DISCLAIMER: I do not own Undertale or Deltarune.

Chapter 1: The Beginning of a Tiring Tale.

The Space Between Worlds...

The void was a wide expanse of blackened nothing; no sights, no smells, no tastes; a lack of existence that merely blankets the lowest layer; with a constant flowing wind being the only sense of creation. Only a select few in all of reality could traverse the infinite darkness, and even fewer could walk the shadows without losing their minds.

With gleeful abandon, a child falls into the Void, her face a twisted smile and her knife dripping with blood and dust. Determination, harnessed into a killing intent, oozes from her body into the vast nothing, a red aura dripping from her green and yellow sweater.

With a wave of their hand, she sought a new world, a fresh world; one she can indulge in until growing bored—

"Why isn't it working?" The child thinks, perplexed that their power wasn't pulling them towards new victims. Only the presence of a being with more determination could stop her from—

"There are none with more determination than me." A voice, strangely familiar yet impossible to place, calls from behind her. "I will only give you one chance to leave this place, and to never return. Otherwise this is where your story ends."

The child scoffs, turning to face whoever dares to stop their fun—

A painfully familiar blue jacket, unzipped, the fur-lined hood just barely covering the wearer's identity; the whole thing covered in stitches and fixed slice marks. A red scarf's wrapped tight around one of her arms, while a torn tank top, ripped skinny jeans, and scratched dark boots were on full display. Hands firmly stuck in pockets, a pair of cracked glasses sit on the ridge of her nose, one dull brown eye glinting from behind the framework, the other eye still closed, and both marked with a million sleepless nights.

A stick hangs from her hip, strapped to the belt loop of her skinny jeans.

Something about the tired adult, who stands firmly in the infinite nothing, seems familiar; a sense of false nostalgia for something that never actually existed, like fake memories for a conversation that never happened. Confused, but undeterred, the dust-stained child just lazily raises their knife, killing intent flowing around them as a red river of murder.

With a swing of their blade, the red stream flies forward, sharpening into dozens of spinning red knives that hone towards the adult— only to collide uselessly against a massive green frying pan, the flying buzzsaws cutting deep before halting against the sudden barrier.

A throaty gutter of annoyance slips from the child's lips as they swing their blade again, their aura of killing intent gathering in their murderous knife before firing out in a horizontal slash, cleaving the obstacle in two— only for air and spit to fly from the murderer's mouth.

The stranger's fist, wrapped in a pink glove of tough leather, had blitzed past the child's senses, slamming into her solar plexus in a blaze of orange fire. It was just one hit, a single strike... but the child had to know, and looked as deep as she could into her enemy.

Chara Dreemurr

LV 1 (?)

HP 20 (?)

AT 5 (?)

DF 15 (?)

And then the child's red soul shattered, her lifeless shell scattering to the void to become blackened nothing.

Her last sight the familiar heart-shaped locket, dangling from the adult Chara's neck.

In the vast blackness of the void, Chara Dreemurr sits down, and waits. How long had it been since she last slept? How long had it been since she went down this path of atonement? How many more of her own self must she bury, before the genocides cease?

She doesn't know— she CAN'T know, even as she pulls the cracked spectacles aside to rub her tired eyes. If even one of her gets past, who knew how many helpless worlds and timelines would be destroyed. To increase one's LV is to lower one's emotional understanding, to hurt another is to make it easier to hurt another again. Chara Dreemurr is the exception, not the rule; having locked away her LOVE.

Even now she can hear the little ones, hear them whisper in her ear; how she should rest, how this wasn't her fight, how they've already forgiven her.

But all she needs to do is look at the stick on her hip, and the LOVE-less Dreemurr knows she can't stop; not now, not ever.

"I don't like the look of this."

In the wide black nothing of the void, a Monster and Human find themselves lost. In their world, they were heroes; Lightners, who had fallen into a world of Darkners and, under an ancient prophecy, sealed the Eastern Fountain and overthrew the evil King of Card Castle. Their goofball companion now ruled, and their Darkner ally was surely waiting for their return.

But now Kris and Susie were alone, the Human— his skin now cyan, his hair navy blue— still dons silver pauldrons and cuirass, with silver boots and gauntlets; from his time in the Dark World, all accompanied with a navy blue bodysuit and a pink over-the-shoulder cape. The Monster— her skin now lavender pink, her hair plum— wears a long black vest of purple trim, a sleeveless shirt of darker purple underneath; with baggy plum pants and golden trimmed black boots covering her lower-half, accentuated by yellow spiked wrist-bracelets and a golden heart belt-buckle, both affixed to black leather.

No sights, no smells, no tastes; a lack of substance rubbing against their senses. Only a constant flowing wind buffets them, the only sound in the ears besides their own footsteps—

Suddenly Kris stalls, and Susie takes notice.

"Oi, you good—?" is all she can get out before her friend tackles in a strong hug, laughing and crying into her chest. Such a raw display of emotion from her friend is... worrying, to the vaguely-reptilian Monster; but she recognized the way he was laughing, how free he sounded, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

It was a feeling she knew all-too-well.

And so, unsure but happy for her friend all the same, the large Monster returns the hug just as fiercely, patting the Human's back and enjoying the moment—

"There are none with more determination than me." A voice calls from behind the traveling two. "I will only give you one chance to leave this place, and to never return. Otherwise this is where your story ends."

AN: This could be fun.