Wordcount: 10,544
Frisk sat against the wall, knees drawn up to their chest, head buried in between. Mind cruising along at a glacial pace, allowing more panicky thoughts to hit them at light-speed. They knew what had happened, and they knew what had to be done. They knew all this. But they just couldn't accept it.
There's no fucking way. I can't do this. How could she? They were such an idiot to just avoid the issue until it was right on top of them. While they had long accepted they would fight Asgore, they sure as hell did not accept that they'd have to murder him.
Fucking fraud ! She's supposed to be the Royal Scientist and yet there's nothing she can do? Just commit first-degree murder and go home?
They supposed they had to blame themselves a bit. After all, it had been childish and stupid to ignore that hypothetical impasse. Only a being with a human and monster soul combined could leave, they said. And Frisk just naively assumed Alphys would be able to try and find something out. Study Asgore's and Frisk's souls, synthesise them into something, anything that could help them leave.
But no. Apparently, science was still useless despite being in bed with magic. Now they just wanted to go back in time to bitch-slap her harder than she likely slapped Mettaton back in his glory days. But they hadn't SAVED yet. So that would mean a re-hash of their previous bout. And that wouldn't be fair on them, especially Chara.
Speaking of Chara, they'd been silent for a long time now. Probably stressing about the fact that Frisk's only way out was to kill their adoptive father. And the way their plans were going probably wasn't helping.
"Chara," they said.
"Yes?"
"Do you reckon it'd hurt to give up your soul?" they asked, now staring at the wall opposite them.
Chara looked over at them, eyes narrowing. "Where are you going with this?"
"Would it even mean anything?" Frisk pressed on. "What's a soul's worth to you, really?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Frisk," scoffed Chara. "If you lose your soul, you will die. Flowey wasn't lying when he said it was the very culmination of your being."
"Yeah... about him." They shut their eyes. "Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but... maybe if I just gave him my soul, this could all just be over."
"Frisk, stop," they commanded, "You really expect me to believe that you'd entrust that psychopath with your soul? That is not going to help you."
"Then what will, Chara?" they snapped. "Huh? I haven't got any other options! What the fuck do you suggest I do?"
"You could stop shouting at me like a petulant child when I'm trying to help you, for a start," said Chara, raising their voice a little to meet Frisk's. "Because we are not going to reach any sort of consensus this way."
"Easy for you to say," Frisk replied. "My choice doesn't even affect you because you can't die twice!"
Something dangerous flickered in Chara's eyes. "How dare you," they hissed. "I never thought you'd sink that low."
Frisk quickly began panicking. That really was low of them. And pretty fucking sad too. "I-I didn't mean that," they muttered quickly. "That was—"
"I understand that this is difficult for you, but you have no right to make this personal," Chara replied, their voice not warming a single degree.
"The thing is you don't understand!" said Frisk, exasperated. They threw their arms out at their sides. "You'll never know how it feels to know you don't want to die, but you're going to anyway!" Despite their anger, their grief was overtaking it, manifesting in a haphazard waterfall crashing down their face.
Chara sighed.
"I actually thought maybe I'd get to enjoy my life for once, but now? I'm gonna be trapped here for the rest of my useless, miserable life until I die, or get killed." They fell to their knees, their very core shaking with anger and fear. They sobbed uncontrollably, fists slamming into the tile floor.
Chara let them cry for a minute or two, then decided to intervene. "Frisk... Perhaps you should consider that..." They hesitated momentarily, breathing a tense sigh. "Asgore would rather die. That he would be better off dead."
Frisk looked at them through their wet blue eyes like they had lost their mind. "How can you say that? Do you even care about him?"
"That's none of your damned business!" they yelled, the suddenness and lack of dressing-up making Frisk jump.
"Well, fuck you too!" they shot back. "It became my business when that bitch told me it was my only option! And hell if I'm gonna do that!" They turned away, giving a yell of frustration. "The only way this is gonna end is if I die."
"No!"
"'No'?" parroted Frisk sarcastically.
"It doesn't have to be like that. It won't be. I refuse to let anyone else die on account of my selfishness!" They flinched, as though they'd said too much.
"That was in the past, Chara!" they yelled, an anti-climactic silence following. "I'm sorry he died, but... you were only kids."
The two stared at each other. They didn't know for how long, and it didn't really matter. The lump in Frisk's throat swelling, they tried to continue. "Just... don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault."
"His death was my fault and I am to blame," they replied coldly. "My actions killed the one person that cared the most about me. And regardless, this isn't about me."
Frisk still wanted to keep discussing it but knew they should just leave it alone. Chara had the decency not to pry, so they figured they owed them that. So, reluctantly, they gave in. They sat back down, back against the wall, face in their hands.
"Chara... I can't do it," they said, leaning back against the wall. "I don't want to kill him. I don't want to die either."
Chara sighed, seemingly resetting back to their usual neutral self. "I know. Though, perhaps it is for the best. One thing is for certain, you are making no progress by sitting here wailing. Get up."
Frisk wiped their face on their sleeve, breathing a few shaky breaths. "Okay... okay." They pulled themselves to their feet, and headed towards the elevator, to Chara's encouragement. The doors opened. They stepped inside, surrounded by cushioned walls and a few fluorescent bars. They hit the button for New Home. The doors closed. There was a gentle lurch, and the elevator began ascending. They sat in the corner, face in their knees again. They still weren't ready. Every step closer to the end, they weren't ready. No matter what Chara said, they weren't ready. They couldn't accept it.
"Chara."
"Yes?"
"I just needed to tell you that..." They swallowed. "I really appreciate you sticking with me all this way. What I said was really shitty, and I wouldn't have blamed you if you never talked to me again. Without you, I'd never have gotten this far..." They momentarily stumbled over their half-formed thoughts. "I just really admire you. You're the only person that even cares what happens to me. And I just really, really needed you to know that it means a lot to me, and that you've been a great partner."
Chara looked stunned. Frisk gave them a weak smile. "And since I know this is the end, I want you to be there when I go. Please, just... promise me that much."
Without another word, Frisk lapsed back into silence, leaving Chara with their look of shock and whatever thoughts they had in their mind. A minute or two later, Frisk's phone started ringing.
They raised their eyebrows a little at the "No Caller ID" on screen. It's not like they gave their number out to random strangers or anything. Though, now that they thought of it, Alphys probably gave it to someone. Whoever it was, they didn't really care anymore. They flipped it open and accepted the call.
"Hey," they greeted, fatigue and apathy coating their low voice. "Whatever you wanna say, make it quick."
"Howdy!" came an all-too-familiar voice from the phone's tinny speakers. "Remember me?"
Frisk's jaw practically hit the floor. "Wha—? Flowey? You little shit!" they shouted, momentarily determined again, albeit fuelled by rage rather than conviction. "How did you get my number?" Before he could answer, they cut him off. "Actually, forget it. What the fuck do you want, you little psycho?"
"Whoa whoa whoa, simmer down there, pal," he replied, his calm and smug voice inflaming their rage further. "That's no way to talk to your best friend."
"Fuck you and your mother!" they retorted, nearly throwing their phone at the wall. "Answer me!"
Flowey gave another one of his trademarked irritating giggles. "I just wanted to check up on how my best friend's been doing!"
"None of your bus—"
"Golly, you've been so busy!" he marvelled. "Busy dying seventeen times in a row!" He cackled maniacally.
Frisk yelled in frustration, kicking the elevator wall. "What the fuck! How do you know about that?"
They could practically hear Flowey's eye-roll. "Guess you need another tutorial, eh?" He tutted. "In this world, humans have something called determination. The person with the most determination can then bend time to their will. SAVING, LOADING and RESETTING... Up until you got here, that power was mine," he explained, snarling.
Chara looked at Frisk, shaking their head. "Don't give him what he wants."
Frisk sighed heavily. They really wanted to rip into him, call him every name under the sun, spit the entire contents of their mental swearing dictionary his way... But Chara was right. He didn't deserve that satisfaction.
"I'm going to die and all you do is kick me when I'm down," they said in a tired monotone. "Just leave me alone."
Before Flowey could protest, they declined the call and slipped the phone back in their pocket. They slumped against the wall again, head in their hands. "Idiot," they breathed.
The elevator slowly ground to a halt. They flicked an eye up at the door, hearing a 'ding' as the "New Home" light came on. The doors slid open. It looked like they had finally made it.
They sighed, dragging themselves back to their feet. "Well... I guess it's time."
They emerged from the elevator interior, taking in their surroundings. The walls were a chipped grey brick, vines creeping in between the grooves. Impressive, archaic-like marble buildings stood tall in the sea of smaller buildings (houses, they presumed). Frisk really had to stare in wonder.
There were two cobbled paths, one going straight, the other to the right. "So, Chara. Wanna tell me which way I'm supposed to go?"
"Hmm..." they frowned. "Asgore's castle. I recall it being fairly close to his home. Just give me a moment to try and remember the path."
"Sure. Got all the time I need," they said, leaning against the wall, hands in their pockets. They closed their eyes, trying to pretend they weren't where they really were. Then their phone rang again. They picked up, giving their most miserable-sounding, "Yep?" they could.
"DON'T EVER HANG UP ON ME!" came a demonic scream from the other end. They flinched, holding the phone away from their face. "Jesus! What do you want?" they yelled back.
"I was going to get to that before you hung up!" he spat. Frisk swore they felt flecks of saliva hitting their ear.
"Alright, well, I'm here now, so go ahead!" they said, taunting him. "What was so important you had to stalk me through the entire Underground like some crazed fan to tell me, eh?"
"Weeell," he said, his voice back to his regular jolly tone. "I overheard a neat lil' snippet of conversation just now, and it left me with a question. Maybe if I just gave him my soul, this could all just be over," he mimicked.
They went pale, grip on their phone tightening.
"Sooo, how 'bout it?" he asked, voice dangerously sweet. "Will you hand over that shiny ol' soul of yours so that your best friend Flowey can have one again?"
They swallowed. "You little shit," they breathed, biting back a twice aggressive reply. They should've known. Flowey would only have been too happy to snatch up their soul if they'd offered it to him. What the fuck had they been thinking?
"Alright, listen here, bastard. It's my soul and my life. If anyone's getting my soul, it's Asgore, and that'll be because he's killed me or I've surrendered to him. And that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna give him my soul so we can both be free, and I don't give a damn what you have to say. Goodbye and good riddance." They shut the phone off, stuffing it into their pocket. Despite their less than favourable circumstances, they felt a bit better now.
"Just out of curiosity, was that true?" asked Chara. "Is that really your plan?"
"Eh, maybe," they shrugged. "I just hope he believed it. Anyway, do you know where we have to go?"
"Take the right path," they advised. "It follows a cliff face, but it should smooth out after a while. Follow the path, I'll check for landmarks. Azzy and I used them to remember where we were if we got lost," they explained.
"Right. Well... let's go."
And so, with a heavy heart and even heavier footsteps, they began the last leg of their journey. Once they reached Asgore's castle, maybe this could all finally end. Even if it wasn't the way they wanted. They gave a bitter smile. Since when did anything ever work out their way anyway?
They continued down the cobbled path in silence, still worrying about their final encounter. Even if they'd already accepted what was going to happen, it didn't stop their overactive brain from reminding them about it every five fucking seconds.
Perhaps Chara sensed it too, because they used this opportunity to start talking.
"About earlier. I don't know how to feel about all this," they said. "I don't think you really know me if you think I'm that great of a person. And I don't know if I can do what you're asking of me either, but... I can try."
Frisk rolled their eyes. "Chara, just... please. For once in your life, accept some praise without the self-loathing. God knows you deserve it."
"It's not as easy as you make it sound," they replied, almost sadly.
They shrugged. "Then just, I dunno... believe that I think you deserve it."
"That I can believe."
As they passed a tall cathedral-like structure, Chara tried to keep the conversation going.
"So, how do you like the capital?" they asked.
Frisk gave a loose shrug. "It's pretty cool. It'd be nicer if they added a splash of colour, though," they added morosely.
"It is admittedly a bit dull," they agreed.
"You lived here, right?" asked Frisk.
They nodded. "The best years of my life. I never really spent much time in the castle, though." They sighed. "I wonder if he's left even once since then."
"Does that really matter?" Frisk replied. They hesitated, mentally reprimanding themselves for being such a jerk. "Sorry. Tell me some stuff about your life."
"Yours first," said Chara, a faint smirk on their features.
"My life's not that interesting," they said. "You lived with monsters for a couple of years. I can't top that."
"Hmph. I suppose so," they hummed.
"Favourite drink?"
"Frisk, I will end you."
A faint glimmer of blue as they flashed a smug look. "Well?"
Chara gave them a deadpan look for a few seconds, before answering. "Tea and hot chocolate. What did you expect?"
"I expected to hear your favourite drink, not your favourite drinks," they quipped.
"Be more specific then," said Chara, rolling their eyes lazily. "Hot or cold?"
"Never mind. What about your village?"
Chara gave a low chuckle. "I don't remember the name, I was too young. But... it wasn't so bad. Very green, plenty of rivers. Quaint cottages. But for all I know, it could've been awful and it's just my brain embellishing."
"God, you don't know how much I'd have given for that," muttered Frisk. "All I got was some shitty orphanage bed. We didn't even get separate rooms. We had like, five, sometimes more, people all packed into one. No privacy."
"Wouldn't the more rational thing be to wish for responsible parents?" they suggested.
"Touche."
The two continued, until they reached a split. Left or straight. "See anything useful?" asked Frisk, looking around the cavern themselves. Chara studied a particular tower, eyes narrowed. "Hmm. Is that the bell tower...?"
"Y'know what? How about we just take a chance," said Frisk. "Worst thing that could happen is being late to the gallows." They turned left, Chara following. They felt nothing but disappointment after walking for a minute or two and being lead to some kind of observation deck. They groaned.
"This universe sure is givin' me plenty of signs that I should just die," they muttered, giving a hefty sigh.
"It doesn't matter," said Chara. "If anything, it's my fault. I should know this place better."
"They could've changed a bunch of stuff before I fell down, Chara," they replied, though their voice remained weary. "I guess we'll just backtrack."
They headed back the way they'd come, trying half-heartedly to quell Chara's disappointment in themselves. "Look, if anything, you're doin' me a favour," they insisted. "You'd be a great sales rep for the royal execution company."
Chara paled, though it might just have been a trick of the light, given their translucence. What wasn't a trick of the light was the unmistakable look of concern and... maybe even fear? that crossed their face for a split-second. Frisk pretended not to notice.
At the split, they turned left, making it a straight. "The bell tower may be a little further down, now that I think of it," they said. "As I remember it, we went left at the bell tower, straight past this particularly beautiful building I never learnt the purpose of, and then right to get back to the cliff face and back home."
"You guys must've wandered a lot," they deduced.
"I suppose," they said. "Asriel liked visiting other areas of the Underground and always insisted I accompany him. Not that I was complaining, so long as we weren't going to Hotland."
"Didn't they ever worry about you?" asked Frisk. "Your parents, I mean."
"Toriel would occasionally guilt-trip us if we were home later than expected. I suppose she was just afraid and concerned for us, which was not a bad thing by any means."
"So, just her, then."
"Asgore was the fun one," they said, rolling their eyes. "I don't know how he managed that with all his responsibilities as King."
Frisk shrugged. "I guess he just really cared about you guys."
"I suppose he did."
The pair travelled in silence for a minute or two, before Chara pointed out the bell tower up ahead.
"Well, guess we're on the right track," said Frisk. "So, a 'really beautiful building' next. Anything in particular that makes it so beautiful?"
"The marble always had more of a shine to it than any other building," they said, "and the construction felt so much more... considered and refined. Come to think of it, it could have been a courthouse. Then again, it could very well have been a bakery." They gave a thoughtful 'hmph'.
"Who says it can't be both?" said Frisk. "'Come for your sentencing, stay for the coffee and bread.'"
Chara snorted derisively, though their smile was genuine. "Wait until people hear that their tax dollars are funding coffee, buns and cake for convicted criminals." That earned a few laughs out of Frisk, and for a moment, all was forgotten.
"You know..." Chara was saying, after Frisk's laughter had died down, "at first, I didn't trust you or your motives. It was like that for a long time. But... in a way, you're the kind of friend I never would have wanted back then," they said, in a tone that felt too much like reminiscing. "I admit, I... I wasn't the greatest person. I walked all over Asriel, used him for my own selfish wants and completely disregarded his feelings." They sighed. "And I'm still no better. But you? You're the type of person who would've stood up to me. You would've challenged me. But you would've tried to understand, too. Just like you have now. You aren't the friend I'd have wanted, but certainly the one I deserved."
Frisk honestly wanted to say they weren't surprised, given their current theme of just spilling all their buried thoughts and emotions so at least someone would hear them, but, in honesty, they... were. They hadn't expected such a confession from Chara, of all people. Cold, emotionally-guarded, standoffish Chara. Privately, Frisk thought that all the things they had confessed to sounded exactly like things Chara would do, before remembering they were a borderline drug dealer and had absolutely no moral high ground here, there or anywhere.
"Well, uh..." they said. "Sheesh. Guess that's been weighing on you for a long time, huh?"
Chara looked them over, pursing their lips. "You usually rush to defend me. Tell me I'm none of the things I say I am... You believe it too," they observed.
"I-I mean," they stammered, "Y-yeah, you were kinda shitty, but you were also a kid— not that that excuses it, of course, but—"
"For God's sake, shut up," said Chara, exasperated. "For once just stop making excuses for me and let me own up to the things I did. I manipulated Asriel, to the point that my actions killed the both of us. And because of me..." they looked at their surroundings. "Look at what this place has become."
Frisk was a little shocked by Chara's outburst. They rubbed their arm, looking at the ground. "I believe you. But I also believe you didn't want to hurt him."
Chara sighed. "Of course, I didn't want to hurt him. He was my best friend. And yet..." They shook their head.
Frisk decided to drop it there. That was the most they were getting out of them for now. "I think we passed that building you told me about," they said. "Guess we should get going."
The pair continued in silence, the path splitting off towards an opening in the cave wall. When they reached it, they turned a corner and were greeted with a house eerily similar to Toriel's, though in greyscale and not purple. There was an empty spot in the centre of the courtyard, where a tree likely once stood. But, now there was nothing. Just silence all around, not a single ambient sound to be heard.
"This is it..." said Chara. "This is where I lived."
Frisk looked around. "It's so... quiet," they whispered.
"The lack of two rambunctious royal children playing in the garden is likely to blame," said Chara, so sombrely that Frisk couldn't tell if they were jesting or not.
They swallowed, slowly continuing on. A golden light shone through them as they SAVED ("The King's home, abandoned to time stands before you. You are filled with determination."), then approached the front door and knocked. They gave it at least thirty seconds before trying the door handle. It was unlocked.
"Uh, hello?" they called out, stepping over the threshold. "Anyone home? Juicy and ripe human soul right here, ready for collection!"
They looked to the left. A room that looked practically identical to Toriel's living/dining room. They looked to the right. A hallway with doors identical in placement to Toriel's. The basement staircase was even the same, save for a huge chain across it.
"What the hell...?" they asked softly. "It looks the exact same..."
"It does," Chara acknowledged. "I suppose they just liked the layout of the house too much to change... hold on, there's a note on that chain. Get closer to it."
Frisk obliged. "'Howdy! If you need to talk about anything, I'm down in the garden. The keys are on the kitchen counter.'?" They gave the chain a bemused look. "Wouldn't I just step over the chain? Here, I'll do it right now."
They attempted to swing one leg over the chain, but met some invisible force which resulted in them falling on their back. They yelled out in frustration, seething at the pain shooting up their spine.
"Are you alright?" asked Chara.
"In five minutes, maybe," they replied through gritted teeth. "Fuck. Couldn't he have warned us about the invisible forcefield? What is that shit?"
"Likely an enchantment he has cast upon the padlock. The key must be the anti-spell, then..."
"Great, an invisible wall. Just what I wanted in my video game, thanks," they groaned, getting to their feet, rubbing their back as they did. "Fine, keys on the kitchen counter, let's take them and leave."
"If it... if it is at all possible. Could we stay for just a while longer?" asked Chara, their tentativeness obvious.
Frisk stopped. They had places to be, but... heh, they couldn't be any more late than they already were, right? Besides, they thought, I owe it to Chara, considering the way I talked to them earlier. They deserve to see their home one last time.
"Sure," they agreed. "All the time you need."
They released a stressed sigh. They probably hadn't been expecting Frisk to agree. "Thank you. Please, start wherever you'd like."
Frisk looked around. They figured they should start with the living room and kitchen, and so they did. Chara crossed the room, eyes running over the titles on the bookshelf, vaguely mumbling the names under their breath. Frisk drew up a chair at the table and sat down, watching.
Chara had an almost... methodical approach as they touched (or attempted to touch?) books and other objects, despite their hands just going straight through them. Frisk tried to search for despair in their eyes, but got instead a set, stony expression.
Without a word, they headed into the kitchen, Frisk hastily following them. "So... a lotta memories, huh?" they asked, in a pitiful attempt at conversation.
"They are all I have left," they said simply.
"Uhh... well-put," they stammered out. "So, talk to me. Tell me about these rooms."
"Ha. The kitchen. Ironically, the room that saw the least actual use," they said. "Toriel always cooked with fire magic instead of the stove, so it was always spotless. Though... one time, I tried to cook the way humans did. And I... I made a complete mess of it."
Frisk, sensing a turn for the worst, quickly forced a laugh. "Heheh, w-what'd you do, burn the house down or something?" They hoped Chara knew they were kidding.
"Almost," they replied.
O-kay...
"Leeeeet's move on another room," they said, quickly snagging the keys that were hanging on a rack near the doorway. "Wanna check out Asgore's room next?"
Chara gave them an odd look. "Something tells me it would be better if we stayed out of there."
"Huh?" asked Frisk, confused.
"Need I really spell it out for you?"
I guess... king alone in his house for years while he's forced to collect human souls so his people have hope for the future... kinda makes sense his room wouldn't offer much that we haven't already deduced.
"I guess... how about your room?" they asked. "Or, I guess... the room you and Asriel had."
Chara looked discomforted, but their eyes had a vague curiosity glistening in them.
"I suppose I... I am curious to see if anything has changed, and if that is indeed the case, what exactly..." they admitted. "It is down the hall, the first door on the left. Not that there were ever any doors on the right."
Frisk headed back out into the main room and could see the door Chara mentioned from there. "...are you sure you wanna go in there?" they asked. "I mean... we can just leave, if you want."
"No," they replied firmly. "I want to see it. Now."
Frisk rolled their eyes. "Sure, boss." Ignoring Chara's sniff of disapproval, they headed to the door and opened it, feeling around in the dark for a light switch. Their fingers brushed a hard bump in the wall, and found the switch. When they flicked it, the ceiling bulb buzzed to life, revealing the room to them.
"Huh... talk about deja vu," they muttered. "Room looks almost the same as the one back at Toriel's."
There were two beds, set at opposite sides of the room and a closet in the middle, presumably holding clothes. A few drawings had been framed and hung above the beds. Toys were still scattered on the floor, like whoever was playing with them just... vanished halfway through. Two gift boxes had been placed in the centre of the room. Naturally, Frisk was drawn to them.
Opening the first, they were confronted with a heart-shaped locket made of what looked to be like real, solid gold. The delta rune had been engraved into it. Chara gave a sharp exhale. "M-my... my..."
Wordlessly, Frisk took the locket in their now-trembling fingers and spied the split down the middle. It opened sideways, revealing words that looked like they'd been engraved messily, by an amateur. Best friends forever.
"This... this was yours," breathed Frisk.
"Asriel, he... he himself had one that was exactly the same. I... I can't believe he kept it." They paused, collecting their thoughts. "Then... is his inside the other box...?"
Frisk opened the second box. There was a dagger inside. The handle was wrapped in a cloth, and the hilt was made of some dark, stained wood that they couldn't identify. The blade had been worn down a bit and was slightly blunted, but it was still a weapon all the same.
"Perfect for cutting vines and plants," said Chara, almost as though they objected to its status as a weapon.
"More the utilitarian type, I guess?" said Frisk. "A gardening tool and a piece of jewellery. Huh..."
"Take them."
"What?"
"Take them. The blade may be blunted, but it will serve you well against King Asgore, I should think. And the locket, well... may it serve you however it can now."
"I... I appreciate that, but. I can't," they said sheepishly. "It just... it doesn't feel right. They have a lotta sentimental value to you."
"In case you haven't noticed, Frisk, I'm dead. The dead aren't supposed to have feelings," said Chara snidely.
"You're not exactly dead in a conventional sense. Look, it's just... I—"
"How is it any different from taking those fallen humans' weapons and armour?" asked Chara, quickly becoming irritable.
"I didn't know them like I know you," said Frisk. "Look, it's a weak excuse, I get it, but that's all I can say."
"Frisk. Just take them. They aren't seeing any use, especially not from me. If anything, those two helping you reach the surface again is all I could ever ask," they stated. "And I absolutely refuse to budge on this."
Frisk sighed, shoulders sunk. "I guess you've got a point," they admitted. "I guess I just... I didn't think they'd really get any use outta me."
"How is that?" asked Chara. "You have to fight King Asgore to escape, you know that already."
Frisk opened their mouth, but decided against it halfway through.
"...Frisk. What do you intend to do?" asked Chara, eyes narrowing.
They tried to shut themselves off mentally. "I'm weighing my options. But one way or another, I'll finally end this. You'll see."
Chara turned away, arms crossed. "...so be it. I know better than anyone I cannot sway you. That determination... it could rival even mine. All I ask is that you... reconsider."
"Huh?" they asked. "Reconsider what?"
"Forget it."
Frisk half-wanted to argue it further, but what was the point? They were nearly there, and the last thing they needed was another fight. So, they promptly dropped it and headed out of their room.
"Well, we've got the keys, let's see if this'll get us through..." They bent down on one knee and inserted both keys into the locks, turning them. The energy vanished and the locks disengaged. The gate swung open.
"Good," they said, more to themselves than anyone else.
They descended the basement stairs, entering a dark, drab basement of grey tones similar to the ones so prevalent in New Home. Frisk couldn't help but be unnerved by how identical everything was to Toriel's home in the Ruins. Every chipped brick, every stain on the floor, even the cobwebs were all in the same exact places. It was too accurate to be possible... or at least, conventionally possible.
Their discomfort lessened as they noticed the huge exit doors were propped wide open. Finally, something that isn't creepily identical. They exited, shielding their face from the rays of light that realistically shouldn't have been possible. A cliffside walkway greeted them, and not too far in the distance, the castle they were seeking.
Without a word, they proceeded toward the castle.
"Not much further now," said Frisk. "The castle's practically right on top of us."
The path ended in front of them, with a huge, arched doorway to their right. Figuring there was no other way, they headed in, almost immediately having to do a double-take.
It was like a corridor of gold. Dark-red and gold tiles flowed from underneath the soles of their boots, equally-golden light shining in through the arched windows. Frisk had long since given up on figuring out how that was physically possible.
They headed down the hall, footsteps echoing in the empty area. Pillars dwarfing them as they passed. It looked like an uneventful stroll until they noticed a piece of paper on the floor.
"Huh, it's a note," they muttered, unfolding it and reading it. "'eyy, hombre, it's me, your ol' pal, Sans. So, I was supposed to do a speech here about stuff, but seeing as you're the last human to come through here and I'm kind of out of a job now, I figured I'd just write it down for you.' Sans was supposed to meet me here? For what?"
"How about, oh, reading the note?" suggested Chara sarcastically.
"'Basically, in this word, there's two concepts, EXP and LOVE.' In all caps. 'EXP is your Execution Points. Basically, when you kill people, you get EXP. This is like a numerical way of quantifying people you fuck over. Once you get enough, your LOVE increases. We call this Level of Violence.' What does the 'E' stand for then? 'This is a way of showing how much you can distance yourself from the killing, and how easily you can bring yourself to harm others. I say 'concepts' because there's not actually any in-world way of checking it. Shame. Anyways, because you're a frickin' narc—' Yes, he really used 'frickin'. '—you probably haven't gained any of what is more or less a social construct for idiots who need to be told whether their actions are 'immoral' or not. So, uh, congrats or whatever. Peace out, Fresk.' Huh."
They scrunched up the paper and tossed it aside, giving a single 'heh'. "All this time and he still won't write my name properly."
Shrugging, they started back towards the end of the corridor again. "Wonder why he even dragged his bony ass out here to leave this for me, all things considered."
"Perhaps, on some level, he did care, but just never learnt how to show it," pondered Chara.
"Heh, what am I hearing? You not being cynical and tough? Are you going soft?" teased Frisk.
Chara gave them a dark look out of the corner of their eyes that almost rattled them. Frisk left the corridor behind, returning to the depressing grey tones from before.
The path curved right, then split off. Chara nodded their head in the direction of the one on their now-left. Frisk gave a shaky sigh.
"Time to meet him," they muttered. "...you sure you're ready?"
"Are you?" asked Chara darkly. "You made your choice. Or are you still weighing your options?"
"Tch. Yeah, whatever. I got this," muttered Frisk, storming through the doorway.
Time to end this.
Surprisingly, the... room? was a lot different from what they'd expected. Granted, they weren't expecting some kind of dark, brimstone throne room, but stepping into what looked like somebody's greenhouse or top-floor garden also wasn't on their list of Things They Expected King Asgore Dreemurr's Throne Room To Look Like.
All kinds of plant life surrounded them, some in pots placed on rows of benches, some hanging by chains from above, some even held in the hands of statues. Some lilies, daisies, snapdragons, and then, presented almost like a showpiece, some golden flowers arranged flawlessly in an exquisite marble plant-pot.
"Kind of out of place considering all the brown clay pots," they observed.
"They were his favourite flowers, after all," said Chara.
Continuing through the maze-like arrangements of flowers, they finally reached a small, circular clearing. Surrounded by curved benches housing towering flora, with an outdoor table and two chairs (one larger than the other), sat a positively humongous creature. If they thought Toriel was tall, this was on another level.
Its fur was an off-white, and its hair a dirty blonde. Its presentation gave Frisk the impression it used to be a lustrous golden mane of curls, but had likely gone without grooming for a long time. Horns of ivory sprouted from the sides of its head, its huge figure covered by a tattered purple cape. It seemed to be humming to itself, lost in thought.
Chara's breath caught in their throat so loudly Frisk heard it. "That's... that's him..." they barely managed to choke out. "The Ungetüm König... The Emperor of Ebott's Underworld."
"...Asgore," said Frisk, forgetting to even whisper.
With a grunt, the king stirred from his musings, looking up. His beard was the same colour as his hair, and his eyes were a dull colour that they couldn't quite make out. The crown on his head... really looked too small for him from this angle.
He smiled, somewhat painfully at them. "Howdy! You... seem to have caught me daydreaming... how can I—?"
He stopped mid-sentence, blinking and looking them over once more. Frisk ashamedly averted their gaze.
"...ah. Ah. I see..." he sighed. Screwing his eyes shut tight, he re-arranged his face into something he probably thought looked pleasant and said, "I so... badly want to offer you a cup of tea, but..."
Frisk looked back, stammering something half-formed to stop him from finishing that thought. When they could form the words, they said, faux-brightly, "Y-yeah, sure! God, I sure could use a nice cup of tea right about now."
He seemed all too eager to comply. "...I suppose... I suppose that when there are important matters to be discussed... it should always be done over tea," he said, standing to his full height. Christ, was he tall. A little unsteady, he gestured towards the regular-sized chair and invited them to sit. They did so without hesitation. He produced a pot and kettle from seemingly nowhere, setting it on some kind of makeshift gas stove on one of the benches. As the water slowly began its boiling process, he clumsily sat back down in the chair.
Asgore swallowed thickly. "I imagine you... you must have so many questions..." he said.
Frisk shrugged as nonchalantly as they could. "Not really. I've got it all figured out."
The king hung his head after breathing a deep sigh. "So you... you... know what I've done."
"Taken the souls of six humans? ...yeah. That," they said uncomfortably. "Look, uh, as crazy as it sounds, I didn't come here to judge you. I'm not exactly a saint either."
"You have never taken a life, though," he said lowly.
"I... I guess so. I guess it's just kinda... kinda weird to meet someone for ten seconds and then put them on blast for child murder."
"Social formalities... aside... it cannot change what I have done. Or what I must do now..." he answered.
"A lot of people here are guilty of murd— attempted murder, so you're hardly the only exception."
"...what are you... what are you saying?"
Frisk looked at the flowers cutting them off from the rest of the room, yet still allowing golden light to coat the room. "I've been attacked by practically everyone I've met. Obviously not without reason, but still. It feels kind of unfair that they should walk around as if they've done no wrong, while you sit here, stewing in your own guilt and misery."
"How..."
Frisk rolled their eyes. "You look the part, dude, though that's probably a bit hypocritical coming from me. I probably look like I've been in several physical altercations and tried to perform emergency surgery on myself in a dingy bathroom."
A low, rumbling chuckle. "I... suppose so..."
They nodded. "Yeah. So, hey, don't feel bad. You're probably doin' both of us a favour." Before he could ask what they meant, they changed the subject. "So, nice place you've got here, huh? Garden often?"
"One of my favourite pastimes," he said, going misty-eyed. "Flowers are so delicate, they must be handled with care... placed in the right conditions with just enough to thrive. You know... I used to have children myself."
Frisk pretended to act surprised. "Oh, the prince and the fallen child?"
He nodded. "Mhmm. The fallen one... they shared my interest in botany. We would spend many hours in the garden, discussing plant life and their ideal conditions for growth. I cherish those memories. Always close to my heart."
"How... how lovely," Frisk forced themselves to sound polite instead of dour. He was already reminiscing upon his dead kids, it was the least they could do.
The kettle began whistling. He faintly tilted his head to the side, muttering that the water had boiled. Frisk nodded as politely as they could, keeping up the naive visitor shtick until they'd exhausted every topic they could reasonably discuss with him. Which, with any luck, wouldn't take too long. But they were still impatient, screaming on the inside just to start early, draw his weapon so they could get this little tussle over with as soon as possible.
"Here," came Asgore's voice, setting down two saucers full of steaming golden flower tea, teapot between them.
"Ah, sheesh. You're a lifesaver, hon—" said Frisk, cutting themselves off. Of all the words you could've used, it just had to be that one, didn't it?
"A-anyway," they continued awkwardly, "this flavour's pretty great, huh?" They sipped theirs emphatically, despite it being hotter than they would usually tolerate. "God, I just... love the taste of, ah... golden flowers. Y'know?"
Asgore gave a low chuckle. "Please... I know what is weighing so heavily on you, young one..." He sighed. "Let us discuss this openly."
Frisk swallowed, caught off-guard momentarily. "R-right..." they muttered. "Well, there isn't really much to talk about. We both know what's going to happen. You need my soul, but... I can't just give it to you. So, you'll have to fight me for it. And then either one of us dies. That's just how it has to be, right? No compromises?"
Asgore pondered this for a moment as he produced a gin flask, pouring it into his saucer until it was filled to the top. Well, still technically counts as a G & 'T', they thought. "You seem to have given this a lot of thought, young one. But when you say those words... how sure are you of yourself to follow what you say until the very end?"
Damn it, they'd been caught again. Bastard. They shot the angriest look they could at him to know they didn't appreciate that in the slightest, but their fumbled mutterings about knowing exactly what they were doing and not to question them both really didn't help their case.
Finally, they burst out, "It's not like there are any other options, are there? You have to get the seventh soul, and once you get it, your people's faith will finally pay off. Someone with enough power to rival an entire military fleet. You'd snap the Barrier like a twig beneath your feet! So why won't you just accept that's your ending? I have!"
They stared furiously into his surprised eyes. He'd been caught mid-sip, saucer to his lips as he stared back at them.
"Why won't you put the needs of the many before just one human? You've done it before, you can't pretend to be better than that."
He shook his head, setting down the bottle. "Young one..." he said solemnly, "I know what I must do... but how long can I continue to justify the slaughter of humans in the name of freedom?"
"Well, it doesn't have to be slaughter!" said Frisk, standing up, nearly spilling their tea as they did. "What if I were to offer you my soul, right now? No violence, no blood on your hands, just... a soul changing hands, y'know?"
"Frisk... what are you doing?" hissed Chara.
Asgore looked stunned, as if he wasn't even able to comprehend what Frisk was suggesting. Which, in retrospect, wouldn't have surprised them, given his questionable drinking habits. But then, he laughed.
"I could not do that... you have... you have your whole life ahead of you. You are still... young. Not me. I am but an old man..."
"W-what are you talking about, I have my whole life ahead of you?" spluttered Frisk. "I can't cross the Barrier, and what life would I even have up there anyway? One where I'm shunned by everyone and everything I meet? This is the end of my life, and for once, I'll actually help people!"
"Frisk..." said Chara, tone rising. "Don't do it, don't talk like that."
"Human... you have limitless opportunity on the surface. Not like... down here. There is only so far you may go before cavern walls impede your progress. Your sacrifice, while noble... I could not reconcile it."
Frisk stared. They finally saw what their sympathy blinded them to.
"So what, you'd rather I killed you instead of do the one good thing I did in my life and sacrifice myself so you can free your people? I just offered you a violence-free get-out-of-jail-free card and you don't even fucking care?"
Before he could answer (sluggishly, as he did), they cut him off resoundingly. "You know what I think? You talk about duty and how you have no choice, but you know what? I think you're just lazy! Lazy like every other fucking person I met here! You'd rather be euthanised... because you can't even play the part of a king, loyal to the needs of his people, convincingly."
He looked stunned, but not in a thoughtful way as he had before. He seemed surprised that they had that kind of fire in them. You bastards tried to kick me when I was down, but it only made me angrier when I eventually got dragged to my feet again, they thought.
"I... I would hope not to emerge victorious if we were to fight, because I know for a fact I would be covered in the blood of an innocent. I know.. victory would mean my peoples' freedom would be guaranteed, but... how do I reconcile both with my obligations not only as king, but as a creature of compassion and mercy?" he asked, eyes almost pleading. Pleading to understand him. To reach common ground. They were begging in the wrong town at the wrong time.
"Those are the kinds of decisions you're supposed to make when you're a leader," they replied coldly. "But you clearly aren't one." They hesitated. "If I killed myself right in front of you, would you take my soul, or would you let it shatter? Let's say I didn't even do it for you. I did it for me."
"Frisk..."
He couldn't answer. They knew he wouldn't be able to, but on some level, they hoped he'd endorse it. Even begrudgingly. They didn't want to kill someone who had been in so much pain, and would easily be broken by slaughtering another. They tried to offer him an easy way out, guaranteeing their own easy way out, too.
"What if I stayed here until I died? Once I die of old age, there'll be nothing morally wrong with taking my soul so you can help your people, right?"
He twisted in his seat, bordering on a wreck. He looked like he was about to cry, but was trying to remain calm for their benefit. "I... I can't..." he whispered, seeming more like he was talking to himself than to them.
They'd tried suicide, they'd tried a trade, but he just rejected them. He rejected every alternative they came up with. They gave him more than Alphys could give them, but nothing was ever good enough for anyone, was it?
"No, you can, but you won't," they said spitefully. "Because you're a coward. I'll bet even if you did have the souls, you wouldn't absorb them. Would you?"
"H-how can I... turn into that?" he whispered, hands over his mouth, eyes leaking with tears. "A body that only serves to remind me that I am a murderer, who took peoples' lives away from them."
Now it was Frisk's turn to start crying. Tears trailing down their face as they looked at him in disbelief. Like he was from a different planet (although he kind of was, in a way)
"So, if you had've killed me, my soul wouldn't have even gone to good use? It'd just sit inside a container for eternity while you endlessly put off the day you have to use them?" They have a heartless chuckle. "You say that your obligation is forcing you to kill, but if the killing isn't actually advancing your goal, then you're really just killing innocent people for no reason, aren't you?"
"Y-young one—"
"No!" they shouted, slamming the table out of the way, sending tea and ceramics flying, shattering, splashing. "Don't even try. I know who you really are! A murderer who can't even justify his killing because he won't take the final step towards his end goal!" They were completely inconsolable, chest heaving, eyes puffy and fists clenched. "You might want to die, but... b-but you're immortal without Asriel... and I hope you suffer alone for the rest of your miserable life!"
With that, they turned and ran as fast as they could, screaming so many obscenities they turned into background static. They vaguely felt Chara talking to them, trying to calm them, but they couldn't make out whatever it was they were saying. Take me out of this, they thought, fucking fraud, bastard ruler, take me back! TAKE ME BACK!
As golden light flashed by their blurred vision, another starry light began to glow.
They blinked, and suddenly they weren't there anymore. They were standing in front of the doorway to Asgore's throne room. They blinked again. "What the...?"
"You went back," said Chara, voice harsher than usual.
"I... guess I did," they said. "Chara—"
"To your credit, you blocked me out quite well, so I don't know all the details," they said. "Frisk..."
"I know, I know," sighed Frisk, pinching their nose. "Why would I want to do such an awful thing? How could I be so ridiculous to come all this way just to wind up killing myself?"
"I wasn't going to ask that. I would know the reluctance to confide and the reasons why better than anyone."
Frisk was forming a half-snarky reply, before the full meaning of their words quickly sank in. Their expression changed, eyes knowing. "So... you..."
"Killed myself? Yes," said Chara, sounding resigned to the fact. "I didn't 'get sick' like everyone thinks. I poisoned myself with buttercups from father's garden. It's not pleasant, but since when is death ever pleasant?"
Frisk was shocked. The fact their cynical ghost soul-parasite travelling companion had wilfully committed themselves to death wasn't... surprising to them, but the fact it actually happened really did leave them speechless. And they meant that in the truest definition of the word. What could they say that hadn't already been said in every self-serving, box-ticking 'I-want-to-help-you' mental health PSA they'd seen?
"Was it painful?" was all they could really muster.
"I'll put it to you this way," they replied. "Buttercups are horribly acrid, and ingesting them causes blistering of the intestinal tract and throat. Meaning you will throw up and excrete blood for weeks." All delivered with a deadpan fascination.
Frisk grimaced. "Fuck... why did you choose such a drawn-out way to do it?"
"Call it... poetic justice," said Chara. "But that was just an afterthought. And not why I'm finally telling you. Too late, in fact."
Frisk was still in shock at this revelation and pissed off at Asgore, but they waited in silence for their answer.
"I killed myself for a number of reasons. But what motivated me most was sacrifice. If Asriel and I combined our souls—"
Frisk perked up. "You'd be able to cross the Barrier..."
Chara sighed. "Yes, I forgot that Toriel told you that story..."
After a moment of silence between the pair, Frisk tried again. "So, you died for monsters. But why would you throw your life away like that?" they asked, feeling a secondhand stab of embarrassment for shooting themselves in the foot like that.
"Because I was desperate. Like you," they replied.
There came that secondhand embarrassment again. Flushed and rubbing the back of their neck, Frisk sighed. "I wanted to live out of pure spite when I first got here. I wouldn't be caught down bad by a bunch of bastards that wanted me dead at all costs. But eventually it all got to me. I... I just wanted out in any way possible. And then I figured I'd do it here. I'd confront Asgore, and hopefully he'd just stab me through the heart and end me right there."
They gave a half-laugh, half-sob. "Should've known he'd be too much of a fucking coward to make my suffering at least worth it."
"Frisk... when I said you were the friend I deserved, I wasn't lying," said Chara. "I want what's best for you, and I know for a fact that's staying alive. I may have thrown my life away for some unchecked martyr complex, but for God's sake, let me be where that ends. I want you to at least have a chance for a future. And whatever you have to do to achieve that, I will stand behind you."
Frisk managed to crack a smile. "Whatever I have to, huh?" they half-taunted.
"At this point, yes," said Chara, completely serious. "Just don't act like a fucking degenerate."
Frisk blinked, but shook it off, laughing. "Heh. Alright. That knife still good?"
The next few minutes were a blur to them. They vaguely remembered passing more buildings, then hedges and flowers. Their grip tightened as they staggered through the almost overpowering aroma of flowers. They found their way to the clearing in the middle. A garden table, two chairs, and a bench. And one occupant besides themselves.
They approached, every pulse in their body pounding. "Hey. Asgore. Wake up."
The monster in the chair stirred, grunting as he sat up straight. "Mmm... my apologies, you seem to have caught me napping... what is—?"
They buried the knife directly into his chest. His eyes flew open, bulging wide. He looked shocked as he stared at the knife in his body. Which, honestly, was a fair reaction. Generally, you don't wake up expecting a knife in you.
"You... why...?" he wheezed, misting them with a fine cloud of dust.
"Forgive me. I know I can't," they replied solemnly, head down. They ripped the knife from his chest, bringing with it a spray of grey particles and a sharp inhale from Asgore. Then, they brought the knife down again. By now, he'd stood up, groaning as dust spilled out of his wounds like the white polyester balls in a beanbag. They jammed the blade into his throat, slamming their whole body into him. Granted, it was pathetic because of the size difference between the two, but he did stagger.
He fell to one knee, making awful noises from his mangled throat. What made them awful wasn't just how impossible it sounded, but that it was chuckling.
"Young one... you cannot kill me," he said, sounding almost condescending. "You do not want to."
"Shut the fuck up!" barked Frisk, surprising themselves. "You don't know anything about me!"
"I know killing intent when I see it," he admonished. "And you do not have it."
"Blow it out your ass!" they yelled. "You wanna die so bad, how about you lie down and let it happen?"
They punched him straight in his smiling face. They hated that the most about him, the fucking cheeriness. He was dying and all he could do was tell them they wouldn't kill him? They'd show him what they were capable of. They'd show him what he drove them to.
But no matter how much they abused his body, kicking anything exposed, jamming the knife inside his mouth and twisting it, spitting in his eyes, nothing worked. He just sat there taking it.
"Why won't you just die?" they screamed. "If I won't kill you, why don't you do it yourself, you fucking coward?"
That finally wiped the smile off his face.
Then, he took the knife out of himself, with a grimace. Raised it above his head.
Frisk's anger dissipated. "What the— are you seriously going to—?"
The knife made itself a new home the top of his head. His eyes slowly glazed over, an almost relieved expression on his face. He swayed a few times, then hit the ground with a climactic thud.
Frisk stared in what looked like horror, but all they felt really was surprise that he finally went through with it. Even when his life was threatened, he'd rather sit there and be treated like dirt underneath their boots to than fight back.
Maybe... in his mind... his life was already over, they thought. But he couldn't bring himself to accept it. He couldn't go through with it.
His body turned a dark grey, before giving a little 'sigh' and settling into a pile of ashes. And from them, a shimmering, upside-down white heart rose.
"That's it..." said Chara. "His soul. Risen from the ashes... how poetic."
"All I have to do is take it..." murmured Frisk, shaking badly. "Take it and you're free. Free..."
They slowly approached it, reaching their hand out to it, their chest glowing red, as though the two souls were reacting to each other.
Their fingertips brushed the air around the soul...
...and then suddenly, the air changed.
White bullets appeared around the soul. Frisk jerked their hands away, fearing some kind of lingering anti-theft soul spell Asgore had going, before the bullets buried themselves into the soul, shattering it to pieces. The spent magic fragments fell to the pile of ash below, evaporating.
Chara was stunned into silence. Frisk's mouth fell open with disbelief. "Y— you... no... no way... no no no no no fuck—"
"Howdy!"
Frisk's head whipped around, spotting a smiling golden flower just feet away. Flowey.
"Wow, you actually had some balls for once, I gotta hand it to ya!" he said, snickering. "But unfortunately, you taking that soul isn't how I wanted this to go down, so... change of plans!"
"You bastard!" they yelled, charging at Flowey. Suddenly, they were blown back by an incredible force, hitting the wall opposite them. Thankfully, they'd rolled, but they had all the air in their lungs blown out of them.
"Ah-ah-ah," he mocked. "Not so fast, pal. You didn't account for something. Flowey said the plans changed, and here's how."
Six hearts appeared above him. One orange, one purple, one blue, the other turquoise, another green and finally, yellow.
"N-no..." whispered Chara.
"Pretty neat, huh?" he replied with over-enthusiasm. "The six human souls! And with these, I think we're in for one hell of a time!"
"Frisk, you have to stop him," babbled Chara, "don't let him absorb—"
The souls all coalesced into one glowing beam of light, shining upon Flowey, as Frisk tried to drag themselves to their feet and—
Hey. Yeah, yeah, I know, long time, no update. Really trying to find the fucks I still give about this stupid thing, but in that time I've, uh... released some mashups, made some art, and gotten a learner's permit. So. That's nice. Big side note, I basically moved to AO3 for updating this and actually forgot to post this chapter here, so, uh... yeah. Basically, what I'm saying is, follow my AO3 if you're still interested in this story, I've just kept this here since it's where the story was originally posted and I wanted to preserve that for posterity.
Anyways, you're all here for Chapter Trivia™, so let's get it over with.
1. This chapter got its title from the song with the funny Future man on it, "King's Dead"
2. It's a chain that you could easily just fuckin' climb over. Even Undertale, the oh-so-wondrous groundbreaking RPG can't defend Frisk not just using the literal jetpack in their phone to boost over it. Therefore, I gave it an in-world explanation: the chain and lock are just physical conduits for the invisible wall spell to latch onto, and the key is the counter-spell's conduit.
3. I know Sans is a dick, but I like to think that on some level, he DOES care, it's just that he's too lazy and apathetic to really make for a good 'caretaker' or 'guardian', which quickly makes Frisk hate or dislike him. He doesn't mean them any harm, but his neglect causes them harm by proxy.
4. Sue me or whatever, but LOVE and EXP shouldn't even be required in a game like Undertale. It's flawed, with some murders offering bigger EXP bonuses than others (Killing Undyne at LV 1 brings you to LV 8, whereas killing Toriel at LV 1 brings you to... LV 5, I believe?), and in doing so, commits the very sin it accuses players of being guilty of. Treating everyone as just numerical values. It really is just a number for morons who need to be told whether or not their murder of some largely-innocent monster earned them good-boy points or not, and I will die on this hill alone if I have to.
5. Yeah, I cucked you out of a full Asgore fight. But honestly, at this rate, why would he? He's already suicidal (shown in canon when he straight-up impales himself on his trident on a subsequent Neutral Run), and mix that with isolationism and alcoholism, and you've got a loose cannon. He just couldn't justify suicide in the moment due to the idea he'd be failing his people, so he more or less used Frisk's outburst as an excuse.
6. He was telling the truth, Frisk may have sounded like it, but they were having second thoughts the moment they picked up that knife. Taking a life isn't that easy, especially when it's a living, breathing person you've met and spoken to, regardless of how much you hate them. That's why Asgore stabbing himself in the head was basically a 1-hit kill, compared to Frisk, who was probably only taking small chunks out of his HP, so to speak.
7. Asgore basically refusing to kill or fight them, or to even take their soul is what brought them out of their suicidal ideation. They had been planning to be offed by him since the start of the elevator ride, but what changed their mind was the fact that he wouldn't even absorb their soul, they'd just be stuck in a glass jar forever, making their death completely pointless. They wanted out, but they wanted it to at least benefit people as a last act of penance.
So, yeah. Flowey and the end of the Neutral Route are next. Guess that'll be a long time, right? I said I'd finish this before I turned 18, but that didn't exactly pan out, did it, haha? Anyways, fuck it. Enjoy it or don't, I'm just trying to be better than all the other Undertale fans who create something cool but then cancel at the last minute.
Ladi-dadi-da, drawl on me soul,
- offbrandbiscuit