"L-Letka?"

As Asgore spoke the word, the pieces all fell firmly into place. Frisk recalled the story Toriel had told, of the unfallen child, the one she and Asgore had cared for as the war with humankind reared its ugly head. The child they left behind on the Island as they returned to the surface to care for their kind.

The child that was now floating before them, staring down her former guardians with bloodthirsty eyes.

"I…" Toriel breathed. "I can't believe it. Is it really—"

"Silence," Misery barked. She spoke with an unstoppable force, and their air itself seemed to fall still at her command. Her eyes narrowed, and everyone present couldn't help but stare wordlessly as she loomed.

"How. Dare you. Speak to me," Misery continued. Every syllable was a seething monotone, resent barely contained within her words. In the very next sentence, they exploded. "One thousand years! ONE THOUSAND YEARS! Do you have any idea just what I've been through!? How much I've suffered!? How much suffering I've caused!? And now, only now, after all of that, you choose to show your faces!?"

The crushing shock was evident on Asgore's face. He looked as though his soul had been ripped in two. "Letka, please…"

"Do not call me by that name!" Misery pointed her staff towards Asgore, its tip crackling with rage and lightning. Her rage did not let up, even as Asgore stepped back. "Letka is dead! Letka is dead and you killed her! I spent five hundred years waiting for your return, and what did I get for it? Nothing! Nothing but an Island of ungrateful monsters who had forgotten who had brought them here! By the time five centuries passed, the War had been reduced to mere legend! A tale of the world under us, no more than a story passing through the lips of cavern-dwellers!"

Misery took a deep breath. She straightened herself, and floated to the ground, standing upright with her staff by her side. When she spoke, her rage was quieted, but no less potent."

"But I still knew. I knew what the humans had done. I knew they had taken you from me, and I wanted revenge. So do you know what I did? Can you even fathom what I sacrificed, and what the repercussions of that choice were?"

"Misery, wait!"

Frisk was still reeling from the conversation when the new voice spoke out. He turned his head around, and faced the speaker.

It was Balrog. His body was trembling, and his eyes were wide and vulnerable. It was hard to imagine with such a massive creature, but now he looked almost fragile.

"Misery, I…" Balrog trailed off. "Please. I know what you're about to say. It's not your fault. None of it was."

Misery stared at Balrog intently, her eyes unreadable. The room remained silent, until for the first time, Misery seemed to let her guard down. She inhaled deeply, gripping her staff in her fist, then exhaled through her nose.

"...I was hoping you wouldn't have to see me like this, Balrog. Even in my darkest moments, you were always a friend to me. But you know that's not true." She turned her attention back to the Dreemers, and spoke with crystal-clear intent. Not anger this time, but something else. Something far more powerful, something Frisk recognized whenever he looked into the mirror. "I waited five hundred years, clinging to the naive hope that monsters who loved me would return. And when that hope faded, when I realized you would not be coming back, I swore revenge. So I sought the forbidden power, tearing my soul to shreds in exchange for strength."

Asgore and Toriel's mouths hung agape — their apparent shock matched only by Alphys and Sans. Frisk felt a deep pit form in his stomach; though the meaning of Misery's words were lost on most others, they were not lost on him.

A bitter smile formed on Misery's face. "I can assume you have an idea of how painful that must have been. Let me tell you now that it was worse than you imagine. Far worse. Imagine the very core of your existence being shattered into pieces, and you can feel all of it at once."

"Y-you…" Toriel stammered. Even with her pristine white fur, her face had somehow taken a deathly pallor. "You tore apart your own soul?"

"Not fully," said Misery. "Not to the extent that… that he did." She shuddered slightly as she spoke, leaving Frisk to wonder who 'he' was. "In the end, I couldn't going all the way. So I came up with another plan."

The pit in Frisk's stomach grew, until it felt like it would consume him from the inside out.

"A Crown, to become a god among demons. To achieve infinite power, and wreak vengeance upon humankind. To make them suffer for taking you from me." Misery's eyes began to glow faintly under the laboratory's light, her lips curling into a blood-curdling grin. But just as quickly, any sign of emotion vanished. A deep sigh passed through her lips. "Instead, I was saddled with a curse. My power limited, my very existence bound in chains. Forced to play lackey to every aspiring tyrant who took the Demon Crown into their filthy hands."

Silence once again fell over the room. Thick, heavy, and oppressive, leaving everyone to simply gawk. In the corner of his eyes, Frisk could see Jack trembling with rage.

Toriel stared at Misery, the fur below her eyes wet and matted, her eyes silently pleading. "Why?" she choked. "Why are you telling us this?"

Misery's lips twisted into a viscous sneer. "Oh, shut up, you loathsome cow! Don't you dare try to feign ignorance of the part you played! I did this all for you! " Her voice grew in volume with every passing word, until it was booming like thunder. "I tore apart my soul for you! All I wanted was to avenge your death at the hands of those vermin who call themselves human! And I failed, leaving the Island you tasked me with protecting to five centuries of war and death! And now, only now, you show up to prove you were alive all along!? So you can prove that everything I did was based on a lie!? That ALL of the suffering I've been through has been for NOTHING!?"

The lights of the laboratory flickered, arcs of furious lightning jumping across Misery's body as her rage reached a crescendo. Her eyes grew redder and redder as her posture sagged, her left hand twitching as though it were searching for a throat to tear out.

Moments passed, and the lights stabilized. Misery stood upright, and took a deep breath. Her feet lifted off the ground, and she hovered into the air, glaring down at the Dreemurs with a razor-thin frown.

"No. No more. It doesn't matter anymore. Letka is dead, and only Misery remains. And I'm not the only one who has grievances to air to you." Misery grinned, with genuine emotion this time, though it was not the kind of grin that anyone would ever want to see. "Here, why don't I introduce you to my new friend?"

"Wait, st—" But before Frisk could say anything, Misery was already channeling a spell. She raised her staff, and Frisk reflexively shut his eyes as the room was engulfed in a flash of light.

A whirr passed by Frisk's ears. When he opened his eyes again, Asgore and Toriel were gone.

"No! Where are they!? What did you do with them!?"

"Hm?" Misery blinked, then turned her attention to Frisk. As her eyes laid upon him, he felt a chill run down his spine.

"Really now? Are you the brat that Asriel's so afraid of? I can't imagine what he sees in you."

"H-huh!?"

"W-what!?"

"Nguh!?"

"NYEH!?"

"I-I beg your pardon!?"

"..."

Misery cackled. "My, how interesting! Judging from the looks on your faces, I take it you're familiar with the so-called prince," she said. She pointed her staff at Frisk, its tip beginning to glow white-hot, pulsing with a magic that sent Frisk's hair on end. "Well, it's not my problem. Any last words you'd like get off your chest, child? I was asked to snuff you out, but I'd hate to be a poor sport about it."

"I…" Frisk's head was spinning. It was all too much to process at once, and now here he was, staring down death in the face. Not for the first time, but possibly for the final time.

"Asriel… w-why?"

"Good enough for me!" said Misery, gleefully. "Say goodbye!"

"NO!"

There was another flash of light, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Frisk could do nothing but flinch as he awaited the familiar shock of mortal injury, followed by the familiar pull of oblivion on his soul.

But neither feeling ever came. Instead, he felt a shove, followed by a tumble onto his backside. When his eyes stopped burning beneath his eyelids, he stood up and found himself still alive.

And standing right there, in the space he had once occupied, was Undyne. She was down on one knee, her form flickering and indistinct, flecks of dust falling away as her body wildly undulated and quivered. He couldn't bear to look at anyone else, but through the ringing in his ears Frisk could hear someone screaming.

Misery's lips turned downwards as she looked down on the scene. "Well, that was stupid. What did you think that was going to accomplish? I'm still going kill him anyway, and now you're about to die too."

Undyne's legs trembled, and with an audible effort, she managed to just barely stand onto her feet. "Nnnngh… ngah…"

"Oh, what's that?" Misery hummed. "You're having trouble dropping dead? Here, let me help you with that!"

There was another flash of lightning, followed by another scream. Undyne flinched and collapsed to her knee. But though her shape grew more unstable, she remained intact.

"Nnnnngh… Nnnnng…"

"Wow, you're a persistent one," Misery remarked. "I've never met a monster who could survive that twice in a row."

Undeterred, Misery raised her staff. Frisk's head was still spinning, could hear someone shouting at Misery to stop, that Undyne was already dead.

The lightning came again. And once again, Undyne was there. She was barely recognizable, a blur of swirling colors constantly on the verge of imploding on themselves.

But she refused.

Misery's eyebrows crinkled, and her lips folded into a deep frown. "What!? Are you serious? How in Tartarus have you not fallen to ashes yet?"

"I…" The shape began to stabilize, condensing into a concrete form. Undyne spoke, but her voice was distorted, not at all like her own. "I… I won't die to the likes of you. I'll make you pay for what you did to my friends… for threatening my people."

Undyne held her right arm out. Instantly, a light appeared beside her, taking shape as she grasped it within her hand. It was a sword, massive and imposing, with a green ribbon tied around its hilt.

From the corner, Jack let out a gasp. "That sword! Where did you get that sword!?"

"And I'll never forgive you for what you did to Toroko! NGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Undyne's shout reverberated across the laboratory, sending the very foundations of the building trembling. An aura of white light ignited across her body, wind swirling and electric sparks arcing across her biceps. The overhead lights flickered on, and off, and on, until several of them exploded in a shower of sparks and broken glass.

And then Undyne became something more.

She now stood tall, taller than ever before. Her armor had changed, where it was once a standard Royal Guard uniform, it was now an ornate set of plate mail with a regal purple color, with a flowing blue cape adorning her shoulders. In her eyes burned a new life — her eye patch had vanished and her left eye was now restored, with both eyes now tinted deep red. And in her hand she held the same sword, its edges gleaming with a sharpness that could cut light itself.

Undyne opened her mouth, and from it two different voices spoke in unison.

"Did you really think a measly thing like death would stop me?"

* Rex Undyne

* AT: 99,999

* DF: 99,999

* Heart of a King, soul of a warrior