Undersworn

Chapter 3: RESET

Darkness crept in around the edges of Sans' vision. The human struck again, the blade slicing through the air just to Sans' left, glinting in the sun streaming in through the windows. With a thought, he shot several dozen bones at them in return, spinning and spiraling in complex patterns he had perfected to be nearly impossible to avoid. The human evaded all of them with barely a scratch to show for it. Dodging another attack, Sans gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. Giant canine skulls wheeled through the air expelling beams of luminous energy, flashing blue attacks and ominous cages of bones filled the room, slicing back and forth. The human danced through it all with wild abandon, always advancing on Sans, forcing him to dodge strike, after strike, after strike. One wild slash got a little too close for comfort, and Sans reached out to touch the human's soul, however vile it was. He turned it blue, slamming the human to the floor, then the ceiling, the walls, the floor again. Each time the human twisted itself midair, landing on its feet and jumping just before deadly bones skewered them to whatever surface Sans had forced them onto.

Exhaustion wracked Sans' body. Each time he evaded a blow from the human, it became harder. Still he forced himself to fight, his attacks only getting stronger, faster, more complex. He couldn't afford to lose. If the human got past him, all would be lost. Nobody was behind him to finish the job. Or was this time different? The only way to find out was to keep fighting. Buy Alphys the time she needed. If his plan worked, they might get an end to all of this. If it didn't, hey, who could blame a skeleton for trying?

The sounds of energy blasts filled the judgement hall, overlaid by the crackling of twisting bones and the occasional thump as Sans slammed the human into various surfaces in attempts to throw it off guard. Just one mistake from the human was all Sans needed, all he needed to doom its quest to kill everyone. But then again, it would just try again right? Death was no object to this fiend. It would come back, over, and over, and over again. It would try until…

A wave of ethereal energy washed over the room, causing a shudder to pass through Sans' body, momentarily throwing him off balance. His attack went wild, crashing into one of the room's many grand pillars, the magic dissipating off of the stone. Seeing its opportunity, the human attacked, carving a wide gash through Sans' chest. He looked down at the wound with surprise, as did the human. Neither of them had expected him to go down this early.

With a grunt, Sans fell back onto the ground, clutching the wound with one hand, and holding himself in a sitting position with his other. He could feel his soul trying to break and dissolve into the void, but Sans forced it to stay, tying him to this world for just a few moments longer.

"guess i lost this one, huh?" Sans said, forcing a smile. That feeling, what had it been? The human hadn't noticed it. He guessed it didn't matter anymore. He was about to die, then he would wake up again without any memory of this day, to live out this petty human's power fantasy again.

As he felt himself begin to drift off, Sans caught a glimpse of a bright light out of the corner of his eye. Forcing his body to comply, he turned his head to look. The human did as well. A glowing figure strode into the hall, its finer features obscured by the luminescent halo around its body. A faint chuckle ran through Sans' body. Alphys had pulled it off. It looked like his plan had worked after all. "oh bud, ya should've just gone down to me." Sans began to crumble into dust, a smile painting his face. "but i guess it takes a human to beat a human, or six of them, to be precise." With that, Sans let go, allowing himself to fade into the darkness.


Frisk stared at the being in front of him. From what Sans had said, it possessed the six human souls, but who held them? It wasn't Flowey, that much was clear, and he'd killed Flowey earlier. It didn't look like Asgore, or anybody else that was still alive that Frisk knew of. What monster stood in front of them?

"It doesn't matter." Chara whispered to him. "They'll just have to die too." For once she didn't follow up with one of her chilling giggles, or a snarky comment. For the first time since Frisk had met her, Chara was scared. The figure approached them, walking without the sound of footsteps.

"You have really made a mess of this place? Haven't you?" It said mournfully, shaking its head slightly. Frisk tightened his grip on the knife. "But you aren't alone, are you? You are the last of us, but you are also the first. Frisk, Chara, or is there a difference anymore?" Frisk narrowed his eyes.

"No more talking." He said, Chara mirroring his words inside his head. A sound approaching a sigh came from the glowing figure.

"Fine then. Have it your way." Frisk felt a blow to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. The figure followed up with a powerful uppercut to his chin, sending Frisk flying back. How fast was this thing? It had attacked him physically, not with magic like the monsters had. Two could play at that game. Frisk let Chara take control, ceding his body's functions to her completely.

Chara stood and brushed herself off, smiling wickedly, cocking her head at the glowing figure. This time when it charged, she swung her knife at it. The figure stopped just short of Chara and caught her wrist mid-swing. It spoke again.

"Give up. You can't win. You're outnumbered."

"Never stopped me before!" Chara exclaimed with a laugh and a smile. She dropped the knife, letting it fall for a split second before grabbing it with her other hand and slashing at the figure's torso. It stepped back to dodge the blow, but the knife passed through about an inch of its stomach. The wound closed instantly, without a trace that it had even landed. The figure let out a laugh.

"Body made of magic. You'll have a tough time killing me with that thing. Speaking of magic…" The figure stretched out its hands and a swarm of magical bullets filled the air behind it. "How about something more familiar?" The attack surged towards her. At first it took the patterns of monsters Chara knew. Froggit, Pyrope, Whimsalot, and many others. Then the patterns became more unpredictable, they combined, split, twisted, struck and withdrew in an endless typhoon of seemingly unavoidable strikes. Her HP dropped. 34.

23.

12.

5.

1.

The attacks disappeared, leaving Chara facing the figure once more. It was more solemn this time.

"You could have been the best of us." It said, sadness creeping into its voice. "We can see it now, you were the best of us. You helped them all, SAVED everybody." A steely edge crept into the figure's voice. "Then you became the worst of us. You slaughtered those you called your friends. You slaughtered our friends." Hate filled Chara's eyes as she stared at the figure, waiting for it to kill her. Before she even saw the figure move, it was there, gripping her by her neck, slamming her into one of the massive stone columns. "They might be monsters, but I can see inside your soul. And in there you are uglier than any of them seem to be on the outside." Chara trembled with hatred, staring into the glowing visage of the six human souls that dared stand up to her. "We are everything you could have been, but are not. We are kindness, patience, bravery, perseverance, integrity—" The figure pressed Chara harder into the column. "—and justice. We will right all the wrongs, fulfill every promise, break all kingdoms and remake them better." The grip on Chara's throat tightened. "We are Honor."

Chara screamed in rage, the cry strangled by the hand at her throat. From the recesses of his own mind, Frisk felt Chara reach for their determination to RESET, but another hand joined her on his soul. Chara howled in rage, and drawing on every ounce of power she possessed, she turned back the timeline.


Just as the void enveloped Honor, the six souls used their power to slow time—for them at least—to a crawl. Darkness surrounded them, and the souls could see each other's distinct forms. Luminescent versions of what their bodies had been in life, glowing the colors of their souls, respectively. They stood there for a while, staring at each other with mixed awe and trepidation. The green soul spoke first.

"What was that about breaking kingdoms? Why did we say that?" She said. The orange soul smiled and laughed for a moment.

"I thought it sounded dramatic. Didn't you?"

"It wasn't just about the drama." The blue soul said. "When we were together, we knew things. Things we don't know apart. And you felt what it was like being Honor. We couldn't have lied if we wanted to."

"So, it means something more then, but what?" The purple soul asked.

"We don't have time for that." The yellow soul said. "Chara is resetting, and we can't count on Alphys creating Honor every time Chara kills everyone. We need to do something"

"What do we do?" The green soul asked.

"Honor had a plan." The cyan soul piped up. "That's why we stopped time, we had a plan, I just can't remember it." All six of the humans thought in silence for a while.

"We can figure it out." The blue soul finally said. "What are our options?" After a moment, the yellow soul lifted up his hand. From one finger, a trail of light stretched up into the void, farther than any of them could see.

"We managed to grab a thread of their Determination. We can send something back with them." The others crowded around the yellow soul to inspect the thread.

"It isn't enough." The purple soul said, adjusting his glowing glasses out of habit. "We don't have a strong enough grip to send even one soul back, much less Honor."

"But—" The cyan soul began, but cut herself off.

"But what?" The orange soul asked her. The cyan soul gathered her confidence and spoke more firmly,

"But Honor has almost complete control of our souls. We could divide them. Send back a fragment."

"What could a fragment of a soul do?" The blue soul asked. "It probably wouldn't even be strong enough to survive outside of a body, which it wouldn't have, because in case you all forgot, we're dead."

"The reset restores the body of any soul it drags back." The purple soul said. "If we sent back a fragment, it would get a body."

"But it would be weak, and alone." The green soul said.

"Chara, or Frisk, whatever we should call that thing, is weak and alone at first too." The orange soul said. "I remember knowing that from being Honor at least.

"Speaking of alone." The yellow soul began, perking up and grabbing the brim of his hat. "We aren't anymore." The other souls looked around themselves in the void, but they felt it before they saw it. A presence, broken in many ways, but maintaining a semblance of what it had been whole. Silver mist began to take shape in the darkness, threading around the souls and gathering into a tall figure near the little cluster they had formed. The mist coalesced into a tall form with an inky black body and a smooth, white, skull-like head, marred by deep cracks. The orange soul stepped out in front of the others.

"Who are you?" The creature cocked its head, then smiled at them.

"That is not important." The creature said in a deep, resonant voice. "I have been alone here for so long, it is nice to finally have visitors." The humans looked at each other nervously.

"We won't be here very long." The green soul said. "The timeline is being res— well, let's just say we won't around for much longer."

"Oh, I know about the resets." The creature chuckled. "I also know all about your current predicament." The humans were silent. "Fortunately, for the moment our goals are aligned. I have a proposition that could benefit all of us."

"What do you mean, a proposition?" The blue soul challenged.

"You are planning on dividing your souls, sending back a soul fragment in the reset, with a little piece of all of you. I wish to add a piece of my soul to the mix." The creature said. "You are right when you say that whatever you send back will be weak, and alone. I could help it. Guide it."

"How do we know you're on our side?" The yellow soul asked.

"You don't." The creature said. "But you frankly don't have much of a choice. You are already spending a large portion of your power just to keep your souls together. Without a monster soul to fuse to, human souls don't particularly like being stuck together. The being you send back would shatter into six useless pieces before it had the chance to take a single breath. Unless, you had my help."

"He's right." The purple soul said. "That is, if you are a monster?" The creature's smile faded slightly.

"I was." He said after several seconds.

"Can you divide your soul? We don't have control of any souls but our own." The purple soul asked. That got a mirthless laugh from the former monster.

"Young one, my soul has already been divided for eons."

"No more time for talking. We need to act now." The yellow soul said, eyes trained on the thread of Determination. "It's happening." The souls gathered together, each placing a hand over the yellow soul's hand. When they had all joined, they began to glow with Honor's light once more. The monster stretched out a hand, and without touching them, a jagged shard of white light, flickering pitifully, floated out from his palm. It drifted into the thread of Determination, where it sat suspended in the void, profoundly alone. The glow around the humans deepened, and one by one, small portions of their souls rose out of their chests. Six tiny fragments joined the shard of the monster's shattered soul in Determination thread. They snapped together with a flash of light, forming a new whole out of the mismatched parts. The tiny soul shot up the length of the Determination, disappearing into the void, to be born in another timeline.


Now, this is the beginning of our story. Our hero is not the powerful, wise, nigh-undefeatable Honor that struck fear into even Chara's cold heart. Our hero is smaller, weaker. Think for a moment. Is it really bravery if you know for a fact that you cannot be beaten? Is it true kindness if lifting your neighbors burden does not add to your own? Is it perseverance if you never fail? Is it patience if you never have to wait? Is it integrity if your morals are never challenged? Is it justice if the guilty can just go back to a time when they were innocent?

Trials make the hero strong, and that strength is what the hero needs to make all of this end. Yes, Honor, the realHonor, is weaker than his predecessor, but his struggles make his honor stronger. Now, back to our story…


A stick poked the boy in the side, jabbing into his ribs hard enough to hurt. It certainly woke him up. The boy scrambled onto his feet, eyes darting about wildly. In front of him was a small child in a striped shirt, peering at him with an odd look in their eye.

"Who are you?" The child asked. The boy thought for a moment. His nerves had quelled some. The child was several inches shorter than him, and didn't look very dangerous.

"I— I don't know…" The boy said, after thinking for a while. "Who am I?" The child snorted derisively.

"Whoever you are, you aren't supposed to be here." The child said, still holding his stick.

"Then how did I get here?" The larger boy asked.

"I don't know." The child said. "You aren't normally here."

"What do you mean normally?" He asked. As soon as he finished the question, a string of memories hit him like a truck. Flashing images of trekking through dark caves, brief moments of frenzied fights, the stinging, cold pains of death. And after that, long memories of darkness, and loneliness. Then, light came to him. Memories of elation, victory, his name! And his purpose.

"Your name is Frisk." The boy said, deep in thought. Frisk's eyes narrowed. He took a threatening step towards the boy, brandishing his stick.

"Who are you?"

"I think… I think my name is Honor." Honor said, clinging to the faint scraps of memories in his mind. Frisk jumped back in shock and fear, holding the stick defensively, before slowly lowering it.

"You look weak." Frisk said, an evil glint catching his eye. "But before I kill you, I want you to tell me how you got here." At that moment, a golden flower popped up out of the ground a few feet away.

"Huh. There's two of you now I guess. Howdy! My name is Flowey! Fowey the—" Flowey cut off its greeting with a yelp as Frisk lunged towards it. The flower tried to pull back into the ground but Frisk caught it by the stem before it could bury itself.

"Oh no you don't!" Frisk yelled, straining and pulling the flower up as far as he could, baring some of the roots, stretching deeper and wider than Honor thought was normal for flowers. Holding the flower's stem just beneath its head, Frisk shook it at Honor. "How did he get here! I reset! He should be gone! What did you do!" The flower scowled, yanking itself out of Frisk's grip and pulling into the ground. It popped up again a few yards away, a terrifying look on its face.

"Never do that again." Flowey said, emphasizing every word. "And how should I know how they got here. I don't even know who they are!" Frisk snorted and turned back to Honor, gripping the stick tighter.

"I guess I'll have to beat it out of you then." He said. Honor took a few steps backward. He didn't like the look on Frisk's face. At that moment, a series of footsteps echoed through the stone chamber, and a tall woman hurried in, covered with fur and with two horns sprouting from her head. A name, Toriel, came into Honor's mind.

"I heard voices, what is going on…" She began, but stopped. Her eyes widened upon seeing them there. "Oh my… two of them…" She cleared her throat, then said, "Greetings young ones! I am Toriel, keeper of the Ruins. You are the first ones to fall down here in a long time." She looked at them nervously. "And this is the first time two humans have fallen at once. This is quite the occasion. Come with me little ones, there is no need to fear." She beckoned them towards her, and she led them out of the cavern. Frisk put on an innocent smile, and began chatting amiably with Toriel. Honor followed them, lagging behind some as Toriel led them through the first few traps of the ruins.

"And what about you little one?" Toriel asked, catching Honor off guard.

"What?" Honor replied.

"Do you prefer cinnamon or butterscotch?" Toriel repeated the question Honor had missed while lost in thought.

"I don't know." Honor replied. "I don't think I've ever had either. Toriel stopped and stared at Honor for a second, shocked.

"You have never tried cinnamon or butterscotch?" He hadn't. In fact, to his knowledge, Honor had never tried any kind of food at all. Frisk shot Honor a dirty look from behind Toriel.

"No, I haven't." He replied simply. Frisk rolled his eyes. Toriel seemed apalled.

"Then whoever has been in charge of feeding you has made a severe misstep. We will have to correct that." She said. Toriel solved puzzles as they came to them, promising she would tell Fisk and Honor about them later. Eventually, they came to an empty room with chutes on the walls. Spikes jutting from the floor blocked their path. Toriel turned to them.

"Oh my, I have forgotten to ask. What are your names?"

"My name? Oh, I think you can call me Frisk." Frisk said, smiling sweetly. Toriel turned toward Honor.

"And you my child?"

"My name is Honor." He said. That seemed to be the only question he could answer with confidence.

"Honor. That is an interesting name." Toriel said. "But a good one. Now, Frisk, could you climb down that chute in the wall? Be careful around the base of it. The floor is prone to break. I need you to press a lever at the bottom…" Toriel guided Frisk through the process of climbing down the chute safely. Meanwhile, Honor wandered off to the far corner of the room, investigating the other chutes. A cracking sound came from the floor beneath him. "Honor? Honor get off of there!" Toriel cried, just as the stone crumbled from beneath his feet.

Luckily, Honor hadn't fallen too far, and a large pile of leaves broke his impact. As he got his bearings, he could hear Toriel above, asking if he was alright. He gave the affirmative, and she instructed him to climb up the chute. As he moved to do so, a splash of color caught Honor's eye. It was a torn red ribbon, lying there in the dirt. He picked it up and eyed it curiously before tucking it into one of his pockets. Pockets. He had pockets. For the first time, Honor eyed his clothes. They were simple shirt and trousers, almost completely gray and bland. Honor sighed. He really knew far too little about himself if he didn't even know where his clothes came from. He scrambled back up the chute to Toriel and Frisk. After checking to make sure he was okay, Toriel told both him and Frisk to stay close to avoid any more accidents.

As Toriel led them on, Frisk leaned over and whispered into Honor's ear.

"I think I'll leave them alive this time, that would be fun. To see the look on your face when they hug me and call me their best friend." Frisk shot Honor another sickly-sweet grin. "The only one I'll kill this time will be you." With a laugh, as if pretending Honor had just said something funny, Frisk skipped back up beside Toriel to talk to her again. I don't know how any of this works, and the only person who knows anything about what I am hates me. Honor thought, his spirits falling. How am I going to do this? How can I bring them to justice if nobody thinks they've done anything wrong?

"You aren't alone." A deep voice said in Honor's mind. "Speaking to you like this takes much effort, and my memories are not perfect either, but know this. You are not alone." Had that voice been inside his head? Neither Toriel nor Frisk looked like they'd heard it. He tried thinking a question he'd heard too many times that day. Who are you?

"You can call me Doctor. Doctor Gaster."


The Missive From the Architect of the Prose (Because Author's Note is too mainstream): Yeah, a little dense, I get it. The story is now getting into the real meat, as the narrator said. Don't worry, it won't follow the linear path of Undertale, it just has the same starting point. I'd like to know your thoughts about the story, I cannot stress how helpful reviews are. My breakdown of my interpretation of magic in Undersworn will be going up on the Undersworn tumblr soon, and apparently I can put a link in my profile, though I can't put it here. Check that out if you're interested, and copy/paste the link into you're search bar if it doesn't work (not-so-subtle begging to check out the story on tumblr).

For a quick peak of some of my magic explanation, I'll explain a line from this chapter. Honor says that Chara's knife can't hurt them because Honor at that time was made of magic. However, that knife was plenty effective against monsters, and monsters are mostly made of magic as well. This can be explained easily enough under my interpretation. There are three classes of magic. Class I magic is the kind that monsters use for most of their magic attacks against you. They do the most damage to human souls, but do not effect human physical bodies. Class II magic is similar to Class I, except it effects the physical world, at the expense of damage against souls. This is the kind of magic that Asgore/Toriel use to heat food. Most monsters are made of a specialized form of this class of magic. Class III magic is widely known as human magic, or color magic. Monsters can learn this kind of magic, but it is much more difficult. Humans themselves can barely use most magic in most cases. Honor's body was a manifestation of Class III magic. Class III magic is less susceptible to physical attacks as class II, thus Chara's knife could not hurt Honor's magic form unless she struck the device in Honor's chest. FYI, ghosts are immune to physical attacks for much the same reason, except they are composed of class I magic, which is most immune to physical attacks due to its ethereality.

If you got through that, what's wrong with you? How much time do you have on your hands? This is just a sub-par piece of fan-fiction, why are you reading up on the magic system? (please keep reading my magic lectures it makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside).