One child stood with no emotion on their face. Another stood in confusion, fear, and guilt. Ever since Frisk had gotten back on his feet, there was an eerie tension in the atmosphere. Aside from the lingering darkness that surrounded the two, there was also a hint of dread, suffering, sorrow, and every negative emotion in between. Chara couldn't shake off the feeling of someone, or something, watching him, stalking him. It felt as though he stood in the open gape of a monstrosity that was ready to snap shut at any second. He could almost feel the sharp teeth gnawing at his stiff muscles, or the slimy ooze that fell off his skin, or even the sharp, hot breath that flew by him every few seconds or so. Relatively speaking, none of these things existed, but in the darkness that surrounded the hall, he couldn't tell what was lurking inside, or if anything was lurking inside it at all. Once more, the feeling of being watched weighed heavily on his shoulders. Occassionaly, he would dart his eyes left or right to see if there were any signs of life in the impurity that cascaded over his vision of everything. Everything except Frisk. Chara then locked eyes with the emotionless, listless Frisk. He looked completely drained of everything, mentally and physically. There were evident marks all over his body, especially on the left side of his face. Claw marks, scratches, bruises, deep cuts from what could be assumed were caused from the fingernails be had before they fell off. It looked as though none of these seemed to bother him. Chara knew Frisk wasn't one to take pain well. Normally, he'd be crying over a small bruise on his knee from when he fell down hours after it happened.
However, there were no signs of that normal child anymore. His eyes were wide open now, a rare occurrence, and his body looked both limp and stiff. The eye that rapidly changed colors now settled on a dark blue color, much darker than Sans's. His right still remained the beautiful yellow color. The two children just stared at each other. Neither of them moved from their spot. From the darkness around them, Chara could only assume that Frisk wanted to engage in combat with him. However, he hadn't made a single move yet. Was he waiting for Chara? It was strange. Usually, the one who creates the battle area is the one who strikes first. Chara took the first step forward. The ground began to rumble ever-so-slightly before a thin, sharp bone pierced out of the floor where Chara's foot laid. Unable to react, the bone went straight through his left foot. He let out a scream before grabbing hold of the bone, painfully inching his foot up on the length and cutting off the portion under his foot. Holding back his whimpering, Chara quickly pulled out the rest of the bone. He looked over at Frisk and narrowed his eyes. There was no evidence that Frisk had moved at all. Usually, there would be an arm motion or gesture when attacking with magic. The wound around Chara's foot healed rather quickly as he cautiously inched towards Frisk. With each step, he focused on how the ground felt. He pushed all of his weight onto his feet so they could feel anything unusual, such as rumbling or if the ground felt uneven in footing.
After determining that he was close enough to Frisk, three feet away, Chara stopped moving and looked back up at the idle, motionless human. Both of Frisk's eyes were wide open, showing no emotion. Chara could even see his own reflection in them. It were as if Frisk's eyes were replaced with two large glass marbles. His lips were slightly parted and his gaze was focused somewhere above Chara. There was an occasional twitch from his fingers or his arms, but that was the only sign of movement. Chara held the knife tightly in his hand. Unlike with Sans, Papyrus, or even Gaster, Chara had an overwhelming feeling of despair and defeat. Something deep inside of him was constantly nagging at the back of his mind. It kept saying, no, screaming, that he should run. He should reset. However, due to his immense curiosity and slight concern, Chara refused to reset. He wanted to see this to the end. Resetting would be considered a last resort. Suddenly, Frisk's body began to slowly rock side to side. His lips pressed tightly against each other. His eyes narrowed and he looked directly at Chara. He opened both hands in front and looked down at them. There was a brief moment of silence as he continued to stare down at his hands. Frisk let out a quiet groan that fitted an animal on the verge of death. His right hand began to claw at his right eye. The sickening sound of flesh tearing apart filled the hallway to no end. First, it was quiet and subtle. As time passed, the noise grew louder and more violent. Finally, Frisk stopped. He simply closed his right eye and looked back at Chara with his dark blue left eye. His swaying stopped. Chara blinked once and Frisk suddenly vanished. Seeing this trick one too many times, he pivoted on his right heel and turned back to face Frisk. There he was, the same narrowed eyes staring back at him with the same emotional face.
Frisk lunged forward at lightning speed and grasped Chara's throat. Chara barely had any time to react as he fell on his back. His eyes widened as Frisk's grip tightened. He raised his free hand, ready to strike down on Chara. With his instincts kicking in, Chara grabbed the arm that held his throat and cut off Frisk's arm at elbow point. He felt the grip loosen and the arm fall to the side, but also felt the impact of Frisk's fist from his other hand on his forehead. Chara caught a glimpse of Frisk when he lifted his arm back up. From what Chara could see, cutting off his arm had no effect on Frisk. There was no distortion of pain. He prepared to strike back down at Chara again, but with no restraints, Chara rolled off to the side, barely avoiding the strike. Frisk's fist had plummeted into the ground, breaking the marble floor around his fist into pieces. His fist was evidently broken when he lifted up his hand from the smoke it created from the impact. Blood slowly oozed out of each of his knuckles while his fingers were limp and hanging down freely. Still, there was no reaction. No distortion of pain. Frisk looked down at his dismembered arm, then at the open wound of where his arm connected to his body. Blood violently gushed out while his muscles rapidly tightened and loosened. Still, there was nothing on his face. Chara watched as a menacing blue aura surrounded both his broken hand and his cut off arm. He could visibly see and count the seconds as he watched the wounds heal at an incredible like with Chara, a strange substance leaked out of Frisk's cut off arm and the wound on his body, slowly connecting the two. The reconnection scar was clearly visible, but did the job.
Frisk lifted up his reattached arm and moved his fingers around to test if all his nerves were reconnected as well. They moved with ease as if nothing had happened to that arm. After a few seconds of silence passed, Frisk looked over at Chara. A smile slowly stretched its way across his face. The smile wasn't friendly by far, but harbored something more ominous, more dangerous, and more inhumane than the face that carried it. Once again, they both stood in silence. And once again, Frisk made the first move by charging first. This time,Chara expected the sudden dash. He quickly pushed his weight to his right side and dodged the grab aimed at his neck, but felt something latch onto his sweater. Something had extended out from Frisk's hand and grabbed onto Chara tightly. It pulled him towards Frisk and soon enough, Frisk was the one holding onto him. He violently pulled Chara in front of him and lifted his fist up once more. He brought it down with such force and speed that it pierced the air with a high screech. Narrowly dodging the strike, Chara held up his knife and cut off Frisk's arm once more. He then kicked Frisk off of him and rolled backwards onto his feet. He stumbled a few times from the momentum that force him backwards. After tripping over a crack in the ground, he fell onto his back with a loud thud. Chara tried to get up as quickly as he could, but Frisk was quick to pin him to the ground. Not so much as pin, but impalement. Chara's elbows, knees, hands, shoulders, and feet were impaled by the bleached-looking bones. Each time he moved, a searing pain soared throughout his body. The pain felt different, it felt unnatural. It felt different from when he would get cut into pieces or when he had broken something. It felt worse than those. That was when he realized that what he was feeling wasn't his own pain, but someone else's. It didn't pulse through his body when he moved, but came in waves as if it were being forcefully pumped into him. With each new wave of pain that came, he swore he could hear something, or someone. There was a faint noise that followed each pulse. He could barely make out what was being yelled. From the burning pain and the monster that stood over him, trying to figure out what muffled words he heard was on the bottom of his list things to currently do. However, the Frisk that sat on his stomach refused to move. He simply just stared down at Chara with those menacing eyes that pierced directly into his soul. The same eyes that he'd met so many times in his past lives. As one eye released a translucent tear, the other let out a darkened blue tear. The visible black heart pulsed gently next to Frisk's frame as the black substance that coated over it slowly oozed and dripped off. Chara watched as one side of Frisk was engulfed in rage and misery while the other side covered itself with anguish, remorse, and regret. From where he laid and where Frisk sat, Chara knew he was looking at two different sides of the same person, and one side should've never existed in the first place. He knew this was his fault. He was the one who had pushed Frisk to his limit and forced him to endure all the misery that was the Genocide route. Chara could visibly see that Frisk was suffering, even in this enraged, beast-like state. He could have never imagined the internal confliction Frisk had all this time. Chara swore that if he ever made it out of this alive, if, by some chance, Frisk was defeated and Chara was given the opportunity to reset, he'd never make Frisk endure another Genocide.
"Frisk…" Chara spoke softly. Frisk replied with only grunts and heavy gasping, each exhale releasing a wave of steam. "Frisk, I'm so-" Before Chara could finish his sentence, an arm grasped his throat tightly. Frisk's left arm. His right hand tightly grasped his left wrist as if it tried to pry off the hand around Chara's throat. His face was in constant peril, shifting between a menacing grin to a face fit for sobbing. Chara could see Frisk's body tremble, but he couldn't tell if it was from anger or from fear. He could constantly feel Frisk's grip around his throat loosen and tighten. He would be teased with a bit of air, then would have his throat clasped shut once more. It was annoying, but at least it was enough to keep him alive. Chara decided that he would stop resisting. The further they fought, the further Frisk moves from himself. The fighting was obviously conflicting with his new "soul" and is causing errors within his body. Chara relaxed his body and just let Frisk do whatever he pleased. Whether it was kill or spare, Chara accepted either. His body was in no condition to press the reset button and he would either be slain or be kept alive. As it stands, there's a much higher chance of him dying rather than living, and he accepted that fact. He did terrible things t the monsters of the underground and knew that this was nowhere near being able to repent. He could slowly feel the life drain out of him as Frisk's grip finally chose an option, permanently tight. He couldn't let any air in or out. He could feel his body going numb from the lack of oxygen. The thumping in his chest was slowly failing. The knife he held fell out of his hand. With the last remaining energy he had left, Chara used his own shadow to grab hold of the knife. It easily cut through the bone and flesh of Frisk's arms. The tip was just close enough to penetrate Frisk's neck by an inch. Chara gasped for air and used his shadow to pull off the bleached bones that stuck him to the ground. Frisk's body fell on top of him. There was no rise in his chest. Chara could only assume that he was slain by that last attack. Chara wrapped his arms around Frisk's body tightly as his left hand hovered over the reset button. His finger was just inches away from touching the button, but his body jerked backwards slightly. He looked down to see Frisk's cut off arm penetrating through his body, and Frisk's body. Frisk forced his head up and grinned wickedly at Chara, Chara falling back on the ground. The other arm hovered over Chara's neck, each finger extended outwards. Frisk brought his hand down and detached Chara's head from his body. Both arms flew outwards from the two and went to their respective sides before reattaching with ease.
Frisk could feel his body be mentally torn apart. The urge to kill and the urge to spare were both traits that overtook his body and we at a constant battle between one another. Frisk could feel the urge to kill flow through his body. It was evident who had won the fight inside. He looked down at the lifeless vessel Chara's spirit took over as it laid still on the ground. There was no rise and fall at his chest. No body part moved. There was no sound coming from his lips. There was just pure silence. Frisk couldn't help but laugh. He arced his body and let out a howl of laughter. It echoed throughout the hallway. The noise passed Chara's lifeless corpse. It passed the pile of dust where Papyrus laid. The wind carried his laughter out of the hall and had it past the desolate, deserted underground. No life heard his laugh. No soul was left to terrify. In short, the timeline was void of anyone other than Frisk. However, the laughter soon turned into a mix of joy and sorrow. There was a hint of sobs mixed in with the malicious howls. Frisk was staring up at the ceiling, his left eye blazing with a raging blue aura while his right eye let a single tear drop fall down his cheek. Everything was over for him. Everyone was gone because of him. There was no one left within this timeline to terrorize. There was no one left to converse with. Frisk suddenly felt...alone. His laughing died down to a quiet chuckle and his body bent forward slightly. He looked across the hallway as the darkness around him slowly vanished. There was no one around him. He couldn't sense any life around him either. Frisk fell to his knees and looked down at his hands. The realization of his actions were finally setting in. Suddenly, there was a painful throb that struck across Frisk's head. He grasped his skull tightly to try and suppress the pain, but nothing help. Another throb forced the child on the ground on his side.
Inside his consciousness, Frisk felt trapped. There was only pure silence at all corners. The darkness engulfed his small frame and everything was black. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. Frisk stood in the darkness and began to slowly move his head around. Faintly in the distance, Frisk could make out something. It was small, but he knew he saw something. From where Frisk stood, there was definite shape, but a definite color...blue. Almost immediately, Frisk began running towards the color. It continued to grow bigger and bigger as he continued to run. He could make out a blue jacket and a pair of black shorts. Frisk grew a massive smile as tears fell down his cheeks. He extended his right arm towards the figure and his smile vanished as soon as it appeared. The frame of the knife could be clearly seen. His body refused to stop. His legs continued to move him forward. His arm wouldn't go down. Frisk could only watch as he ran towards Sans, knife extended. Soon, he felt an impact. His eyes snapped close to avoid the horror that was in front of him. The cool liquid slid down the knife and down his arm. The drips seemed to echo in the vast emptiness around them. Soon, he heard something fall. Frisk slowly opened his eyes and saw a massive pile of dust at his feet, It coated the blade and his arm, stuck because of the liquid beforehand. The blue jacked that laid on top of the pile of dust began to slowly be consumed by the darkness. Frisk tried to yell out in retaliation, but no noise left his lips. He could only watch in horror as the jacket was fully consumed and out of view completely. Frisk regained control over his body and fell to his knees. The blade remained in his right hand, still gripped tightly. Frisk stared at the blade. Anger flared in his eyes. With his shaking hands, Frisk grabbed the handle with both hands and turned the knife around so the blade faced him. His hands shook with fear. Frisk was suddenly overcome with a cold sweat. His arms weakened and his body grew slightly numb. With his eyes shut and a new found resolve, Frisk brought the knife down on his chest. The blade sunk into his chest with ease. His flesh parted and bones sliced with barely any resistance. However, the impact was all too painful. He felt the blade penetrate his heart. Blood slowly trickled out of the corner of his mouth. He coughed once and spewed out a massive chunk of blood. Frisk's grip tightened around the wooden handle as he forced the knife deeper into his chest. Blood oozed out of the wound and stained his blue and purple sweater. Frisk tore the blade out of his chest and threw it on the ground in front of him. Blood began to gush out of the wound madly as he placed a hand over his pierced heart. His body fell to the ground and Frisk laid still, bleeding out. His vision of the knife became hazy. Everything blurred and slowly vanished. Once more, he was overcome with the darkness. But for some reason, he felt at ease.
On the outside, the current Frisk was howling at the top of his lungs. The searing pain flowed through his body like a raging river. Each completed wave of pain was as thunderous as a volcano eruption. Frisk watched as his skin tore open in small holes and poured out the crimson liquid he was all too familiar with. Suddenly, he was out of breathe. He fell to his knees and gasped for air. Frisk saw that his shirt was slowly becoming stained and the smell of iron filled the air. With what little strength he had left, Frisk grabbed the chest portion of his shirt and tore it open. There was a gaping slash in his chest precisely where his heart laid. Blood violently gushed out of his wound and splashed onto the ground. As he watched the blood pool around him, he saw a shadow that towered over his body. He looked up and saw himself. Except it wasn't himself. The crimson blood turned black almost instantly. The figure that stood in front of him slowly became engulfed in the blood. It covered nearly his entire body except for his eyes. Instead of the shining yellow, both were a sickening dark blue that gave off a malicious mist. Frisk could feel his wounds begin to heal. The gap in his chest closed and the small cuts that covered his body also closed. He stood and stared at the figure who resembled his every being. He had no idea how to react. Out of every run Frisk went through, this was the first time something this big, this violent, had happened. The person that stood in front of him looked like a negative version of himself. It bore a malicious smile that spread across its face and had a sickening black aura that radiated off of it. Frisk didn't like this. He took a cautious step backwards. The figure took a confident step forward. The two made eye contact for just a brief second, but it had felt like an eternity for Frisk. In the half second Frisk locked eyes with the person in front, he saw fire. Fire of all colors. Fire everywhere. No matter where he looked, there were just flames that reached up to the sky. Then they began to appear. First there was Toriel, then Sans, and so forth. Until Frisk was trapped within a circle of the monsters he called friends. They all slowly parted away from him into the flames. He tried to scream out their names, but all of the smoke had reached into his lungs and caused a coughing fit. He fell to his knees and watched helplessly as they entered the fire one-by-one. Their frail bodies shivered in the flames and soon burned away into dust. The dust flew in the wind and disintegrated from the heat of the flames. Within seconds, he was alone. Alone in this hellish world.
On the outside, Frisk had fallen to his knees, arms wrapped around his body, shivering. His golden eyes were wide open and his entire body shook to its very core. The sudden realization that all of that had been an illusion struck him. He quickly regained his senses of the environment around him. No flames. And he certainly wasn't alone. With shaky legs, Frisk stood and glared at whoever the figure was. He could only think of one thing that could create something so vile, so putrid..His own desires for revenge. The negative emotions that Frisk had forced into a bottle burst open in this one run and created this mass of negative energy. That would explain why his intent to kill was so powerful. Why he refused to die. It wasn't his own doing, but the doing of something much more sinister. Frisk looked up at the ceiling and relaxed his tense body. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he shouted. He shouted the names of every he came into contact with. First, it was Toriel, then Asgore, Asriel, Papyrus, Sans, everyone he knew. He yelled and yelled until he said the last name.
"Chara… I need help.." Frisk spoke his name softly, almost inaudibly. Nothing happened for several moments. They stood in silence. Then the creature of negativity began to howl with laughter, almost tauntingly. It glared at Frisk, but his eyes were wide open, both of his golden pupils had a glow to them. They created their own mist, a yellow mist. There was a sudden pleasant smell that lingered in the air. Frisk turned and looked at the negative version of himself. His body started to heal all of his wounds. Scratched and cuts slowly closed and bruises vanished. Even his clothes repaired themselves. He looked brand new. The ground around Frisk's feet was changing as well as his body's wounds. The marble first turned into a slight shade of green, then grew softer and softer until grass sprouted. With each step that Frisk took toward the Negative, he created a mound of dirt and a small colony of flowers, a red flowering growing in the middle that towered over the others. It was encircled by six other flower colors: Purple, Green, Cyan, Blue, Yellow, Orange, and finally, in the center, Red. Each one of the flowers seemed to radiate off their own mist that combined in the air above the two.
The Negative stepped back to try and avoid Frisk. He felt uneasy about this new development and new that he would be killed. He was just released. There was so much for him to do on the surface and he didn't want it to end here, in the underground. Suddenly, the entire hall behind him was filled with darkness and dim, red flames. They rose to the ceiling as they burned. The mangled, mutilated, and destroyed corpses of the monsters lingered beyond and in front of the flames. They made no noise, but moved awkwardly and just stared off into the distance. Their souls were left to roam this hellish environment he created. With one swipe of Frisk's hand, everything it created vanished. A yellow aura soon overcame the beast and lifted it up into the air. Slowly, it hovered over to Frisk as he stood and watched the monster squirm in agony. The closer he was to Frisk, the more pain he was forced to endure. Once close enough, Frisk lowered him so they met at eye level just a few inches away from each other. It hissed at Frisk, but that didn't faze him. Instead, he smiled. Frisk dashed forward and the creature howled in pain. Frisk's arms wrapped around its body tightly, embracing it in his own warmth. The negative colors seemed to fade away from its body. Soon enough, he looked exactly like Frisk. Slowly, he lifted his own arms and embraced Frisk before slowly vanishing. Frisk conquered his own demon with the kindness he was all too familiar with. He turned towards Chara and walked over to his limp, lifeless body. Frisk carefully lifted him up and brought him over to Papyrus's chestplate. He looked up into the ceiling and gave one last smile and hovering his hand over the reset button…
Frisk looked up at the gaping hole of light that stretched far above what he could comprehend. Suddenly, he felt a huge weight behind him that forced him to fall onto his stomach. Chara, his spirit to be exact, was holding onto Frisk tightly.
"Frisk, let's never do that again, okay? We'll let everyone get to the surface without harming them and we'll even-" He was cut off when Frisk pushed his finger across his lips.
"Let me… Let me just enjoy this for a bit, Chara.." He whispered softly. Chara simply nodded and sat next to Frisk, the hole of light shining down on the two.