Chapter Five: Lost
After what seemed like hours of trudging through the torrential rain across the maddeningly empty plain, his new umbrella being his only flimsy protection against the downpour, Frisk finally found something new. The lamp had turned out to be only another ordinary streetlight, but following its light had set him on the path to something else.
East (or what he assumed was east, anyway) from the lamp sat a bizarre construct. Stepping closer, he discovered it to be a tunnel, similar to tunnels he had seen leading down into subway stations. The tunnel was pale pink in color, and seemed to be made of a rough, granular stone. However, despite the fact that it sank below the ground, a corridor leading down into the darkness, the structure seemed to have no telltale seams or marks where bricks had been laid or where the construct had been set into the ground- instead, it seemed to have grown directly out of the ground, similarly to the mysterious door that had led him to this strange realm.
Frisk weighed his options. On one hand, the mysterious passageway might lead to someone or something that held a clue, or even the key, to his escape. On the other, following this new path would also be leading him further down into the darkness, and might lead to misfortune, or even death. He wasn't sure if RESETting worked in this world, and he didn't really want to risk permanent death to find out. Both of these factors, however, were negated by the fact that he was stuck in the middle of a rainstorm and in need of shelter, and he had lost his way again.
Faced with no other option, he took hold of the steel railing lining the inside of the tunnel wall, and took the plunge.
As he stepped from the final stair onto the cold floor, Frisk took a moment to inspect his surroundings. As expected, the inside of the tunnel was relatively normal. The corridor was dimly lit, with decrepit fluorescent lights inlaid in the ceiling overhead providing the only light. To his side, a cold steel railing lined the wall, stretching off into the unknown. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a completely normal passageway- the only strange thing about it was the bizarre, unnatural seamlessness of the stone forming the walls, floor and ceiling. Having finished his scrutiny, he finally started off into the depths.
…
After a short trip through the dark tunnel, Frisk stepped up out of the darkness into a new location.
The rain still fell overhead, much to his dismay. He had, however, arrived in a forest. Overhead, the moon shone as brightly as it had before, despite being nearly completely obstructed by clouds. Crickets chirped quietly, barely audible over the pitter-patter of the rain. The tunnel led into a small clearing, with hard-packed dirt forming a wide path leading off to the left. To the right of the path stood another streetlamp, its base nestled within the flattened grass. Next to the streetlamp, however, was a vending machine.
Stepping closer, Frisk inspected the machine. Following the trend of the other objects he had seen during his adventure thus far, it was almost normal, but… not... at the same time. The light pink machine stood on its own, appearing to have no plug or power source. A bright, sterile glow emanated from within the confines of the metal box, a window providing a glimpse of the treats inside. Looking closer, Frisk noticed that many of the names of the contents of the machine were written in Japanese...
A deafening clap of thunder sounded, reminding Frisk that it was still raining, and it probably wasn't safe for him to remain out in the open during what was quite possibly an electrical storm.
Retreating back to the tunnel, Frisk sat down, leaning against the concrete wall. He decided he would rest in the tunnel until his clothes dried and the rain stopped. He closed his umbrella and laid it on the ground next to him.
Almost immediately after he set the tool down, something began to happen. The rain, which had been pouring down with wild abandon and showing no signs of stopping, was now beginning to lose steam, the plentiful, fat drops of water growing steadily smaller and farther between as the seconds passed.
The last of the raindrops fell to earth, the clouds parted, and the night was still.
Part of Frisk wanted to celebrate the fact that the rain had stopped, while another wanted to curse the rain for stopping only when he had finally decided to sit down and relax. Nevertheless, he took the umbrella again, got back up and pushed forward.
Turning left at the far end of the clearing, he saw that the path led to a road. The asphalt was old, but well maintained, the lines being as clear as when they were first painted. Stepping closer to the side of the road so that his shoes were just touching the raised asphalt, he stuck his head out onto the road, looking to the side.
To the right, the road extended a ways off into the distance, before ending in a solid stone wall. Bizarrely, two traffic cones sat in front of the wall, one in each lane. He didn't really understand why one would place traffic cones in front of a solid wall, but he supposed it wasn't too strange.
He turned his head to the left.
There, on the side of the road, sat what appeared to be a jellyfish. The translucent, gelatinous creature was about as tall as he was, and the same light pink as the tunnel. It floated slightly above the ground, its fat, rubbery red tentacles swaying gently. Stepping quietly out onto the side of the road, Frisk cautiously stepped closer for a better look.
The jellyfish did not seem to acknowledge his presence, and continued undulating where it stood. Frisk took this as a sign that he should just ignore it and move forward. And move forward he did, following the road into the darkness ahead.
The forest seemed to get unnaturally dark a short while after he passed the jellyfish. Here in the deeper parts of the forest, the moon, which had shone brightly enough to completely illuminate his surroundings, was completely blocked out by trees, limiting his vision greatly. His vision had been cut down to only the road, whose painted lines glowed softly, keeping him on the right path. Pulling out his cell phone, he summoned his flashlight from a dimensional box. The instrument clicked on, a thin beam of bright light cutting through the darkness. He began walking again, using the flashlight to illuminate his path.
The forest did not get any lighter as he walked. The forest remained as dark as it had been, his flashlight being the only source of light against the darkness. As he walked through the gloom, he spotted several strange creatures watching the road from small gaps in the trees. The bizarre beings floated at varying heights above the ground. Unlike the jellyfish, though, these things remained stock-still, without so much as a twitch. The creatures reminded him of three-armed starfish, with two short, bulbous tentacles with large eyes set inside them sticking out at odd angles on either side of their bodies, and a third, longer tentacle pointed down rigidly at the forest floor. Their eyes were oddly-colored; black sclera with glowing red irises that shone like spotlights against the darkness. In the center of their bizarre, lumpy bodies sat a round, lamprey-like mouth, lined with razor-sharp teeth. Frisk stopped for a moment, briefly staring into the eyes of the strange beings. The creatures paid him no mind, their vacant stares never leaving the road. Mildly unsettled, Frisk continued walking, choosing to ignore them.
Then he passed them again.
And again.
And again.
Frisk was now at least decently sure he was going in circles.
The road never seemed to go anywhere, and every so often he would pass what seemed to be the same group of empty-eyed beasts, still staring at the same point in space. Growing frustrated, Frisk turned around…
...and locked eyes with another starfish-creature.
Frisk jolted in surprise at the being who had suddenly appeared behind him. This new creature was very different from those he had seen so far. Its body was dark green, compared to the sickly mauve of its brethren, and hovered just off the side of the road, rather than being nestled in the trees. Its indigo-and-red eyes glittered with intelligence, watching him intently.
The two stared at each other for a moment, neither breaking eye contact. Slowly, Frisk relaxed, straightening his posture. Although the thing didn't move, Frisk got the feeling it was beckoning him in the direction it was relative to him. Deciding to test his luck, Frisk took a tentative step forward, worried the creature might attack him, or snap at him with that nasty-looking mouth. It remained still, never once taking its steely gaze off of him. Realizing it wasn't going to attack, he walked slowly by.
He was now at the very edge of the cherry-red glow the creature's eyes gave. Frisk gave one last look at the unique beast, before continuing off into the darkness.
Frisk emerged in another part of the forest.
The first things he noticed were the trees. What had once been moderately-spaced, coniferous trees were now darker-leaved, tightly-knit deciduous trees, their leaves broad and supple. The night sky was once again visible, unblocked by the forest canopy, the moon once again bathing the forest in soft, silvery light. The light was more subdued, leaving the forest significantly darker, but it was still lighter than the inky blackness he had come from.
The road still laid in front of him, stretching off into the distance. Looking to the far end of the moonlit street, he saw a dark, indistinct shape lying in the middle. Walking closer revealed it to be…
...Oh.
….Oh.
There, splayed in the middle of the road, laid a corpse.
Overcoming his disgust, Frisk stepped a little closer to get a better look.
The body was undeniably male. Although decomposition had not yet begun, it was clear that he had been dead for quite a while. The color had long since drained from the corpse's face, leaving its skin tinted a sickly, unnatural shade of pale green. Dark, rust-colored stains lay splattered around the corpse, providing evidence of what was once a puddle of blood, long since dried. And, of course, it smelled terrible.
Frisk supposed the body had been run over. However, the lack of tire tracks or anything of the sort suggested otherwise. In fact, there didn't appear to be any wounds at all on the body. Perhaps the man had simply had a stroke or attack of some sort? Perhaps, but no one could emit that much blood from any orifice. The man had clearly bled out. Combined with the bizarre hue of the corpse's skin, the man's death, as well as the body itself, seemed completely unnatural.
As he stood there pondering the man's death, something brought his train of thought screeching to a halt.
He thought he had seen a twitch.
He stopped and stared, watching the body carefully.
An arm lurched forward.
As he watched, the man he had previously thought to be long-dead… moved. Jerkily and with great effort, the man hoisted his torso upward, propping himself upward with his elbows. Empty, glassy eyes returned Frisk's horrified gaze. And then… slowly, awkwardly, the man began hauling himself forward.
Every nerve and instinct in Frisk's body were screaming at him to get away, to run, to do anything. But instead, he stood frozen, transfixed by some unseen force, watching the zombie get closer.
The zombie had now shambled its way over to him, staring dully up at him. Frisk stared back fearfully. After a moment, the animated corpse turned its gaze to his ankle… then grabbed it.
The thing's grip was one of iron, its skin cold and clammy. Frisk jerked his leg upwards in an attempt to get away, but the monster held on.
Suddenly, Frisk's head spun. Moving his free leg back instinctively to steady himself, he clutched his head with one hand, feeling for something to steady himself with with the other.
Something cold sprouted from his midsection, down near his hips, looking a bit like a flat, rectangular skirt, curving upwards at the edges. It was… metal. Steel, in fact.
The edges began to creep upward like some great plant, supplied with new steel from seemingly nowhere. Frisk dared not touch the rising enclosure, for fear that his hands would be trapped inside.
The metal reached his arms. Through the haze, Frisk wriggled, shoving them down inside the rising enclosure. Almost immediately, they went completely numb, rendering them immobile. He may as well have had no arms at all.
As the walls rose towards his head and he grew steadily dizzier, Frisk realized something. There was iron in your blood, wasn't there? So what if whatever magic that was doing this… was somehow taking the iron in his blood and transforming it into steel?
He had no time to think about that as the walls closed over his head and he was left in darkness…
The spinning in his head intensified further, growing worse and worse until he thought he was going to pass out…
Then, all of a sudden, his mind cleared and his sight returned.
The first thing he noticed was that everything was green.
Whatever had happened had locked his head in place, leaving him staring out from behind a rippled lens. He didn't seem to be able to blink, either, but something told him he didn't need to.
Clearly, a drastic change had taken place. He retreated into his own mind in a way that he couldn't describe, taking inventory of the changes that had been made.
First, there was the obvious: his vision had been stained green. A little strange, but nothing terribly detrimental. His entire upper body seemed to have gone completely numb and deathly cold, leaving him unable to move so much as a muscle. That was definitely worrying. And the chill seemed to be all around his body, but within it all the same…
He was suddenly struck by a hunch. His custom-made prison had seemingly come from within him. What if he hadn't been locked inside, but…
Frisk tried to move his arms, but ended up moving his hips in an incredibly awkward way. He tried to touch his head to the side of his personal prison, but instead jerked the side of his portable containment to the side.
He hadn't been trapped inside a box.
He had been transformed.
Fear began rising in his chest as the gravity of the situation suddenly hit him like a wave.
A flurry of questions flashed through his mind as he began to panic. What was going to happen to him? Was he going to remain an armless box for the rest of his life? Was he even going to be able to make it out of here? What was he going to do?
Stop, he commanded his thoughts, in some vain hope that it would calm his racing mind…
...and flinched as his green-stained field of vision suddenly turned red, snapping him from his reverie.
Had he a face, it would have contorted into a mask of confusion.
What had just happened?
He tried to move his arms again, just in case his fit of panic had somehow freed him from his confinement. Just as before, he ended up doing a bizarre, jerking rendition of the hula.
He performed another mental check. Just as he expected, nothing about his new body had changed, apart from the tint of his vision. He sighed inwardly, then shifted his focus outward, rejoining the world around him.
The first thing he noticed was the zombie, which had apparently shambled back to its point of origin and promptly collapsed again, as it was now lying in a different position than before. Other than that, however, nothing else in his environment seemed to have changed. There was a nagging feeling that something was different, though… something he was overlooking. He took another look around, inspecting every last detail.
He suddenly realized what had changed.
The difference wasn't something that had appeared- it was what was missing.
The gentle sounds of the forest- the soft whooshing of the wind through the trees, the quiet rustling of the leaves, the chatter of the crickets- had all suddenly gone silent. And it didn't stop there. The clouds had ceased their lackadaisical journey across the sky. The foliage had stopped moving, leaves and blades of grass frozen at unnatural angles. Even the wind, which had been blowing in a cool, pleasant breeze, had paused, leaving the air inert and still.
Time itself, it seemed, had stopped.
Now he was only more confused. Had he done that? Or had it just been coincidental with his vision suddenly changing color?
He supposed there was only one way to find out.
He mentally retraced his steps, recounting every last action up to the change. He had realized he no longer had arms, begun to panic, and commanded his thoughts to stop in an attempt to calm himself down. Perhaps the command to stop was what had caused the change? So, following that logic, perhaps commanding time to resume would fix it?
It was an insane thought, and a complete shot in the dark, but he supposed it was worth a shot- after all, what did he have to lose?
He decided to start simple. Resume, he thought...
...and flinched once more as the tint of his vision flipped back to green, the world suddenly jolting out of stasis around him.
That couldn't have been a coincidence.
He tried stopping time again. Stop.
Sure enough, everything stopped again, the world freezing in its tracks once more.
And unfroze it again. Resume.
Time started moving again, the sounds and gentle movements of the forest returning.
Froze.
Unfroze.
Froze.
Unfroze.
Stop.
Go.
Stop.
Go.
Stop.
Go.
It took a moment for the full magnitude of what had just happened to hit him, but when it did, it sent his mind reeling. Somehow, out of nowhere, he had gained the ability to stop time. It was a rather… heady realization, to say the least. The fact that he had been spontaneously gifted with this staggering level of power was astounding.
There was, however, one problem: he was still missing his arms. And that certainly was a problem, wasn't it?
He dipped his boxy body slightly, the only way he was capable of showing his irritation in this state.
He had been given unfathomable power, but been crippled as a result. Given the choice between the two, he would definitely take the ability to function over the ability to stop time. The ability had been fun for about ten seconds, and would likely be very useful in multiple cases, but now he just wanted to be rid of it.
And suddenly, he was. The cold metal cage abruptly shattered like a pane of glass, throwing shards of metal in all directions.
The fragments slowed to a stop in midair, dissolving into motes of light. As he watched, they streamed inward in glowing ribbons of energy, swirling and spiraling into the center of his chest.
The last wisps of energy entered his being, disappearing as quickly as they had come.
He raised his hands- he had hands again- to his head, feeling his face. Somehow, he had dispelled whatever magic had been worked on him. Something told him it hadn't simply disappeared, however.
He decided to just take it in stride and press onward. There wasn't really much point in dwelling on things that weren't a problem anymore.
Walking back towards the entrance to the darker part of the forest, he noticed the beginning of a trail between the trees to his left. The trail appeared to have seen many travelers, flattened grass clearly defining the shape of the path.
He shrugged, walked off the road, and started down the trail.
The trail did not seem to be terribly long, and turned sharply a short ways down the path. Turning the corner, he found….
What.
What was that.
Around the the corner, at a dead end, was what appeared to be a tentacle poking up from a manhole.
The tendril was bright red, and did not appear to belong to any animal- or monster- he knew of. It appeared to be completely smooth, lacking any sort of a sheen that might suggest a layer of mucus or slime. It protruded, completely rigid, from the depths of… whatever was down there.
Everything about this situation screamed trap. This was likely some bizarre beast's way of trapping its prey, and he had no intention of becoming some abomination's lunch. But some stupidly brave little thing, the same little part of him that had propelled him on his adventure through the Underground, told him to step closer.
This proved to be a bad idea.
The instant he stepped closer, the tentacle twitched. Before Frisk could react, it lunged, wrapping itself around his body. He barely had the chance to yelp before it lifted him up and pulled him into the depths.
Frisk had accepted his fate. The next thing he expected to see was the inside of a fetid maw, the next thing he expected to feel being the agony of his body being torn apart.
He had not expected being gently set down on the ground and let go.
He had been placed on a small, narrow plateau in the middle of a canyon. The landscape was formed of chalky white stone. Far above sat the ceiling of the massive cavern that he had apparently been dragged down into. Both of those were nothing, however, compared to what was in the cave with him.
Standing in front of the plateau, hunched over the rocky platform, was the largest and strangest creature Frisk had seen yet.
The thing's massive body was round and bulbous, the same bright red as the tentacles that had brought him here. A massive, frilled black mane, akin to the crest of a rooster, protruded from the top of its head. To top off the bizarre appearance of the gargantuan beast, five massive eyes stared down at Frisk from various points on the thing's body.
Frisk could only stare back in awe.
The two stared at each other for a moment longer, before the tentacle-thing suddenly moved, raising a tentacle into the air. Frisk threw up his hands, preparing for the inevitable…
...only for the beast to lower the appendage to the ground, the tendril poised just above the surface.
Obviously, this beast meant him no harm. But why had it pulled him down here? Frisk highly doubted it was just because the thing had wanted a friend. Was it even capable of thought? There was no way to know for sure. All he knew was, the thing wanted him to do… something with its tentacle. This just had "good idea" written all over it, now didn't it?
But what choice did he have?
He stepped closer to the limb.
Just as before, the arm lunged forward, wrapping around him. This time, however, Frisk remained quiet, waiting with half-morbid curiosity to see what would happen. Much to his relief, he was not immediately thrown into the waiting mouth of his colossal captor, but instead lifted up toward a hole in the ceiling that he hadn't noticed before.
The instant his head poked above ground, his eyes were assaulted by blinding sunlight.
As the tentacle gently set him down, he took his first look around.
Strangely (though he really shouldn't have been surprised, considering how the day had gone so far), he seemed to have emerged in a desert.
The first thing he noticed was that the world seemed to have had all the color sucked out of it. The sand was stark white, its hue almost oppressively bright, resembling newfallen snow. Unlike snow, however, it was entirely opaque, casting no glare- the only thing keeping it at all bearable to behold. The sky was a light shade of grey, but bright all the same, as opposed to the darkness that usually came with a grey sky. Not even the plants were exempt from the monotony, the verdant green of the cacti having been reduced to a shade of pale, lifeless white.
Not even when time itself had stopped had the world felt this… dead. It was rather haunting, actually.
One thing that turned his attention from the general lifelessness of the world, however, was the sandstorm that he appeared to be in the eye of, reducing what he guessed was a sprawling desert to a small clearing.
The wind swirled around the clearing at furious speeds, debris whipping across the ground with the force of a sandblaster, turning the gale-force winds into an impenetrable sandy wall that was impossible to even see through.
If he ventured into the sandstorm, the flesh would be stripped from his bones. So that wasn't an option.
He could, however, check out the dome-shaped building that appeared to be built in the shape of a human head.
The sculpted scalp was completely bald, two massive eyes staring blankly into space. A lumpy, cartoonish nose jutted into the ground, giving the appearance of, indeed, a head half-sunken into the ground. The door, however, had been fashioned from the right ear, making the head look incredibly deformed.
Frisk shrugged and stepped inside the small building, intending to simply look inside.
Space folded, twisted, expanded again, and he was back underground, standing on a bridge made of the same stone he had seen back in the cave.
Again, he really shouldn't have been surprised.
Ahead of him was another massive creature.
The thing's long, lumpy body reminded him of an organic geyser more than anything else. Its mouth spewed an endless stream of white sludge into the sky, the opaque liquid crashing against the rocks below. One of its eyes appeared to have popped out, a separate gout of sludge gushing from the empty socket. The remaining eye was milky and unfocused, sunken into the creature's head. Combined with the creature's ghostly white skin, it seemed that it was already dead- and had been here a while, judging by the layers upon layers of gunk caked at its base, which appeared to be the only thing holding it up.
Taking care not to touch the thing, he moved past it and proceeded to the other end of the bridge.
Reality did its impression of an origami project once more, and he found himself inside another dome-shaped head-house.
He was still underground- he could tell that much. Although the light outside the confines of the hovel was bright, it was relegated to a limited area, the walls of the cavern still cloaked in shadow.
What light there was, however, illuminated the quadrupedal beast standing a short distance away from the house's entrance.
He stepped hesitantly into the light to get a better look.
Its bean-shaped body was corded with muscle. Four legs stuck out from the underside of the monstrosity, each foot ending in five toes like those of a human. A single twisted arm, the fingers ending in claws, jutted from the creature's back. Another leg, bent at an odd angle, took the place of a tail.
The thing resembled a clay sculpture, spawned from the mind of a deranged seven-year-old. But its appearance, although grotesque, wasn't his main concern.
A single gigantic, almond-shaped eye glared balefully down at him.
A tremendous, protruding lower jaw, lined with scythe-like teeth and dripping with saliva, jittered rapidly, producing a continuous, maraca-like rattle.
The beast was alive.
And it did not look happy.
Frisk froze, stock-still, on the spot.
For a moment, the two simply stared.
In the end, though, it was the beast that broke the silence. The monster suddenly reared back, its hellish jaws unhinging with a sickening crack.
That snapped Frisk out of his stupor. He dove to the side, just in time for the gaping maw to come down on the place where he had been standing.
In a panicked frenzy, Frisk scrambled backwards, putting as much distance as he could between him and the angry creature. He didn't have much time to do so, however, as the beast quickly whipped around and lunged again.
Frisk simply dodged once more.
The cycle of charging and dodging continued, like the endless battle between a bull and a matador. As it did, though, Frisk soon found himself getting tired.
He couldn't keep doing this forever. Eventually, he was going to run out of energy, and the beast would devour him. Perhaps he could try calling upon the Stoplight? It wasn't entirely gone- he could still feel echoes of its power buried deep within his soul. But the problem still stood that he had no idea how to access it.
He thought the word Stoplight. No luck.
That one moment wasted, however, was all the beast needed. It lunged forward with terrifying speed, its cavernous mouth open wide.
Frisk just barely evaded the beast's attack, frantically grabbing its leg and climbing aboard.
The creature, as one would, shook its leg, attempting to shake off its prey.
Frisk simply held on more tightly, his fingers locking in a death grip.
The leg fruitlessly shook harder…
...before abruptly stopping and returning to the floor.
It took Frisk a moment to realize what had happened.
It appeared the beast had given up.
For a moment, it seemed, he was safe.
...the operative word being seemed.
No sooner had Frisk relaxed than the leg he had been hanging onto began to lift upwards. To his horror, as it reached what should have been the limit of the limb's rotation range, it kept going, twisting upwards unnaturally.
What was it doing?
His question was promptly answered when the arm sprouting from its back suddenly darted out and grabbed him, tearing him from his perch the way one might remove a tick.
Its gnarled fingers constricted his body, nearly crushing him in its grip.
Before he could attempt to escape, the deformed arm wound up and catapulted him upwards, sending him spiraling through the air.
Wind screamed in his ears, stealing the breath from his lungs as he rocketed skyward.
For an instant, he hovered in zero gravity, the forces of physics equalized. He caught a glimpse of the beast down below, its jaw unhinged once more beneath him. He saw what it meant to do- it planned to catch him in its mouth.
And he was utterly powerless to stop it.
Down, down he plummeted, into the beast's waiting jaws, gravity taking hold once more.
The gaping maw snapped shut around him, a slimy tongue breaking his fall.
Before he realized what was happening, he found himself caught between the beast's powerful jaws.
The creature began to chew, serrated teeth tearing his flesh and crushing his bones, searing pain ripping through his body like fire.
He felt his soul shudder, crack, and finally shatter in his chest, a final wave of agony penetrating him.
All at once, though, the pain left him, replaced by a frigid, hollow emptiness that was somehow even worse than being eaten.
The last thing he saw was the back of a fetid throat before his vision finally left him.