The night felt unnaturally still in the pine woods. The waning moon barely cast enough silver light between the trees to see the ground. A doe ambled through the brush, pausing here and there to nibble on the few berries leftover from the earlier summer bounty. It was November, soon there would be nothing left but dead leaves and dry grass before the snow fell.
Its meal was interrupted when the uneven sound of footsteps erupted out of the dark. Abandoning its meal, the deer leapt away, back from whence it had come just as a young boy burst through the trees. His lips were blue from the cold night air, his breathing harsh from his flight from something . . . dangerous. Dirt and blood caked his clothes as he struggled up the steep mountain incline. In his wake, pants and growls could be heard. Only the occasional shadow and glimpses of several pairs of glowing red eyes revealed the location of the beasts that hunted him.
Giving a frightened cry, the boy dug into the ground with broken nails, attempting to outrun his pursuers. His adrenaline rushed through his veins, giving his body a surge of energy in a last-ditch effort to ward off certain death. His mother's dying words, "Run! Just keep running, baby. Don't let them catch you," echoed in his memories, encouraging him to fight for his life.
Lost, the boy looked around him, but the darkness hid any escape route. He attempted to weave through the trees, switching directions randomly but the creatures seemed to be part blood hound. Dodging objects, the child hopped over logs, ducked low branches and shoved his way through bushes in an absurd hope that those chasing him would give up or lose him. Undeterred, they were relentless; their efforts to catch him were as determined as his were to elude them. They seemed to sense his exhaustion, realizing it was only a matter of time until his body gave out. The boy gasped out in surprise as his body was jerked back from his backpack straps. He wiggled around, trying to untangle himself, assuming he had gotten it trapped in a branch, but the loud growling sounds made him realize whom his true captor was.
Having no other choice but to abandon his belongings, the boy dropped to the ground, his arms slipping out of the shoulder straps smoothly. He scrambled back to his feet, kicking up dirt and grass in his wake as he kept on running.
He chanced a glance back, watching the creature who momentarily had him, toss his backpack at a tree before continuing its pursuit.
The boys head swiveled back around just in time to see the land in front of him falling away into a massive chasm right before he did. The whistling of the wind and his own terrified screams drowning out the monsters noises as the darkness swallowed him up.
The boy was beginning to wonder just how deep this hole was when a loud CRACK! of his fragile body crumbling silenced everything in the vicinity. For an eternity, the boy couldn't make a sound as he laid limp on the cold stone floor. The simple act of breathing no longer so simple as his mouth opened and closed liked a fish out of water. Eventually, he managed to drag in a lungful of oxygen, his chest burning as if it was on fire, before he released it all in an agonizing scream that bounced off the rock walls. He tried hard not to move, the pain was so intense, but his body shook with the need to cry. Hoping someone . . . anyone, could come save him.
"Mom." He sobbed, dirt sticking to the slobber dribbling from his mouth. "Come back, please . . . mommy."
But nobody came. . .
Asgore poured hot water from the whistling kettle into a teacup that held a small bag of dried, crushed flowers plucked from his very garden. When the water changed into liquid gold, he plucked out the bag, setting it atop a napkin, before he stirred in half a teaspoon of honey and three drops of lemon juice, just the way he liked it.
Picking up the delicate teacup, he carried it with him out of the kitchen and down the long hallway of his castle. His eyes gazing out the arch windows to his humble kingdom beyond where his people milled about, working hard for their survival. Clinging to what little hope they had left and fighting so bravely for their freedom that, any time now, could fall into the Underground.
They were so close. They were only short one soul. Just one more child and Asgore, King of the Underground, could destroy the barrier that imprisoned them here and retake the surface that was once theirs.
Asgore's gaze exchanged the cityscape for the hot beverage in his hands. The steam washing over his face and filling his nose with the sweet smell of floral. He sighed, his heart growing heavy as he thought back to the previous children he had stolen the lives from. Despite his best efforts to ignore, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of humans those children would have grown up to be if they had been given the chance. Would they have become killers or healers? Rich or poor? Happy or miserable? Generous or greedy? Had he saved others by ending their futures or had he ruined somebody else's life?
Did he want to know?
Would it matter? Afterall, once they got to the surface, the humans wouldn't simply share their land with them. They would have to take it by force. There would be war once again. Both humans and monsters; men, women, and children alike, would perish.
Would the sacrifice be worth it?
The more he thought about it, the more he lost sight of his true purpose.
What was more sinful? Killing or suffering?
He wished his wife was here to ask. She was smart enough to know the difference. Then again, she might have still left him simply for his ignorance on the subject.
Asgore continued his stroll until he reached the throne room, the floral scent twice as strong as he crossed the threshold. His feet sank into the grass and soil underfoot, the raise of light shining through the windows and the barrier beyond, warming his fur. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, allowing himself this moment of peace.
He raised his cup and took a sip of his now luke-warm tea, the sweet nectar soothing him as he swallowed. He placed the cup back on the saucer and wandered through his garden, admiring the one thing he worked hard for that he knew was good. If only his wife could see the progress he made on it. A good portion of these plants were but mere sprouts when she had taken her leave. Would she have been proud? He was a far better gardener than he was a king or a father or a husband.
His eyes drifted to the white sheet that hid the smaller copy of his throne. The seat that hadn't been sat in for years now. He walked over to it, the hand not currently holding his teacup gripping onto the fabric, his claws accidently ripping a hole in it. His body shook as a wave of expected grief washed over him. It always did when he looked at her throne. He wondered if there ever would come a day when he wouldn't feel sorrow every time he thought of her.
Did he even want that day to come?
Forcing his claws to retract, he continued his stroll past the throne room into another hall where a second doorway awaited at the end. The barriers light shining through it.
Asgore froze right before entering as he heard the echoes of unintelligible weeping.
"Hello?" He called, stepping into the last room of the Underground. "Is someone there?"
He couldn't see anyone in the room and yet the cries had yet to cease. "Are you alright?"
The noise quieted to whimpers but didn't answer him. His eyes narrowed as he searched the shadows where the barriers light was blocked by boulders and other natural structures.
"Do not be afraid." He said, gently. "I won't tell anyone you snuck in the castle."
He saw a shift of movement in his peripheral and he turned towards it, spotting a small figure curled up in the corner between two ivy wrapped stone pillars. He gave a friendly smile, knowing that whoever this was would see it. He stepped closer. The figure that sounded like a child, sniveled.
"Did you hurt yourself, little one?" He asked, taking another step. The child remained where it was, but he could tell it was watching him intently.
The child hiccuped. "Y-y-yes . . . m-my legs. T-t-they hurt."
"What happened?" Asgore frowned in concern, taking another few careful steps, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
"I-I fell." The child broke into another bout of sobs. "W-what are y-you?"
Asogre's eyes widen as he recognized the child to be not a monster as he assumed, but a human. A little boy. The teacup slid off the saucer he held crookedly in his hand and shattered on the ground as he looked above him where the light of the moon from the surface shone through. Were his parents up there? Did they know their child was down here?
"P-p-please, h-help. I-I-It hurts s-so much."
Asgore returned his attention to the child, his soul tightening with dread as he examined its two heavily damaged legs. There was no doubt the boy would never be able to walk again. Asgore knelt down beside him, one paw cupping the surprisingly silky-smooth skin of the child's cheek despite the dirt and blood that covered it.
"Do not worry, little one. I will take away the pain." He assured him, setting aside the saucer so he could place his other paw on the ruined limbs. The boy winced in pain, his hand clutching Asgore's arm with surprising strength.
Closing his eyes, Asgore went deep into his soul, drawing out as much magic as he could, willing it to heal the human. He felt the warmth of power rise from out of his chest, down his arms to his hands. He felt movement beneath his palms as bones, muscles, and ligaments readjusted themselves.
The boy screamed in anguish, surprising Asgore. He knew it wouldn't be a comfortable process, but his magic should have been able to dull the pain as it fixed things. He pulled his hand away from his legs and was shocked to find the fur on his palm dripping red with blood. The wounds now spitting the liquid onto the ground with more force then before.
Meanwhile, the child continued to wail, fresh tears leaking between his tightly shut lids and breaking Asgore's soul.
"I. . . I don't understand why it's not working." He muttered helplessly. He wanted to try again but feared making the humans pain worse.
The child stared at him with betrayal in his eyes. "Y-y-you said y-you could take it a-away!"
Asgore opened his mouth but realized he had no excuse that would ease the human's distress. His face contorted with guilt as he whispered, "I'm so sorry."
"I want m-my mom!"
"I'm sorry, I do not know where your mother is."
"S-She's gone. T-t-they k-killed her."
Asgore frowned with confusion. "Who did?"
"They did." The boy raised a trembling arm, pointing a finger past Asgore. He turned his head but did not see right away what he was referring to. Finally, he spotted a dark figure sprawled on the ground. Another human.
He looked back at the child. "Why would they do that?"
"M-Mom said they w-were sick."
"Sick?"
He nodded. "S-s-she said that w-when they g-get sick. T-they h-hurt other people."
Asgore brows furrowed. "Are you sick?"
"I-I don't know." He mumbled between trembling, pale lips. "Am I?"
Asgore glanced back at the other human and spotted a second one a couple feet beside it. Neither of them moved. A puddle of blood growing larger beneath them. They were clearly dead, but he doubted it was from this 'sickness', rather it was from impact when they fell.
He looked back to the child and answered honestly. "I don't know."
The human's eyes were large, brown, and glassy as they met his own. Seeming to see through him and into the depths of his soul. The boys mouth opened, and he whispered. "I don't want to be like them."
Asgore was silent for several minutes, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. They only needed one more soul.
One more soul between them and freedom.
There was no one searching for this child. No one for him to go back to. He was broken beyond repair. Even if he miraculously could recover, there was a sickness going around on the surface that could have already compromised him. This human had no future. There was nothing for him to look forward to.
And he would be just as cruel to allow this child to continue to suffer in such physical and emotional pain as he would be if he took his life away, if not, more.
Asgore's eyes softened on the boy, his thumb wiping away the tears and blood from his cheek. "I can still help you."
The child sniffled. "Really?"
Asgore nodded, "And in return, you can help a lot of innocent people."
"I c-can?"
Another nod.
"How?"
"Allow me to handle that." Asgore murmured. The boy remained silent; his eyes watchful even as he slowly grew weaker. Asgore held out his hand and drew forth his magic, accumulating it into a solid object the shape of a trident.
It was warm and familiar as he wrapped his fingers around its glowing red handle, yet he couldn't have been more ashamed of this weapon, in that moment. The child's eyes were staring at the trident in awe. Unaware of the devastation it wrought through many years of wars.
"A-are you a magician?"
Asgore allowed himself a small smirk. "No, child. I am not."
"W-what are you?" He asked again and this time, he answered.
"I am Asgore, king of monster kind and ruler of the Underground and you, child, have saved me and my kingdom from an eternity of imprisonment. We thank you. You will never be forgotten."
Despite everything, the boy smiled up at him. "You're welcome."
Asgore closed his eyes but he could still see him in his mind where he would remain for years to come. He felt a tear escape from between his lids, leaving a damp trail down the fur on his cheek as he wrapped both his hands around the trident and raised it above his head.
"Goodbye, little one."
The child didn't respond before Asgore thrusted down the trident, its razor-sharp prongs slicing through fragile tissue and bone like knife through butter. The boy's sniffles and whimpers ceased. Leaving Asgore drowning in an unbearable silence. He rested his forehead against the backs of his hands that still clenched the trident with a vise-like grip and wept softly.
Finally, he opened his eyes and stared at the transient white light of his physical statistics. He watched as the numbers slowly increased until finally, they stopped. He looked down somberly at the number next to the LV, as it too, increased.
Asgore sighed, his trident dispersing, leaving his hands empty. He didn't have to wait long before the child's soul, emerged from his corpse. Asgore hesitated to take it as he watched in confusion the warm vibrancy of the soul beginning to dull as if someone turned down its saturation. He frowned as he noticed a spot of blackness on the corner of the soul slowly spreading its way along it.
Never in his life had he ever seen something like this before, a soul turning black. He didn't even know black souls existed. He wanted to consult his library. Perhaps his royal scientist may know something about this. She worked more with souls than any other monster. However, he was running out of time. With this unexpected development, he hadn't the chance to prepare a capsule to trap the soul and at any moment now it would begin its journey onto the next plane of existence where he could never reach it. If this escaped him, there was no telling when the next time a child would fall into the Underground. Nor did he want a repeat.
Reaching out, the soul floated to him as if sensing his presence, settling itself inside his palm. The feeling was different from holding any of the previous souls he'd collected. It was like holding a shadow versus holding a ball of light and it was hot, almost unbearably hot.
Doubt poked at Asgore's mind as he examined the strange soul, the shadow seeming to cling to his fingers like tar. Then, the soul began to fade out of existence and Asgore's eyes widen in panic. He was out of time. It was now or never.
Without further thinking, Asgore guided it to his chest where his own soul began to thrum with magic. Their combining power filling him till he felt like he would burst with it. It was agony yet ecstasy. Debilitating yet empowering. It was overwhelming yet he craved more. He felt like the world was at his fingertips. The doubts, the fears, the guilt from before slipping off his shoulders. Freeing him from a prison he hadn't been aware he was trapped in. He felt like he could do anything, and no one could stop him.
How could one puny, insignificant human soul as that boys hold such great power?
What could six more possibly feel like?
Spinning around, Asgore bounded out of the room, through the hall, and down a set of staircases into another room where seven human coffins laid, all but one, occupied. He grinned hungrily at them, his arms outstretching as he summoned forth their trapped souls. Slowly, they emerged, one by one, glowing colorfully in all their existence, beckoning him.
"Come to me, little ones. I have a new home for you."
The six souls gradually floated towards him, drawn by his voice. He guided them to his own soul like he did the last and howled as they merged into one. The feeling driving him down to his hands and knees, tears streaming from his eyes. He couldn't describe it. It was too much. His body wasn't fit enough to withstand this type of power. He felt like his bones were reshaping themselves, his muscles squirming, his ligaments tearing than healing over and over. He was vaguely aware of a ripping sound, then a clang of his body armor falling to the floor. Only then did he begin to realize he was changing physically. The souls reshaping him to their desire. He didn't resist them.
He was trembling and panting when the feelings began to fade but when he clawed his way back to his feet, he felt stronger than ever. He opened his eyes, the world suddenly brand new to him. He could smell the different components in the blood that had pooled below him. He could see the infrared radiation coming off the artificial lighting on the ceiling. He could hear the thousands of monsters walking through the streets of his kingdom.
His kingdom that was now free.
What would the surface hold? What would he see? Hear? Smell? Feel?
An almost child-like excitement filled him as he turned away from the coffins, retracing his steps to the barrier. He raised his arms, his fingers splayed, his eyes closing as he concentrated on drawing out his newfound powers. He felt the magic of all seven souls flow through his body, ready to erupt at any moment.
Words flowed forth from him. An instinct more than reason. Multiple voice sewed into one. "And ye, shall I command thee. A match of great power. With seven, human, souls I shall bend this force, eons old, to my will and set thy prisoners free!"
The room was bathed in white light as the barrier crumbled away, the ground shuddering as if in fear of him. His eyes opened once the earth calmed and grinned at the sight of millions of stars twinkling overhead. He was about to walk up the circular staircase carved into the wall of the cavern, when he again, noticed the human forms lying broken on the ground. He felt himself grin as he sensed more soul's presence. They emerged as he approached.
Their endless darkness that had encased these souls much like the first child he had taken from, swallowing the moonlight from the surface. He stared at them in wonderment, curious about what causes such an unusual color. He smiled at them and held out his hands. They floated over obediently.
"You two look in need of a home. Don't worry, I have the perfect place for you both to stay."
Asgore emerged from the maws of the earth and onto the surface world for the first time in centuries. His feet sinking into the grass and dirt, the cool wind carrying the scent of pine trees. He smiled as he gazed upon the lightening landscape beyond where lights of human civilizations twinkled in the distance and the first remnants of dawn were peeking from behind the mountains.
Soon, this world would be theirs once more.
Asgore touched his nose as he felt something warm and wet dribble down his lip and frowned at the red that stained the fur on his fingers. He guessed it was the remnants of the transformation he had undergone. He shook his head as he began to trek down the mountain, weaving between the forest of trees. He didn't get lost though as he was led by the scent of something resembling human, mixed with other things he couldn't describe.
Eventually, he found a split in the forest and in the clearing was a wide path of black tar, painted with broken yellow lines that stretched in both directions. He stepped onto it, feeling the texture beneath his feet. It felt like a cobblestone road on a miniature scale. He wondered where it would take him.
The scent was coming from the left, so he went left. Time feeling meaningless as he walked down that road for miles, never once meeting another living being despite the presence of its scent. Then, he spotted something sitting at the edge of the road, painted red. As he approached it though, he recognized it to be a car. A new machine the humans had made for themselves to travel across great distances.
Asgore circled it curiously, wondering where its owner was. Why would a human abandon such a valuable piece of machinery? Was it broken?
Grabbing the metal handle, he tugged open the door. Unlocked. The scent of human grew stronger inside the vehicle. He searched through it but other than finding wrappers, a map, a jack, and other miscellaneous items, the car was empty.
Asgore frowned at it, looked around once more for the owner, then shrugged and continued.
A mile later, Asgore encountered another vehicle. This one bigger than the last one and painted black. He tugged on the door, but it was locked. Perhaps this was where the humans liked to keep their cars when not in use?
It was half a mile later that Asgore came across yet, another car, just as lifeless as the first two. He could see in the distance, a city of glass coming into view and along the road were more cars. Their doors left opened as if their owners were too preoccupied to be bothered to close them.
Asgore passed them all by without bothering to search them, he had a feeling there was nothing of value in them anyway, his attention fixed upon the destruction before him.
Littering the road entering the city amongst the debris of desolated and destroyed buildings were piles of human corpses, their life force long since oozed out of their bodies and dried dark brown onto the streets. Their faces mangled and disfigured in a way Asgore had never seen before, even in the heart of war.
It was. . . disturbing. Even while the souls pulsed unimaginable power within him, Asgore felt. . . sad.
What happened?
So, this was a story I had started a while back when I was first on my Undertale kick. (Still one of the most memorable games to me.) and while the initial honeymoon with the fandom has dwindled some, I will always have a special place for these lovable characters in my heart. Which is why I decided to start posting what I already have now because I'm still super excited to see what people think of my little blurb. Please, reviews are much appreciated! :)
Also, before anyone asks, no, this is not inspired because of Covid-19. While this is being posted in the middle of all this craziness it was written before Covid was even mentioned. I just have a fascination with apocalyptic worlds. That being said, I do hope everyone is staying safe and washing hands! Stay healthy my friends!
