Before they went into the throne room, Frisk walked past it and looked down the stairs. In their world, it led to the crypt that held the coffins of the human children. Listening at the mouth of the hall though, all they could hear was faint moans and cries, trapped behind a massive set of iron gates. A dungeon, they supposed, shivering. "Has this always been here?" they asked Flowey, stepping away from the gate.
"Yeah," he sighed. "But it wasn't for prisoners. It was a food storage place when I was little. We put emergency rations in there. Apparently, there were food shortages before I was born, when they were still building New Home and the Core. Back then, monsters would come to the gates and Asgore and Toriel would make sure everyone got something to eat. Nowadays, people who talk bad about Asgore get sent here. After they disappear for awhile, they go home but they… they're never speak out against Asgore again."
Frisk frowned. A food bank was an even better use than their own father had done, but this Asgore had twisted even that. Rather than commenting, Frisk murmured a prayer. After they talked Asgore into repealing the edict, they'd have to convince him to let these poor monsters go right away.
Chin up, they walked into the throne room and paused at the doorway. It was much like the rest of the castle—dark and done up mostly in blacks and reds. It was also as empty as the every other room had been. The only thing besides some torches in the room was a large, imposing looking throne of gold and red cushions.
"Well, great," the grumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of their head. "You'd think he'd stick around here if he knew a human was coming. It's not like word couldn't have reached him."
Flowey peered over their shoulder and grimaced. "If he's not here and he's not in his room, then he's probably in the garden. Try his green house."
Frisk shot him a look. Well, that was different, but at least it made sense—in a world where Asgore obviously wasn't going to be adored, he probably would prefer to keep his garden away from any monster troublemakers. "Which way?"
He used one of his leaves to point to a pillar on their left. Walking to it, they found a door in a hidden alcove. The door was locked; Flowey had to find the key on the key ring before they could open it. Once opened, they took a breath of relief to see the rain had gentled for a moment, falling into a softer drizzle. Looking down and to their left, they could see a long winding stair on the outside of the castle, leading down to a decent sized green house, although knowing their own father, it was probably that size because he couldn't move in anything smaller without knocking stuff down.
Reluctantly, Frisk stepped into the misty rain and hurried as fast as they dared down the slick steps. The farther they got down, the more they were protected from the rain by the overhang of the castle, but they still had to be careful. They had to pause at the door so Flowey could again find the right key for them, but once the door was open, they quickly ducked inside.
The green house looked larger on the inside than the outside had seemed; Frisk wasn't sure that was just a trick of perspective or Alphys had managed to do something weird to the dimensions of the place. Either way, Frisk didn't see Asgore immediately behind the rows of plants. Despite the entire castle being done in the same three colors, the garden was a riot of colors. Plants block their view to the other side of the garden, but it was the patch of gold before them that caught their eye. Moving slowly, they dodged around plants and tiptoed past vines to pause at the patch of golden flowers. Looking at it, Frisk's heart climbed into their throat and lodged there.
In the middle of the bed of flowers, there was a patch of dead flowers, the ground below it a deep earthy red, as if the dirt was stained with blood.
"The last time they die, they're fighting Asgore. I get there just in time to see them collapse into a bed of golden flowers in the middle of Asgore's garden. Damnedest thing though, is that they're wearing my coat, and they're just laying there, the flowers smearing all over my coat, the petals getting into every nook and cranny."
Oh, fuck. Sans, you really weren't joking, were you? They swallowed hard against the lump in their throat. I need to get going. Now.
There was no time to take a step forward though. They only managed to lift their head when they heard Flowey gasp and something pressed against the spine.
"Turn slowly." The voice was deep, rumbling deep bass. It was raspier than they remembered their own father's voice sounding. Still, for a moment, their brain wanted to believe it was just their father behind them, coming to call them to tea. Frisk had to close their eyes before they started to turn, but their eyes sliding open again as they faced him.
He stood, bedecked in black armor, his cape affixed by a gold clasp depicting the Delta Rune. He pointed a wicked looking halberd at them, the long spike at the top poking their sternum. They frowned internally at his head of long, black, straight hair rather than their own father's mop of golden curls. Looking at his hair, it made it easier to imagine that this wasn't Asgore before them at all. Just an imposter.
It made it easier to fake a smile. "Good afternoon, your majesty."
Asgore only glowered. "Start moving."
Rather than argue, Frisk silently obeyed as he forced them to march back out of the greenhouse and then up the stairs. The rain started to pick up again as they reached the door to the castle. Stepping inside, they tried not to shiver, despite their chill from the damp. Asgore didn't stop them at the throne room, instead he forced them to keep walking towards the barrier. When Frisk tried to speak, he only pressed the halberd's spike sharply into their spine.
Standing in the front of the barrier, they frowned and tried not to stare at the strange light that flashed the length of the barrier. Even as a kid, they had found this place to be rather trippy. This world's version might have looked similar, if it weren't for the large splatters of blood across the ground.
It was the blood that made their heart stop for a moment. Their own father had murdered human children long before they arrived in the Underground, but he'd never left any physical evidence of it behind besides the coffins in the crypt. Were these bloodstains here as a badge of Asgore's pride, or a reminder to himself or others what he'd done? They murmured a quick mental prayer for the lost children and then turned to face the monarch.
"Unpleasant business, huh," they said, glancing into his eyes. Those black eyes, so unlike their own father's, were flat and dull as doll eyes. Do you enjoy this, they wanted to ask, but it seemed too antagonistic. Instead, they settled for something less rude. "You have a lovely garden by the way."
He grimaced. "Shut up." He removed one of his hands from his grip on the halberd and flicked his wrist upward. Seven glass canister rose up out of the ground; to their horror, six of them had been splattered by blood at least once. Most of the blood looked ancient and flaked off in places, but the one containing the cyan colored soul still had most of the blood still stuck to it. Only the last one was clean and it stood empty. Did Asgore plan to have their blood join the stains on the floor and the canister?
Frisk counted slowly, trying to control their racing heart. "Well, then, I suppose-"
The world went black and white and their soul popped out of their chest. Frisk bit back a sigh.
Asgore raised his halberd again, lifting it over his head. "I have no intention of listening to your nonsense." Without another word, he swung down at them. They jumped back in time, as the halberd cleaved into the ground, tossing chips of the shattered ground into the air around them.
Holy shit, he is nowhere in the vicinity of fucking around. They ducked as he swung at their head, crouching low to the ground. "Asgore, please, listen to me. Your people-"
"My people," he snarled, lifting his hand up. Flames instantly began to lick his fingers. "My subjects, incited to rebellion." His hand sliced down through the air, the fire following down. The flames rained down, prompting a squeak of horror as Frisk dodged them.
Asgore readied his weapon again. "I do not know how, but you have brainwashed my subjects to disobey our most important law. You tricked them into allowing and nurturing weakness in their hearts." He scowled. "You would see my people destroyed."
Holy shit, he believes this. "You're people are dying!" Frisk shot back. "You have less than three hundred monsters left in the whole Underground when there's no reason why there shouldn't be thousands!"
"And tens of thousands of monsters died in the war that forced us down here," he answered, pointing his weapon at them again. "We allowed ourselves to be weak then. Never again. I should have instituted the law long ago. If I had, then maybe…" He paused, face darkening. "No. I do not care if you have chosen mercy out of some deluded fantasy of making yourself into a hero. I won't let you destroy our last chance for freedom." He lifted his halberd. "Your soul is mine."
Swiftly, silently, he lunged forward. Frisk darted back and nearly smacked into the barrier. They looked up in time to see the halberd swing down—not at them directly, but instead smashing clear through their Mercy option, shattering.
How the hell does he know how to do that?
Asgore glared at them. "There is no running. No misguided mercy. You die here, human."
Frisk grit their teeth and glared up at him. Why hadn't they expected him to do that? It's what their own father had done during their fight with him. One day, I really must ask him how he did that. Reluctantly, Frisk reached into their pocket and withdrew the old gardening knife, falling into one of the fighting stances Undyne had taught them for knife fighting—admittedly, not one of Undyne's favorite weapons, but one she was skilled enough to teach them.
*The rain… is pounding on the mountain.
They blinked. Chara?
*Outside the barrier. You can hear it falling. On the other side of this barrier is freedom. Everyone is counting on you to get them there.
That's right, they thought back, taking a steadying breath. We can't let them down.
*Standing here before the barrier. Knowing that everything rests on this fight. You find yourself filled with DETERMINATION.
They smirked to themselves. God damn right I do. Now, let's talk your father out of this idea and save everyone, huh?
*Do what you must.
Asgore scowl only deepened when he saw resolve steeling the nerves behind their eyes. Without a word, he lunged forward and the fight began in earnest.
Frisk had many a nightmare about the long, torturous numbers of fights they went through, trying to reach their father. He'd cut them down over at least a dozen times before Flowey snuffed him out before them. And then having to fight him again after that, only to have to watch him kill himself? The fights against Asgore were still some of their most painful memories to face, especially after many long years of his gentle care. He was the only man they'd ever truly called their father. This crude doppelganger sent shudders down their spine.
They could now safely say that their father hadn't just been holding back when he'd fought them; he'd tried to be careful as handling an infant in comparison to this world's Asgore. In no time, he'd forced them to use up every healing cigarette they had left and then he caught them again.
"Asgore, your people don't even want to fight," they shouted, dropping their guard for a moment to try and reach him. "Monsters aren't meant to be murder machines!"
And then the halberd went flying at them. They nearly tripped trying to back up, but too late they realized it wasn't their body he was aiming at.
It was the Act button. Frisk could only watch in open mouthed horror as the button shattered before them. Holy fuck. How-?
There was no time to think. He attacked again.
With no options left, Frisk took up their blade. When he tried to attack next, they took their chance and ducked forward, scoring a long slice up his side as they shot past him.
He bellowed, not in pain—their genuine reluctance to do him harm was putting a serious cap on any damage they could do to him—but in pure rage. He wheeled around, swinging the halberd at their head.
Frisk ducked low, dropping to the ground fast. Too fast.
As they dropped, Flowey was jerked down with them, pulled back in surprise as they went down.
The halberd cut through the air. And hit something.
Frisk only heard a soft, short gasp of surprise before a familiar weight disappeared from their shoulder. Confused, they glanced over their shoulder just in time to see Flowey fall, bisected neatly in two pieces, his roots and lower part of his stem completely separate from the upper half.
For a moment, time stopped. Frisk's eyes widened. "Flowey?"
There was no answer. In their mind, Chara started to scream.
Asgore only huffed. "Useless trash has no place in battle."
Gazing down at the crumpled form, Frisk felt their world begin to narrow.
No.
That cannot happen. I will not allow that to happen.
Reset.
For a moment, all they could see was that familiar face, resigned and hollow, before the figure turned and walked away from their breaking heart. You cannot reset.
I cannot allow him to die.
Their heart was breaking again. I cannot reset.
Lower, as their world kept shrinking past their own mental dithering, an ugly part of themselves began to emerge. Hidden over the years, trapped behind countless hours of therapy and shame, something dark snapped awake. As the world narrowed to a point, the old ugliness awoke to the cry of injustice stirring their whirling mind.
Make him pay, their blood sang.
Rage answered the call of vengeance. Frisk wheeled about, a scream tearing from their lips as they swung the knife. The blade skittered off Asgore's breastplate, but bit deep into the metal, puncturing it at the sternum. Asgore only took one surprised glance down at the cut before Frisk lunged forward again, swinging up at his face. They clipped his jaw, his black beard quickly dampening with blood.
He recovered; they were too close to properly hack at them with the halbred's axe, so instead he could only slam them with the long shaft. It caught them around the middle, their ribs protesting as it collided with them and slapped them into the barrier.
They smacked against it, but instead of losing momentum, they dropped the knife to push themselves off with both hands. Despite all that time trying to find a weapon, now in the heat of the moment, they forgot it in favor of smashed their booted sole against his breastplate. The armor, magic as their father's had been, bent and made him stagger.
As he was off balance, nearly falling to his knee, Frisk put one foot on his bent knee, caught the jagged tear in this breastplate with their right hand, and hauled themselves up. Curling their left hand into a fist, they punched Asgore's muzzle, blooding his nose.
Their lips parted, their teeth bared. Asgore staggered again as they hit him more. Make him pay. Make him pay. Make him pay.
He destroyed the world. Caused so much death. Asgore fell to the ground.
Killed Flowey.
Make him pay. Make. Him. PAY. The corners of their lips turned up. Their fist came back, covered in a thin layer of dust.
Something stirred in the back of their mind.
"You're hands are always covered in a dusty powder."
Frisk paused. Glanced up at their fist. This was… so familiar. Suddenly, they weren't looking at their hand right now. They were looking back to the past to see a smaller hand, curled into a faded glove, thickly coated in dust. It had been easier to use the toy knife, more useful than the stick. They'd known how to punch already by that age. Better to hit first, back then, than wait until someone hit you first. If you hit first, maybe they wouldn't get to hit you at all.
"It feels… Like you're going down a dangerous path."
Frisk's breath caught in their throat.
"However! I, Papyrus, see great potential within you! Everyone can be a great person if they try!"
They glanced at Asgore. His face was bloody, one of his eyes already swelling shut, his one good eye staring up at them with a sort of grim satisfaction. But then, looking at him, they could see their own father looking back, face sad and defeated, resigned to his fate.
"Human! I think you are in need of guidance! Someone needs to keep you on the straight and narrow! But worry not! I, Papyrus… will gladly be your friend and tutor! I will turn your life right around!"
They were eight. A trail of dust loomed large behind them. A naïve, sweet skeleton knelt in the snow, his arms open and shaking.
Their gloved hands shook.
"I, Papyrus, welcome you with open arms!"
They waited, indulging their own dark curiosity to see how quickly he'd try and trick them. But always, his arms stayed open, until long after any sane being would have realized it wasn't going to work.
Papyrus was sparing them.
It was a trick.
It had to be.
Because, if it wasn't… then what was it all for? Wasn't this world kill or be killed?
Papyrus spared them. Their fists shook in the dusty gloves. It was a trick. He wasn't going to be any different from all the monsters before. Impossible.
Papyrus waited.
Then it wasn't Papyrus before them; that familiar figure was before them again, gazing at them with dull eyes.
"Just be straight with me. How much longer?"
"How much longer before you finish what you started back then?"
A cry from deep in their heart, that broken child still inside them shattering at the harsh words, longing to reach out as the figure walked away.
Frisk closed their eyes for a moment, caught their breath, and then opened their eyes again.
Asgore was waiting.
Frisk blinked and stared at their hand. Coated with blood and dust. Papyrus… I… I'm sorry. I… I was violent. Again. Mom, Dad, I… They closed their eyes. Flowey. You said you wanted this world to be 'save or be saved' and I, I almost ruined that. I'm sorry.
Slowly, they forced themselves to lower their fist and let go of Asgore, taking a step back. Taking a deep breath, they forced themselves to calm down, uncurling their fingers and breathing until their blood stopped pounding in their ears and they could hear the faint sobs of Chara in the back of their mind. When they opened their eyes, Asgore was staring at them like they had put a gun to their own head.
He looked so much like their father, but so little at the same time. It made it harder; steeling themselves, they forced themselves to imagine their own father's kind eyes peering at them.
"Asgore," they began, once their mind was quieter. "Do you believe in second chances?"
He stared at them. "What-?"
"Because I do. I believe people can truly become better people." They lifted their chin. "The bravest, kindest monster I ever met taught me that. And the second kindest taught me how to forgive. I think… I think it's a shame you weren't more like him. If you had, then maybe, this would have all been different. But still," they turned, forcing themselves to glance at Flowey's crumpled form. "Maybe you could…"
Their gaze found him. Then their breath stalled in their lungs.
Flowey was moving.
He was breathing.
Their mouth fell open and in their mind, Chara began to scream.
*SAVE HIM.
Instantly, Frisk forgot Asgore and raced to Flowey. Their mind ran a mile a second as they fell on their knees next to him. But how how could—fuck he's a flower not a monster anymore, of course he's harder to kill ah fuck I'm out of medicine how
They paused and then began to attack their pockets. They yanked whatever junk was inside until at last they came to a small glass bottle. It was one of the few things they'd managed to salvage from their bag after Toriel lit it on fire. The contents were special, something Frisk had never managed to find again. On the side of the bottle, their childish writing was worn half away.
Dream it read.
*The ultimate goal of determination.
Frisk grimaced at the small dancing lights inside and prayed it would work. There was only three left.
Pulling out the stopper, they tapped a few times until one of the lights came out. Glowing brightly, like they'd caught a miniature star, Frisk stoppered the bottle and tucked it back into their pocket before pressing the light against Flowey. In their hand, the light grew hot and began to shine like a tiny supernova. Suddenly, the white light flared green.
*The dream came true.
Under the light, they heard a deep gasp. The light faded and Flowey opened his eyes. His stem was whole, knit together without an even single scar. He blinked up at them. "What was that?"
In spite of everything, Frisk had to laugh. Oh, Asriel. What would you say if I told you that the medicine I got from your fight saved the Asriel of a whole different world?
"Did… did I die again?" he asked, voice soft.
Sniffing and chuckling, they scooped him up in their cupped hands. "N-no. I don't think so. The medicine probably wouldn't have worked."
"Oh… that's," he paused, frowning. "Cool, I think? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
His brow knit together. "And Asgore?"
They had to laugh. "He's fine too. I-" They never got a chance to finish.
A long spike pierced through their chest, smashing all the way into Frisk's soul. Immediately, the soul shattered. Flowey could only scream as Asgore yanked his halberd out of their back. And yet, in the shattered remains of the soul, something faint and red glowed steadily. Frisk blinked at it.
*But it refused.
Behind them, Asgore gasped sharply as their soul came back together. Apparently, he hadn't been watching his television the night before and Alphys or Undyne hadn't reported in on them yet.
Slowly, they stood and turned to face the king. The blood and dust were gone—he must have healed himself. It helped ease some of the guilt they felt. Gazing at him, they lifted Flowey up to their shoulder so he could climb back up. "Stay down from here on, okay?"
"Got it," he muttered, slipping down to half hide in the back of their shirt.
Shock covered every inch of his face; his halberd even slipped from his fingers. "But… how?"
Frisk shrugged, using the motion to roll and loosen up their shoulders. "It's funny, you know." They shifted their footing until the side of their boot hit the halberd. "You can do a lot if only you stay determined."
Shock gave way to anger; he gritted his teeth and started to lunge.
Frisk was faster. Picking their foot up, they swept over the side of the halberd to hook the rubber sole of the back of their boot on the curve of the axe and dragged it backward. Dipping quickly, they snatched up the pole arm. It was heavy and unwieldy in their hands, too top heavy to pretend it was just a normal spear, but they'd make do. They jumped to the side to avoid getting body slammed by Asgore, getting the halberd up in time to make him think twice about just jumping at them as he turned again. The Overlord paused to glare at them and reevaluate his strategy.
Frisk carefully readjusted their grip on the halberd, trying to find a way to feel more natural in their hands. "Hey, Flowey?"
"Yeah?" he asked, still behind their shoulder.
There was a natural pause in the fight—the loss of the pole arm was a major problem now. While Asgore was big, the halberd gave Frisk enough reach to keep out of his grasp and they had enough know how to hurt him if he tried to test them.
Frisk grimaced as Asgore held out his hand and summoned a massive cleaver, wreathed in flames, evening out the odds. They braced themselves to see if he intended to take the first swing. "Do you still believe in 'save or be saved'?"
They could feel him nod against their shoulder. "Yes."
"Alright then." Chara?
*…
*Save my father.
Frisk smirked. Tall order, kiddo. "Let's do this."
Asgore grew fed up with waiting. With a roar, he surged forward and swung at them. For a moment, Frisk felt like they were watching an avalanche barreling at them before they remembered to get out of the way. The halberd nearly tripped them as they ducked left. They chopped wildly as they moved, swinging with their right hand, their non-dominant one. Their swing went wide, but it made Asgore jump back.
They paused again, still trying to feel each other out as they began to circle each other. They waited until Asgore tried another experimental swing. Instead of jumping out of the way, they only moved their upper body to the side and swung the butt end of the pole arm around and shoved it between his legs. Darting to the side, the shaft of the pole arm tangled up his legs and sent him sprawling. As he fell, Frisk freed the halberd and twirled it around in time to stick the spiked end directly in his face as he tried to sit up.
Two of their options gone, they purposeful stood there, facing him down until he realized they were refusing to strike at him.
The Overlord snarled and swung the cleaver at them; they started to retreat until they noticed the flames wreathing the cleaver were blue. Taking a chance, they froze. The first pass harmlessly passed them by but then they saw the flames changed to orange and staggered back.
As the two of them got settled on their feet again, Frisk had to admit to themselves that the halberd was more of a hindrance than a help—it was too unwieldy whereas the knife felt like a natural extension of their own arm. Really, the only thing that kept them from tossing it aside was the fact that they really didn't want Asgore to get it back. If their inventory had been working, they would have shoved it in there and kept it permanently out of his reach. Asgore, on the other hand, seemed comfortable with his cleaver.
The flames on said cleaver began to grow brighter; Frisk watched with trepidation as Asgore reached out and grabbed a fistful of flames and then tossed it at them. Instead of being a fireball as they'd thought, the moment the flames left his hands, they grew into a massive swirling tornado of fire that spun around them, shooting fireballs at them. It took all Frisk had to focus on dodging them and not tripping over the pole arm. Finally, the flames stopped, but nearly too late did they hear Asgore behind them.
They dropped to the ground just in time to avoid getting decapitated. Scrambling, they rolled forward and quickly straightened, still clutching the halberd. They got the halberd up, but refused to swing at him.
"Refusing to fight?" he growled. "It isn't going to save your life. I will have your soul!"
He summoned more fire; this time a giant fireball shot at them. They dodged it at first, but then the thing ricocheted off a wall and began to move around wildly, gaining speed each time it hit something until Frisk couldn't avoid it and took it straight to their stomach.
They went flying; distantly, they heard Asgore's laugh, but still they kept their grip on the pole arm. Heh, my Undyne would be proud of me for that much at least. They smashed against the ground; they heard Flowey groaning as he caught some of their weight. As fast as they could manage, they got up. "You okay back there?"
"Peachy. Try to avoid repeating that, please," he moaned, shifting around until he looked up and froze. "Frisk, watch out!"
Frisk looked up in time to see fireballs raining down on them. Cursing, they had to dodge and weave as fireballs came down in a torrent.
*HP: 18/30. Be more careful.
You try dodging this! they shot back as the downpour finally stopped.
"Yes, yes, very good, human," Asgore drawled from across the battlefield. "You're good at dodging. But do you honestly think you can dodge forever? Do you want to keep wasting time trying to spare me out of some foolish hope of saving me?" He scowled. "I don't need saving. You do. But no one will come for you." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the glass canisters, but neither of them turned to look. "Just as no one came to save them."
Grunting, Frisk raised the halberd and pointed it at him, but still, they never moved to strike.
His face contorted. "Do you think this is a game, human? That if you just try hard enough, I'll change my mind and everything will be fine? That we'll just have a nice cup of tea and talk about what a nice day it is? And then what, human? We all pretend that everything will be okay, toss aside our weapons, and wait until you die decades from now? Then I will lead my people to the slaughter once more." He shook his head. "Idiot. Haven't you been told a hundred times by now? In this world, it's kill or be killed!" With a yell, he raised his cleaver at the sky; Frisk didn't have to wait long to figure out what he was doing. They'd barely glanced around before a pillar of fire shot out of the ground and blasted upward. They avoided getting hit, but this time their Item button shattered.
Fuck! They scrambled backwards, stumbling a bit as the butt of the halberd caught on the ground for a moment. Once they had their footing back, they tried to rearrange their grip on the pole arm. Well, shit, I guess I didn't need it anyway. Dreams were impossible to get—they'd let their soul shatter again if it meant not wasting them. Dreams were irreplaceable-
Wait. Frisk glanced up in time to see Asgore readying another attack. "Flowey, I'm going to need your help for a moment."
Flowey twitched behind them. "There's not a whole lot I can do."
"Don't worry, it shouldn't be too hard." They raised the halberd and braced themselves. "We're just going to be playing a little game of keep away with Asgore."
"…what do you need me to do?"
The flames around Asgore's cleaver turned a startling white. Frisk hurriedly told Flowey what to do and then braced themselves for whatever it was Asgore was preparing for them while Flowey released his hold on their shirt and vanished.
Bellowing, Asgore sliced the air before him. Frisk still moved to the side, just to be safe. This, it turned out, was a smart choice as a white barrier appeared, following the line and cutting the area Frisk could move in half. Quickly, he made another chopping motion and another barrier appeared. Frisk hopped back forward, but when they looked back, the saw that not all of their sweatshirt had made it—the barrier cut straight through it. R I P, sweatshirt, you'll be missed.
*Keep your mind in the present.
Right. They lifted the halberd above their head with both hands and took a chance. "Flowey!" they shouted and then hurled the halberd forward. Fortunately, they'd gotten lucky—the halberd, once separated from their hands, passed through the barrier and landed with a clatter, not far from the entrance.
Asgore looked utterly baffled, turning to look from the halberd to them. "Is this a joke?" he asked finally.
Face blank, Frisk kept their hands up, further drawing attention to the fact they were unarmed. "I don't want to hurt you, Asgore. I won't fight you with weapons."
His jaw fell open as he narrowed his eyes at them. "What are you-? Are you—do you honestly think that I'm going to stop fighting you because you tossed away your weapon?" He shook his head. "If you won't kill, then you will be killed." He dropped his cleaver, letting it vanish as he stalked forward to reclaim his pole arm.
Frisk watched him go, fingers curling into fists as they watched he kneeled and reached for the halberd.
Before his fingers could touch it, green vines shot out of the ground and grabbed it. Asgore only had a moment to stare in confusion before Flowey shot out of the ground, wearing the creepiest face he could imagine and snapped with his fake teeth at Asgore. Startled, the king jerked backward. Quickly, Flowey tossed the halberd further to the door. Asgore gasped in outrage and scrambled after it. Before he could grab it, Flowey ducked into the ground and popped out next to the halberd instantly. Wrapping his vines around it, he chucked it out the door. Thwarted, Asgore bellowed his rage.
The barriers around Frisk shattered, Asgore too angry to think of maintaining them. The moment they were down, Frisk ran forward. The king never heard them running up, although he certainly felt it when they jumped up, landing with both feet against his back, and then kicking off to flip backwards off him. He went sprawling forward while Frisk landed neatly. Heh. Looks like I still remember that trick.
*Where did you even learn that?
Undyne. She got it off some videos Alphys showed her of baby goats jumping off each other and thought it'd look cool. Turns out, I actually finally found a use for it.
Flowey ducked underground while Asgore staggered forward. Quickly, Frisk dropped to the ground and swept his legs out from under him. He fell to the ground with a loud crash; when he got himself flipped back around he paused when he looked up and found them staring down at him. He froze, gazing up at them with shock for one moment. To their discomfort, it settled very quickly into acceptance.
He really thinks I'm going to kill him, they thought, frowning. Slowly, they lifted their hand and offered it to him. He might have destroyed their Mercy, but the gesture was too symbolic for him to even pretend that they were only offering to help him up.
His acceptance turned to disgust. They only had time enough to step back as he summoned his cleaver and swung at them, just as they'd hoped. His eyes widened as he realized too late that as they shifted, his cleaver kept coming down—straight onto their Fight button as well. It cracked and shattered, leaving them with nothing.
He paused, stunned again as they looked down at him. Finally, he met their gaze. "You're suicidal."
They smiled softly, shook their head, and held their hand out again.
Asgore's face contorted and he got himself up on his feet faster than they would have given him credit for, letting the cleaver vanish in his haste. "Enough of your nonsense!" he shouted, grabbing their shoulders in his massive hands.
For a moment, they thought he might to just crush their entire torso; still, they kept their calm, gazing at him with only a firm expression.
"You're a fool! Why on earth would you try to spare me? How many times must you be told? Don't you see those souls over there, don't you know I murdered six children for them? Six of your own species! Don't you know how many monsters have died by my hand, let alone my laws? Are you so stupid? How can you not get this?" He shook them, hard. "Why do you keep trying to spare me? Don't you get it—I'm not-!" he paused. Frisk only blinked as they felt his hands begin to shake. "This world… it's not meant for weaklings. The weak get killed to feed the strong."
They kept their gaze steady as they gazed up into his eyes. "Do you think that if your children were stronger, would they still be around?" It was a low blow, but one that connected; he looked as though they had physically struck him. "Do you think if you're hard on your people, that it will make them stronger? Is that the only way you can see for any of them to live?"
His eyes widened for a moment before he snarled. His hands moved from their shoulders to wring their neck—his thick fingers were so big, he couldn't even strangle them properly. Instead, he lifted them up until their toes barely touched the floor. "You! I know what you're trying to do! You want to me to lower my defenses, don't you? Then you'll strike!"
Frisk reached up to grab his wrists, trying to lift up enough to take the pressure of their throat. When that didn't work, they paused then lifted one shaking hand to cup his face.
For a moment, nothing changed—he kept strangling them. On the sides of their vision, the world began to go gray.
Then, his grip loosened. Slowly, their toes found purchase on the ground again until their feet were firmly planted again.
They could feel him shaking under their hand. His hands fell to their shoulders and he bowed his head. They let him have a moment before cautiously moving their thumb to stroke his cheek, like Toriel would do for them whenever they cried, gentle and soothing.
"You…" Even his voice shook as he stared at the ground. "Why…? Why do I see in your eyes…? You… you have that same look of hope in your eyes. I… I don't understand…"
Frisk blinked. Looking down, they saw the badly cracked Act button had somehow returned—something like it had happened once in the fight with their own father, hadn't it? "Who?" they croaked, throat sore. "Who had the same look as I do?"
"My… my child," he sighed. Finally, he lifted his head. "Why? Why do you look at me like Chara did?"
*Father…?
Frisk smiled, patiently stroking his cheek before pulling their hand away and offering it to him again.
He stared down at it, brow knit in confusion. "Why? Do you honestly think that I'll change my mind after everything I've done? After all the awful things I've done to this world, do you think there's something left in me to redeem? There isn't!" he roared, shaking them again. "I'm horrible! I—I chose to be this way! I tossed away any kindness left in me to save my people! I've done what I must, and I… I'd do it again. There is no goodness left in me, you stupid fool. You brainless idiot, I cannot turn back." Just for a flash, they saw something flicker behind his eyes. Knowing their own father, they guessed it was fear. "There's no way to turn back. You, you should just kill me. Then, at least, you could deliver justice to both worlds."
"Don't be silly," they whispered. "Killing you, that doesn't solve anything. That's just be me getting your dust all over my hands. And then, it's not like they're aren't more killers in the world who wouldn't just love to take your place. No, Asgore, killing you won't help. If this world's going to be saved, it'll be by the hands of the living. There's always a way to turn back. Anyone can be a great person if they're willing to try." They offered him their hand again. "I know. I did."
He blinked. Eyes widening slowly, his mouth opened but no words came out.
"The road back from cruelty isn't easy, Asgore, but it's not impossible. We cannot escape our sins. Those we carry on our shoulders wherever we go. But, if we don't forget those sins, if we truly commit ourselves to changing our ways, we can become better. We can be kinder."
"I… I don't think I can anymore," he murmured, sounding surprisingly small. "I think I forgot how."
"It's not as hard as you think," they answered, patting his arm with their free hand. "Mostly, you just have to do the opposite of what you would normally do. But don't worry." They offered him their hand, one last time. "You won't have to figure it out alone. Trust me, I had to relearn it once. I remember the way. I can show you, if you want."
"I think that's the better way," Flowey added, startling Asgore who glanced at him. Flowey gave him a timid smile from across the room. "If you die, you're just running away from punishment. If you stick around, you have to help fix the mess you made.
Asgore frowned at the flower. "You are… have we met before…?" Flowey panicked, but instead of waiting for an answer, he turned back to Frisk. He looked at their hand. Then, slowly, he pulled one of his hands away from their shoulders.
For one bright, shining moment, they thought that maybe he would take their hand and accept.
He never got the chance.
One moment, he stood before them, shaken but still on his feet. Then next, a bright light slammed into him and blasted him across the room.
Frisk stared at the empty space before them, shocked to their core before they finally turned their head.
Tossed against the wall like a broken doll, Asgore lay in a heap on the floor. "No," they whispered, turning.
"Asgore!" Flowey shrieked.
*FATHER!
Frisk raced to his side, dropping to their knees to examine him. On the other side, Flowey popped out of the ground and watched as they began to look him over. "Frisk! I-is he okay?"
"He's breathing," Frisk sighed in relief. Thank god and all the saints. Shaking their head, they turned around. "Now, what the hell hit-"
Their breath caught in their throat. "…Sans…?"
Standing on the far side of the room, the smiling skeleton dropped his hand. Behind him, his skull shaped blaster faded from sight. "Hey there, babe. Sorry to interrupt. Looked like you might actually talk Asgore around there for a second, huh?"
Their hands shook—to hide that, they curled them into fists. "Sans, what the hell! Why did you do that?"
"You almost killed him!" Flowey added, using a few of his vines to clutch his fallen father's hand nearest to him.
Sans only shrugged and lifted his chin. "Eh, sorry, babe. Had to do it. I know you had your heart on that 'save or be saved' spiel you were going on about earlier. But that guy?" He shook his head. "That's the one guy I'm afraid I can't let you work your voodoo on."
"Voodoo-? Sans! I really am not appreciating the jokes right now," they growled, standing up to face him properly.
"Really? That's a shame? I'm a funny guy."
"Sans, he's going to think I tricked him! I'd almost talked him around, damn it."
He only shrugged again. "Eh, I don't really give a shit what he thinks. He's a nasty son of a bitch and he deserves every ounce of pain he gets. Haven't you been paying attention to this world? In the days you've been here, haven't you seen enough pain and misery in this place to convince you that he doesn't deserve a second chance?"
That one actually stung; they hissed in a breath through gritted teeth. "Everyone deserves a second chance!"
He paused. "Yeah. You believe that, don't you? You… you did something, something awful in your past, huh." He watched as they set their jaw and shook his head. "Something that's left a real mark on you, I take it. Well, babe, knowing you, I'd say that no matter how awful it was, it still doesn't stack up to a tenth of what he's done to this world. Don't pity him. He isn't worth it."
"Don't go around comparing my sins to his when you don't even know what they are," they snapped.
"Babe, just look at your neck. Do you really think that a guy who could do that to you is going to just change his colors at the drop of a hat?" he drawled, gesturing to their aching throat. There'd be nasty bruises later if they couldn't find some healing items soon.
At a different time, they might have only been exasperated with him; right now, they wanted to throttle him. Taking a deep breath, they shook themselves and went with a gentler tone. "Sans, please, just go. I'll stay here and wait until he wakes up. I'll do what I can to smooth this over. Just, please, get out of here before he wakes up."
Sans made a clicking sound with his mouth, an odd trick considering he didn't have a tongue. "Ah, yeah, see, I can't do that."
Frisk paused, staring for a moment before their eyes widened in horror.
Behind him, a ring of human souls spun, growing slowly faster with each revolution. "See, while you were, uh, busy with Asgore. I, heh, stole the human souls. So, you see, I can't just go."
Mouth open, Frisk tried to find their voice. "Sans… what are you doing…?"
For a moment, something that might have been regret went across his face. It disappeared quickly. "Sorry, babe. But I'm not just going to leave these here for him to just snatch up the moment he's awake so he can use them against others. And I'm not leaving them here for you either, so you can break the barrier. Cause, you see." His eye sockets went black as the lights in them died. "This barrier is never coming down. I will never allow that."
Frisk flinched. "S—why? Why on earth would you do that? Don't you want to get out of here? Don't you want Papyrus and the other to get out of here?"
"Ha! Why would I want that?" he asked, amused again. "Babe, I told you. My brother's an asshole. I'm an asshole. Everyone down here, we're all terrible people who do terrible things. But not you. You're the one person in this awful place who refuses to hurt others. Who's done their best to help others. And you've done a hell of a job! If I didn't know better, I might have thought people were actually going to change around here. But they won't. They never do."
Their stomach felt like it was plummeting straight past the floor and into hell. "Sans…"
His smile almost looked kind. "Come on, babe, remember? My one friend, Toriel? She told me to kill any human that made it through the Ruins, but above all, she made me promise this. That should a human actually do the impossible and make it to Asgore, that if it started to look like the barrier was going to come down, I should do everything in my power to make sure it don't. And you know what? I agree. This barrier, it's staying put. No one gets out of the underground. We all deserve to rot down here." He paused, gazing at them. "Sorry. I know that this is dicking you over here, but I can't let you leave either.
"See, Frisk? Do you see? You, you really might have started to change things around here. None of us have turned into peace loving hippies, but you've got us all playing mostly nice for once. I don't think anyone's even killed another monster in the last three days since you came! Maybe, with enough time, you might manage to at least turn the kids around. Get them thinking differently before us asshole adults corrupt them too." He paused, voice soft. "Maybe, if someone like you were around when we were little, you might have been able to save Papyrus from being what he is today.
"But it won't be today. But," he said, lifting his hand, "don't worry, babe. I'll look after you. I promise, me and you? We'll have nothing but time."
Frisk's heart nearly stopped. "Sans. Don't."
He smiled and snapped his fingers. The souls glowed and slammed into him.
It sounded like the earth itself was cracking open before them. A pillar of light shot up into the darkness and a powerful wind nearly knocked them off their feet. They dug their feet in and tossed their arms up to block the light as it seared into the back of their eyes behind their lids.
Abruptly, the wind died. Their vision was dark for so long, they wondered hysterically if he'd actually blinded them. Finally, the darkness faded into blotches of color that resolved into dancing spots in their vision, finally clearing up after a while. When they finally felt it was safe, they opened their eyes and peeked over their arms to stare at him.
The pillar of light pulsed, shrinking slowly down until they could see Sans, floating in the light. Oh god, Sans, what have you done?
Inside the light, they heard a wild laugh. "Holy shit!" Sans giggled, clutching his head. In spite of the light show going on around him, they were surprised to note that physically he was unchanged. "God, what a rush! Is this what it feels like to be powerful? To be a human? It feels like I'm going a million miles an hour!"
"Sans!" they shouted. "Sans, stop this!"
"Ha! Stop? God, Frisk, why would I ever stop? This is incredible! I—I could tear this world apart. Fuck, forget you having to help these worthless pieces of trash. I can just remake the world. I can make it better. I could bring back the monsters that died because of that idiot. You, you'd like that, wouldn't you? God, what a feeling!"
"He's crazy," Flowey said bluntly, clinging to their boot. They had no idea when he had latched on, but now he gripped them like a lifeline. "I know you hate that word, but he's lost it! Here," he held up the worn knife. "I think you're going to need this."
Haltingly, Frisk kneeled down, took the knife, and scooped him up, tucking him against their chest. "I think he's being overwhelmed by the souls," they answered once they had him safely in hand. "I got to talk to him, get him to let them go." They grimaced and straightened. "We got to hurry. We don't have much time."
"Time? What on earth are you talking about? He has the souls! What can we possibly do against him?"
"I'm not going to hurt him," they said bluntly before leaning close. "But don't you see? He hasn't remade the world yet. I can still reach my save too. I don't think he knows how to actually control the souls to their full potential yet. By this time, the Flowey of my world had already remade the world in his image. Sans is just drunk on power." Which was great, because the moment he figured out how to work them and destroyed their save, what would it mean for their own world? Would it get reset too, or would it be safe because they weren't even in it?
Flowey mumbled a curse and climbed up their front to duck behind their shoulder. Once he was in place, he sighed and leaned up to speak into their ear. "Whatever you're planning, I'm ready. Let's go save this jerk before he dooms us all."
They glanced back at Asgore, checking to see if he was still breathing before they began to fight their way forward. The power coming off pushed them back; they realized what they'd thought was a wind earlier was really just his magic radiating wildly off him. Slowly, they got as near as they could before they realized there was no way to get any closer on their own. "Sans!" they shouted over the swirling magic that howled like a gale. "Sans, please, you got to stop! You can't fix the world this way!"
His head jerked up to stare at them. His eyes, they were unnerved to note, was nearly strobing as it flickered between the colors the souls had been. "Why the hell not? No one can stop me! Whatever I say, people are going to have to obey. If I say behave, people aren't going to say no."
"That's what I mean," they shouted back. They went to take a step, but their foot slipped and they started to fall. To their surprise, the magic pushing them back vanished and a hand reached out to catch them, grabbing them around their right arm's bicep. Reflexively, the reached out and gripped his coat with both hands to steady themselves. Once they had their footing, they didn't let go and instead just stared up into his face. "Sans, you can't just make people play nice with brute force! They have to want to do it, or they'll just wait until they're out of your sight and then they'll just go back to what they were doing in the first place."
Sans barked a laugh. "What's a matter, babe? Here I thought you thought us monsters were just cuddly little idiots, tricked into listening to that idiot over there. Heh, idiots leading the idiots. Hah! Hey, that's an idea. I don't have to force them if I just tweak their brains a little. No more violence! They won't even think about it."
"Sans! What you're talking about, you'll either end up brainwashing them or lobotomizing them. No one deserves that."
For the first time, he dropped his gleeful expression to glare at them. "Enough. Frisk. Get out of my way. I've got some changes to make around here." His iris slid past them to fix on Asgore. "Starting with that asshole."
"No!" They shouted, tugging on his coat to get him to look back at them. Once he did, they swallowed against the tight feeling in their throat. "Sans, please, I can't let you do that."
He paused for a while, gazing down at them with an unreadable expression. Then, in less of heartbeat, he shoved his face nearly into them. "You can't stop me. No one can stop me. Not anymore."
Frisk grimaced. "Sans, please."
"Stand aside, human."
They shuddered. So, I'm back to being just 'human' now, huh? They lifted their face close enough that if he'd had a nose, they would brush. "No."
"Human," he said, voice tight. "I don't want to fight you. Move. Aside."
They pulled on his coat until their foreheads touched, staring deep into the empty eye sockets before them. "Sans, I can't do that."
He didn't speak, and for a moment neither moved. Then he shut his eyes and sighed. "Frisk, sometimes you really are a pain in my ass." Before they could blink, they felt their soul pop out of their chest and a familiar weight settled on it.
*You're blue now.
Shit, they thought before he sent them flying. Rather than smash them around the room, he let them flop down in the middle of the floor. Groaning, they tried to sit up but their limbs felt like they were made of lead. Gritting their teeth, they forced themselves to sit up. Once they were upright, they looked up in time to see Sans start to float past them, heading to Asgore, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Panicked, they reached out and grabbed his pant leg.
He actually paused to look back at them. "Babe. Have a little dignity. Begging doesn't suit you."
"Oh," they managed through gritted teeth and reached up, getting another fistful of cloth near his knee. They tugged and he allowed himself to dip down closer. "I don't know. Begging… it can be kinda fun."
"Heh. Well, glad to see that you haven't lost your humor yet." He almost smiled as they managed to catch his coat's hem.
"Sans, please. Just leave him alone."
He reached out to grab their chin and lift it up so they could meet each other's gaze. "Nope." He let go and Frisk yelped as the weight on their body doubled. "Now, be a good human and stay put. We'll have time to play around later."
Despite the pressure, Frisk refused to let go of his coat. Shaking with pain, Frisk growled through their teeth and forced one of their legs up. Fighting the gravity magic made it feel like their muscles were tearing from their bones. Hell, maybe they were. All the same, they forced their other leg up so that they were half standing.
Sans' smile twitched. "Frisk. Stop it. You keep that up and you'll hurt yourself."
As if to proof his point, their soul grew tiny hairline fractures around the sides. The more they fought to straighten, the deeper the cracks went until, all at once, the cracks shot straight to the middle.
Sans had less than a second to realize that their soul was going to tear itself apart. Jerking back, he tried to pull his magic off them, but too late. Even as their soul returned to red, it shattered and Frisk started to fall.
*But it refused.
Frisk caught themselves before the hit the ground, their death grip on Sans' coat keeping up as they panted.
"Fucking hell, Frisk! Even your weird ass soul would—are you trying to kill yourself?" he snapped, grabbing them by the elbows.
Frisk let him lift them up and closed their eyes as they tried to catch their breath. Got to keep him distracted. "My… okay, what… what's so fucked up about my soul anyway? You… Alphys… what's so weird, huh?"
"Weird? What's weird? God, Frisk, you're fucking possessed by a human ghost and you ask me what's weird like that's normal?"
"What?" Flowey asked, lifting his head.
Sans ignored Flowey to glare at Frisk. "Didn't you know you were possessed? Hell, you even got their strange little parasite of a soul attached to yours."
Frisk blinked. Oh. I guess that explains how you got stuck with me, huh?
*… I didn't intend to latch onto you. I'm sorry?
Aw, don't worry about it. Glad to have you around, kiddo. They coughed. "Eh, they make good company."
"Good comp-" Sans shook his head and laughed. "Frisk, you're too much. But, you know, I can't keep doing this. Just stay put will you? I just need to take out the trash." He pulled away too fast for them to keep hold of him, making them crash to their knees. "Don't make me make you blue again. We don't need a repeat of that performance."
Panicked, Frisk forced themselves up and ran after him. "Leave him alone, Sans!"
He paused and turned his head to glare over his shoulder. "Human, this is losing its charm real fast. Stay out of this."
Staggering, they hurried around him, putting themselves in the way again. "Sans. Stop this."
"Human," he growled, light around him growing brighter. "I'm not in the mood." To their surprise, they saw him glance around, just below them, eyes moving left to right and back, like he was reading something.
Menu options? Did he suddenly get options too? They'd never thought monsters had a menu in battle. Perhaps it was a human thing, considering he now had six souls in him. Still, rather than wait until he found something unpleasant to do to them, they reached up and grabbed his face. He paused, sockets wide, as they gently caressed his face and tugged him down closer. They didn't stop until they'd pulled him down into their arms. Then clung to him for dear life—or rather, for Asgore's life. He didn't fight him—when was the last time someone had held him a kind embrace? Had Papyrus ever hugged him? He claimed to have no friends—was this the first time he'd been hugged in a while?
"Frisk," he sighed as they buried their face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. For a moment, they almost thought they might have reached him. Then they felt his magic swirl around and then they knew without turning to look that he had them surrounded by a barrage of bones on all sides. And, judging from Flowey's gasp, he had at least one pointing at the flower too. "Don't make me hurt you."
They glared over his shoulder but didn't let their frustration touch their voice. "Don't let yourself hurt me."
Another familiar, heavy grip on their soul told them without Chara announcing it that he'd turned their soul blue. With a gesture, he yanked them away and sent them flying, but released them from his magic halfway through their trajectory. They hit the ground harder this time, smacking their face off the ground. When they sat up to glare at him, they had to wipe the blood from their nose.
He might have winced at the sight of them; they weren't sure with how the wind picked up. "Stay. Away."
Steeling their nerves, they stood and began to walk towards Asgore. The pressure in the room increased as he glared at them through narrowed eyes, every step being a struggle as they inched closer.
"Enough!" he finally shouted. The pressure in the room dropped, but they had no time to feel any relief as a thicket of bones appeared around them. "You want to be stubborn? Fine. Let's fight."
Frisk shivered, reaching for the knife Flowey had given them. "Sans, you have to stop. There's still time to stop all this."
"I don't want to stop," he retorted. The bones disappeared and a pair of blasters replaced them. They fired from Frisk's left, forcing the human to dodge away from Asgore if they didn't want to get burnt to a crisp.
Frisk ran, but the moment the attacked ended, they started back towards Asgore. This time, Sans growled and sent a wave of bones to block them.
They did their best to dodge, but a few nicked them as they flew past. This is getting us nowhere. Any bright ideas?
*I have an idea.
"Well, I'm all ears," Frisk muttered back.
*It's a long shot. If you don't get it right the first time, he won't give you another try.
But? They thought back.
*But if you do get it right, you can stop this fight. He won't be able to hurt you or anyone else. And you won't need to hurt him then.
Lay it on me—I'm down. The two of them spoke for a rough, hurried moment, where they split their attention between talking and dodging. However, once they stopped talking, Frisk looked determined as ever. "Flowey, get ready."
The flower bobbled just below their ear. "What? What on earth are you planning?"
"I'm going to charge forward. When I do, I want you to aim all the bullets you can at Sans," they muttered, shifting their grip on the knife.
"What good is that going to do?!" he shrieked in terror as Frisk jumped to the side of another magic beam. "You're going to get us killed!"
"Flowey, listen to me. I need you to trust me on this," they gasped as they crouched to avoid another barrage. "Remember, it's like you said—in this world, it's save or be saved."
There was a momentary lull where Sans' mocking laughter rang through the room. "Aren't you two just precious? Are you seriously chit-chatting while I try to blast you to shreds? I'd be insulted if I wasn't so amused."
Frisk tried to give him a self-assured smirk. "Just trying to tickle your funny bone, I guess."
Sans laughed, a horrifying, discordant sound that nearly shattered their eardrums—was he growing more powerful? They had to hurry. "Oh, Frisk, babe, I really don't want to kill you—there's just no one else quite as fun as you are. You should really just give up!"
With a yelp, Frisk dove forward and rolled away to avoid another attack. They accidentally found themselves lying on their back and then looked up to see one of the draconian skulls pointing straight at them. Hurling themselves to the side, they barely rolled out of the way in time. They got their feet under them and ran pell-mell to escape the barrage of blasts that followed their path.
As they ran, Frisk glanced up at Sans; the overpowered skeleton still grinned, but the smile was forced, his gaze following them with wild desperation behind them.
This was it—they didn't dare risk waiting any longer. "Flowey, now! Keep firing for as long as you can!"
To the flower's credit, he actually did summon up a small wave bullets that he shot at Sans as Frisk ran forward. Sans laughed, batting them aside with a wave of his hand. Flowey kept summoning the bullets, even as Frisk grew uncomfortably closer to Sans. Finally, Sans stopped smiling.
"Enough," he began, flicking his wrist one last time to send the bullets flying as Frisk got just out of arm's reach. "I don't know why you think you can-"
Frisk cut him off as they took one last step, close enough to touch. Sans, instinctively, moved backwards, but it was already too late. Frisk swung their arm downward, slicing through the air—Sans tensed, ready to teleport, but already he could see the attack going wide, falling to his side. He started to really smile, ready to laugh and taunt Frisk.
The sound of something shattering stopped him. His eye rolled down in his socket, looking off to his left. Frisk's knife had hit something—it'd broken through his FIGHT button, the shards vanishing as they fell.
For a moment, neither spoke. Sans kept staring at the empty spot where his FIGHT button should have been, uncomprehending, while Frisk stood before him, panting quietly.
"Did you just…?" Sans started, one hand going to where the FIGHT button had been, as if it was just going to reappear. "How?"
"I have a set of them too," Frisk admitted. "And, you know, it's surprisingly easy to destroy a menu option when you know where to strike." They didn't feel like adding that Asgore was the one to teach them that trick when he destroyed their battle options—not that Sans needed to know that.
Sans stared quietly before he finally began to chuckle. "Okay, I admit—that was actually pretty good."
*Ugh. Complimented by a power mad skeleton. I feel unclean.
Frisk ignored the voice.
Sans started to smirk. "But you don't think that's actually going to stop me, do you? It's not like that was my only option."
Frisk didn't doubt for a second that he wasn't going through his other options—after a moment, he gave them a flat, unamused look. They'd bet good money that all he was sure he could do was Check or Taunt them.
"Fine, you know what? I'll just—I'll reset." He grinned when he saw them stiffen. "With all these human souls, even I can fuck around with time on my own. Sure, we'll have to go through this whole song and dance number again, but that doesn't really bother me."
"You can try, but it won't work," they answered bluntly.
Sans' eyes widened, the only change in his static face. "And why's that, babe?"
"Because you haven't bothered to save once since we started this fight."
Sans froze, breath catching in his throat.
Bingo. They would bet good money that he'd just assumed it worked as an auto-save and never realized that the only save there was was Frisk's.
This time, Sans' laziness really backfired on him.
"If you reload, it'll go back to my save file, back before you had a chance to steal the souls. Which I'd then be able to stop you."Frisk raised their chin, their gaze steady on the floating figure before them. "And you can't save now, because that won't bring your FIGHT option back."
Sans began to sweat. "I… I'll just recreate it then!"
Frisk resisted the urge to tense up or frown. Hopefully, he wouldn't see through the bluff. "I don't think you can."
There was a long moment of silence where Frisk waited as Sans fidgeted with his hand until he finally gave in—maybe he was too flustered to figure out how to recreate it or he just simply couldn't.
The quiet abruptly ended with Sans laughing, a discordant, nervous sound that chilled their blood. "Heh… heheh—you… you're good. You, you knew this whole time, didn't you? You realized I didn't know what the fuck what I was doing, is that it?"
Uneasiness finally made Frisk move back. "I… figured some things out during the fight."
"Oh? Oh, did you?" he hissed through his teeth as he glared up at them. "Did you realize what a colossal fuck up I am, is that it?"
What was he getting at? They glanced at him warily. "Sans, no, that's not what-"
He barked a harsh laugh that tore at their eardrums. A bright white light began to halo his body, a wind whipping up around him as he glared up at them. "Don't patronize me!"
"Uh oh," Flowey whispered quietly behind their shoulder. Frisk shifted, trying to keep their footing as the wind lashed at them, forcing them back.
"You—you think this is all a joke, huh? Trying to pull one over on ol' Sansy boy, that it? Well, I admit, you got me. But now," he grinned wickedly. "I got you. You and the rest of this world. I can't fight? Fine. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you leave. You're staying here—in this fight, with me. Permanently."
"Why?" They finally shouted, raising a hand up to shield their eyes from the light coming off of Sans. "How on earth will that help any of us? What good would that do either of us?"
Sans choked on a word, his sockets dark before his left iris blazed red. "Good? Good! Are you really so blind? Don't you get it—you're the only good thing that's ever came to this world!"
Startled, Frisk pulled their hand away to stare at the skeleton despite the spots that blazed in their vision. "What?"
He didn't seem to hear them. "You know, the first time a child fell down here, we all got our hopes up then too." His light brightened, causing Frisk to shield their eyes again. "Monsters all thought, hey, maybe this kid could help us! Maybe they could be the key to getting through the barrier. Then the kid kicks the bucket." He hissed. "Monsters all grieved—not that we all knew the kid, but there went one of the souls to break the barrier. Then the king's son died and we all fell to despair. And him, that idiot over there," he snarled, waving at Asgore's crumpled form. "He's the one who told monsters all 'it's kill or be killed'! And look where that got us, what it did to us, what it… what it did to people like my brother."
He gazed at Frisk, stern and hopeful all at once. "All those children that died down here, they might have kept our hopes alive, but you—until you showed up... I don't know what you did—I don't know if you actually did come from another timeline, but you started changing things. Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne, hell, that little fucking weed that's always hanging around you—these assholes actually start acting like decent monsters for once. And that's directly because of you."
Why is this not feeling all that flattering to me? "Sans, those guys—I didn't do anything special to those guys. Deep down, they were all-"
"Don't you dare say 'oh, they were all really good people after all' cause I'll tell you right now, that's utter horse shit! Papyrus hasn't given a shit about me or what I think in years, and yet, after he talked to you, he's all like 'whatever, Sans, do what you want'? Do you honestly think my brother has any sort of sentimentality to me? No! But you—you changed things. You made us better." He growled. "And that's exactly why you can't leave! You have to stay—you have to keep making us better, or it'll all go back to how it was. Back to everyone hating me, back to everyone attacking each other. I can't let that happen."
"But, Sans, I'm not trying to just leave everyone here, to fall back into old ways. We can break the barrier—we can find a way for everyone to get out and move on from this. Monsters don't have to go back to the way they were!"
Sans scoffed. "Do you honestly think that a change of scenery is going to fix what's wrong with people? Are you that gullible? No, I'm not going to let anyone leave. They don't deserve that world—and you, we need you to keep things from getting worse again. Everyone is staying put."
Frisk bit their lip before speaking, shouting to be heard over the din of rushing wind. "Sans, please, stop this!" But he couldn't, or at least wouldn't, hear them. In a moment of desperation, they grabbed him again, yanking him back down into their arms and latching on.
He thrashed around, but seeing he wasn't going anywhere, he then opened his mouth and bit down hard onto their shoulder.
They choked on a gasp as his teeth ripped deep into their shoulder; they felt something hot spreading down their back and front and something in their shoulder snapped under the pressure of his teeth. Distantly, they could hear Flowey's squeak of horror and were glad that they'd least had the foresight to pull Sans towards their free shoulder, not the one Flowey perched on. Their head got dizzy, but still they hung on—no longer holding on to keep him in place, but also because he was the only thing keeping them upright.
Mercifully, he didn't thrash about as he bit them—he could have ripped the muscle straight from their bones if he wanted.
Small favors, they thought distantly and then blinked. I-is the light getting dimmer or am I passing out?
*No. The light's getting dimmer. Keep holding him!
Despite their grip on Sans, their knees buckled and they fell, dragging him down with them. They groaned and let their head fall forward onto his shoulder.
Something stung their shoulder.
They flinched and tried to focus. What was he doing now? If this was another attack, it was downright petty, not actually hurtful.
To their surprise though, he actually pulled back, freeing his teeth from their shoulder.
The pain was incredible—lately, powerful attacks just straight out killed them and then they came back. This they'd have to suffer through. Looking at Sans' face though, his teeth and jaw downright coated in their blood, they saw they weren't the only one suffering.
Tears streamed out of his sockets and he gazed at their ruin of a shoulder in frank horror. "Fuck," he managed. "Frisk, what did I-?"
They closed their eyes and rested their head against his. "Shh. Forget it."
"Forget it? Frisk, look at yourself!"
"Sans. Let go of the souls and let's stop this fight." They reached up and petted the back of his skull. "I promise, it'll be okay. Monsters, they'll be okay too. Let go of the souls and we'll break the barrier."
He shook their head against theirs, still pulling far back as he could from the mess he made of their shoulder. "You're still going to leave again."
Frisk sighed. "I got people waiting on me. I can't stay."
His tone turned resentful. "Got your own Sans waiting for you back there, huh?"
For a moment, their annoyance outweighed their pain, but only for a moment. They pulled back to look him properly in the eye. "My Sans doesn't give a fuck about what I do." Their face softened. "But, Sans, your Frisk? What if they're stuck over in my world, trying to get back here?"
He blinked at them. "What?"
"Well, not everyone around here seems to remember them, but you and your brother do. And there's been weird things going on, stuff missing that shouldn't be. I saw Asgore's garden—you were right. There's something weird about that patch of flowers. It looked like they all died and something stained the ground red. What if, somehow, they and I switched places? We need to get them back here. And when we do, don't you think that they deserve to get out of here at least?"
He held himself stiffly before finally sagging against, still careful to avoid the wound. "I can't stop you, can I?"
They smiled. "Sorry, darling. I'm too determined for that."
He chuckled, shaking his head against theirs.
Their soul sank back into their chest.
He'd spared them.
Sighing a deep breath of relief, they froze as pain shot through their body. "But, um, can I ask a favor of you?"
"What?"
"You got any more of those cigarettes left? This, um, this really hurts."
He laughed, a broken, but amused sound and began to search his pockets. As he looked, Flowey leaned up and whispered into their ears.
"You did it, Frisk. You're amazing."
Frisk only chuckled. "Thanks, bud. You too."
A/N: Sorry for this chapter being late, but Christ did I bite off more than I can chew. I even moved a couple large scenes into the next chapter. Oh well, sorry if this is really rough. I just finished this literally before posting.
Heh, bet you guys forgot all about that glass bottle of medicine I mentioned them saving from their bag all the way back in chapter two, huh?
Funny anecdote: as I was editing this chapter and got to the Flowey maiming scene, Gaster's Megalovania, the amella remix, began to play on my music player and then ended just as I got to them remembering Papyrus's words. Very fitting.
Shout out to this video of an Underfell!Asgore Pacifist fight, it heavily inspired the Asgore fight in this chapter and was pretty much the only thing keeping any sort of inspiration going at points. I'll post a link to it in my profile. Which reminds me! I forgot this earlier, but I have another video to share. The Papyton scene from a few chapters ago? That was inspired by another video I wanted to share. Give that a watch too.
One last chapter left. Spoilers: the return of someone you probably aren't expecting, mainly because they've been waiting for a proper introduction.
Geust: Definitely writing a Undyne/Alphys sidestory at some point. I'm glad the last chapter wasn't a disappointment. Heh, Sans' Hall of Condescension. I like it. And yeah, you're right-this is definitely a different Chara. Perhaps I should have emphasized that more in the beginning-Frisk's Chara left them after they left the Underground in their own world. I'm really happy you liked Sans' story time-it was really fun to write. Hope this chapter's okay too.