It took a long time before Frisk regained the feeling in his body. Or maybe not, it was impossible to tell how long he had remained unconscious. Regardless, his senses eventually did return. It was slow at first — just a faint sound at the edge of his hearing, or an indistinct tingle of eyesight — but they soon came back in a cascade of perceptions that threatened to overwhelm him entirely.

Somehow, he'd managed to discover something even more disorienting than death was.

As he gradually forced his eyes open, a dull ache throbbed across Frisk's entire body. His vision at first was indistinct and blurry, but it soon became clear enough to discern his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a dark, stony cave, just barely bright enough to see in front of him. Water dripped from stalactites that hung from the ceiling, the air was musty and thick, and what little he could see was only made possible from the bioluminescent mushrooms that dotted the walls, glowing with a ghostly blue light. But more important was what Frisk didn't see: none of his friends were anywhere to be found.

Frisk's pulse quickened, the stale air of the cave nearly choking his lungs through his rapid, panicked breaths.

"Mom!" he called. "Are you alright!?"

His words were met with nothing but an echo, reverberating through the bowels of the cavern.

"Mom? Asgore?" he called, taking a tentative step with his right foot. "Papryus? Undyne?"

No response. Frisk began to walk forwards, navigating slowly through the twisty passages.

"Sans? Alphys?" His breathing quickened further, corresponding with his pace. It wasn't long before he found himself running at a full spring.

"Mettaton!" he desperately shouted, barely able to find enough breath between it and his increasingly shallow respiration. "Sue! Kazuma! Ms. Sakamoto! Anyone!"

Frisk had soon begun to feel extremely light headed. His body straining under the effort, he slowed his pace to a jog, then to a stumbling walk, and then finally to barely a limp. His lungs, still weak from the teleporter malfunction, felt like they were on fire. Wheezing heavily, he took one last step forward, and promptly fell flat on his face.

whump

As he toppled face first onto the hard stone floor, he closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable impact. Yet when the impact came, he'd noticed the pain he'd felt was slightly duller — and only very slightly — from what he'd expected. He'd felt the pain of hitting a stone surface head-first more than once, sometimes even lethally. Yet this was not merely a stone surface. There was something else between his head and the unforgiving bedrock.

His temples still throbbing in pain, Frisk picked himself up off the floor, holding a hand to the spot on his forehead where the impact was most prominent. To his surprise, there was no sign of bleeding... but he could only hope that he hadn't developed a concussion. Trying his best to distract himself from the injury, he looked down at the object he had landed on. What he saw immediately grabbed his attention.

It was a small, leather-bound book, damp and covered in mold, yet still left entirely intact. His curiosity getting the better of any lingering desire to treat his injury, Frisk carefully picked the book off of the floor. Examining it from multiple angles, he found it to contain no visible labels of any sort.

Guess there's only one way to find out what this is about.

Carefully, he pulled the old tome open. The pages were old and decayed, and several of them stuck together as he attempted to thumb through the pages. The writing was only partially decipherable, with only around half of the words visible on any given page. A frown crossed Frisk's face as he continued to flip through the book, having great care to avoid damaging it further.

Is there anything here that's actually legible?

As though to answer his question, Frisk suddenly found that the last several pages in the book had been miraculously preserved. Though the paper was still yellowed and brittle, the words written were clear enough that he could easily make them out. He pulled the book more closely to his face, and began to flip through the remaining passages.


July 18th, 186X

An island in the sky... it's hard to imagine such a thing existing, and yet here we are. Several weeks ago, my company was to deliver a shipment of weapons to the nation of Forestland. Having recently invested in the latest in airship technology, I decided this would be the perfect opportunity for our vessel's maiden voyage. Naturally, as the founder of this proud enterprise, I took it upon myself to travel alongside the shipment, so that I may see the fruits of my ambition firsthand.

We were astonished to find, completely by coincidence, an entire landmass floating in the air far above the large swaths of uninhabited woods that cover the Forestland countryside. We are fortunate to have chosen to fly while the skies are clear, for its altitude is high enough that it would surely have been hidden by the clouds.

Naturally, I decided that we should take the time to briefly visit the island. The ship's captain, a man by the name of Toshio Date, objected to this, claiming that delivering the shipment was more important. I reassured him that the shipment was not expected to arrive for another week, which would give us plenty of time. Besides, the existence of such an island is surely the discovery of the century, perhaps even the millenium! No doubt the fame and publicity we would claim for such a momentous discovery is far greater than any single shipment.

As I write, the airship is currently making its landing. What we will find on this island, I can only imagine.

July 19th, 186X

Monsters! The island is populated by monsters! I didn't think that this discovery could be any more extraordinary, and yet here we are! The crew were at first frightened by these strange creatures, but it soon became apparent that they were no threat to us, with our vastly superior technology. As I have made clear to the others, we are not to show any display of force except in self-defense. We are here to observe, not to occupy.

Understandably, the locals are suspicious of us. Few have cooperated with our desire to understand more about this place, and those that do are either unable or unwilling to tell us more than scant details. Nevertheless there has been some information about this place we were able to acquire.

The island is known to the natives solely as the Island in the Sky. If what we've heard is to be believed, the moniker was granted by a legendary king who united the Island's inhabitants under a single banner. Apparently, he was also terrible at names.

Monsters on the Island come in all manner of shapes and sizes, but there are three races that are particularly noteworthy: the mimiga, the gaudi, and the drolls. The mimiga are a species of beastmen who on first glance resemble rabbits, though many could also be said to resemble hornless goats. They appear to make up the bulk of settlements, and command great respect from the other monsters.

The second race, the gaudi, can only be described as massive cockroaches. As repulsive as they may appear to human sensibilities, the gaudi are perhaps the friendliest of the monster species we've encountered, being considerably more cooperative than any other kind we've seen thus far. Most of the information we've learned about the Island has come from them.

Finally, we have the drolls. While drolls are somewhat numerous on the Island, they rarely interact with the other races, and most of the droll settlements we've visited have been extremely reluctant to even acknowledge our presence at all.

There is also another notable race on the Island, the cthulu, though I am unsure of whether to count them because it is not obvious whether they are monsters or humans. They are even more enigmatic than the drolls, and there is something about them that everyone on the crew finds deeply unsettling.

July 20th, 186X

The locals have begun to grow increasingly hostile to our presence. While not resorting to outright violence, they have made it abundantly clear that we are not welcome here. The mimiga now refuse to speak with us altogether, and even the gaudi have become far more reluctant to share information with us. The crew are becoming restless, and many of them seem altogether too eager for the chance to defend themselves should the monsters attack.

Fortunately, while most monsters have been unhelpful, there have been some exceptions. In particular, a young priest by the name of Halder has been helpful to us, more than willing to explain the culture and customs of the Island's populace. Though we have not known each other for long, Halder and I have gotten along well, and I can see in us the beginnings of a strong friendship.

According to Halder, the Island's monsters migrated from the surface some seven hundred and fifty years ago, in order to flee a devastating war waged upon them by humans. Judging from the lack of monsters on the surface, it would seem they are the only ones who survived. It's no wonder the monsters on the island are so afraid of us: our kind brought them to the edge of extinction! Indeed, humans can be such terrible creatures...

And yet, Halder has been more than willing to put the past behind us. Despite the danger we pose to him, he has chosen to offer us forgiveness. For that, I am grateful. Perhaps it is because of the religion that he serves: from what I've been able to gather, it places a strong emphasis on mercy and pacifism. Shame the other monsters don't seem to follow it as closely, but given the circumstances, it is perfectly understandable.

The faith that Halder serves worships a deity known as Sisu. The Island is said to be his domain, and supposedly Sisu lends his hardiness and determination to anyone who lives on it. While priests of Sisu command considerable respect on the Island, monster settlements consider religion in general to be largely an afterthought. Apparently, the religion was not originally the monsters' to begin with: it was introduced to the populace by an immortal sorceress named Letka. Despite being human, Letka was widely revered by the monster settlements, and in return she had tirelessly served as their guardian, keeping a watchful eye on the Island to ensure the monsters' prosperity.

Unfortunately, around two hundred and fifty years ago, Letka mysteriously vanished. Without her guidance, the monsters of the Island quickly lost hope, and their population began to dwindle rapidly. What remains of the old ways exists in an area of the Island known as the Sand Zone, having now been abandoned for more than two centuries. I had hoped that we may get the opportunity to see this Sand Zone for ourselves, but Halder has made it clear that any travel to the region is strictly forbidden. I suppose it's not too much of a loss: we must leave tomorrow if the shipment is expected to arrive on time, so we would not have been able to explore much further regardless.

July 21st, 186X

Today is the day that we leave the Island. It's a shame, there's so much more about this place's history I feel that I could have learned, and so much more about monsterkind I could have discovered. Regardless, I'm glad that I was able to have found this place, and even though I've known him for barely more than a day, I am grateful for Halder's kindness. Perhaps someday I will come back to visit him.

While preparing to make our departure, Toshio showed to me a strange artifact that his men had found. It appears to be some form of ceremonial headdress, a large mitre adorned with a singular red eye. Its appearance is certainly rather frightening, and I can't help but wonder what its significance is. I expressed concern that taking it from the Island might not be a good idea, but Toshio persuaded me that taking it to the surface would be invaluable in proving our discovery to the world.

With that said, it is time that we made our departure. More than ever before, the future of the Kamadani Smithing Company is looking bright.

?

I'm alive, somehow. To say that our departure did not go as planned would be a vast understatement. What happened was nothing short of utterly disastrous.

The headdress that Toshio's men found was, in actuality, an artifact known as the Demon Crown. From what I have been able to gather, it appeared on the Island shortly after Letka's disappearance, and holds within it immense magical power. Fearing it would be used for evil, Halder placed the crown under his protection, forbidding any from laying their hands on it.

Upon learning that it was stolen, Halder boarded on our ship, appearing before us out of thin air. In a fit of rage, he took the Demon Crown and placed upon his head, harnessing its unfathomable might. The ease with which Halder slaughtered the crew was nothing short of terrifying... As their lives were lost, I watched in horror as Halder cast a spell, causing orbs of radiant light to emerge from their lifeless bodies. Though I did not understand what was happening at the time, it is clear to me now: he was attempting to steal the souls of my fallen comrades.

Fortunately, before he could complete his incantation, Toshio landed a decisive blow against Halder using one of the many firearms kept aboard the ship. With Halder's concentration broken, the souls of the crew flew away, never to be seen again, and Halder was forced to retreat. Without our men, it was difficult to get the airship running, but soon we were able to make an expeditious retreat.

...Or so we thought. As the airship lifted off, a massive ball of flame appeared from the sky, no doubt conjured by Halder. Before we could even flinch, the flame impacted the airship, causing it to explode in an immense conflagration. When I awoke, I found myself bloodied and broken, barely clinging to life. What was left of the airship was completely unrecognizable, its debris having been scattered across the top of the Island by the force of the explosion. I do not know whether Toshio survived, as his body was nowhere to be found, but given the circumstances it is unlikely that he still lives.

I do not know how many days it has been since the attack, as I have neglected to write in this diary until now. In the time since, civil war has broken out between the monsters of the Island. Some have even taken to using my own weapons in the conflict, having salvaged them from the wreckage of my airship. Seeing the horrors of warfare first hand... I cannot help but wonder if I am being punished by fate for my crimes.

When I had first started my enterprise, I had believed that every weapon I crafted was a deeply personal item. Every gun was unique, custom-tailored to the needs of the client. They were not merely things, but the truest expression of the wielder's identity. However, as the Sunrise Islands industrialized, I was forced to adapt my business and venture into the realm of mass-production.

Seeing the war on the Island, I now realize how wrong I was. People, humans and monsters alike, do not treat their weapons with such care. They treat them as mere tools, to be used and then discarded later. And yet they still possess the arrogance to believe that such weapons are their own power. How can anyone truly appreciate my craftsmanship in such a manner?

I was foolish to think that my business would have resulted in anything else. In pursuit of my ambitions, I have abandoned the principles that I once held dear. I should have never even sold my weapons to begin with. To rely on another's arms is to spit on the work of the man who forged them.

If I wish to stay true to my beliefs, I know what I must do. Should I survive this long and bloody conflict, I will dedicate my life to creating the finest weapons in all the world, untainted by the hands of those who would make such a mockery of their craft. Forging weapons is my purpose, and I refuse to die as long as I still hold onto it.


Frisk's eyes remained laser-fixed at the final entry in the journal. It had taken a moment for the implications of what he'd just read to set in, but when they did, they left a permanent impression in his mind. In just a few minutes he had learned more about the Island than he'd ever learned from the ones who dedicated their lives to studying it. What the implications of this information were he did not know; he was still struggling to process all of the things that had happened in the short time since he'd arrived on the Island. Yet slowly, he was certain, the pieces would come together.

He did not have long to puzzle before the sound of footsteps approached, mixed with a subtle yet distinctive clanking of metal against stone. In his peripheral vision, Frisk caught a glimpse of bleached-white skin and a head of black hair.

"Mettaton!" he said, turning around almost reflexively. "Oh, thank God, I-"

Frisk sentence immediately halted in its tracks. Standing just before him was not Mettaton, but an entirely different robot. Though he bore similar humanoid appearance, his figure was less curved and more barrel-shaped. He wore sneakers, a pair of red trousers, an a black sleeveless shirt that gave a full view of his arms: slim mechanical limbs the same pale color as his face, molded in a way to appear muscular and organic. Atop his black hair and antenna-like ears was a baseball cap, with a word in an unfamiliar language prominently displayed on the front:

ΩΜ ΊΓΑ

Most alarmingly of all, however, was the weapon that the robot carried in his right hand. By all appearances it was nothing more than a simple revolver... yet just looking at it made him shudder internally, even more so than the thought of losing his friends to a freak teleporter accident. That was no ordinary handgun.

"You... you're not Mettaton," Frisk said. "Who are you?"

"The name's Quote," the robot replied. "What's a kid like you doing here?"


A/N: And another chapter is completed! Having recently graduated college, I've had more time to work on this, though that may change once I find steady employment.

From here the story will likely split into multiple different POVs as we track the different characters who've been split up.