Kris felt fury bubble up from within, a geyser of hatred, their bottled up emotions pouring like gasoline onto the flames.

Why? Why now? Out of all the time they spent in this Dark World, why did Rouxls choose that moment to intervene, when the situation was truly grave? Nothing could be even slightly in their favor, to their way, to their liking. Nothing was easy. There was always an obstacle to conquer but it wasn't usually as annoying and trivial as Rouxls, nor as genuinely dangerous to be hung up on. They were on the line, here. Not superficially, where they could go back and patch over their mistakes. They were really screwed if they fucked up even once. Everything had to be perfect, down to the last second, and they needed to let the other take hold and guide them, to dodge and order, to command, and be the only person who could genuinely help Kris through the ruts of their life, to get home safe, because at this point, Kris wasn't up for the task. And it was absolutely infuriating how easily they would bend to the alien computer's will. They wanted to do something, to scratch and claw or break their skin with their blade and watch the blood well up and then dry up.

They could feel the clamor of something curling in their chest, something that felt like smooth chocolate but was lined with jagged ridges, and their skin started to sweat out and furl with goosebumps.

The Duke of Puzzles continued shouting, "THOUST BELIEVED YOU WERE IN THE CLEARE! NO MALICIOUS MONARKES TO STOMP UPON THOU LIKE THE VERY WORMS YON ARE! BUT BE-ETH RELIEVED! THE CHAMPIONE HATH GRANTED ME THE PRIVILEGE TO MINE OWN DUKEDOM!" The Duke stabbed his finger forward, shouting with crinkled eyes at them, "IF ONLY I BESTETH THE LIGHTNERS WITH REGALE GRACE! THEN, MY SERVITUDE TO THE VICEROYALTY WILL FIZZLE LIKETH THE CANDLELIGHT OF THE FLAMES OF SWEET REVENGE! "

Kris groaned.

Splendid.

"ONCE I DEFEAT THE BELLIGERENTE AND MEDDLESOME LIGHTNERS, THE CHAMPIONE SHALT GRANTETH ME MINE BENEFITS!" Rouxls pulled a vial from one of the belts and uncorked it, giving it a swishing slosh into the air above, droplets cascading down onto the floor. The poisoner sighed lightly, exasperated at the display. "With dental, mine teeth shalt be the moste splendorous in the Dukedom." He simpered.

This guy always got on Kris's nerves. They wanted to strangle the life right out of him right then and there, filled with such boiling rage that they clamped down onto the soft tissue of their cheek and drew blood, but the other prevented them from bouncing frenetically.

Calm. You will defeat the Duke. Previous experience of his combat parameters indicate an obsession with boxes and adaptability. Assumptions have been criticized and equations have been posted. You will observe. You will avoid damage. You will comply.

They exhaled softly. It wasn't just Rouxls; there was still the poisoner and the Sharpcrawlers.

"Arright," Susie started casually. "If that's the way it's gonna be then… let's get started." She growled and readied her blade.

Ralsei warmed the fire in his palms, glancing from Kris to the Duke.

"Are you acquainted with this person?" Detter questioned. She seemed relatively relaxed.

"AHAHA! THINE CHILDREN OF THE LIGHT HATH FACED MY HEROICK HEART AND TOILED OVER MINE GRUELINGE PUZZLES. THOU ART READILY ACQUAINTED WITH DEEPLY ANGERING FAILURE! "

Detter flipped to a page with a rotating thinking icon, just like the computer when it was lagging.

"BEGINETH THOU EXTERMINATION!"

Rouxls guffawed haughtily and confidently, starting with a relatively simple attack. He took up his tonics and toxins and began chucking them wildly toward the group; Kris acted quickly and dodged, the vial shattering behind them and exploding into shrapnel. The other made sure they stayed focused onto the other vials instead of their teammates - explosives in a crowd were bad, but Kris couldn't afford to stop and check on them.

Attack. Attack. Attack. Attack.

Kris dashed forward, extending their rapier forth and piercing into a hard barrier just before they could reach Rouxls. A shimmer of liquid warbled with the impact.

"THINE ROUXLS (spelt r-o-u-x-l-s) FORBID DAMAGE TO MINESELF! BREAKETH MY SHIELD AND I WILL YIELD."

Susie roared, marched forward stoutly, slashing down at the shield, sparks flying from the scythe.

Ralsei rocked on his feet anxiously, fiddling with the neck warmer before ultimately deciding to ignore the order; it wasn't his scarf, after all.

Noelle, on the other hand, raised her cupped hands to the sky and fluttered particles of ice magic over to the Duke. It clashed against the simmering shield, freezing part of it and shattering. Kris inhaled; that was good. Really, really good. If they could afford to use Noelle's spells often in this fight, they could defeat the Duke of Puzzles quickly. After all, he always followed his own rules.

"Rouxls," the poisoner urged seriously, "I trust you with this task. Do this and I will put the word into the Viceroy, alright," Boyles unsheathed his own cavalcade of needles and gestured past Kris, focused solely on the doctor, "I will handle Dr. Scrubs. "

"I see you still have not processed what happened, Mr. Goethia. I still express my condolences for your sister." The doctor gave a little bow of her book, blinking solemnly. The poisoner, as though the doctor had just insulted him to his face, clenched and ceased his juggling of the needle, barking a derisive laugh.

"'Have not processed'. Are you even halfway decent enough to feel any guilt over what you did to her?" The poisoner spat the question, hunching his shoulders and pouring all his attention onto the doctor, shaking, shivering in some emotion; rage, they imagined.

"She knew the risks when she signed."

The needles soared through the air before the words even rang clearly, zipping and piercing into the leather cover of Detter's book as she shifted it calmly out of the way. She winced, a moment too slow. Boyles was even faster than the Sharpcrawlers.

"Is this your revenge, Mr. Goethia? An accident happened-"

"When you slip and fall, that's an accident. When you drop something, that's an accident." He snarled. "When you root around someone's head and cut half of it off, then record the results in front of their kin without missing a beat; is that an accident? Answer me, you cold bitch, " Boyles reached for his next volley of needles, "was that an accident?"

And the book just shook her covers.

"You think too single-mindedly, Mr. Goethia. Too simple. I wish we had time to properly discuss this and reach closure. I wish we had time to understand," the book sighed, "but we do not, and I'm sorry, Mr. Goethia, but I will not let anything stop me."

Interesting.

The book jerked as the poisoner glanced forward like the glint of a flash on a knife, jamming a dozen needles recklessly toward her, landing a few clean pricks on her spine. The book gruffly groaned and pressed a floating hand to her cover, stumbling backward before countering, throwing caution to the wind and unleashing a hellish brigade of white-flame ignited paper hands. Claws broke past the distance barrier and rained upon him, meeting and matching a hail of needles steadily; the doctor hissed and renewed her attack, the poisoner reached for one of his vials.

You will focus.

Kris snapped back to Rouxls just as he renewed his assault, shield shimmering purple as he chucked a few vials through it, Kris dodging the glasses as they exploded into shrapnel. Ralsei was not so lucky, a shard clipping into his arm, hissing as he squirmed uncomfortably and painfully.

A yellow gas began to leak from the ruins of the cylinders, wafting up and into their nose. They went to dodge the next one, ready, waiting, watching, but for some reason, maybe they misjudged the distance, the vial collided right into their shoulder and burst into a duck-shot of jagged glass. Their blood began to leak slowly, but he wasn't done yet, throwing forward a vial of purple gas that exploded in the air, blanketing Kris with a smog that nearly blocked a follow-up barrage from the Sharpcrawlers. They nearly screamed out loud in panic as a needle shot through their ankle. Instead, they just fell to their knees, batting away the cloud of gas futilely and coughing, stabbing pains in their chest and a throbbing, wet spot of blood sending ripping agony up radiating through their leg.

Attack. Attack. Heal. Defend.

Kris tried to swallow and stand, but fell… until the cool washed in and their pain faded faintly down to a pinching stiffness. Their pounding heart slowed for a moment, a mix of the anesthesia and the other's own brand of doping; they appreciated it, able to at least come to their feet and hold their sword steady.

That was, until the other made them advance. That was, until they collapsed to the dirty tiles because their muscles refused to hold them up.

"K-Kris!" Noelle called out, reaching out in worry. Yet, still, she stayed still, hand frozen in the air as she doubted them for a moment.

Their attack missed but Susie still raced forward, crowding the Duke, slashing at his shield. The scythe skidded across it. She howled in rage.

Kris felt Ralsei's hands on their shoulders, pulling them backward, stretching a warm ball of magic over their wounds, stitching and thread redoubling and winding up again, and again, weaving.

Detter split her attention to them for a single second, a needle gashing right through her coat and soaring like a laser into the other wall. The book doctor hissed, warbling in pain, before forcing a massive fleet of hands forward, attacking the poisoner. She slowly retreated, and Kris felt that they were losing this battle. Noelle's spell was futile, then, even as it froze the shield for a moment.

Initiating host-vessel integration: 17% complete.

That serious, huh?

31%. Peak reversible conditions met. Activating survival contingency.

Kris felt jolted, flying upward, pain gone and blood-loss oddly absent. The turn wasn't over yet; they raised their sword and flew forward, stepping precisely, an alien in their own body, stabbing deep into the shield, ice shards shattering and splaying over the floor before Rouxls merely laughed nervously and reconjured it with another vial. Even though their efforts were wasted, Kris felt driven to finish it, to slash again, and they did so. They watched, the only thing they were capable of, as the tip pressed into the weakened shield again, splintering a web of cracks into the barrier. Rouxls fiddled with his collar, grabbing up another volley of needles, sending it toward Kris. Sweat rolled down their face as they jumped backward, loose and powered.

Kris writhed in fear and awe as the other wound their body into awkward, obtuse positions, subtly manipulating their body to dodge the needles, even at point-blank, their exhaustion forgotten in the face of alien control. It was saddening; the other took them and did so much better than Kris ever did. But whatever - they knew it anyway. They weren't adequate anymore.

The Sharpcrawlers almost proved them wrong.

Kris saw them settle onto their haunches, preparing to leap, unbothered as they expected the other to dodge, to move and break away, or to counterattack or block it somehow. But it was focused on the Duke, and Kris called to it in panic as the spider jumped forward, slamming down a limb of points. The other whirred and whipped around to face it, raising the sword to block, and Kris sighed in defeat; the Sharpcrawler's mass would eclipse whatever defense they had. The damn thing was huge. Kris was not. It was over and the last thing they saw for what might have been their last run was a flash of dangerous red. Curls of thread teeming off from the limbs of the beast floated in the air, shivering, as Kris began to close their eyes and sigh tiredly. Finally.

Finally, it was all over. Finally, they were dead, all in the span of seconds.

It felt different than they expected, to be dead forever. They expected something cold, something dark. Maybe, if they were just in limbo, it would be the bowl of the crater where the other would stand above them and gaze down before the world reset. Instead, there was simply a lurid mass of crimson bobbing serenely just before them. It was a surprise but they would take it.

It was lonely, actually. A fact that they realized soon after actually dying. Too lonely. Kris wondered where the peace was, where the quietness remained, and soon enough they realized something wrong with the picture. They had closed their eyes. That wasn't right, was it? That, and the threads of red. Kris remembered the cold, hard plastic of the Darkner that had killed them, and there were no threads. It befuddled them for a moment before realization sunk in. Kris stretched out a manic, despondent chuckle and opened their eyes again, glancing down at the Sharpcrawler; the other had somehow tossed the damn thing over the shoulder and stabbed the Fumeblade through the thing's neck-like wires. It writhed like a dying animal before slowly splitting apart, the other focused solely on the Duke, reminding Kris of just how absolutely monstrous the being inside their head could be; merciless, unfeeling. Efficient. It frightened them, reminded them of horrible times when they were the pathetic thing writhing on the floor. And then the other simply pulled the stuck blade out with a single hand, not even exerting much effort, breaking apart the brittle armor of the decaying spider and raising the blade to face the Duke again. Rouxls was looking more heated by the second, glancing away with a gaped and false smirk on his annoying face. They knew what that fear felt like. Like you were seeing something impossible happen and you neither wanted to address the fact that something could so casually do that or the fact that it happened. Kris was left questioning why it let them die so many times when it could have destroyed the spider so easily.

"I, er," the Duke stuttered, "SEE THAT THOU HATH BEEN LIFTING WEIGHTS RECENTLY. AHA-AHAHAHA! WELL," he blankly stared at the other, face frozen like he didn't have anything to say. Then, he stared at the others. "HAVETH A… ERM, A… OKAY, WHATEVER! ENJOY THIS GIFTE OF BITING PAIN!" He brought up a tonic from his belt, swirling it as the other Sharpcrawler raised its limbs and layered some more needles toward the group. Kris heard a pained grunt from behind as the other slipped through the volley. The vial was launched through the shield at the group, the other proactively circling far away from the landing site, the shattered glass missing by miles. The green gas, however, was harder to avoid and siphoned toward Kris, lingering around their chest. They went to swat it away, perplexed at the seemingly harmless gas. The Duke sobbed. "NOT THAT ONE! I… I-I HAVE THE REALE PAIN, erm, RIGHTEST HERE!"

Attack. Dual-Heal. Attack.

Warmth flashed onto their numbed skin. The spells mixed into the shield, freezing and breaking it open for Susie to rush forward and shove the scythe in-between before Rouxls could patch the hole with some more liquid. Kris, invigorated by the healing, guided by the other, went for one last strike. They thought it was a great technique; the other was precisely where it needed to be to slither forward and stab through the hole in the shield. The remaining Sharpcrawler sent some needles at Susie, who managed to dodge, but not before yanking her scythe clear and letting the shield close around the sword. Kris groaned but the other merely expunged the last of the gas into the Duke's shield, waiting until the yellow fumes filled the small chamber and the Darkner began coughing. He brought down the shield as the other yanked the sword free, the cloudy smog following them dissipating faintly. It wisped away oddly, though Kris didn't pay attention to it. The licks of green went toward the yellow slowly.

Rouxls fell to his knees, coughing and dazed.

The other stuck the sword forward as Susie leaped at the Sharpcrawler, a dozen hands surrounding it and dismantling it, opening the way for Susie to sweep the poisoner's legs from out under him. Noelle sent a spell toward the poisoner and froze his feet to the floor, Ralsei busying himself with healing the battered doctor. The point of the Fumeblade rested square against the Duke's neck, pulling his chin up and making him jolt, struggling to restrain his coughing.

Yield.

"I-I yield…!" The Duke surrendered. "This battle is the victory of the Lightners! Concedeth by the Duke…"

Leave.

The Duke gulped at the sight of the blade, or so it looked like. Something about how his stare lingered on the vents made Kris wonder. Their answer was solved as his expectant gaze was satisfied; the green and yellow gases mixed fully, a blue fume circling around the other and Kris, slightly touching the Duke. The other glanced around clinically, analyzing what it was now that the situation was under control. Kris let out a sigh of relief, intent on relaxing after a grueling conflict, but the other buzzed with strange noises.

Mistake cataloged.

The poisoner spoke. "Do you… know why it's called martyrdom? Because you die a martyr." He quickly yanked something from his cloak and flicked it over, Kris's eyes widening as they witnessed the small flame attached to the end of a match soar through the air, somehow still lit as it ignited the gas, a spark traveling through the miasma. The whole building shook with the force of the explosion, the supports collapsing as the bricks tumbled and trampled anything still living inside.

And Kris was given one last moment to moan sadly.

0-0-0

They were hovering in the darkness.

A bright candlelight floated near them, a nondescript mass of wax coagulated into a ball.

He escaped from the clutching vines of darkness and sparkling stars, slinking forward slowly, out of the rack and ruin of the shattered plants and river of swimming darkness, the cobble tombstones of ruined city streets. Purple light cascaded over his body until his ensemble formed from it. Neck ruffles dripping with wax loomed over them.

"Kris, Kris, Kris.

'Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer.'"

The Viceroy chuckled.

"It was a good try. Really." He laughed again, mocking. "I'll write a poem about your failure."

0-0-0

Kris was happy.

As they swung their school bag off their shoulder and onto the plush mattress of their soft bed, glanced up at the window and appreciated the sunlight outside, Kris couldn't help but feel happier than ever. Euphoric, even, to be home; home. With their family. They sat on their bed, unwinding after another day at school. The material wasn't hard or anything but people were, but Kris tried to make more friends. They actually willingly talked to Berdly, unprompted, and bit their tongue when he taunted them and boasted. Wisdom helped them with the knowledge it was just a front. They pulled their homework out, a simple math worksheet with just a few questions. They reached for the pencil on their nightstand. Jotted down a few easy answers. A giddy smile broke through their face. Today was easy enough; great, even. If everyday was like today, Kris would enjoy their life. Soon, Toriel would come home and cook dinner with Asgore in preparation for Asriel's visit. The whole family would wait at the bus stop for him and share heartfelt greetings as he stepped off, and Kris saw a huge hug in the future. Asriel would chuckle and insist they all went home as quickly as possible, he would hug Kris and stare down at them with those adoring eyes and ask how life has been.

They would eagerly tell him that they were getting better. Feeling better. Recovering. Adapting. That everything was great! Making new friends besides Noelle, having more adventures within Hometown, enjoying life as it came. Asriel would be shocked but proud, and like that, they would all drive home and sit down for dinner. Since the phrases of 'so glad you're okay' would be over, Asgore would start by asking Asriel if he had any stories he would like to talk about, and then their brother would probably launch into some hilarious tale of how he did something or how a professor was being wacky or about his classmates. Desiring to hear more, Kris would scoot closer and eat slowly, savoring him more than even the food. Everyone would laugh and enjoy it, then Asriel would go to his room and settle down for a moment, Kris at his side as he sighed and glanced around his old haunt at his trophies. Kris would probably have one, by then, for him to look at and believe that they weren't lying. Then, again, more hugs from their brother as he would claim he missed them so much, then they would tease him a little. Harder when he was older than them but the point still stood.

Then, it would be bedtime.

Toriel would come in and give them both a loving kiss.

Kris would tell Asriel how glad they were that he was home, then they would sleep peacefully.

They could see it all so vividly that Kris almost couldn't wait for it, putting down their worksheet and pressing hands into their cheeks with an elated sigh. Everything was in focus, their goals were there, and Kris was ready to go after them! They just had to wait a few more days and then everything would be okay. That was the thought they fell asleep to, but not the thought they woke up to. When they awoke again, the moonlight streaming through their window, they rubbed their eyes and stared in dazed fear at the computer in the corner. The birdcage was closed but the computer was nothing but a screen of static. Getting over it, Kris stood, pressed a hand against their aching head. They wondered what happened. Whatever it was, turning it off would work. They walked forward slowly in the darkness, mindful of the ruffled rug. The button to turn it off took some time but they pressed it, and turned to go back to bed. The garbage noise didn't stop, though, so they frustratedly scoffed and bent down, pulling the power cord out. Asriel would just have to solve it when he got back. Then, they went back to bed, pulling the covers over their head and fading.

They felt a presence.

Their crusted eyes opened.

The birdcage was closed and the soul slowly bobbed, as though asleep, facing the wall and not them. It wasn't the other that had startled them.

But the computer was still on.

The black screen was highlighted, though nothing appeared on it, and Kris swore they pulled the plug out fully. As long as it wasn't making noise, they would just ignore it. They tumbled around their sheets and faced the wall.

A voice quietly pierced the walls.

It wasn't Toriel or Asgore's.

Kris blinked and inhaled, sitting up again with their blanket crushing softly around their hands. The computer had something on it, now. Two eyes painted pink and yellow, and a gnarled smile. It was facing straight ahead. Why didn't the plug work? The eyes narrowed and scanned across the room. The other was gone. The eyes found them. Kris yanked the covers up and hid.

The voice blared through the computer's speakers, a cacophony of familiar garbage noise-

Broadcast resumed.

Kris stood in front of their save file.

They were in the staging grounds again, oddly enough, the small apartment crowded with the people. They swore the last save they made was in the grass outside the café. It seemed everyone was too busy preparing to notice the subtle tremble of Kris's lip. As usual.

Survival was not guaranteed. Many resources were wasted in refurbishment of vessel. Save file corrupted ensured wastefulness. Reattachment of manipulation authority was astronomical chance. Possible purpose hypothesized. Begin.

They lost. Hard. If they went along the same path, wouldn't they just fail again? They needed an equalizer. And Kris needed a moment to breathe.

Incorrect. The materials are present. The method flawed the procedure. Adjustments are chronicled and made consistently. Glitches have occurred.

What was that vision they saw, then?

Wake-up contingency. The broadcast was temporarily interrupted by a glitch.

Kris didn't like the sound of that, not at all. Still, it was barely top ten compared to possible death. They survived this time. What about next time? What if the experiment was ended?

Improbable.

They didn't like the sound… of anything recently. It was all bad news.

You will proceed. You will retrace your steps. You will prevail. Go.

0-0-0

Viceroy replayed his little skit as they walked, didn't bother to switch it up any, but he did taunt them about 'mixing dangerous chemicals'. The others ignored it, attributing it to the whimsical candle's chaotic antics. Kris breathed a sigh of relief; they couldn't afford to fuck up when there wasn't a sure chance to fix it. Of course, it was very hard to restrain themself from launching forward and wringing the damn asshole candle by his goopy neck when they stepped into the café, but they managed. He seemed to notice, chuckling lightly as he stood and leaned forward, the action inciting more than a few weapons to be drawn from sheathes. The Viceroy gently trailed his fingertips over the table. Calmly, as though he was discussing the weather, he stilled his fingers and watched Kris, talking.

"Would you like the pamphlet-map, now?" Kris fought against their baser instincts to smash that damn fucking smugness from his face and show them their fear. They felt tired and ground-up already, and his taunting was no help and made them feel even more frustrated.

"Viceroy." The book greeted politely, like plastic. Same as last time. "It is time to end this. With Kris, we can save this world. Please, for the sake of everyone, surrender."

"And why would I do that?"

Detter paused. "The world will thank you."

The Viceroy grinned. "So, it isn't about the greater good." His joy far out-weighed the book's seriousness, almost unfairly squashing whatever attempt at maturity she held.

He continued. "SO! Come one, come all!" The candle swept his hands outward, puffed his chest, goading them all on triumphantly. "Step up, step up, step up. The Champion told me it would take at least three times before it sticks! That's two left!"

He was talking about the corrupted file. That made sense. It was wasted, and that was what the other was talking about. It made their hands clench in annoyance that it didn't outright inform them, and even further that they couldn't even be angry at it. Their hands felt clammy within their gauntlets, their socks bogged down with sweat and dripping uncomfortably. The urge to let out their anger and frustration was almost feral as it clawed forward and Kris snapped at the candle.

"This isn't funny." They snarled. It made them feel slightly better, though his subsequent smirk made it all boil up again and slam their hand around the straight hilt of their sword and rip from the sheath. They almost took the faux flinch as victory.

"Woe, woe! Don't kill me!" The Viceroy begged mockingly. "I'm not ready to see the Gazing Grain yet," he rested his hands on the point of their blade. "And you can't. You would lose the only key to stopping the pernicious plague. Now, let's advance. Here, take some maps! You will see your mistake, perhaps." He was rhyming, wasn't he? The entire time. Kris watched as he vapidly brought out some pamphlets from a drawer. There was a little burning lull in their anger as the candle passed out the pamphlets where they felt stone twist in their neck and it hurt to even look down. There, inside the very first page of the pamphlet, in bolded, laminated letters, read 'do not mix your gas with my poisoner's gas, you will explode,' and Kris didn't even know how to express their hatred for life.

"See, Kris?" Viceroy cooed. "I'm actually a clever villain. You should take me seriously." They stared furiously into his molten eyes, clenching their fists like the small action could somehow expel all of the bottled-up and vacuum-sealed bitterness they had toward him; toward the world. He repeated himself. "You should take me seriously. Should have, I should say. Maybe then you wouldn't have lost a save file. Remind me, Kris. What should you do, Kris?"

"Fuck. You." They cursed scathingly. Instead of wincing in fear or even caring about the sword pointed at him, the Viceroy chuckled.

"Something tells me that doesn't comply with the rules." Kris blinked in shock. There was no way he knew, so Kris just ignored it. He gave out a deep, rich chuckle, and Kris suddenly noticed how his wax chest bent and bowed. Just another oddity of the candle.

You have made a mistake.

"Kris," Susie called, "the hell does this guy mean?" They faced her, trying their best to keep their expression neutral as they watched the concerned faces of everyone (but Detter) stare at them.

"Uh…" Noelle wheezed. "I'm lost."

"Kris, what's going on?" Ralsei finished the trio. "What's a 'save file'?"

The book glimmered with curiosity.

Kris realized the trap.

He used their outburst to turn their allies' worry onto them. Kris was quiet, usually. Restrained. Anger was present but never to this point. They knew that. They had self-reflection. But he led them into the trap, just like every other trap inside the ventricle. He had lulled them to sleep with the jokes. The stunning realization that they had just been played like a cheap fiddle hit them almost as hard as the realization that the Viceroy had managed to ruin two timelines within the span of maybe three hours. They felt their gut wrench in despair, knowing that their outburst guaranteed punishment later, and the stirring of thread marked the threat the other held over them. They felt shamefully stupid. From the warming of the Viceroy's puffy cheeks Kris could tell that he took great joy in watching them squirm… oh, he did not.

His growing mirth said that, yes, yes he did.

"So, Kris," the candle guffawed, "how funny do you think it would be if you had to explain timelines and resets to your friends behind you?" A glance back showed Susie's brow furrowed and the doctor's book scrawled with 'timelines?' And the casualness of how his buttered voice dropped bomb after bomb on them made them even more unsure of if they could even hope to survive. He was just eradicating any chance, leaving no hope. What could Kris even do? How could they beat everything before all their files were corrupted? How in the hell could they just go home!? Panic started filtering inside them.

You will focus.

Kris couldn't steady their breathing.

You will calm.

They started hyperventilating.

You will comply.

And then some tears came.

You will listen!

Hot, itchy tears.

Kris! Listen to the operator!

Kris clutched their hands to their head, yanking at the hair and making sure they felt every single root come undone and ripped from their skin, clumps of unwashed, greasy hair falling to the floor of the café. Between the harsh pinching of their hair and the radiating pains shouldering all over their body, Kris almost screamed. They choked out a cough through their dry mouth and nose-dived against the table, the candle leaning over to observe. Their friends came forth and reached for them but they swung the sword vaguely in their direction to ward them off. Their vision disfigured with tears and hiccups. Within seconds, their curses turned to mumbles and their overwhelming sense of dread came out as they banged their palms against their skull. It felt like someone was shaking the world with a drum, how they quivered and their heart exploded. Like someone had stabbed them in every pore. They felt guilty that someone even had to do that to them.

"Kris!" Susie called out, half in surprise and half in worry. "Kris, calm down. Calm down! Chill!" She reached forward again, they swung, she blocked it easily and yanked it from their grip, and they went to kick. It would have landed.

"What's wrong, Kris?" Noelle called.

They thrashed and scrambled wildly, unable to face the concerned faces of their friends, unwilling to let Susie take their hands. They pulled their knee up, raw terror and labored movements coming before they attacked. They couldn't let her help them; they didn't deserve help. Not from them, not from the other.

They had it chambered and ready but… their body… refused… and everything… seemed to slow down. The pressure ebbed slightly and the tears dried. Susie just grappled their hands, scared they would keep going, but they just couldn't find the motivation to do it. They just couldn't. They didn't want to die. They wanted to disappear. When confronted with it, Kris didn't know what to do. They didn't realize it. The other had injected pure cool until they did. Or did it? They didn't care, it didn't matter. But her face still stirred something inside. She was worried. Kris made her worried for no reason. Why did Kris keep fucking up so often?

"Hey! HEY!" Susie shouted to them. Pleaded to them. "Fuck, fuck. What'd he do to you?" She cared, they thought. Cared enough to mistake their weakness for foul-play. They didn't deserve that: Susie saw everything. Nothing happened. He didn't even touch them. They did it themself. Why didn't she realize? "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" She growled, froth leaking from her mouth.

Kris watched their hands. Their mouth fell open and they watched their hands. Tensed them. Sweat in their gauntlets. They felt too hot. The cool breeze of Susie shuffling helped. They blinked out the grime. Shallow breaths deepened. Vision cleared. They looked around at the flowers and wallpaper. Looked at the others. Looked at them all. Even Detter wasn't smiling. She had 'emergency' written in bold and was halfway to them. They could barely read it for a moment. It cleared. They saw. Noelle and Ralsei had spells fresh on their hands. Noelle looked dubious. She knew better. It wasn't physical. She knew better. But magic couldn't fix everything. The candle made a noise. Kris couldn't hear. They focused. He was laughing. There was a tremor. Like he told a joke that made people mad. He was laughing. Ralsei had tossed his hat off. It sat on the floor. He had fire on his paws. It danced. He stood still. Everyone was ready. Kris was ready. Kris stood. Kris assured Susie that they were fine. Kris assured her again, a second time. They were fine. Everything was decent now. Kris was fine.

They couldn't drag everyone else down again with something so insignificant.

The other stayed silent, swayed oddly by the display.

"Are you okay!?" Ralsei rapid-fired. "Where does it hurt? Let me heal you!" He touched along their shoulders as they blinked.

"Was that a panic attack?" Detter questioned in awe. "I-I've never seen one, though I've read about them… I thought you were dying!"

"My, my," the Viceroy averted his eyes in some small form of regret, "that's… interesting." It wasn't funny, though.

"Kris, we really need to talk." Susie remarked as soon as they stood, she pulled them to face her, her eyes met theirs, her eyes were softened more than usual. Her arms were strong but barely present. "Kris- Kris." She warned, shaking them as their attention shifted. "I'm not messing with you."

Kris blinked.

…the operator…

Kris sighed heavily.

"We'll… talk later. Okay? Okay. We need to go, now." They bent over and picked up their sword.

Turning, they saw varying levels of disbelief on the faces of their friends. Eventually, Detter wrote 'okay' and fidgeted, resolving to follow-up later. Susie clenched her jaw, watched then walked the brutally hard steps to follow Kris.

"I…" Noelle tried. Kris walked away. "Why is that… familiar?"

And the soft crackle of the candle was the only sound in the room, piano silent, as the puppet that was Kris left him to his despairing lonesome.

0-0-0

The stares were annoying.

Understandable, but annoying.

They seriously couldn't fathom why anybody cared. Out of everything going on - the plague, the Viceroy, the power outage, the Roaring - Kris was most certainly the part that demanded the least attention. The temperature of the room had to be rising for them to be sweltering so badly. They didn't speak. They knew the others were waiting for them to speak. The quiet was hollowing. The four refused to engage; Kris had their sword eternally drawn, and although they were merely waiting outside the door for a few minutes, the others kept their weapons ready, too. They were following Kris's actions. Both in the physical and observing sense. Something still wrenched in their gut at the dead silence, the image of the others awkwardly glancing around and wondering what they should do beaming into Kris's mind. They didn't address what happened, Kris didn't; they focused forth the power coursing and held their hand at their waist. The glimmering sparks were more important. Kris decided it was more important to be safe.

Safety was more important.

The other stayed quiet as Kris ignited another save file, replacing their previous save at the staging area, expression screwing as they felt something wrong with the third one. Overwriting wasn't something they did often anyway; loading a different file somehow skewed the world back into a 'default' configuration. Default meant something familiar, and thus redundant to the experiment. They had learned the default routes like the back of their hand and could walk through them blindfolded, if need be. Replacing the save at Jevil's meant they had no escape - that mistake had already shown itself to be the worst damn thing Kris had ever done. Replacing the one at the staging area might have been a mistake, too. They trusted the other to stop them if it thought so. Kris knew it critically analyzed their actions. That prickling feeling of being watched never quite faded.

With some strain (no help by the computer inside), they managed to overwrite their previous file manually.

The power of purpose shines through you.

It sounded strange. Distant. Unfamiliar with the tone it carried.

Kris sighed and let their hand fall.

"It was lies." They said simply. "Everything's been in my head. The plague, the Roaring, going home. It's all in my head and he was too much." They spoke to the wall, not facing their friends.

The silence still permeated. Kris was lying through their teeth, but if lies meant they could save the timeline somehow, they would lie and lie until their teeth fell out. Between what they did to Noelle and how they treated Ralsei and Susie, Kris really felt like they were misplacing their concern.

"I panicked. I'm sorry. Seriously," they lied so readily.

"…I'm surprised, Kris," Detter interjected. "I am observant, you know. From the very moment I saw you fleeing to the gates of my Asylum with your friend, I had been watching you. Whenever we talked, I had been interrogating you. I soon figured out what truly plagues you. You have yet to figure it out." Kris met her blank-paged stare. The doctor loomed over them. It was pissing them off that she thought she knew them. "You don't accept the fact that you are as valuable as anyone else. You belittle yourself for the smallest things. You try too hard to be the leader. Relax. Please."

Detter drifted a hand forward to pet their head pretentiously, and Kris smacked it away as it came, the familiar anger bubbling upward.

She wasn't helping. The doctor was just trying to ruffle their feathers, to force a reaction, even if she did care, because they were just a puzzle to them. A sad puzzle. The ruffling worked.

"I'm sorry." The other stole their voice before they could use it to snap at Detter. They didn't even know what they would say. "We need to advance. Can we talk later?"

Detter blinked. "Of course. We can talk whenever you are ready, Kris. We won't force you to talk about something personal until you are okay with doing so." Her subdued smile made Kris believe that she might have been serious. "Apologies." Kris blinked. Maybe they overreacted. Almost made a mistake. But the other was always there for them.

"Y-Yeah, huh, yeah." Noelle faltered and came forward. "Kris, we're all here for you, okay? Just talk to us. You're…" her voice trembled. "…uh…"

"Pfft, fine. Just don't screw up when we need you." Susie. Ever romantic. It was reassuring to Kris, actually.

Ralsei padded forward, reaching his arms out for a huge hug. He quirked a faint smile at them, eyes asking for them to join. They inhaled a harrowing breath and conceded; he was still warmer than them.

"Are you okay, Kris?" He whispered softly into their ear. They shuffled, conscious of the proximity, a shiver going down their spine for some reason. He clenched them harder.

"…I'll be fine," they answered after a moment, "thank you." Kris didn't want to let go yet. It was comforting; weird, but comforting. So, they pulled him closer, much to the pleasure of the other.

"Let's do our best, okay? I know we can do it, Kris." Ralsei murmured. They felt dizzy. He pulled away slightly and the trustful gaze he sent them made their cheeks flush and scooped something right out of their chest like a claw machine.

Proceed.

Kris kicked the door open and advanced confidently. The same things happened as before, with Rouxls summoning his shield and giving his spiel. Kris raised their sword, exuding the sincerity that they would win; they didn't plan to lose. They planned to win. They could envision what to do. It began the same, too, with the small vials that exploded. They ordered their team to stay separated and watch for flying shrapnel. The plan was simple, Kris thought as they made it up, and felt a glimmer of pride that it was all their own. Mixing the gases didn't cause the explosion, the match did, so they first thought about removing the match, but they had a better idea entirely. Sleeping gas, like what was loaded into the Fumeblade, was needed to beat Rouxls, since his shield never fully broke, even with their spells. However, his gas could be removed almost deliciously. With the other, they could predict the trajectory and catch it; it was fool-proof. With this, they could erase the pathetically incompetent incidents from earlier, hopefully. That idea gave them some strength.

Beginning merging of operator and vessel. Parsing… Compiling… Confirming… Confirmed. Successfully integrated. The tenability of accomplishment is mediocre. Options weighed, mediocre is the positive result of equations posted. Realization of achievement is principal for sanctity of experiment. Eminence of failure is possible. Be warned. Immediate objective is furtherance and propagation of vessel. Failure to maintain objective will consequence in fatalities. You will succeed. You have no choice.

"THINE ROUXLS (spelt r-o-u-x-l-s) FORBID DAMAGE TO MINESELF! BREAKETH MY SHIELD AND I WILL YIELD."

Attack. Dual-Heal. Attack.

Kris slammed the sword into the shield. Susie slashed across it, tearing it horizontally. Ralsei looked conflicted but eventually, the other's command won out and he zapped the shield with healing magic while spreading the other influence to the doctor. Noelle froze the shield.

Good. No injuries contended for the Late Prophecy. Continue as planned.

Kris gritted their teeth and ducked around the next attack, circling wide to avoid it all.

They wondered, distantly, as though subconsciously enlisted by the other's words, whatever happened to the Prophecy. Perhaps, it never was solid anyway.

A new Prophecy will come. And another. And another. Plethora of certainties and empty words circumvented by will of chosen and rendered obsolete by entropy.

Funny how it talked about entropy when the two had memorized dialogue from an entire kingdom that never changed. Was it chaos or was it truly order?

Redundant semantics. Your confidence in your concentration, no matter how certain, is misplaced. Focus. You will succeed.

Kris simply carried the conversation as easily as ever. Despite the speed of the needles and the disheveled spread of the vials, Kris saw everything as it came like it was slow motion, sliding smoothly and restrainedly, stepping precisely where they needed to be and not even an inch farther. They felt the computer guiding them, watching them, as it had decidedly taken a backseat to keep tabs on the environment.

Attack. Heal. Attack.

Rouxls threw out the vial of sleeping gas, the yellow gas lingering around Kris and wafting into their lungs. Suddenly, to counter the sluggish sludge that filled their lungs, they felt a burst of power from inside.

Their lungs suddenly expanded with panicked, labored breathing, sucking in as much air as humanly possible as their heart skipped inside their ribcage. It felt like their muscles had turned to liquid with how smoothly Kris dashed away from the gas, feeling more alive than before.

Their party members coughed and slowed for a few moments. Susie hung her scythe low in weakness and hunched over, warily eyeing the Duke as she struggled to raise it up. Ralsei panted in exhaustion. Noelle, however, had that same ferocity surge behind her eyes that Kris did, even faster to wrap up her spell.

The other did the same thing to her, too?

Similar in nature, different in administration. Biology contrast is negligible. The operator has detailed notes on monster physiology. It is not discrepant. Human anatomy is foreign but resembling something analogous to agnate creatures.

The other's matter-of-fact tone brought back the vague memory of it demanding they show it, in full entirety, a book of monster biology from the library. The librarian was impressed that Kris checked out an advanced-level book for promptly seven seconds before doubt crept into it; Kris was indignant but understanding, because they could not read it at their level. The other soaked it all up like a sponge.

They finally decided to do what they thought of before, "Why are you fighting us?" They addressed the Duke and the poisoner with mute confusion.

It was part of the plan to distract them, to fool them.

Rouxls blinked. His smile-frown was faltering. "Erm. Well, the Champione said that if I managed to defeate the Lightners, he would granteth me land to lorde over."

The poisoner hissed. "If I help the Champion, the Asylum and all of the bastards that run it will die the deaths they deserve."

"And that includes dooming the rest of the world to death, as well?" The other helped them relax, to untighten their facial expressions and carry a steady cadence. "You want the Roaring to happen? I don't know what Detter did but punishing her like this isn't right."

The poisoner stayed crouched, huffing violent breaths for a moment, "the fuck's the 'Roaring'?"

"Ahh," Rouxls croaked, "yes-eth, what is that?"

Detter stood unperturbed, yet questioned them as well. "The Roaring. That name seems familiar. Ah, yes! You spoke about it earlier. Please, elaborate, Kris."

Well, they certainly didn't plan for everyone to suddenly stop fighting and harken to them.

Peace might be an option. Pursue this newly created pathway.

Well. Kris strained against their instincts and fully relaxed, letting their sword dip toward the ground.

The words came out as easily as their soft breaths did, "The Roaring. When the light is subsumed by shadow. When the Fountains fill the sky." They turned their chin up dramatically. "All will fall into chaos."

The Titans will take form from the Fountains.

The other sensed their humanity. They had forgotten the exact wording. "The Titans will take form from the Fountains." Kris squeezed out an artificial sigh.

And envelop the land in devastation. The surviving Darkners, crushed by the darkness, will slowly, one by one, turn into statues. Leaving the Lightners to fend for themselves. Lost eternally in an endless night.

"…and envelop the land in devastation. The darkness will crush all Darkners, everywhere, and you will all slowly turn into statues. We'll be left alone, lost eternally in the endless night." Kris poured what emotions they had from their own 'endless night' into the words.

Kris finished. "Is that your idea of paradise…" Their voice trembling, Kris made a show of clenching their hands.

It served both the purpose of peace and curtailing the suspicion the others no doubt had from earlier. Gave the impression Kris was thinking about the event often.

Good.

Rouxls glanced away, mouth still gaped in surprise. His shield collapsed into nothingness as he stared at Kris. Then, glancing at the ground.

Boyles, however, did not share the same feelings. Disturbed by the story, he took a startled step backward. "What?"

"Is that what you want, to see everything, everyone, suffer?" Kris accused gently, causing the poisoner to gasp.

He looked trapped, hastily glancing between the doctor, the Duke, and Kris before tensing. He chuckled, the sound not quite so genuine as he thought.

"Maybe, that sounds perfect. The world sucks, anyway, so why not just let it all end in…" his vision found the floor, "in some way fast. No suffering."

"You're angry," Kris had opened their mouth, but the other interjected. "You can't justify what happened. You can't forgive it, or forget it."

Boyles seethed, "No, I can't, I watched my sister die, kid. I let her die. I watched her sign the papers and… a-and I knew, fucking knew, something was gonna go wrong."

Comfort him.

How? They didn't know him, not at all. Kris couldn't fathom-

The operator was not referring to the vessel.

"…hey," Noelle waved meekly. The poisoner glared. "Y-Ya know, uh, my dad's waiting at home for me. He's… really sick. He's getting worse, day by day." She hummed sadly.

Boyles Goethia's breathing began to slow some as the fight had ended abruptly.

Noelle shook her head. "I would do anything, anything, if it meant he would be okay. Being alone at home without him, or mom, or… my sister… hurts."

"You…" The poisoner murmured, dismayed. "Y-You… You…"

"Yeah," Noelle grinned sympathetically. It seemed awkward on her face. Her pure-white robes fluttered. "Dad's sick. My mom is so busy that I never see her anymore. My sister's been missing for years. Her name was Dess. Like, December."

Boyles shook his head and dragged his loafers across the tiles. "I'm… sorry to hear that."

Dissuade him. Continue to sympathize.

"Look, Mr… uh, Mr. Boyles." He seemed to squirm. "My parents are divorced. Have been for a few years. My brother's at college and I haven't seen him in almost a full year, either. I don't even know my human parents. I know it's not even close to what happened to you, but I have to tell you, the world is still worth keeping alive. Even if we are alone…"

They met gazes with Noelle.

Her eyes were reddened and blotchy.

"Even if we are alone, there's still something out - someone out there - that could have a better life than us." The poisoner let his shoulders drag to the floor with the weight of the world. "It doesn't matter how dark our lives get, so long as we don't let ourselves go and let our problems hurt others."

They felt a stirring mix of feeling; guilt, resentment, hatred at lying so blatantly. But it was all worth it if they could live. They just wanted to live.

"Shit, yeah," Susie finally assented, flapping her hand tiredly, "what the nerds are saying. Look, I know it's real fucking easy to just want to hold all that shit inside or let it out on someone but sometimes, you just gotta… think of what's best for you. Be selfish, I guess. I mean, just, I don't know, just live for yourself. Maybe… maybe just chill and relax, man!"

The poisoner sneered with his bagged-face. "It's not that easy."

"Why not?" Kris asked. "Look. All this bad stuff, all this mess; it's not urgent. You don't have to mess it all up for everyone else. You can leave. Just… let us past and we'll… you can…"

Is it impossible to set aside your agitations and regrets when the fate of the world is at stake? You can also reconcile later, or get even.

"You can get even later. Reconcile, even." Kris hoped they were getting through to him. He ground his teeth. "The fate of all worlds are at stake. Please. Please, I beg of you!"

The desperation in their voice was real.

"Isn't this just totally fucked up… I just… I need to do something! I need to make it right, and… and now I'll be dooming the world? That bitch kills my sister and now I'm the bad guy?"

Boyles finally snapped, coiling his gloved fists around one of his needles. He smacked a hand to his chest.

"I'm the bad guy, now! I'm the fucking bad guy! How fucked up is that!?" The poisoner was starting to frighten Kris.

He grabbed another needle and raised both hands, gesturing wildly around.

"This is my damn apothecary that I've spent years cultivating! Poisons, drugs, potions; all for my revenge! And now it's all for nothing? No! No, no, no. It's not happening."

He reached for the gas, deftly clutching it in his filled hand as he reached for another vial, one of the yellow gas.

He is unconvinced.

Kris sprung with energy-!

"Will this do, for now?" Detter had almost whispered, solemnly kneeling in front of the poisoner with her book closed and bowed. "Will you strike me? Will you take this gesture as a sign to cease?"

The poisoner's manic episode flittered out, and as he slowly raised the vials, he paused. Palpable tension filled the air.

Kris sharply inhaled.

"If it means the world will survive…" Detter gave up, falling to her phantom calves and resting. "If it means… then, go ahead. Do what you must."

Unprecedented.

Boyles, frozen to his spot, took around a full minute to recover. He stuttered lightly under his bagged-face, slumping, obviously conflicted as the doctor presented him with what he truly wanted.

They wondered what went through his head. If they were presented with what they wanted, freedom, they didn't know how they would respond.

He desires this preeminently. The situation is already massively successful. Further action is unlikely to yield results.

And he made his choice.

The first vial went hurtling toward Detter, the green wrapping around her coat and startling the book forward. Her pages flapped in a frenzy.

The poisoner grunted and went to throw the second vial, to mix both.

Go!

It ordered them, no hesitation, urgency and almost fear laden within the crackling of thread. Kris sprung ahead, casting aside their sword and reaching with both hands.

Faster!

Their legs pulsed with power, sending them hurtling forth as the other took full control, reaching for it.

Catch!

The vial was slated to fall right into their palms, safely and soundly, and everything would have been okay. Kris almost relaxed.

Until a papier-mache hand was conjured just above their palm as they reached up to grab the vial.

Clashing, both their hand and Detter's failed to catch the swirling green gas canister as it tumbled.

Catch!

Kris scrambled for it but it quickly cleared their reach.

And slowly, ever so much, it fell closer to the floor.

But it wasn't over!

Detter exerted herself as quickly as she could, white flames siphoning from her book and into the form of a hand, dashing forward to snatch it out of the air…!

And Kris could only watch in defeat.