VOXISTALE: Season 1

by TheOneTrueComic

Once upon a time… A human fell underground. Beneath the surface, they made friends. Made enemies. Made mistakes. Made things right. After a long time, the human decided to stay, calling the underground home. The monsters, her family. One day, the underground was destroyed, but the monsters were able to escape, thanks to the human. For years, they have lived on the surface.

18. The Storm

"i'll be by for the party tonight, 'kay?"

Frisk smiled at the grinning skull of Sans as he stared dolefully back from atop the scooter. Despite it all, he was a great friend. Even after everything that had happened between them… "You'd better." She winked back. She was feeling somewhat elated. Glad. Even a little excited. Toriel's car was pulled into the driveway. That was practically a guarantee that this birthday would be a good one.

Wandering through the front door, Frisk slung her bag off her shoulder, and looked about- but saw nobody. "Mom?" She called out, but got no answer. Frisk chuckled to herself, realizing what was going on here. "Oh, well. I guess nobody's home." She said loudly, sure Toriel was prepared to jump out at her from somewhere with a gift. She wandered about on the bottom floor for a few minutes, peeking around corners as she went, but finding nothing. Brow furrowing, Frisk felt worry beginning to eat at her insides, tearing away at her like a ravenous dog.

When the hell did it get so dark? Frisk found her eyes trying to adjust, making out the outlines of the furniture in the living room, except the scene… it was wrong. Furniture was broken, smashed, and ripped apart. A strewn mess vacating the lot and further increasing her worry. A figure stood alone in the darkness. A tall figure, rising to the ceiling. Slender, and with a body blacker than black. It reminded her of… something she'd seen recently.

Of the Empty One.

As that thought crossed her mind, the figure slowly shifted, turning its gaze to look at her. Two glowing orbs of light locked onto her eyes. They reminded her of Sans' eyes, except these ones were cold. Dark. Hostile.

It moved, an arm stretching out from its amorphous body, a skeletal hand reaching for her- before it suddenly retracted, as though in pain. The orbs shifted, turning into a green glare that burned straight into Frisk's SOUL as she started to back up, eyes wide.

Her surroundings became darker… darker… yet darker…

"I wonder what color his eyes are…"

The voice echoed through her mind.

"His eyes are green…"

Another voice replied. She felt her body freeze as the green eyes drifted nearer toward her. Like all the other times she'd seen them, she knew they weren't actually green. It was a color impossible to pin. A shifting force of perception, or rather, the absence of. She could only describe it as green, even if it truly wasn't.

"I wonder what his motives are…"

Frisk tried to lash out. Tried to fight back. Tried to do something, anything… nothing worked.

"His motives…"

"His motives…"

"Are…"

His void enveloped her as a roar of noise filled her head, making her skull feel like it would burst. It took her a moment to realize that this noise was laughter.

---

Cold sweat clung to her body. Her breath came out in gusts of fog-like mist as she stared forward, chest heaving. That laughter still echoed inside of her mind, staining her subconscious. Despite how cold her surroundings were, she felt incredibly hot. Overheated. Sans sat nearby at the foot of her make-shift bed, leaning against the wall, his body slumped and relaxed. He was actually asleep, something he rarely ever did. The amount of people in here probably made him feel as safe as it did for her last night. Still breathing heavily, Frisk slipped the quilt off of her and climbed to her feet. It was still dark. People were still sleeping. Her hand still stung, though not as bad as before. Asgore's healing magic had probably helped a lot in that regard.

Still in her day clothes from before (complete with the gash in her shirt), she wandered out of the throne room, headed back outside to find Asgore had finally left his post, though he hadn't gone far. Her father sat against the stone of the ruined staircase that led up to the throne room. The original entrance. His eyes were closed, head hanging, sleeping peacefully. She didn't want to bother him. Her gaze drifted over the courtyard to find it was empty. All the stragglers from before had gone to bed now. She was probably the only person actually awake at the moment.

Spending a moment taking in the cool early morning air, Frisk suddenly felt… uneasy. A frown beset her face as her eyes swept across the ruins of the Kingdom of Hopes once again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It just felt like… someone was watching her.

"Never ignore those sensations."

Chara's voice whispered into her ear. Frisk shook her head as though she were trying to shake away a fly, annoyed at the spirit's intrusion. She didn't respond to Chara, but did heed the advice.

Moving her legs, Frisk began to walk forward, eyes continually darting about in search of whatever it was that was unsettling her. The further she got from the throne room, the more unsettled she began to feel. Winding her way back to the courtyard, Frisk finally saw it. A figure standing beneath the shadow cast by the remnants of a stone tower, moon aiding in this. She would have missed it had the figure not moved slightly, drawing her attention. She froze, staring it down. It made no effort to come closer.

Frisk took a step forward, preparing herself to summon a random weapon if needed. "Who are you?" She asked the figure. It didn't immediately reply. Instead it remained motionless, before shifting once again. "Someone with a message." The person replied, taking a few steps out of the shade and into the moonlight.

It was Trickster. Frisk immediately noticed a subtle limp to her step, something the Lieutenant attempted to conceal. Her face was cut and bruised. She'd seen better days. There was no hesitation as a crimson harpoon materialized in Frisk's hands, aimed toward Trickster, who raised her arms, face betraying no emotion. "Put that away, I'm not here for a fight."

"And that matters because?" Frisk asked, glaring. "Because I'm not alone." Trickster offered with a shrug. Frisk stared back for a moment, weighing her options, before the harpoon disappeared. "Talk." She ordered. Trickster looked over Frisk's shoulder in the direction of the throne room. "How's Magnum doing?" She asked. Frisk almost scoffed at this. Seriously? "What's the message?"

"You first." Trickster replied. Frisk rolled her eyes at this. "Prepared to take you down, that's how she is. What's. The. Message." A spark of anger lit up Trickster's eyes with a burgundy energy for a moment, before she closed her eyelids and took a deep breath. "Fine." She replied. "My message is simple. Get ready. The Messiah will be here at nightfall to finish the job. All of us." Her emphasis on 'all' was enough to make Frisk's mouth go dry. Magnum, Truck, and Mosu had described the size of the Messiah before. A massive cult. Thousands of members across every continent.

"We'll be ready." Frisk stated. Trickster stared back at her for a moment, before she shook her head. "You're human. You don't have to fall with them. We'll spare you. Your friends. The traitors. All you have to do is convince them." She offered. "Resisting won't get you anywhere. Your best weapon is gone, and you're on your last leg."

"Screw you." Frisk once again summoned the harpoon. "There's no negotiations. You gave your message. I received it. Go back to your masters. I have a message for them." She paused, not actually having a message on-hand, so provided some cool one-liner. "Any of you come within fifty feet of a monster and I'll kill you. All of you." A bit excessive. She almost expected Trickster to be humored by this, but the girl took the threat a little more seriously than Frisk herself, narrowing her eyes and taking a step back. "Very well." She finally said. With that, she turned and disappeared into the trees, their branches swallowing her.

For a second time, the harpoon vanished and Frisk felt herself relax ever-so-slightly. However, at that moment, a yelp split the silence of the cool air. It had come back from the throne room, and sounded like a panicked cry. Immediately, the girl sprung into action, racing back.

What she found was Asgore standing before the ruined staircase, holding someone by their throat. A knife was sticking out of his side as the man in his grip kicked and struggled, unable to break free of the ex-king's grasp. Several faces were peering out from the throne room at the scene. Asgore glanced toward Frisk as she approached. "An assassin." He stated simply, grip tightening on the man, whose struggle was becoming more feeble. However, to Frisk's surprise, Asgore let the man go. He tumbled to the ground, coughing and choking, grasping at his throat, his face purple. "Go." Asgore commanded. "Return. Let them be the judge of your failure." The man was already scurrying away, still choking as he went and disappeared around a bend. Frisk stared after him, before watching as Asgore tugged the blade out of his side. He looked it over for a moment, shook his head, then stuck it into his back pocket. A little knife clearly wasn't much to him when it wasn't powered by corrupted determination. "He wasn't the only one." Frisk told her father, who frowned as she explained her encounter with Trickster.

"How'd they know you'd go out there?" He asked. She shrugged. "Maybe she didn't and came up with the message thing to stall." It seemed reasonable enough. Asgore let out a heavy sigh as he poked at his fresh wound, then began to heal it with his magic. "The parallels to my father's demise are uncanny." He stated. "My father, Asgard Dreemurr, was assassinated as he slept. Agents sent by my own childhood friend."

"Maybe Obaseki thought it would be poetic." Asgore scoffed. "Maybe." There was silence as Frisk stared at her father for a moment. His troubled expression focused on his wound, though she knew his mind was elsewhere.

"Think we can make a final stand?" Frisk asked. Asgore shook his head. "Not at all. I'm the only Boss Monster here, the only known monster to be capable of… facing a single human in combat." Frisk wasn't about to expose Sans here, but she doubted Asgore's statement. "We have willing fighters." She told him. "Some of them are much more powerful than you give them credit for."

"I suppose you're right." Asgore sniffed. "I just don't want anyone to perish." Frisk found that to be extremely… near-sighted. "Dad." She replied. "People are going to die no matter what we do." He hummed at this in reply, before turning and lumbering away. Her eyes followed him as he retreated back inside.

That had been quite the wake-up routine. Until nightfall wasn't exactly the longest time in the world to start preparing for a full-on conflict, but… it beat having no time and getting rekt as they slept. Deciding to pass some time by harnessing her SOUL magic, Frisk set out into the forest, keeping a cautious eye out for Messiah spies. She didn't see any, but that didn't mean there weren't any. Using her SOUL was like putting on a pair of old gloves. It fit so easily, and had the memory that the timeline shouldn't have allowed. In no time at all, she was cutting down trees with single slashes, bursting apart the ground, and also practicing her form a bit. It was impossible not to notice Chara watching with dull eyes.

After nearly an hour of this, Frisk finally relented. The crimson machete she'd been using vanished as she wiped sweat from her brow. The stinging cold actually felt pretty nice at the moment as her chest heaved. It wasn't as though she was exactly fit for any fancy hand-to-hand combat. She still had yet to learn any martial arts or anything of the sort. Mostly freestyled combat, among tricks she'd picked up from her vast experiences.

"You gonna say it?" Frisk asked, turning her gaze to look at Chara. The spirit merely shrugged, evidently bored. "Why waste my breath?" She asked. "You're dead. You can't breathe." Frisk replied, and Chara's eyes widened in a feint of surprise. "Oh my goodness, really?" She asked sarcastically, venom lacing her tone. "Frisk, the observant. Ever so watchful." Frisk shook her head in response to this, feeling the wave of annoyance pulsing from Chara- and advertently affecting Frisk as well, her own mood quickly souring. "I think I preferred you when you were dead and dormant." Chara's eyes flared scarlet at this, before she narrowed them. Without another word, she faded from view. Frisk stared at the spot for a moment, feeling her annoyance lift to be replaced with satisfaction- until she felt a presence behind her.

With a groan, Frisk turned, arming another insult- only to find Sadie staring at her with a raised brow. Red filled Frisk's cheeks as she stared back for a moment. "Uh." She managed out. "They say talking to yourself is a sign of intelligence." Sadie replied. Frisk really didn't have any response for that, or to explain herself here. Too much to get into, and probably a little too weird, even for her. "It's cool, I won't tell anyone." Sadie shrugged. "I do it too, sometimes." She fell silent as Frisk regained herself. Sadie looked about for a moment, taking in the entire scene in full now, before letting out a small 'hm'. "Teach me how to do this."

"Huh?" Frisk asked. Sadie rolled her eyes. "Magic swords and shit." She elaborated. "I want to do that too." Frisk cared about Sadie, she did, but she really wasn't in the mood for some kind of training lesson. Both Sadie and Rian had never even shown affinity for SOUL magic, as far as Frisk could tell, so even bothering could turn out to be a pointless endeavor- not to mention Frisk was far from any kind of teacher. "It's uh…" Her voice trailed off, and Sadie could see the unwillingness in Frisk's eyes. This seemed to piss the girl off, who took a few sudden steps forward, invading Frisk's personal space with as much intention as she could muster. "My mom. Is dead." Sadie's voice was little more than a whisper. Her eyes began to glisten. "We're out here. In some dead ruins. Waiting to die. I refuse. To stand by. And do nothing." Her words were laced with passion, though nothing positive was of it. Her eyes drilled into Frisk's, a tear welling up in her left eye. "There are people. I want. To protect." She struggled out, clearly trying to contain a surge of emotion within. "So you teach me. Or you. Can fuck yourself." A lone tear rolled down Sadie's cheek, immediately swept away by the sleeve of her arm. The sleeve of Frisk's own jacket that Sadie wore.

Frisk gulped, staring back at Sadie, the girl's face an inch from hers now. After a few moments in which Sadie breathed heavily, Frisk gave her a small nod. "Okay." She replied, voice just as quiet as Sadie's. "I'll try."

"Good." The girl nodded, taking a step back, the confrontation over as she wiped at her eyes. "Good." She repeated. "What about Rian and Gregory?" Frisk sighed, shoulders drooping. "Alright, fine. Get them and we'll see if we can… do something." This was going to be a disaster, but Sadie's words had let Frisk know that her friends were all severely outclassed. They still had no training, and even if Greg had conjured magic once, it didn't mean he could do it again when he needed to. First order of business; summoning their SOULs.

Soon enough, Frisk had her three friends standing before her in the clearing she'd made during her own practice. Sadie was stone-faced, staring forward with her hands at her sides as though this was boot camp or something. Rian was a lot more loose, though nervous as he shifted from foot to foot. Greg's face was something of hesitant determination. Summoning her own SOUL, Frisk approached each one, and used her magic on them, enveloping their bodies in a thin layer of red.

Sadie's SOUL appeared, cyan in color.

Rian's SOUL appeared, cobalt in color.

Greg's SOUL appeared, purple in color.

Patience, Integrity, and Perseverance. They had SOULs to use, as it turned out. All three began to grow more excited now that they knew this, especially Gregory, who immediately began to try and harness his SOUL magic. Key word–tried.

"Every SOUL acts differently." Frisk explained. "Each has their own strengths and weaknesses. Mine is complex, allowing me to summon certain weapons and barriers limited only by my mind." Considering Asgore's words, Frisk wasn't about to explain that she could usually control the timeline as well. "Terrence has the SOUL of Bravery. That SOUL makes one stronger and tougher than many others, and is also nearly impossible to harm when in motion. But Sadie," She gestured to her friend, her straightened up as her eyes lingered on her own SOUL hovering before her. "has the SOUL of Patience. These ones are mentality-based, even telepathic, and are harder to hurt when remaining still." They all watched her and listened, enraptured by her words. It made her a little uncomfortable. Not that their eyes were locked onto her, but- okay, it was totally that but she just couldn't stand the attention. When she'd been monsterkind's ambassador, before Asgore had assumed the role, she'd been stared at wherever she went. She still was, but to a lesser degree. Bottom line; she simply disliked the attention.

Trying to ignore it, she continued. "Rian has the SOUL of Integrity. Basically, you can alter space." That probably wasn't a clear-cut explanation. Integrity was the opposite to Determination. Time and Space. They opposed one another as well as complimented each other. "It's like… telekinetic abilities. You can move things with your mind, really your SOUL, and I think you can even teleport, but I've never seen a human capable of that."

"Noooo way." Rian chuckled, staring in amazement at his SOUL. "That's sick as hell! Sadie, I can teleport now!" Sadie's face broke finally into a smile as she stared at her best friend's wonder. Frisk moved on. "And Greg has the SOUL of Perseverance." She actually wasn't entirely certain on this. Perseverance SOULs and Intellect SOULs appeared nearly identical. Just one shade difference between them, nearly impossible to notice without seeing both side-by-side. Intellect might even fit her friend more, but she didn't know as much about them. Perseverance was one she did know.

"These ones are trickier. Offensive, but hard to control. The Perseverance SOULs I've seen could make waves of attacks, kinda like uh… shockwaves. They have some kinda EMP or magnetic ability too, I think, 'cause I've seen them kill car engines and burst phone batteries." Greg stared at Frisk, having less of a reaction than the others, his SOUL hovering before him. There was an awkward moment of silence, before Frisk clasped her hands together. "So… uh… each of you requires different types of training. Let's uh… start with the basics." She suggested.

The next few hours or so were spent trying to show her friends how to utilize the basic traits of a SOUL. Simple combat abilities, like SOUL blasts or minor SOUL barriers for defense. Greg and Sadie got the hang of it quickly, Rian struggling on after them. His mind was probably still on Fuku. Frisk's mind was also elsewhere, mostly concerned with what would happen that night, but also on her friends. Their SOULs. It was kind of… weird. Patience, Bravery, Integrity, and Perseverance. The only thing missing was Kindness and Justice to complete the original six SOULs. Not that those were the original originals… she assumed, at least. Just that those were the SOULs collected by Asgore before she fell underground. She wasn't sure why she was dwelling on it. Coincidences happened. It probably didn't mean anything.

"So how do I teleport?" Rian asked after a few moments of struggling to make any magic appear. Frisk shrugged in response. "I don't know." She stated. "Basic Traits are easy to master, but harnessing the unique abilities of your SOULs is on you. When I was learning how to use my SOUL, it came in like…" She thought for a moment. "Small lessons. Personal lessons, where you learn more about your abilities, and you start to use them more, getting better and better every time. You'll just have to progress naturally and keep training."

"Oh, I'm good at training." Rian told her matter-of-factly. "My mind, my body, and my spirit. I'm the first line of defense for the football team, and I name all the best plays. Whenever I-"

"No football talk during training, if you agree say 'aye'." Sadie spoke up. "Aye." Was Greg's immediate response. "Aye." Frisk agreed. Rian's cheeks flushed as he stuttered to a halt. "Dang, okay." He grinned. "My point is; I'll get the hang of this." With that, they continued to train. Frisk had to admit, it was actually making her feel a little better too.

---

She wound her way through the woods, the ruins of the Kingdom of Hopes falling behind her. Most everyone was gearing for war and/or training for it. Mosu was hosting some kind of dojo lesson with a bunch of wide-eyed monsters. Truck was… being Truck; carrying some stuff for Alphys as she built something. A 'failsafe' as she put it. This left Magnum to wander off. She'd been alerted to the fact that Trickster had been here not long ago. Frisk had spoken with her. It was stupid of Magnum to head out here. To hope that Trixie would show for her, too.

She just missed her too much to sit around and do nothing about it. Magnum's wandering led her around a bend of thick trees- to find the mouth of a cave. It wasn't that large, barely tall enough for her to go inside without having to duck her head. Not even wide enough for two people to simultaneously slip in. Magnum had zero desire to go inside. Probably home to some black bear or something. She wasn't in the mood to scuffle with a-

She froze. Had she heard that right? Magnum stared at the void-black mouth of the cave, the blanket of snow on the ground making her eyes sting as she strained them to see into the blackness.

"Psst." The sound came again, immediately followed by three knocks of what sounded like rock on rock. A pause… then a fourth knock. Magnum's jaw slackened, mouth opening slightly in shock. Only one person knew that (well, okay, it was a simple thing and could have been anything, really, but…) Magnum had been hoping to find Trickster out here, and now, she didn't know what to do. "Pssssst." The sound was more urgent this time. Magnum felt her heart hammer against her chest as she cautiously made her way to the cave entrance- and ducked inside.

Almost immediately, arms wrapped around her neck as she was pulled rather forcefully into a tight hug. A familiar smell hit Magnum's nose. The smell of lavender, with a hint of copper. A strange smell, to be sure, but one she'd grown to love. Desperately, she wanted to hug back. To wrap her arms around the other woman. Yet, she relented from this course of action. Her arms shook slightly at her side from the effort of keeping them there. A ball formed in Magnum's throat. Detecting the forced hostility, Trickster's embrace slackened, holding on for a moment, before she let go and took a step back. It was too dark in the cave entrance for Magnum to get a clear read on the girl's face, but she knew she looked hurt. At least just a bit.

"Magnum." Trickster said almost breathlessly. Magnum felt her lip quiver slightly. "Trixie." She forced out after a moment. God, why was this so hard? Pretending to hate Trickster, or at least dislike her, was just as hard as trying to ask the girl out. Maybe even harder. "So…" Trixie began, but trailed off immediately. It was incredibly awkward and, in Magnum's opinion, kind of cute. Trickster acting awkward had always been adorable. The way she nervously swayed her body side to side, wringing her left thumb as she bit the inside of her lip.

Magnum tried to force her affection away. "What are you doing? How did you know I'd be here?" She asked, feeling as though she sounded a little too casual for that. "I wanted to see you, and… I wanted to see you." Trickster replied simply with a shrug, taking a step forward. "This isn't Romeo and Juliet." Magnum replied, before realizing the correlation wasn't too accurate here. Trixie seemed to pick up on that too. "Oh?" She asked. "Are we star-crossed lovers now?" She dropped to a knee dramatically, holding her hands out to Magnum. "Magnum, oh Magnum!"

Magnum giggled. Inwardly, she cursed herself for this. She had to act hostile toward Trixie, it was the only way to get her to stop trying… even if it was really touching that she was still trying. Holy shit why was this so hard?

Magnum cleared her throat, averting her gaze. "No." She replied, forcing herself to sound a little more antagonistic. Trixie stared at her for a moment, before her hand grabbed Magnum's own, and squeezed it as she returned to her full height. The contact sent shivers down Magnum's spine. She… wasn't even really sure why. She'd always had a thing for Trixie for as long as she could remember, but ever since they'd come to odds… it was as though her crush had intensified–almost into an obsession. Trickster was probably on her mind 99% of the time these days. Nah, she was totally obsessed. And she hated that she was.

"Please come back." Trickster's voice was quiet–quieter than usual. It practically shoved daggers of ice into Magnum's heart as she closed her eyes, screwing her face up to avoid betraying her real emotions. "I can't." She forced through grit teeth. "I really can't."

"You can." Trickster insisted. "You really can. It's easy. Just go back with me, and everything's history. You'll be accepted back into our ranks, and we can start a new chapter."

"The leaders would never allow it." Magnum retorted. A pathetic excuse, really. To her surprise, Trickster seemed to perk up at this. Through the dark, she could see the faint outline of a wide grin form on her face. "That's just it, Mags." She leaned in a little closer, dropping her voice in a conspiratorial manner. "Your dad chose me as his successor." She practically whispered.

Magnum felt the ball in her throat grow considerably. It was getting really hard to swallow, and man, this cave was really hot, even in the wake of snowfall. Was that normal? "H-he… did?" Magnum finally squeezed out through the enormous lump in her esophagus. Trickster nodded, and leaned even closer in excitement. "Better yet, he chose me as an individual leader. No more hierarchy. Just like the French Sect."

The offer was becoming… increasingly tempting. The German Sect of the Messiah may have been considered the headquarters, but it was far from the only base. Just about every country had its own sect of the cult, and the French Sect had always been the most notorious, having been responsible for orchestrating the first two World Wars to a degree, even. They'd always been deadly, and had always had one leader. Always a woman they would refer to simply as 'Mother', not much different from the Holy Trinity head of 'The Father', which ironically was her own dad. Apparently her dad and the current 'Mother' of the French Sect had a thing once? She wasn't sure, just something she'd heard. If her father was allowing Trickster to be solely in charge of the German Sect, then that meant he expected himself and the other leaders to fail. Or perhaps they already had… "But the monsters…" Magnum replied. "I can't leave them. I can't let them die."

"Why do you care so much about them?" Trickster asked, raising her voice as she took a step back, clearly annoyed. "What have they ever done for you? It was me who took care of you. It was me who held your hand through the early years. It was me whose shoulder you cried on through the hard times. It was me, Trinity! Me!" A long moment of silence followed this as Magnum hung her head. Finally, she opened her mouth. "I know." She let out. Her voice was small. "And I love you for that. I always will." Slowly, she looked up to Trixie's dark form, holding back any of the tears warring themselves for the surface. "Bastette, I know." She repeated. "But this is something I need to do."

"WHY!?" Her voice boomed through the tunnel in exasperation, instilling a little fright into Magnum as she took a step back, flinching slightly. "Because." She managed out. "It's the only way I can make things right."

"Make what right?" Trixie's agitation was increasing. The burgundy magic was beginning to crackle around her fingers. "Everything was perfect until they showed-"

"Perfect!?" This time, it was Magnum's voice raising. "I was forced to MURDER someone!" This time, she couldn't hold back the tears. The bottled emotion. She worked hard to keep a lot of it back, but right now… she had to let it out. "I KNEW e-each of them!" It was Trixie's turn for silence.

"I never wanted to h-hurt anyone! I never wanted to KILL anyone! I just wanted to b-be happy! I just wanted to be free! I just wanted y-y-you!" Angry tears began to stream along her cheeks. "I never asked to be a p-part of this! I never w-wanted it! My own mother was taken from me by HIM! Then I had to fight in that fucking bloodbath! I had to kill or die! I wanted out! I wanted a life! I-I… I…" At this point, Magnum broke down into sobs as she collapsed, falling onto her knees. It hurt on the jagged stone, but she really didn't care at the moment. In a sign of embarrassment, Magnum covered her face to avoid showing Trixie it.

The violet-haired girl stared at Magnum for a few long moments. Slowly, she reached her hand out- before pausing, her eyes lingering on the top of Magnum's head, where the girl's pink hair was growing out, revealing the blonde roots beneath.

After a moment of hesitation, Trickster's hand rested on the side of Magnum's hand, and brushed down to her neck as she crouched down to get eye-level with Magnum. The younger woman refused to look at the other, still covering her face with her hands. Softly, Trixie's hand traveled to Magnum's chin, her other brushing Magnum's hands aside, turning her face up to look. "I can give it to you." Trickster stated, her voice soft, eyes searching Magnum's. "When the Messiah is mine, when this is over… we can have everything we ever wanted. All I ask is that you come with me." Magnum's lower lip trembled as her gaze rivaled Trickster's, both staring intently at one another.

A moment seemed to pass between them. Magnum felt it go by, and watched as Trickster awaited her response. She couldn't help but wonder about all these 'what ifs'. What if she'd just stuck to the Messiah? Her dad probably would have accepted her back from her imprisonment, unlike poor Raptor. She could have been with Trixie this whole time. They could have… could have… what? Magnum never had the confidence or timing to actually try with her best friend. Going through this journey of 'redemption' and 'self discovery' or whatever the hell she was actually doing, she'd come closer to her desires than ever before.

Then again, none of this was about them. Monsterkind was the target of an eidocidal cult hell-bent on taking them out through any means necessary. Voxis City had been devastated, and barely any of that had been through actual fighting.

She so desperately wanted to kiss her.

But that moment had passed. Finally, Magnum managed to lightly shake her head. "No." Her voice was somewhat hoarse now. Trixie stared back, emotions on her sleeves (quite literally as more burgundy magic sparked along the length of either arm), before she stood up. Magnum watched as her best friend turned and left the cave without another word, disappearing into the cold forest soon after. Magnum cried again. It felt better, letting it out. To feel sorry for herself and her situation, as though she somehow had it worse than everyone else. She knew she didn't, but it helped her cry for just a bit longer.

She didn't want to stop.

After… however long she'd been doing that for, Magnum soon found herself huddled against the wall of the cave, knees drawn up to her chest as she stared blankly out of the cave entrance. Her tears had since dried to her eyelashes and cheeks, and she lacked the motivation to wipe it away.

Regardless, she forced herself to her feet, and retreated from the cave, blinking away at the harsh light that assaulted her. Mind and expression blank, Magnum trudged her way back to the Kingdom of Hopes, feeling hopeless.

---

Alphys wiped at her brow, frowning down at the device on the ground before her. It was… okay, it was pretty bad. There was barely any material around here to use for such a device. Sure, she'd assembled Mettaton's first body from nothing but scraps and garbage, and she'd been good at making it look official and pretty, but at least the dump had material. These ruins had been before a time that allowed her creative juices to flow correctly. In other words–it lacked metal. Tossing the wrench onto the stone floor beside the sphere-like machine, Alphys felt the crushing weight settle back onto her shoulders.

She'd been doing her best to focus on her work. To try and put off her grief for just a bit, at least until she could afford to mourn. This device, which Alphys had yet to give a name, had a simple function. The Messiah seemed to rely more on weapons than magic, aside from their more prominent figures. There was no way to destroy their weapons, considering none of them seemed to operate digitally, so trying to put them 'offline' would be a fool's gamble. She'd pondered the question on how else she could help. That was when Mosu had given her an idea; after he'd explained his SOUL to her, she realized that she could possibly create some kind of artificial drainer, something to weaken the SOULs within its radius. A bold, complex undertaking to be sure. She wasn't even certain the device would function as she hoped. If it would have the radius she desired, and she wasn't exactly about to test it out on someone, even though Mosu had volunteered, as had Truck. Her mind drifted back to Undyne.

Undyne…

By Orion, she missed her.

Things had been… rocky between them, to say the least, for a while now. They just never really saw eye-to-eye on much. Undyne's work and Alphys' own had resulted in the both of them spending very little time together, and when they did, it was mostly in shared awkward silence. They never felt like doing much. Alphys wished she'd tried harder.

Shaking her head, fighting back the well of tears about to overflow, she re-focused her mind on the device. The… what would be a good name for it… the… SOUL Dillutor? SOUL Dilluter? SOUL Deteriorator? That sounded like an Asgore-tier name, almost, but it felt sufficient enough. SD for short. SD-01. Perfect. Now she had a name.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Alphys turned her gaze away from the SD-01 to look out of the window she'd been standing near. A chilly breeze gusted in, making her shiver, but Asgore's fire magic was good at keeping the interior warm. Outside she could see Mettaton and Papyrus laughing. The way Mettaton was staring at the skeleton as they walked along through the snow of the courtyard, it was unmistakable. Of course, Alphys had always assumed Mettaton had a thing for Papyrus. Seeing it here and now, thinking about it, only seemed to remind the lizard monster of what she'd lost.

"so…"

Alphys nearly leaped out of her scales as her eyes widened and her heart thumped methodically against her chest in a rapid fashion. She quickly turned to stare at the older skeleton brother, who was standing beside her, staring out of the window as well. When she looked at him, he slowly turned his gaze to look back. "Stop doing that!" She lightly punched his arm. He flinched jokingly away, letting out a chuckle. "sorry." He winked, emphasizing he wasn't sorry in the slightest. "how's the thingy comin' along?"

"Fine." Alphys shrugged, glancing back over to the SD-01. "It's a prototype, so we won't really know if it even works right until it's time."

"not even gonna test it out?" Sans asked. "what if it melts humans or something, and some of ours get caught in the crossfire?" He had a good point. Then again, that made Alphys even less inclined to test it out on her volunteers. Sans seemed to catch onto this, closing his eyes. "course, that would make testing trials… complex."

She hadn't talked with Sans a whole lot in what felt like forever. There'd been a time when they'd been inseparable. She could remember it clear as day, but Sans… didn't seem to remember or care at all. It always had hurt her, somewhere deep inside, when he'd left her all alone to pick up after the mysterious disappearance of the previous Royal Scientist, someone she knew only Sans had known. Sans had been trained by him, after all. He would have been the Royal Scientist next, if he hadn't abandoned it all and left it up to Alphys. It was silly, looking back on it now, but she used to have a mad crush on the skeleton. Of course, she crushed on anyone who showed her attention back then.

"Y-yeah." Alphys replied, looking back out the window. "he looks happy." Sans noted. Alphys shifted her eyes onto Papyrus. Skeleton expressions were harder to gage than the nanofiber materials of Mettaton's newest face, capable of any array of expressions, but she felt she could agree. Papyrus did seem happy. They might even be good for each other, strange as that sounded. Mettaton had always been… bad at anything of the sort. "Yeah…" Alphys agreed. "you okay?" Came Sans' next question, to which Alphys nearly snorted at. Instead, she offered a simple; "Yeah…"

"easy broken record analogy aside, that's a lie." The skeleton told her, returning his gaze toward her. "it's cool if you don't want to talk about it yet, i won't make you. just keep in mind that we all cared about her too, and we also care about you." She knew what he was building to; her… issues. Before she'd met Undyne, Alphys had been going down a very dark path. It was the fish monster who'd pulled her back. Who'd given her hope, and reason. With Undyne gone, Alphys found Sans' assumption reasonable. He assumed Alphys was going to return to that dark place of-mind. "I-I know." She nodded. "I'm not like I used to be."

She'd grown a lot, the past four years. A boost in confidence, mostly. Her work, and the praise she got for it, had helped a lot with that. Then with the strain on her relationship, Alphys had also weaned off of her codependence with Undyne, something she hadn't even considered until being forced to face the truth that first week away from her. They'd been cute together, Alphys knew that. But they hadn't been… made for each other. Not really. Sure, they were a cute couple, but cute couples don't always make stable couples. Their lives were going in different directions. Alphys felt bad, thinking this in the wake of recent events. None of that even mattered any more, did it?

Sans seemed to read her mind, interrupting her thoughts with his words. "we'll win." He assured her. "there's still hope." Hope. Alphys felt like she had a lack of that, even in the Kingdom of Hopes. What a misleading name, though Asgore had mentioned it was mostly named after Toriel's maiden name of 'Hoperiss', not dissimilar from the ancient (probably long gone) Kingdom of Dreams, after 'Dreemurr'. Sans had always been a bit apathetic, even pessimistic. His attitude right now was… out-of-character and almost rubbing off on her–almost. She began to wring her hands together. "Remember t-that time when we were experimenting with glue a-and toasters?"

"yeah." Sans grinned.

"T-then you uh…" Alphys found herself beginning to smile. "You had the bright idea to somehow combine our monstrosity with my early Artificial Intelligence design,"

"and toastificus was born." Sans chuckled. "yeah, good times. what about it?"

"Nothing, really." Alphys admitted, letting out a small chuckle of her own. "I just wanted to laugh at you again."

---

Quilts seemed to be running out. Asgore frowned as he glanced at the pile he'd collected of these dusty old blankets from the tunnels. It held all sorts of goodies, though unfortunately, not much in the way of defense. Armor and weapons had been lacking. Only enough for a few select individuals. It was making him even more anxious about nightfall.

"Thank you." Doggo nodded to Asgore- or more accurately, the ex-king's left. Asgore smiled, the small movement redirecting Doggo's gaze into the right direction. "Of course." He nodded. Doggo turned and walked away, nearly walking into walls more than once as he carried the bundle of quilts over toward a waiting Dogamy, who seemed deep in conversation with Dogaressa.

Asgore turned from them to look out of the window of the throne room, the view expanding over the mostly untouched forest. He ran his hand over the cold stone of the ledge, gazing blankly out. "You're still worried." Asgore felt his stomach practically plummet. He felt the warm hands run along his shoulders, then her face pressing fondly against his back.

He'd chuckled weakly at that, turning around to face his wife. "I'm always worried." He remembered telling her. Toriel had cupped his face with her hands and leaned in. They used to be so in love. "We won't perish." Toriel had assured him. "You are strong, Gorey. You'll get us through this, and we'll be by your side the whole way." She'd leaned in again.

Asgore let the memory play in his mind. He still loved her. He always would. He often found himself wondering if she had held even an ounce of the love she once had for him before. Before she'd…

He let out a sigh.

"Oi, I'm talking to ya."

"Sorry." Asgore replied, his voice breaking slightly, resulting in him clearing his throat. The voice hadn't belonged to Toriel, though it had been close to what she'd said at his prolonged silence. "I'm glad you're okay." Asgore continued. "I've been worried."

"Heh, well." Gerson hobbled up beside Asgore, he too staring out of the window. "I'm alive and kicking, no need to get all emotional." Asgore and Gerson had their problems. Problems of old. Things they'd never truly reconciled. Perhaps now was the time to right that wrong. While they still had time. Asgore found he couldn't stop thinking about Toriel, however. That would transition into his thoughts about Asriel and Chara. So much love–gone. He missed them all so much. Too much… "Aren't ya gonna ask where I was?"

"Sorry." Asgore apologized. "Just… reliving memories."

"You can't do that." Gerson practically snapped at him. "I'm twice as old as you and I know what it's like. You can't let that malarkey hold you down and-"

"Tori was not 'malarkey'." Asgore replied, a growl accompanying his voice. Gerson didn't care at all, instead continuing. "...and torture you, Asgore. What's in the past stays in the past. Live as long as me and maybe you'll realize that too. I lost someone I loved, long before you were a twinkle in Asgard's eye. Sure, I still think about him every now and again, but I don't dwell. Neither should you. There's more important things happening right now."

Asgore looked down at Gerson. The old turtle was looking more tired than usual. A lot more tired than usual. His thin gray goatee seemed even more frail than ever, his knees wobbling slightly as he leaned against the thick branch of his walking stick. His eyes seemed sad, peering away into the distance, his shoulders weighed down by more knowledge than any one being should have. "Learn from the past." Gerson told him. "Live in the present. Teach for the future."

"You don't look well, old friend." Asgore commented. Gerson chuckled at that, closing his eyes as he smiled. "Bah. Been worse. You should take a look at yourself. Half your pride's been stripped off that thick skull of yours." He was talking about Asgore's horn, having been broken off by Demon. It was still a bit of a sore subject for the ex-king, who tightened his lips. This seemed to amuse Gerson, who laughed again. "I've been out scouting." He finally said, making Asgore frown. "Don't go tellin' me it's dangerous or somethin', I'm well aware." The turtle added as Asgore opened his mouth to reply. "Just shut up and listen to me. Messiah's comin' in force, lookin' for blood. I know you're lookin' to make a final stand here, but I'm not sure it's a good idea. We'll be wiped out. Obaseki's with 'em."

Asgore felt the warmth of a familiar fury surging deep inside of his chest at that. Jonathan Obaseki. His boss. Ex-boss now. The man he'd put so much trust in. Someone he'd considered a close and personal friend. Obaseki had pinned the blame of the Messiah takeover on Asgore, using him as a scapegoat for declaring 'martial law' over the city, and it had somehow worked, accusing Asgore of assassinating the mayor. He could still feel each of the holes the bullets had left in him not long ago. Bullets he was now certain had come from Obaseki directly.

"We know they're coming." Asgore stated. "Asgore, they outnumber us twenty to one." Gerson argued. "Then the fight is fairer than most." The king stated, his gaze solidifying into one of grit and determination. A face Gerson hadn't seen since the death of Asriel and Chara. The face of a good man looking to do terrible things to ease an aching heart. "Don't let your confidence blind you." Gerson shook his head. "We'll be slaughtered."

"I have a plan, Gerson. Don't worry." Asgore assured him, placing a gentle hand on Gerson's shoulder. "It may save us all."

---

"NYEH… HEH HEH…?" A bead of sweat rolled down the skeleton's skull as he watched. He and Mettaton had walked on out of the ruins, wandering their way into the tunnels beneath. Mettaton had promised a 'good time' as they wound their way to the armory. Papyrus hadn't been nervous until Mettaton had pushed him against the wall, putting his face an inch away from Papyrus', who had gulped anxiously.

Mettaton then pulled away, pressing a button hidden on his wrist, and music began to pulse from his chest. He'd even set up lights down there at some time, which changed colors with the beat. It was all very overwhelming and Papyrus wasn't sure how to react as Mettaton began to dance and sing for him, consistently getting closer and closer before backing off. He didn't want to be rude and interrupt, but he was completely clueless as to what was happening here. He also noticed how Mettaton's movements seemed more… lewd than usual. A lot of butt wiggling. Papyrus continued to watch, grinning encouragingly to Mettaton to let him know his new act was good.

Finally, Mettaton ended the song and dance, some of his hair a mess in his face, covering one of his eyes as he stared heavily at Papyrus, who felt like the gaze was… hungry? Was that the right word for it? "Well?" Mettaton huffed. He blew some of the hair from his face, gaze turning expectant. "What's your answer?"

"WHAT ANSWER?" Papyrus asked, oblivious. The robot huffed. "I sang; 'so sweep me off my feet, my heart is yours to keep. I'm in love with you, I hope you love me too', but it sounded way cooler in song." He replied, shaking his head. "I was asking you out."

"OH." Papyrus suddenly felt like the room had become something of a furnace. His eye sockets widened slightly. "YOU UM… YOU DID?"

"Yes, darling." Mettaton narrowed his eyes, clearly becoming agitated. "I just poured out my heart in that song, were you even listening?"

"OF COURSE I WAS!" Papyrus defended himself. "I JUST… DON'T GET SUBTEXT LIKE THAT."

"It wasn't subtext." Mettaton argued. "It was a song. About me. Asking you out. And our life. Growing old together. You… do love me back, right?" His annoyance now seemed to be replaced with anxiety, his brow creasing. "LIKE… AS A FRIEND?" Papyrus asked. "No." The robot shook his head, beginning to walk toward him. "As in… like like."

Papyrus couldn't help but gulp again. Was this real? Was this happening? He hadn't even made the first move, so he wasn't sure how to take this. It was all so sudden! No build up at all! Or maybe there was build up and he'd just… failed to notice. Mettaton was growing closer, his eyes expectant, even hopeful as he neared. Papyrus did indeed like Mettaton in that way–and not in the pity way either. He had plenty of experience dating people just to make them feel better, but his feelings had never been romantically genuine. He wasn't even sure if these feelings for Mettaton were any different.

"I… DON'T KNOW…" Papyrus admitted. It wasn't the answer Mettaton had been looking for, as he suddenly stopped, expression souring. "Fine." He spat. "Be like that. Find me when you make up your mind."

He turned and began to stalk away, prompting Papyrus to spring to his feet, feeling bad he'd upset his friend. "WAIT." This made Mettaton stop, and he turned to look at the skeleton. "I'M SORRY, METTATON, I JUST… DON'T ALWAYS… UNDERSTAND MY FEELINGS. I THINK I LIKE LIKE YOU TOO, I JUST DON'T WANT THERE TO BE ANY MISCOMMUNICATION BETWEEN US! LIKE… UM…" He nervously scratched at his skull, finding it was hard to look at Mettaton at that moment. "COULD WE… WAIT UNTIL AFTER EVERYONE IS SAFE AGAIN? SO THAT I CAN… PROCESS THIS BETTER?"

"Papyrus, darling." Mettaton stalked toward him. "What better time could there be? This is our last stand, why not spend our last day with someone we love… doing whatever happens in the moment?"

"THIS ISN'T OUR LAST DAY." Papyrus asserted, his voice suddenly much firmer. Even bold. It was enough to make Mettaton stop, assessing the skeleton's stance on the matter. "Er- Papyrus. Beloved. The Messiah are coming here to wipe- us- out. We've only had to face teeny scuffles with them, and barely came out of those. The odds are against us, love."

"THEN I'M AGAINST THE ODDS!" Papyrus declared. "BECAUSE WHEN WE WIN, NOT IF, WHEN! I WILL TAKE YOU OUT ON A DATE!" He stamped his foot to make it clear his decree was final. Mettaton raised his brows, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "My my, darling." He placed a hand over his metallic chest. "I do love it when you get bossy."

"OH. UH. THANKS!" Papyrus grinned back, feeling relieved that it seemed Mettaton was in agreement with him. "Still…" The robot came to a stop in front of Papyrus, placing one arm over his shoulder, then the other, practically hanging off the skeleton, who put his hands at Mettaton's back, worrying that he would fall otherwise. "Just in case. I could do with… a favor."

"W-WHAT WOULD THAT BE?" Papyrus asked, grinning nervously as his crush leaned in. "Kiss me." Now, Papyrus was absolutely stumped at this. A skeleton? Kissing? How absurd and quite ridiculous. He didn't have any lips! He decided to let Mettaton know about this underlying dilemma that he possibly didn't realize skeletons would face in moments of romance. "METTATON." Papyrus frowned. "I DON'T HAVE LIPS."

"You don't have eyelids either but that doesn't stop you from blinking." Mettaton retorted. "Just because you look like a skeleton doesn't mean you abide by all the laws of one." Fair point. Papyrus really couldn't argue with that. Skeletons weren't supposed to talk, walk, laugh, or eat, yet he did it all the same. "R-RIGHT…" His anxiety increased again. Mettaton seemed to grow tired of waiting on him, and leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

It was a rather short moment, but it held on for what felt like a much longer short moment. Despite not having blood, or skin, the skeleton blushed a deep molten, which was far from fading even after Mettaton pulled away. "How was that?" The robot asked.

"IT WAS…" Papyrus grinned, feeling a little breathless. "...WOWIE!"
"Wowie indeed." Mettaton pressed himself against Papyrus' chest and chuckled. "If you want more, I guess we'll need to survive the night." Papyrus did want more. He'd never experienced something so… passionate before. It left him wanting more. However, he was a patient and willing skeleton. He gave a curt nod to Mettaton. "OKAY! DOES… THIS MEAN YOU'RE MY BOYFRIEND?"

"If you're okay with that." Mettaton winked. "Just… keep it to yourself until we're in the clear, alright?"

"OH, THAT'S OKAY." Papyrus shrugged. "I'M PRETTY SURE EVERYONE KNOWS THAT WE LIKE EACH OTHER."

"yeah, pretty much."

Mettaton and Papyrus jumped, leaping away from one another's arms with yelps, neither having noticed the short skeleton having entered the room, sitting on a display case with his face resting on his hands, arms propped up against his knees as his legs dangled toward the ground, not quite reaching it.

"By Orion." Mettaton hissed, glaring daggers at Sans, who looked dolefully back. Even playfully. "HELLO, BROTHER!" Papyrus was a lot more accepting of his brother's presence. "sup, bro." Sans winked back. "how's that crack holding up?" Papyrus subconsciously raised his gloved hand to rub the back of his skull, which had cracked in the altercation with Warmth. He still had no idea how they got out of there. "IT'S SEALED UP NOW." Papyrus stated proudly. Sans closed his eyes at this, leaning back against the wall as he stuck his hands into the pockets of his crimson jacket. "cool." He replied. "how 'bout you, mtt? not gonna lose control of that body any time soon, are ya?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mettaton replied stiffly. "oh, come on." Sans grinned. "your lies are as clear as a ribcage."

"UGH." Papyrus groaned. "NOT THIS ONE AGAIN. NEXT YOU'RE GOING TO SAY 'I SEE RIGHT THROUGH THEM'." Sans listened to his brother, before continuing. "i see right through them- whoa papyrus, i guess you were right." Sans feigned lazy surprise. This seemed to satisfy the taller of the two, whose chest puffed out a little. "BUT OF COURSE! YOU'VE BECOME TOO PREDICTABLE, BROTHER."

"guess i gotta up my game."

"I'M NOT SURE YOU COULD MANAGE."

"maybe you're right."

"OF COURSE I AM!"

"i don't think i have the guts for something so bold."

Papyrus frowned, appearing as though someone had just spit in his spaghetti. "THAT WAS TERRIBLE."

"it wasn't paper, paps."

"STOP TALKING."

"get it?"

"YES I GET IT."

"because paper tears."

"UGH."

Sans chuckled at his brother's annoyance. Papyrus folded his arms across his chest, turning on his heel, making sure his scarf billowed behind him in a very mysterious and cool fashion. "YOUR JOKES FAIL TO AMUSE."

"aw, i thought they were pretty humerus."

"EW."

"you're right, i should marrow these down into categories."

"ARE YOU FINISHED?"

"come on, just a femur."

"THIS IS ABHORRENT."

"gettin' under your skin?"

"I DON'T HAVE SKIN."

"i know."

"OH. IT WAS A JOKE."

"yep. okay i'm done now." Sans rested his arms behind his head as Papyrus let out a sigh of relief. "THANK GOD."

"I hate to butt in, but Papyrus and I were sort of in the middle of something." Mettaton intruded. "Could you leave?"

"sure. didn't mean to be rude." Sans replied with a shrug before sliding his way off the case. "just wanted to check up on my bro."

"WHY THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONCERN, SANS!" Papyrus seemed to forget his annoyance with his brother for the moment. "no prob. i'll be hangin' with alphys if you need to find me." With that, he walked slowly from the room, Mettaton glaring at him until he'd disappeared back into the tunnels. "Finally. I thought he'd never leave!"

"OH DON'T WORRY ABOUT HIM." Papyrus waved a hand dismissively. "HE'S JUST BEING A GOOD BROTHER." Mettaton raised his brow. "I was under the impression you weren't very fond of him." Puzzled, Papyrus cocked his head to the side. "YOU MEAN HOW I REACT TO HIS JOKES? OH THAT…" He let out a light chuckle. "HE KNOWS I DON'T REALLY INTEND ANYTHING MEAN. IT'S JUST OUR BANTER."

"I see." Mettaton brushed some of his hair from his eyes. "Now. Where were we? Oh yes. The flirting."

---

"Stupid." He glowered out from around the trees, glaring at the castle grounds, not staring at anyone in particular. "Stupid." He repeated, the word more forced. Flowey was feeling more agitated than usual. 'Just hang around' the smiley trashbag had said. Oh yeah, that's easy for him to say. There were things to do, places to be, skulls to crack- not that there was any pun to be made there. Flowey had grown quite unamused with the humor Sans exerted.

No, he'd just sit around here and do absolutely nothing. Waiting for the numbskull to get off his lazy butt and get a move on. They were so close to their target. Flowey had suffered these last four… five… however many weeks he'd been working with Sans. He'd held his tongue through every agonizing moment. And by 'held his tongue' he of course meant he spent every second verbally assaulting the skeleton, not that he cared any. Now he wanted them to stick around through the night.

It was all so pointless. The new timeline holder had been in their grasp, but thanks to this diversion, she'd slipped through their fingers. To top that off, Sans had forbidden Flowey from interrogating Layla (only after the flower had made an attempt) or anyone else.

It was enough to make anyone livid. But as much as Flowey wanted to go ballistic, all he could feel was a general annoyance at the situation. Like most things, he couldn't really feel for them. Not anymore. So he did his best to exert the emotion he felt he should be showing. It was all due to the simple fact that Flowey was lacking a SOUL, yet maintained the consciousness of Asriel Dreemurr. A twisted variant of his former self, sure, but Asriel nonetheless.

So he sat there in the snow, brooding, calling Sans stupid every few seconds to remind himself why he needed to be angry right now. However, a noise behind him broke him from his stupor. He wasted little time in whirling about, a dozen pellets materializing in the air around him, ready to be launched with a mere thought.

The person who'd snuck up on him was one of the Messiah Lieutenants. Well, ex-Messiah Lieutenants. The girl with pink hair, though her blonde roots were beginning to show. Her bright blue eyes hid what her hair betrayed; the fact that her SOUL did not share the color of her eyes, something not very common.

"Hey."

Flowey stared up at her for several long moments after her word was spoken, which hung in the air. He was… confused, to say the least. Who the hell did she think she was? And why the hell did she assume he'd want to speak to her? Finally, the pellets faded, and Flowey rolled his eyes before turning back to face the kingdom.

To his mild annoyance, she proceeded to sit down in the snow beside him. Okay, what the hell was going on? He'd never made any indication to her that they were friends. This was stupid. "It's weird." Magnum said, prompting Flowey to groan. "Okay, I'll bite." He growled. "What do you want? A cookie? Too bad, I don't have any. Consolation? Good luck finding that from me. Do you want a friend? Look elsewhere, pal." Magnum didn't reply immediately, instead staring where he'd been staring. Her lack of response annoyed him further. "Oh, now you shut up."

"I said like, three words." She replied. "And now you just said more." Flowey rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot. I'm not here to be your friend. Go find another shoulder to cry on." He returned his attention to the castle grounds. "Stupid." He muttered. "Stupid. Stupid." She didn't leave. He tried to ignore her.

"It's weird." She repeated. "What's weird? The fact you still think I care what you have to say? Yeah, SUPER weird!" Flowey spat, whirling on her, his pellets appearing again. "You doing literally anything else would be nice."

"Look at them." She replied, ignoring his jabs, and pointing to the castle grounds. "Ugh. Stop it, will you!?"

"Look." Magnum urged. Rolling his eyes once again, Flowey glanced at the castle grounds. Just monsters roaming. "Just a bunch of idiots getting ready to die." He replied. "Maybe." She shrugged, hugging her knees to her chest. "But notice their smiles?" Still incredibly annoyed, Flowey looked at the monsters again. Indeed, some of them were wearing smiles as they talked and mingled among each other, even as more and more began to don armor and carry weapons, gearing for battle. "...Yeah? What about it?" Flowey asked. "It's weird." Magnum said for the third time. "How can these 'idiots' smile when all they're doing is getting ready to die?"

"Don't know, don't care." The flower replied. "Maybe it's because they believe in what they're doing." Magnum offered, her gaze seemingly transfixed. "Or… because they know they'll die, but know they won't die without purpose."

"Are you going somewhere with this?" Flowey sighed, his pellets vanishing once again. "Why can't I smile?" Magnum asked, now looking at Flowey. "Why don't you smile?"

"Maybe because you won't leave me alone, hm?" He asked, cocking his head mockingly to the side. "Just a theory."

"You're unhappy." She pointed out.

"You're so observant."

"Why are you unhappy?"

Flowey bared his unnatural fangs at her. "I don't know. I think it's because some IDIOT won't stop BUGGING me!" He hissed. "I REALLY don't care what you have to say, okay!?" She stared back at him for a moment, before nodding and looking back toward the castle grounds. Satisfied, Flowey followed her gaze back as silence befell them. He still wasn't very happy with her presence remaining. After several long minutes, she spoke again. "What are you?"

"If Orion doesn't save you from what I'm about to do then you're DEAD!" Flowey screamed at her. "Just leave me alone!" This felt familiar. He stared into her blue eyes, and to his surprise- she smiled at him. "What's so funny?" He growled. "Nothing." She replied. "It's just… I know somebody who would have liked you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better or something?" Flowey asked. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

"You looked like you could use company."

"What kind of IDIOT sticks around this long after realizing how much they're not wanted?"

"Me, I guess."

"Shut up." Flowey shook his head violently, glaring into her. "Just stop trying to be nice to me, okay? I don't want it! I don't need it! Stop trying to connect with me! Why are you doing this!?" He'd started yelling at her, his voice cracking. She appeared taken aback by this, staring at him with more concern now.

Whatever he was feeling right now was something he'd felt once before, a long time ago. He wanted the feeling to go away, yet at the same time… he didn't. If only he could lock this feeling away in a chest. Keep it nearby without having to indulge it. He still couldn't figure this feeling out. Describe it. Name it.

"I-I'm sorry." Magnum now finally seemed to take Flowey's words more seriously, rising to her feet as Flowey seethed at her, tears welling in his eyes. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" He cried. "Okay." She raised her hands defensively, palms splayed in a sign of surrender. She began to edge away from him, but her eyes remained concerned, locked onto him. "STOP STARING AT ME!" She averted her gaze before she hurried away. Flowey watched her go before letting out a sigh, and drooped slightly. Finally, using a vine, Flowey wiped the tear away before turning back to face the castle grounds, muttering 'idiot' under his breath, his breakdown having simply been a ruse to scare the girl off.

Still, however. He thought about her words. What she'd been trying to get at. She'd looked pretty down for the most part, so maybe she was just trying to vent in some cryptic fashion. Who knew? Who cared. Flowey was just ready to get today done with and continue the hunt for the new timeline holder. Sans had been off, called back as they'd come as close as ever to their target. While the skeleton dawdled around doing whatever, Flowey had done all the real work. Their target had led from the Layla girl, to the girl with platinum hair. The one called Katherine. From what he and Sans had gathered (though mostly him) she was in direct contact with the new timeline holder. So, here, he ignored what Sans had been saying. 'follow but don't engage. wait until we see our real target.' What an idiot.

…

Katherine was walking down the side of the mountain, following a trail that ran along a brook, the spring water washing endlessly along. Withered leaves blew along with the breeze, the sky grey with dull clouds. Popping up a ways away from her, he continued to stare. She was completely alone, but she almost always was ever since they'd stopped following Layla to follow her. He was beginning to doubt Sans' insight on this girl actually leading to their target. She just seemed to wander around with no end goal. It was annoying.

He sank into the ground as the distance between them grew, before he appeared again, closer this time. He was beginning to contemplate just attacking her and interrogating her for information. The skeleton wasn't around, maybe he could get a little rough. Or deadly. This thought made a sneer stretch across his face. He could just say it was an accident. Say he was provoked, or attacked. The distance grew again, so he sank into the earth, traveling closer to pop back up again.

When Flowey once again popped back up through the ground, he was a bit closer to her than he would have liked, as she'd suddenly stopped moving. Had she already detected him? If not, being this close put him at risk of it. Just as he was about to sink back down into the cold ground, Katherine kneeled, just at the edge of the spring, filling what looked like a small thermos with the water. He was growing increasingly bored of her seemingly normal behavior. If she didn't have any connection to the timeline holder, this was a massive waste of time. And if she did, she was doing a pretty good job of pretending to be a normal person.

Not giving her the chance to look his way, Flowey once again fled down into the uncomfortably cold soil beneath him, moving a bit further away so he could observe from a more strategic angle, and maybe figure out his method of offense. When he popped out of the ground however, he was met by a firm gaze, eyes immediately locked with her bright-orange ones. Flowey was fully aware that he tended to make people uncomfortable when he first met them- he was fairly violent, brash, and talked down to people. But every so often, he would encounter an individual that made him uncomfortable, and he still wasn't used to that sort of reversal. This was one of those instances.

Sans had a way of unnerving Flowey, but that was mostly due to past experience in other timelines, when they'd battled over and over and over again. Chara scared the hell out of him because Flowey knew better than anyone what she was capable of. Katherine's stare was unusual. It was like she was staring right through him, and he couldn't look away, a deer in headlights. He was just about to disappear back into the ground, before she spoke.

"Kudos to you for making me think I was crazy for a few minutes," she stated, her voice gentle and silvery, but with a firm undertone. "Seeing a creepy grinning flower in the corner of my eye. Who are you?" He blinked, staring back for several moments. At first, he wasn't really sure what to say, but quickly realized the opportunity he was being presented here. "Oh, me?" He asked innocently, putting on a playful voice. The same he'd used countless times to manipulate others. Convince them he was their 'friend'.

"I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower. Boy, I couldn't help but notice that you sure seem lost out here, but that's okay, your new pal Flowey is here to help!" He winked at her, continuing his playful charade.

Katherine stared at the flower for a couple of seconds, letting out a small sigh, her breath visible, a small fog in the cold. "You shouldn't just be following strangers around like that," she told him, seeming to begrudgingly go along with his charade, though whether that would prove fruitful for Flowey was yet to be seen. "Oh? Why not, pal?" Flowey asked in his sickly sweet tone, swaying his head from side to side and smiling, waiting for the perfect moment, waiting for her guard to drop. "Because everyone's on edge. Lot of dangerous people around lately. I'm sure you wouldn't want someone turning you into mulch," she elaborated, before sending another question his way. "Are you a monster?"

"Can't say I am!" Flowey replied cheerfully. "I'm just Flowey! You seem lonely, you don't have any friends, do ya? Guess I'll just have to be your first! Better to have company when so many dangerous people are around, wouldn't you think so?" His act didn't relent as he continued his routine. That's all this really was. A routine. He'd performed this so many times he'd lost count. It was easy for him. Like a mask he could slip on whenever he deemed necessary.

"You remind me a lot of someone I met earlier," Katherine noted aloud, her gaze never leaving Flowey, but even though they were making direct eye contact, there was something so dreadfully hollow about it- Flowey felt as if his very SOUL was being stared into, and he didn't even have one of those. "Oh? And who would that be?" Flowey asked cheerfully. "Nobody you'd know, I'm sure. Anyways, I have enough friends," the girl stated sternly, shooing Flowey. "Going to meet up with one right now, as a matter of fact. Not really interested in a tagalong, though. Sorry, kid."

"Well that's a real shame!" Flowey chuckled, his tone taking on a familiar, dark tone. His laugh becoming just a little more sinister. "And here I was hoping that nobody was going to miss you!" He winked, before two vines shot up from underneath her feet, making an attempt to wrap around her ankles, digging their thorns into her skin, before dragging her into the earth while crushing the bones in her ankles with the vice-grip of the vines. To his disappointment, his tactic didn't exactly work as he'd expected it to.

Flowey let out a little hiss of excitement when he felt the vines begin to wrap and coil around something, ready to go in for the kill, but his plan was thwarted when he attempted to yank her downwards. His control over the vines wasn't as strong as it had been just moments before- when he looked a bit more closely, he noticed that the vines had been intercepted by two small wing-like appendages that extended from Katherine's ankles, appearing to be composed of several lustrous orange shards. With a single wingbeat, Flowey winced as he felt the vines get slashed to a fine compost.

Katherine blinked, the expression in her eyes growing much more dull and empty. "Well? Did you get it all out of your system?" she asked. "Because I'm not interested in entertaining you anymore. This is your one and only chance to scurry along." Flowey's grin twisted as he bared his fangs. "Hahaha!" He laughed, voice contorting just as much as his face. "It's funny how you humans always try to give chances, too STUPID to realize you're all out of your own!" Several pellets began to materialize in the air, flinging toward Katherine like bullets. With each set he'd spawn and fire, another would appear to do the same as another, thicker vine, erupted into the air beside the flower, wavering as it towered tall, red thorns sticking out from every angle. "But I guess if you play nice, I'll give YOU a chance all your own." He sneered. "Bring me to the person who controls the timeline, and maybe I'll let you live! No promises on missing limbs though!" He winked, another vine similar to his third erupting from the ground behind her.

Flowey grimaced as his attacks continued to be thwarted, a much larger pair of wings sprouting from the girl's back and deflecting all his pellets, effectively forming a shield around her. His attacks plinked off, like a toy gun firing at a brick wall. "Stupid, huh?" she inquired, her SOUL-powered wings effectively moving to intercept all the dangers that were being thrown her way. "Is that the word you use when someone else's ideology doesn't convenience you, Flowey? I'm not stupid for offering you a chance to leave. You, on the other hand, made a mistake by not taking it."

Flowey's grimace deepened, his face contorting as he flailed one of his massive tendril-like vines at Katherine, only to immediately pull back as it struck one of her wings, being ground up by the many shards that composed it, similar to a vegetable in a blender. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, anyways. Control of the timeline? That's just madness," she shook her head. "but you don't have to worry about that now."

Another wingbeat, this one several times more intense than the previous one. Every shard seemed to cleave through the air individually, making the trees around them sway, dozens of birds croaking and flying away. It took Flowey a moment to realize he'd been sliced right out of the ground, dropping backwards into the frosty dirt.

Just as he was about to lunge upwards and dive back down, a boot came stomping down onto his face, pressing him down into the earth and twisting his face ever so slightly. He struggled against it, before the boot rose up again, and came right back down, this time dragging him back over to his hole and forcing him down it.

"Pop up again and I'm making potpourri out of you. Scram." He hated to admit it, even to himself, but… that's exactly what he did. He'd fled the battle, realizing he was outclassed. It didn't take him long to rejuvenate himself. Grow more roots, reconfigure his face, refurbish his petals, though one had a tear through it. Nobody had questioned him about it, but it wasn't exactly noticeable in the first place. Still. He'd run. And not out of confusion when being shown kindness, no, he'd run because he'd gotten his stem handed to him on a silver platter and the prospect of dying in that fashion wasn't appealing. He didn't tell Sans about it, though he felt the skeleton knew something of it. Stupid trashbag. He reminded himself that he hated that guy.

Watching Magnum wander back to the castle grounds, Flowey couldn't help but wonder what point she'd been trying to make.

---

An autumn breeze. The scent of decaying leaves was somehow… sweet. It would have been a nice day, if not for the stench of smoke surging its way through the aroma. Its odor choked the land in both sight and smell. Asgore refused to look back. He wouldn't have seen it now, anyway, but… he still couldn't do it.

His home. The place where he'd been born, the place where his father had been slain… gone in a single night. A raging, bloody, horrible battle had been fought for it- and they'd lost. Asgore could still feel the sting in his arm from the slash he'd suffered, damage dealt from a Lightway Mage. When they'd appeared in the battle, all hope had been lost. Asgore, and all his subjects, were aware they stood little to no chance against the Mages.

His paw cradled his arm, alongside another, smaller than his, yet just as white. A faint emerald glow pulsed from Toriel's hand, slowly healing Asgore's wound. They were silent as they walked. As his kingdom walked, their home enveloped in a roaring fire, miles behind them, even as the smoke drifted after them. "Asgore."

The King blinked, glancing to his right, where his oldest friend walked alongside him, skeletal features blackened with soot, but the bright lights of his eyes as lively as they'd ever been. "Hm?" Asgore asked. "We need to stop. Slow down, at least." He stated. "We cannot." Asgore replied, facing forward once more. Wingding did not relent. "Look around you, Asgore." He advised. The King listened to his friend, noticing the tired, hungry faces of the monsters around them. All but Flouis, who led them all at the head of their large group, their destination being the Kingdom of Hopes. Unironically, their last hope for safety.

Parents held their children in their arms, and many monsters were failing to keep up. Blinking, Asgore nodded slowly and cleared his throat. "Yes." He agreed. "Yes, of course. You're right." Wingding placed a reassuring hand on Asgore's shoulder. "Do not fret, old friend. WeEEE-eeE_E_E_EE_E-ee-eE-EeE_E_e-eE_

Shocked, Asgore looked toward his friend to find… he had disappeared. "Wing?" He called out. It only took him another moment to realize Toriel, too, had vanished. Alongside everyone else. He was standing here. Alone. In nothing. Even the forest was gone, even if the smell of smoke still stung his nose.

"Asgore."

The whisper came from his right, but upon looking… nobody was there. The whisper sounded again, this time coming from… an indiscernible location. It was difficult for the King to describe, but he simply could not pinpoint the location. Oddly enough, he remained surprisingly calm, taking a deep breath, before closing his eyes. "I dream of you." He stated. "I feel I should know you. Yet I cannot remember you."

"Don't…"

The voice whispered. Asgore opened his eyes, and finally, he could see something. A hunched figure, cloaked in black. Other details remained to be seen. It was simply too dark to make out more.

"Don't…" It repeated. Asgore narrowed his eyes at it, taking a step forward. Then another. And another. He slowly raised a hand, reaching out for it- before a scream ripped him from his entranced state. The scream had been shrill. Horrified.

It had belonged to Toriel.

"No…" Asgore breathed, feeling his legs grow weak before shuddering, and his legs gave out on him. Dust hung in the air, brushing over his garden he'd worked so hard to bloom. Lying in the middle of the garden was a small figure. A human. A girl. His daughter.

Chara.

Her lifeless body was prone, dust drifting over her. A monster's dust. His son.

Asriel.

Toriel rushed past him, whimpering and crying, a complete mess as she fell beside Chara and pulled the lifeless body into her arms, wailing. He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared in absolute shock at the scene. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. He could only stare in disbelief.

"Asgore."

There it was. The voice again. He felt his throat grow dry as the scene faded from view. Shaking, he climbed to his feet, looking around for the figure once again. It did not show.

"Don't…"

"Don't what?" He called, his calmness beginning to falter. "What do you want?"

"Forget…"

The King's eyes darted this way and that, but still he could not find the speaker. The figure. His attention became more focused as he heard Frisk's voice. She sounded scared. She told him that somebody had broken into her house. How Toriel was missing. He felt his heart stop. He told her he'd be right there. Her birthday was today, the party was less than an hour away, and now this…

He shook his head as he hung up the phone, setting down the watering can and stuffing his phone in his pocket, quickly darting from his house and climbing into his hoodless truck, revving it to life after turning the ignition.

In no time at all, he was roaring down the highway, tight-knuckling the steering wheel as he went. Traffic was light. Next to none. It was getting late and Voxis was winding down. This enabled him to make it to Toriel's house in little time. Pulling up the driveway, he noted how Toriel's car wasn't parked there. That at least gave him hope that she hadn't been… kidnapped or… worse… at least not on the property.

Barging through the front door, he was immediately tackled by Frisk, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She looked so scared. Her body was shaking as she sobbed into his chest. The ordeal had clearly been traumatic for her, though he was still unaware of how much so. He hugged her back. His daughter. The only true family member he had left. He tried to reassure her, and her grip grew tighter. Tighter so. Uncomfortably tight. Painfully tight.

Unbearably tight.

Wincing, he tried to peel her away. "F-Frisk." He spoke through grit teeth. "Let go, you're… hurting me." Her grip only tightened still. Struggling against her, he looked down to find Frisk had gone. In her place was something else. Someone else. Pale skin that seemed to be tearing apart, revealing only inky blackness inside of him. Demon glared up at him, and Asgore felt his breath hitch in his throat as the red-haired menace's face broke into a twisted smile.

"What's the matter, Gorey? Can't get out of a bind?" He asked, eyes wild as his grip continued to strengthen. Asgore felt as though his body would break in half at any moment, and he recalled what had happened that night. When Demon had stepped inside his home and effortlessly floored the ex-king. He was barely able to hang on as Undyne, Frisk, and Truck arrived to help. They'd barely survived. What had struck Asgore the hardest, however, was that he'd recognized Demon. That face. The hair. His scowl. His voice… Fittingly, he'd been known as Lucifer when Asgore had met him. Back when Asgore was just a prince. He'd thought Lucifer, or 'Luci' as Toriel had called him, had been human. Evidently that wasn't the case, as they'd first met a thousand years ago.

Mustering up all the strength he could, he tried to break free of the death-grip- to no avail. "Y-you…" He growled, but the Demon only laughed, taking a step back as he interrupted the monster. It was here that Asgore realized strange black tendrils held him in place, not the inhuman being. "You're quite the fool, Dreemurr." He stated. "You'll learn soon enough, of course. When it's too late."

Asgore's eyes widened as he realized he was lying on a pile of what appeared to be rubble. Rebar stuck out of his chest, three rods to be specific. He stared at them for a moment, feeling his chest compress painfully. The sky above them was red. Boiling over. Lightning crackled endlessly through the air, rumbling thunder booming infinitely. Angry, bloody clouds swirled violently overhead, heralding something… something yet to come. This wasn't a memory. Yet it was real. It felt real, at the very least.

With a groan, Asgore pulled himself from the rebar, tearing through his body painfully. With no blood to spill, he was left with three gaping holes to reveal his wounds. Legs trembling, he stumbled a few feet from the rebar, looking about at the destruction surrounding him. The buildings around them appeared older than that of Voxis. Greek architecture. He'd recognize that anywhere. It was much older than Voxis, even the more modern meshes of buildings, though mostly everything lay in ruined piles.

He blinked, staring forward in momentary uncertainty. Shock, even. Frisk was lying nearby, her body motionless, blood pooled around her. "No…" He breathed, feeling his legs grow weak. He collapsed onto his knees, staring in shock and disbelief. He was back in the same position he'd been in so long ago. Her chest didn't move. She wasn't breathing. Her skin seemed pale. Cold. She was dead. How had this happened? How had… had…

Jaw quivering, he couldn't peel his eyes away, the tears running silently down his face as they once had for another.

A wave of heat began to pulse across the land. Great gusts of wind billowed about, strong enough to pull Asgore's attention away from her corpse. Feeling the hot wind slamming into him, he looked up in the direction of its source, watching as a twister spun to the ground, flames dashing across it, and at its epicenter- a dark figure towered. Taller than even Asgore. The one who was behind the bleeding sky. Behind the crumbling world. Behind Frisk's death. Heart surging with hatred, Asgore slowly rose to his feet, first placing one foot to the ground, and pushing himself up to stand. As he weakly held onto his chest, covering the holes in his body, his trident appeared in his other.

And just like that, he was cold again.

The snow bit at him, but he wasn't sure if it was real. A quilt too small for him was draped over his body, covering only half his chest and his legs, his feet sticking out from underneath. With a glance around, he could confirm to himself that he was in the throne room at the Kingdom of Hopes. Not many monsters rested inside, yet among them were some of the dogs who'd made up the royal guard, and a few he recognized that had worked at MTT Resort.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes, realizing he'd tucked himself away here for most of the day once he no longer needed to be vigilant. Frisk had probably given him the blanket. He hadn't been using it when he'd fallen asleep on the stone floor with nothing to comfort him.

Rubbing his forehead, he sat up, drawing his knees up. That dream, or collection of dreams and memories… had felt so vivid. So… convincing. His mind couldn't come off it. He wasn't even entirely certain which bits were real, and which were fake… after centuries, memories tend to become more and more fuzzy.

It wasn't clear how long the king sat there, drowning in thoughts and memories until he was pulled violently out of it by an urgent voice. "Asgore!" Blinking, Asgore shifted his gaze to his left to see the familiar form of Alphys stumbling her way toward him, tripping over her own clawed feet as she ran, glasses slipping down her face for a moment, prompting the scientist to shove it back up the bridge of her snout. "Good… evening, Alphys." Asgore had to pause to glance outside and guess the time of day. She was out of breath as she came to a stop before him, doubling over as her chest heaved. "As… Asgore…" She breathed out. "It's time."

He'd been smiling politely at her before, but that was quick to shift into a deep grimace. That could only mean one thing. The Messiah had arrived, and they were here to spill blood. Turning his gaze to the nearest wall, his own ceremonial armor he'd selected from the tombs lay in wait. "Gather everyone in the courtyard." Asgore ordered, rising to his feet. "We must be ready."

"R-ready?" Alphys repeated. "We'll be slaughtered!"

"We have nowhere to run." Asgore retorted. "Nowhere to hide. They outnumber us greatly. We discussed this, doctor. A final stand… if my plan fails."

"You've failed to- to inform me of the details of this plan." Alphys replied. "Worry not." The King lumbered his way toward the ceremonial armor. "Just do as I've asked." Alphys hesitated for a moment, before she nodded and headed back out.

---

Not even ten minutes later, Frisk found herself standing as some sort of barrier. She'd spent the better part of today training her friends. Showing them how to use their SOULs, though they were FAR from efficient with them. It would take a lot more than that. She was a barrier between the Messiah and the monsters. Magnum stood to her left, Sadie to her right, with Gregory, Rian, and Mosu on their sides, forming a small line. Behind them were the monsters, armored and holding onto their weapons with untrained anxiousness. Before them, past the courtyard, the enemy was assembling. Every second another masked face would take a step from the trees, then stop. Frisk had counted up to thirty before she stopped as they began to emerge faster than she could keep track of.

The only faces she could see were of lieutenants. Among this forming crowd already was the african-american woman who'd challenged Undyne not that long ago. A red-headed woman. The creepy twins Undyne had mentioned, too. Witch's familiar face popped up, offering her sadistic smile toward them. "All new lieutenants?" Frisk asked Magnum, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm guessing." She replied, though Magnum's eyes were searching the people appearing frantically. Frisk knew who she was searching for. The sky above them was dark, as was the land around them. The sprinkles of a light rain had been drizzling down slowly on them for the better part of the last 30 minutes as distant lightning lit the sky, thunder bellowing out from the abyss.

The clanking of armor, alongside murmured whispering, signified the arrival of Asgore. Frisk turned to see the crowd parting for him as he approached. His golden armor was emblazoned with crude yet elegant designs, the face of a bull crafted along his sternum. A heavy wool was set over his shoulders and down his back almost like a cape. His armor practically screamed ancient and commanding.

"Nice look." She commented as he came to a stop beside her, now helming the centerpiece of their little army. He didn't smile, though his lips noticeably tightened. "It belonged to the Lord of Generals." He stated. "If legend is to be believed, at least. Additionally, it bears the Golden Fleece of myth." 'Nice look' felt like an understatement now. The golden fleece of Greek myth wasn't anything to scoff at. Hopefully the mythology was accurate.

"There he is!"

Witch broke ranks with the Messiah, extending her arms before her and beginning to slow clap in a mocking manner with that typical villain fashion. "Man of the hour! How's it feel, knowing this hour's your last?"

"Who are you?" Asgore asked, his tone dismissive and cold. Frisk was aware Asgore knew her, but his tactic had soured the look on her face. She clearly didn't like that question. Gritting her teeth, Witch raised her face importantly, pointing it toward the sky. "I am-"

"This is who you send, Obaseki?" Asgore's voice bellowed out, cutting her off as he too broke ranks, stepping toward the Messiah. "A coddling child to lead your disciples?" Silence followed the King's words. His face was mostly obscured by a terrifying helmet that reminded Frisk of the ancient romans. Maybe even spartans. It all seemed just a little small on him, but the attitude he was exerting made this fact moot. He was commanding the attention of both his allies and enemies. To call him intimidating would be a disservice of the truth.

More faces were emerging from the trees, most masked, but Frisk could see Krashna among them. She was quick to notice that only three had yet to appear. Trickster, Nikolai, and Obaseki–though the 'Father' made himself known a moment later. His emergence seemed to command just as much attention and silence as Asgore had. Striding out from his ranks, shadows cast away from him, Jonathan Obaseki marched calmly toward Asgore, hands resting comfortably behind his back. Obaseki appeared as though he had just come from a board meeting, dressed in his formal attire, tie and all. His blonde hair was slicked back over his scalp, his bushy mustache recently trimmed, his hard and tired eyes piercing daggers at Asgore from behind his glasses.

"I prefer to lead directly, your majesty." Obaseki stated, his voice as calm and collected as he appeared. The man seemed to have complete confidence in his situation. "It's been a while, Asgore. The wilderness hasn't treated you too kindly, I see."

"Do not speak to me as though we're friends." Asgore growled, to which Obaseki merely turned his head away to look directly at Magnum. "I wasn't." He replied, gaze lingering on his daughter for a moment longer until he returned it to Asgore. "I offer you a proposal. A simple one, with simple choices and simpler outcomes. You're geared for war, that much is clear, yet you are far out of your depth. Surrender and we will not extend this beyond what it needs to be. Each monster will be dispatched without lingering cruelty. None will share pain. Additionally, each human in your ranks is guaranteed immunity and allowed to leave unharmed. Your only other choice is obvious."

With a flash of crimson, a trident materialized in Asgore's hand, which he stabbed the back end into the ground. "You know our answer already." He replied, voice low and grim. Obaseki merely nodded. "I do."

"So I offer an alternative." Asgore took a step toward Obaseki, who noticeably tensed, though neither did anything to the other yet. "You and I duel before our people. None participate aside from us. Just you and I." Asgore's voice had raised so all could hear him. "A true leader dies for his people. Fights for them. Our match will determine the true outcome, if you care enough not to lose your entire army tonight." Obaseki's emotionless face seemed to twinge for a moment, the corner of his lips tugging into the briefest of smirks, eyes twinkling with intrigue, though it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Bold of you to assume your words possess any gravitas in the matter, but… I enjoy a good show. Display your terms and I may consider the proposal."

"If I win, the Messiah disbands entirely. No more pursuit. No more cult. No more death. You leave us to live our lives." Jonathan stared at the King for a moment, eyes darting to the ground, seeming to be in thought, before he hummed. "And the alternative?"

"Exactly what you want." Asgore stated, disregarding hesitation. Once more, Obaseki was silent. He then started to glance about at their surroundings, appearing to be taking it in. "Very well, Asgore. I accept your terms." It was here that the Messiah began to stir. They weren't happy with this at all, but did nothing. Obaseki's word was law among them.

"Then let us waste no time." With Asgore's final word, he raised the trident from the ground before thrusting it immediately toward his opponent. Obaseki stepped to the side, hands still behind his back as his eyes continued to scan their surroundings, not even seeming to give Asgore any mind as he then began to inspect the monsters and the humans among them. The goat made a grab for the man's throat, but was deterred as Obaseki stepped to the other side, appearing disinterested in the battle that had already begun.

This clearly didn't sit well with Asgore, who swung the trident about in an arc, a trail of flames blistering out from behind before he took a step forward and made to bring the trident down on Obaseki, lethal end first.

The man took a step back at the swing, before he lifted a hand and waved it lazily. Asgore's attack was thrown off, landing against the ground beside the human, who tisked at the King. "You're as predictable as ever, Asgore." He stated. "But there's more to you. Must I drag it out?" Asgore responded by swinging his fist again, though Obaseki seemed to have predicted this by taking another step back and avoiding the attack entirely. Once more, Asgore arced the trident in the air before swinging it down like a club, the same attack as before.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, taking another step back to avoid the swipe, though a blast of flames emerged from the trident this time, and Obaseki raised his hand. The blow seemed to just pass through him as Asgore swung down, and the man swiped it aside- only for the impact of the trident against the ground to release an explosion, flames bursting from the impact. Obaseki stumbled to the side, thrown off balance by this, face registering annoyance before Asgore's fist made contact with the man's face.

Frisk expected Obaseki to go flying at the very least, Asgore's strength was immense, but the man only stumbled back, hand flying toward his face. Back to Asgore, he let out a huff, pulling his hand back to reveal blood was staining it, oozing from his nose and coloring his blonde mustache.

"Clever, but not what I wanted." Jonathan said, turning back to find Asgore already thrusting his trident forward. With the swipe of his hand through the air, Asgore was quite suddenly launched from the ground, sent hurtling into the nearby tower. The stone crumbled on impact, and Asgore was effectively buried under it as the tower collapsed on itself.

Frisk's eyes widened, heart beating against her chest. She knew Obaseki was powerful, but she hadn't expected him to be capable of telekinesis. He had the SOUL of Integrity, despite lacking so much of it. She wanted to do something, but… what could she do? Asgore's terms had been clear. If she tried to bust in now, the whole of the Messiah would undoubtedly descend on them like vultures moving in on a decayed kill. She glanced to her left at Magnum, whose face betrayed what Frisk was feeling. Both of their fathers were currently duking it out and neither of them could intervene.

Stone went flying as Asgore burst from the rubble. He didn't seem slowed in the slightest as flames licked at his heels, bursting around him. He had a lot more energy to spare and didn't seem interested in being bested so easily. He shot toward Jonathan, swiping the trident with speed Frisk's eyes could barely track. She could recall the timelines she'd fought Asgore in, where he hadn't shown this level of power and speed when she'd assumed he'd been trying his hardest. Here, however, it became clear that he'd gone easy on her, even back when he'd intended to kill her.

Obaseki managed to keep pace with Asgore, continuing to make evasive steps and using his telekinesis to knock attacks aside, but his tricks were getting old and predictable. Asgore's eyes flashed into a flurry of colors, before his arms and subsequently his trident became a mere blur to the human eye. Not even Frisk could keep up with tracking that speed at this point.

It was here that Obaseki ceased moving, standing perfectly still. Asgore's trident passed harmlessly through him, a hundred strikes in a single second had done absolutely nothing. The cyan swipes obviously wouldn't have done anything to an immobile target, yet even the orange passed through. "What the hell?" Frisk blurted out, looking toward Magnum as though expecting her to explain. She appeared just as surprised, and shook her head at Frisk. Apparently she'd never seen her father fight before.

At the end of Asgore's attack, Jonathan stuck his arm forward and Asgore raised into the air, as though caught in an invisible vice grip. He struggled beneath it as his armor creaked, before he was flung to the other side of the courtyard, where another tower collapsed on him. This time, Jonathan began to walk toward it. Like before, Asgore burst forth from it, only for the rubble to rise rapidly into the air and bury him under it again.

Each time Asgore tried to escape, Obaseki would simply increase the pressure as he calmly approached, nose having ceased bleeding at this point. The only blemish on his otherwise perfect appearance. Frisk could barely watch, grimacing at her father's struggles. She could feel the power willing itself to surge to her fingertips, but she refused to allow them to see the light of day. She couldn't. Not yet.

Finally, Obaseki relented, and with the swipe of his hand, a limp Asgore was yanked without grace from the pile, coming to land in a heap at Jonathan's feet. "Good fight. Good try." Obaseki shrugged, face registering disappointment. He turned away- only to be stopped. Asgore had a hold of his ankle. Without giving anyone time to register that he wasn't out of the fight yet, Asgore rose to his feet, yanking Obaseki off of his own and proceeded to arc the man through the air, slamming him into the earth before fire burst from Asgore's paw, engulfing Jonathan's entire leg. The man let out a sharp cry of pain, before his other boot slammed into Asgore's face with enough force to shock the mountain of a monster, relinquishing his grasp on Obaseki, who fell to the ground, scrambling back up to his feet, appearing to be a lot less calm than before.

Wasting no breath, Jonathan raised his arms into the air, two boulders rising into the up- but Asgore wasn't about to simply stand there and allow his attack to follow through. He rushed forward, swinging the trident for a decapitation, though it only passed through the human as the boulders shot toward Asgore. Standing his ground, the king swung his trident heavily through the air. The first boulder shattered on contact, debris going flying as the second boulder made contact, hurtling both it and Asgore across the courtyard- but his feet dug into the earth, and he came to a stop, lifting the boulder twice his size above his head, and hurtling it toward Obaseki.

The man swiped his hand through the air, the boulder disappearing over the treetops, but Asgore was directly behind it, thrusting his trident forward for a third time- only to stop midair, mere inches short of his target. Asgore's face was twisted in anger as he hovered there for a moment, the impassive Obaseki glaring back. "You fought well, Asgore." He said. "But I don't feel the need to prolong this fight beyond its interest. You have nothing more to bring to the table."

Pushing his arm forward, Asgore was sent hurtling through the trees, many of which were split in half as he flew through them. A boom resonated from deeper into the forest as Asgore made contact with the side of the nearby mountain. Frisk felt her throat tighten as her heart skipped a beat. She should have done something. She just stood there watching like an idiot. She should have done something! Anything!

A bolt of lightning suddenly burst through the air, striking somewhere in the distance as the rain began to increase, limiting visibility even more. It wasn't the strike that made it notable, but the fact that the light didn't fade after a flash. The bolt of lightning boomed its thunder as it arced through the air, hitting something in the distance and unrelenting, as though trapped and unable to disperse the energy.

A second bolt of lightning pierced the dark, hitting the same spot and doing the same thing as the first. A third appeared, then a fourth, and a fifth. All eyes were on it. Nobody knew what to make of this. Nobody except Obaseki, whose eyes were twinkling with expectation and excitement.

The wind began to pick up around them as the rain poured heavier and heavier. As the lightning struggled against their anchor, a whirlwind of fire was erupting around them. Frisk, shielding her eyes from the rain as the wind picked up enough to start blowing it sideways, squinting at the scene. It was Asgore, she was sure of it, but… how the hell was he doing that!?

"Finally!" Obaseki shouted over the roar of rain and wind and fire. "The power of Orion awakes within him!" Frisk was suddenly under the impression that Obaseki knew a lot more about monster history than she did. The lightning disappeared as the sky began to pulse scarlet. Like a storm all by himself, the form of Asgore burst from the trees he'd been sent through moments before, his eyes alight with power, pulsing with white energy. Electricity seemed to be crackling along his arms, fists engulfed in azure flames. The sheer intensity of heat was coming off of him in waves. Jonathan barely had time to react to Asgore's speed, leaping to the side in time to avoid Asgore's fist smashing into the earth where he'd been a split second before. The earth seemed to erupt, flames bursting hungrily from the cracks as the King turned on his heel, spinning his trident before going for a full-frontal attack again, this time lightning arcing with each swing.

It was as before, but this time with a lot more lighting and a lot more bated breath. Whatever had just happened to Asgore, it had boosted his power and then some. The storm itself seemed to respond to his beck and call as he commanded lightning itself. Jonathan was quickly being overwhelmed, and he seemed to realize it after the third bolt of lightning seared his cheek. Desperately, Obaseki swiped his arm to send Asgore flying- only for the king's arm to shoot out and grab the man's wrist. The crunching of bone echoed as both went skyborne.

"ENOUGH!"

Obaseki's shout cut through the roar of sound, and Asgore suddenly plummeted to the ground with such force and ferocity, the resulting shockwave left Frisk floored- alongside everyone else in the vicinity. Asgore was left at the epicenter of a crater, crumpled against the ground as Obaseki descended upon him, eyes alight with malice. Frisk would have tried something, if she hadn't been so slow.

Asgore had already risen to his feet, trident vibrating with energy as a bolt of lightning shot from the sky. Obaseki was engulfed by it as flames orbited around him, and the trident burst forth.

Obaseki collapsed into the mud on the other end of the courtyard, the trident's spokes having speared his chest. Asgore stomped toward him, chest heaving, legs shaking, but his victory was clear. Asgore came to a stop at the human, grasping the handle of the trident, before yanking it from Obaseki, who let out a sound that seemed like a combination between a cry of pain and the croak of a frog.

Bringing his trident back, Asgore prepared to end Jonathan's life once and for all- before a wave of golden tendrils burst from the ground, and Asgore was batted aside, though on his feet in a second. Krashna raced forward, grabbing onto Obaseki as a tendril burst from the ground beneath him, carrying them both back toward the army of Messiah members. "Retreat!" Krashna roared, his eyes burning with hatred as two goons got ahold of Obaseki, and in the blink of an eye, the Messiah had vanished, a multitude of tendrils trying to restrain the king. All it did was hinder him to allow their enemies to fade away.

There was a prolonged moment of silence as the wind and rain began to quickly subside. People were standing in stunned silence. Confused bewilderment. Had they… won? The silence was broken by an eruption of noise as the monsters began to cheer. Frisk rushed toward Asgore's side, relieved beyond belief, though her attitude changed as he collapsed to one of his knees, then went limp, dropping into the mud. "Dad!" She called, dropping beside him and pushing him over to get his face out of the mud. His eyes were closed, his breaths shallow.

That power he'd used, that 'power of Orion' had taken a lot out of her father. Had it been like Undyne's Undying form? Was it simply… a means to extend a fight? Would he now die?

---

"Can't believe I geared up for nothin'." Doggo barked toward the wall. "Ruff!" Lesser Dog barked back from his side, wagging his tail. "NOT TO FRET!" Papyrus exclaimed, approaching them. "WE HAVE WON TODAY'S BATTLE, FRIENDS! OUR FIENDS COWER AND RUN!"

"you're getting really into the medieval setting." A fourth voice intruded. Papyrus turned to see Sans grinning back at him. "I AM MERELY EMBRACING OUR LINEAGE!" He proclaimed with importance. "i hear they're cancelling the renaissance fair this year." Sans replied. "GASP!" Papyrus expressed. "THEY WOULDN'T! I MUST CONFER WITH METTATON! WE HAD PLANS!" With that, Papyrus sped off. Doggo and Lesser Dog, no strangers to how interactions between the skeleton brothers usually went, had already edged away. Sans slid his arms into his crimson hoodie as his gaze wandered toward the other end of the throne room.

Asgore lay there, his ceremonial armor removed, blankets draped over him. Frisk was at his side, holding onto his massive paw that made her own hands look like that of an infant in comparison. She was desperately worried about him, but that couldn't really be afforded. The battle had been avoided for now, and the Messiah had fled in fear. Sans had a job to get back to.

He approached the girl to find she was asleep, head resting against the steady rising and falling of her adopted father's chest. "hey, kiddo." Sans spoke. Her eyes shot open, focusing immediately on him. She hadn't been asleep, just resting her eyes it seemed. "Hey." She replied. "i gotta get going." Sans stated. "kept flowey waiting long enough. finish this here, and… well, we should have the new timeline holder by the time you're done." He winked, before turning to leave. "Wait." Her voice was quiet. He paused. "Can you stay a little longer?" Frisk asked. "What happens next… we'll need you."

"nah. you'll be fine, kid." Sans replied with a shrug. "i know you will. just... keep paps safe, will ya? and take care of yourself. some people might be gone, but someone still really cares about you." No more words were transacted between the two as Sans made his leave.

Frisk watched him go, feeling disappointed but… fighting a war didn't really seem to be something Sans would want to do anyway. The fact he'd stayed this long was a testament of their bond, however tested it may sometimes be.

They had no time to waste.

It had to be now.

While the night was still young.

Frisk squeezed Asgore's hand, before she rose to her feet, taking a deep breath. Everyone had gathered in the throne room to dry up and warm up. Fuku's fire had helped a lot, and she was lying down nearby, head resting in Rian's lap as he stared blankly forward. Sadie was at his side, flipping through pictures in her wallet, eyes red. Greg was near her, though more distant, arms folded over his chest as he stood, leaning against the wall, staring at the ground.

Magnum was standing near the exit of the throne room toward the balcony, hands stuck in the pockets of her jeans. Frisk approached her, to which Magnum nodded her head toward the balcony. Frisk followed her out to find the rain had since subsided. All that remained was the chill of the night air. It was freezing now. Had the storm continued there'd be an abundance of snow in the morning, but most of that had been washed away. "Now's the perfect time." Magnum stated as they both stood there, staring out into the dark, the red in the sky having since vanished. "I agree." Frisk replied. "It's now or never. We take the fight to them. We end this."

"Glad we're on the same page." Magnum sighed, offering a small smile. "I'm just… nervous."
"I'd be surprised if you weren't." Frisk shrugged back. "We're going up against people you grew up around. People you consider family. Maybe even some you still care about."
"Maybe…" Magnum muttered, glancing down at her feet. "But this needs to happen. If there's going to be peace, then the Messiah needs to be destroyed."
Frisk couldn't agree more.

Now was the time for action.