Toriel, Asriel, and Asgore."
They guessed that there was nowhere to go but ahead. The hallway leading to the exit was a quiet journey. As they entered the next room, Flowey sat inside.
"Wow. I admit, I am astonished. You single-handedly killed every worthless monster in the Ruins. I applaud you for that. You never even looked remorseful for your actions."
Every word from this imposter made Frisk want to personally punish the little weed even more.
"You're not a human, are you?"
Given the description he gave them, they were less of a human than Flowey.
"You're not a monster either. Then what are you? A...demon? Well, that doesn't matter anymore. The point is that you and I aren't so different after all, aren't we?"
Flowey's smile appeared.
"You're Chara, are you?"
They shook their head.
"No? You're lying, are you? Golly, you were always such a trickster, weren't you? I have an idea. Why don't we plunge this entire place into misery?"
"It sounds fun." Frisk smiled.
What? They didn't do that?
"I knew you would be on the plan. Let's turn 'em all to dust."
They nodded, giving Flowey the satisfaction he wanted.
"See you, Chara."
The flower disappeared underground. Frisk scratched their head. Chara didn't ring a bell in their head. The spirit stood beside them again, its entire body enveloped in black. No facial features. They pressed on, pushing over the doors at the end.
It was dark outside, snow heavily falling. The phone started to ring.
"...It's cold..."
