AN: I might have gotten a little carried away with writing this chapter. All of your reviews helped keep me motivated, thank you guys so much.
-=ASGORE=-
Asgore's ragged breaths filled the room as he desperately tried to regain control of his emotions. The weight of his tears had drained him, leaving him teetering on the edge of complete emotional exhaustion. The sheer magnitude of his grief echoed within him, an unrelenting ache that seared through his heart. It was a familiar pain, one he had endured before when his beloved son was cruelly torn away from his embrace. As the last remnants of sorrow clung to his soul, Asgore felt a transformation stirring within him.
With a trembling body, the king slowly rose to his feet, his weary eyes now aflame with a newfound determination.
"Asgore…I'm so sorry…" Undyne said.
"That something like this could happen at a time like this, what in the world happened?" Alphys was lost in disbelief.
"Spare me your pity," he said, his voice laced with a potent blend of resignation and defiance. Asgore's voice reverberated with a mix of defiance and bitterness, cutting through the tense silence that enveloped the room. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, each syllable carrying the burden of hidden truths. Everyone present braced themselves, their bodies instinctively tightening in response to the unexpected shift in his demeanor. Asgore's gaze pierced through the room, his eyes ablaze with a fiery resolve that belied his earlier vulnerability. "It was all an act."
"Surely, not…!" Alphys said. "But, then that would mean F-F-Frisk had us all fooled from the beginning."
"They seemed so genuine though, how…how were we supposed to know?" Undyne looked just as confused as Alphys. "There's just no way…"
Asgore's head sank, a mixture of regret and disappointment clouding his features. His voice quivered with a touch of bitterness as he spoke, his words echoing through the room. The weight of his past mistakes hung heavy in the air, a burden he had carried for far too long. Slowly, he turned to face the gathered individuals, his eyes ablaze with a smoldering rage that had been kindled by his shattered trust.
With each step he took, the ground seemed to tremble beneath Asgore's imposing figure. The intensity of his anger was palpable, radiating from him like waves of heat. The room became a crucible, engulfed in the fiery embers of his resentment. His voice thundered, cutting through the silence with a resounding force, as he unleashed his deep-seated conviction.
"Never again will I be deceived by humans," Asgore declared, his voice echoing with a firm resolve. The scars of betrayal etched into his soul had forged an unyielding belief, an unwavering testament to the treachery he perceived in the human world. His gaze pierced through the room, challenging anyone who dared question his proclamation.
As he neared the door, his steps resonated with a sense of finality. The gravity of his words lingered, casting a shadow over the room as the weight of his departure settled upon them. The path he chose to tread was one of solitude and self-preservation.
"What are you going to do, A-A-Asgore…"
"What I should have done from the very beginning," Asgore's voice rumbled with a hint of menace, the undertone of his words vibrating through the chamber.
With a sudden surge of energy, Asgore propelled himself forward, his footsteps resounding like thunderclaps against the ground. Each powerful stride carried him closer to the precipice of his decision, the momentum of his fury propelling him forward.
Asgore's thunderous footsteps reverberated through the Ruins, the ground trembling beneath his weight. The panicked shouts of startled monsters echoed in his ears, their voices a cacophony of confusion and concern. Their urgent inquiries blended together, but Asgore paid them no heed. In this moment, he knew he had to act decisively, and the weight of his responsibilities as a king bore down upon his broad shoulders.
Navigating Toriel's home with an unwavering focus, Asgore maneuvered through the familiar surroundings with a mix of caution and urgency. Every step he took, every corner he turned, brought forth a cascade of memories, each one a poignant reminder of the love he had lost and the pain that still lingered in his heart. Determination fueled his every move, driving him forward without allowing doubts or second thoughts to take hold.
As he reached the threshold, the sight that greeted him was unexpected. Instead of the open doors that once welcomed him, a formidable mountain of rubble stood as an imposing barrier. Undeterred, Asgore's gaze hardened, his resolve solidifying. With a deep breath, he summoned every ounce of his regal strength, his muscles coiling like a tightly wound spring. And then, in a burst of power, he launched himself towards the rubble.
The impact reverberated through his massive frame as he collided with the obstacle, the force of his momentum crashing against the debris. With a mighty roar, Asgore unleashed a surge of energy, channeling the full might of his determination into his actions. The rubble shuddered and groaned under the strain, surrendering to the relentless force that he exerted. Piece by piece, the obstruction gave way, crumbling before him like a defeated adversary.
Finally, the path to the outside world lay before him. Asgore emerged from the shattered remnants of the Ruins' entrance, his chest heaving with exertion, yet his spirit undeterred. Snowdin Forest stretched out before him, its wintry landscape a stark contrast to the turmoil within his heart. Stepping into the frigid air, Asgore took his first steps towards the unknown, propelled by a mixture of determination, sorrow, and an unwavering resolve to protect his people.
Asgore's furious gaze narrowed, fixated solely on the figure standing before him. The world around him faded into insignificance, consumed by the overwhelming presence of the human who dared take away his Toriel. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the pitiful sight that lay before his burning eyes.
The human, seemingly small and insignificant in comparison to Asgore's towering frame, stood there with a mixture of fear and determination etched upon their face. Every line of their countenance, every quiver of their body, betrayed their vulnerability in the face of his wrath. They were a mere mortal, fragile and transient, standing in the presence of a king whose power and authority dwarfed their own.
In that pivotal moment, the world held its breath, waiting for the inevitable collision between the indomitable king and the fragile human standing before him.
-=FRISK=-
Frisk's fingers grazed the cold, unyielding surface of the sealed door, their touch infused with a mix of curiosity and longing.
"No good..." Frisk's words hung in the air, a soft exhale of resignation. Their voice carried a tinge of disappointment as they spoke to Sans, their eyes fixed on the impassable barrier before them. Their hand lingered on the door for a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of the unattainable past that lay behind it.
Sans regarded the human with a quizzical expression, his sockets narrowing in thoughtful contemplation. He let out a sigh, his words tinged with a touch of understanding. "i tried to tell you. that door doesn't budge for anyone, not even for this bag of bones."
Turning back towards the skeleton, Frisk offered a grateful smile. "Yeah, I just wanted to see if she was still here," they admitted, their gaze briefly flickering towards the sealed door before returning to Sans. "Thanks for humoring me though."
Sans nodded, his expression a blend of understanding and empathy. "no problem, kiddo," he replied.
The weight of their unspoken emotions settled between them, an unspoken bond forged through shared understanding. Together, they turned away from the sealed door, their footsteps marking the path back to Snowdin.
"who were you looking for, by the way?" Curiosity tinged Sans' words as he sought clarification from Frisk. His brows arched inquisitively as he pondered the identity of the person Frisk had been searching for. "was it that one person here that cracks the funny jokes? i thought it was just a sentient door."
"Y-yeah, she was Toriel, you know... Asgore's ex-wife." Frisk's response hung in the air, their words stirring a whirlwind of emotions within Sans.
The skeleton's composure faltered for a moment, his expression caught between disbelief and a hint of vulnerability. The realization seemed to wash over him like a sudden gust of wind. "you're pulling my funny bone," Sans uttered, his voice a mere whisper, as if struggling to reconcile the truth. "no way i've been joking with the queen all that time."
Frisk couldn't help but observe the visible shift in Sans' demeanor. The normally nonchalant skeleton appeared more reserved, as if the thought of engaging with Toriel on a personal level was enough to make even his laid-back demeanor falter. A gentle smile graced Frisk's lips as they sought to reassure Sans. "She really did like all your jokes, you two got along really well," they offered, their voice filled with warmth and sincerity.
Sans' sockets widened slightly, a mix of surprise and subtle delight flickering across his features. He seemed momentarily lost for words, the realization of a connection formed in the realm of humor leaving a soft impression on his soul. "o-oh yeah?" he stammered, his voice colored with a touch of disbelief. "heh, well, it's always nice to find two of a kind in this whacky world... or something like that..."
Frisk looked back the way they came. "Hey, I wonder if Asgore can open that thing."
Sans took it into consideration, "ol' fluffybuns? nah, he's too much of a pushover to do something like that." Then realization hit Sans, "oh but you fought him, didn't you?"
"He was no pushover, let me tell you…after everyone kept telling me how soft he was, I had a clear idea of who he was when we met. But after we fought, I could see why he was the king." Just recalling the fierce battle was enough to make Frisk sweat.
"huh, no kidding? i can never get a read on that guy."
"Neither can I! He's so polite, yet fierce when he needs to be."
"it's good to know we have someone like that on our side."
"Speaking of…how are we even going to get back to the core? Wasn't the whole place demolished?"
Sans lowered his gaze, his voice carrying a hint of regret as he spoke. "yeah, about that," he began, his words tinged with a somber tone. "i had lost track of you when you reached the lab, and after the explosion, i had to... you know, stop and make sure everyone was okay," Sans explained, his voice trailing off as he grappled with the weight of the memories. Frisk remained silent, offering a sympathetic nod, allowing Sans the space to process his thoughts. "nothing made it out of there, i'll just leave it at that."
A heavy silence settled upon them, punctuated only by the gusts of wind that whipped through the surrounding landscape. The bitter cold snapped at their skin, mirroring the desolate atmosphere that seemed to envelop them. The world around them appeared drained of its usual vibrancy, the colors muted and dulled.
Breaking the stillness, Sans reached out to Frisk, his voice gentle but firm, pulling them from their introspection. "hey, hey, snap out of it," he urged. "i'm not trying to make you feel bad or anything. things have been confusing, and we've all been through a lot," Sans sighed, the weariness evident in his voice. "the damage to Hotland was bad, especially since the lab is in such a central position in the area. i think even the elevator was destroyed," he shared, his words carrying a sense of resignation at the loss incurred.
"So then how are we supposed to reach Asgore?"
"well, the thing is the core didn't sustain as much damage as the area around it. from the outside, it looks mostly intact. the real issue is trying to reach the core."
"But the explosion collapsed the entrance to Hotland, we'd have to spend days digging it out."
"don't worry, i got connections."
As their conversation carried on, their steps brought them to the familiar snowy town of Snowdin. Sans, taking the lead, guided Frisk further north until they reached the banks of a serene river. It was there that Frisk's realization dawned upon them as they recognized the figure cloaked in mystery.
"River person!" Frisk called out, their voice carrying a mix of surprise and delight.
The enigmatic figure turned toward them, the sound of rustling fabric accompanying their movement. With an air of intrigue, the River person replied in their signature melodic tone, "Tra la la...? If it isn't you..."
Sans intervened, seeking to dispel any uncertainty. "relax, riv," he reassured. "this one's with me."
In response, the River person shifted their cloak, revealing a gesture of invitation. "Tra la la, you seem to still owe me a lot, Sans."
Sans crossed his arms, a playful glint in his eye. "and I said I'd pay you back when the economy got better," he reiterated, his voice laced with a touch of mock seriousness. "given the current events, i'd think you would at least settle the tab for a bit."
The River person averted their gaze, fixating on the tranquil expanse of the river ahead. Their response came in the form of their timeless phrase, "Tra la la."
Sans shook his head, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "oh, come on, don't give me that tired line."
Finally, the River person seemed to surrender, their head hanging in an exasperated manner before nodding toward the vacant space on their boat.
"appreciate it, riv," Sans expressed his gratitude, extending a helping hand to Frisk. With a gentle guidance, he assisted them onto the boat. However, before they could even process their surroundings, the vessel surged forward with unexpected speed, sending a surge of adrenaline through Frisk's veins.
"whoa! i didn't even tell you where we're going yet!" Sans exclaimed, their voice battling against the rushing wind.
Struggling to maintain their balance, Frisk clung tightly to the boat while Sans tried to maintain his foothold. Meanwhile, the River person seemed to revel in the shock emanating from both Sans and Frisk, their enigmatic demeanor suggesting they held a propensity for pettiness.
-=CHARA=-
"You…will pay for what you've done."
Chara's body trembled as they stood face to face with the source of their dread. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, charged with an eerie anticipation. Never before had Chara experienced such an overwhelming surge of fear coursing through their veins. It was a fear that went beyond mere apprehension, beyond the encounters with monsters and the trials of the underground.
Their heart pounded violently against their ribcage, threatening to break free from its confines. The rapid beats echoed in their ears, drowning out all other sounds. In that moment, Chara felt as if their very existence teetered on the edge of a precipice. It was a tumultuous maelstrom of emotions swirling within them — fear, panic, and a primal instinct urging them to escape, to flee from the impending danger that loomed before them.
Chara's heart raced as they desperately backed away from the towering figure of Asgore. Every fiber of their being screamed at them to flee, to escape the wrath of the king bearing down upon them. With lightning speed, Asgore lunged forward, his massive paw cleaving through the air with a bone-chilling force. Chara's instincts kicked in, their body instinctively ducking just in time to evade the lethal blow. The sheer power behind that strike sent a gust of wind whipping past them, a chilling reminder of the impending danger that lurked in Asgore's every move.
Asgore roared in frustration, his rage fueling another attack. This time, it came from his other hand, a swift and merciless strike that left Chara with no room to evade. Panic coursed through their veins as they realized the inevitable impact of Asgore's assault. But just as despair threatened to engulf them, a hulking figure surged forward, placing itself as a formidable barrier between Chara and the king.
Greater Dog, with its immense size and sturdy armor, intercepted Asgore's swipe with a resounding clash. The clash of metal on metal reverberated through the air, a testament to the sheer strength and determination of the loyal canine. Asgore, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected defense, lashed out with his free hand, desperately trying to break free. Yet, Greater Dog proved to be an immovable force, its grip firm and unyielding, its growls filled with unwavering resolve.
Asgore's bellowed accusations pierced the chaos, his voice dripping with grief and anger. The mention of Toriel's demise fueled the fires of his fury, further fueling his determination to exact vengeance. Meanwhile, Glacia rushed to Chara's side, her presence a much-needed lifeline amidst the chaos. With a sense of urgency, she lifted them into her arms, her gaze filled with concern.
As the scene unfolded, Chilldrake took charge, his commanding voice piercing through the commotion. He rallied the snowdrakes, swiftly organizing them into a protective perimeter around Asgore, ensuring that his aggression would not go unchecked. The air crackled with tension as the standoff between the monsters escalated.
In this tumultuous moment, Chara could only hold onto Glacia tightly, their mind racing. The encounter with Asgore had taken an unexpected turn, and the path ahead seemed fraught with uncertainty.
Chara stood in disbelief, their mind reeling from the realization that their audacious plan had actually succeeded. The monsters around them seemed to genuinely believe the fabricated story, their expressions a mixture of shock, concern, and anger. It was a surreal moment, like a delicate web of deception woven with such finesse that even Chara had to question its own authenticity.
The weight of the situation settled upon Chara's shoulders, a profound sense of responsibility mingling with their astonishment. They had expected resistance, skepticism, perhaps even outright rejection from the monsters who held unwavering loyalty towards their king. How could they have anticipated the depth of trust and support that had been fostered between that other human and these denizens of the underground? What kind of pact or exchange had taken place to win over their hearts and minds? The intricacies of this newfound alliance remained shrouded in mystery, leaving Chara baffled and curious in equal measure.
Fear seemed to grip Glacia as she sprinted, their heartbeats pounding in sync with her hurried footsteps. She clung tightly to Chara.
Apologies spilled from Glacia's trembling lips, a mix of remorse and regret. Her voice trembled with genuine fear and disbelief. "I didn't believe you...I didn't want to believe it, but I'm sorry for doubting you." Chara saw the horror visibly etched onto Glacia's face. The sight of Asgore in his frenzied state had shattered their preconceived notions of the gentle king they had once known, leaving them shaken to their core.
As they continued their frantic escape, Glacia stole a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes widening in terror. The deafening sounds of destruction grew nearer, the ground quaking beneath their feet as trees were uprooted and snapped like twigs in the wake of Asgore's rampage. The very fabric of the forest seemed to make way for the king.
Desperation filled Chara's voice as they shouted, their words barely audible over the chaos surrounding them. "There must be a way out! We can't let him catch up!"
Glacia's brows furrowed, her mind racing to find a solution amidst the chaos. With every labored breath, she pushed herself to run even faster. "If I can just get you to River Person...they can help you escape!" Her voice wavered with a mix of hope and exhaustion, her legs burning with the strain of their relentless sprint.
"But Snowdin is too far...you won't make it all the way," Chara gasped.
"Get back here!" A primal roar reverberated through the dense forest, sending shivers down Chara's spine. The chilling howl carried the weight of Asgore's relentless pursuit, amplifying their growing terror. His presence loomed large, casting an ominous shadow that seemed to swallow the very essence of hope.
Desperation surged within Glacia as she bellowed, her voice strained with a mix of panic and frustration. "I can't think of anything else!" Chara clung to her, their grip tightening with a renewed sense of urgency.
In a split second, Chara found themselves soaring through the air, their body propelled forward by an unseen force. Glacia had tripped, her legs failing under a familiar broken branch, causing her to tumble to the side. A surge of adrenaline fueled Chara's instincts as they desperately attempted to soften their fall, their limbs crashing onto the unforgiving ground with a jolt of pain. They scrambled to their feet, ignoring the sharp ache radiating from their injured shoulder, their determination igniting a renewed burst of energy.
Their legs propelled them forward, each step a symphony of agony and determination. The world blurred around them as they sprinted towards the distant haven of Snowdin, every ounce of their being focused on escaping the encroaching danger. But Asgore's voice sliced through the air with haunting clarity, chilling their bones and heightening their awareness of the impending threat.
"You're mine," Asgore's voice rumbled behind them, each syllable laced with a seething hatred that sent shivers down Chara's spine.
An impact struck Chara with an unforgiving force, a thunderous blow that jolted through their chest. Pain radiated through their body, intertwining with a disorienting surge of monochromatic flashes that momentarily clouded their vision. As their senses slowly returned, Chara found themselves confronted by the all-too-familiar interface of their past encounters, a stark reminder of the battles they had fought and the choices they had made.
Gasping for air, Chara struggled to regain their composure, their mind racing with a tumultuous mix of confusion and dread. The realization sent shivers down their spine. How could Asgore, a figure they had encountered solely within the confines of battle, wield such devastating power outside the boundaries of the battlefield?
Asgore's towering form loomed like an indomitable force against the backdrop of the void, his presence exuding an aura of unparalleled might. Chara's palms grew clammy, their mind racing to find a way out. With trembling fingers, they instinctively reached towards the Mercy option, a glimmer of hope to flee in the face of impending doom. However, before their fingertips could make contact, Asgore's massive paw clamped down, obliterating the button beneath his crushing grip.
"No matter what happens now, one of us will die."
-=FRISK=-
The journey to Hotland unfolded with a tumultuous intensity that threatened to unleash Frisk's meager breakfast in a torrent of nausea. Each jarring bump and lurch of the boat sent waves of discomfort rippling through their stomach, challenging their fortitude. The once serene and placid trips they had taken with the River Person felt like a distant memory, replaced now by a torturous rollercoaster ride. To their dismay, the River Person seemed to relish in their visible state of unease, their form glinting with an unsettling satisfaction.
As the boat finally reached its destination, Sans tripped and stumbled, his limbs betraying him as he tumbled off the vessel. Landing in a daze on solid ground, he was joined swiftly by Frisk, whose equilibrium had been shattered by the disorienting motion. The world seemed to spin around them, a dizzying spectacle that robbed them of stability and left them sprawled on their back.
The River Person, ever watchful, observed the scene with a peculiar intent.
"i get it already," Sans groaned, rubbing his head. "i owe you, and trust me, i won't forget it, alright?!"
The River Person nodded solemnly.
Sans shook his head, a mixture of bemusement and resignation etched across his features. "this guy, i swear..." he muttered under his breath, before turning his attention to Frisk. Extending a hand, he helped them up, their combined efforts restoring a semblance of stability. Together, they ascended a set of worn steps, venturing deeper into the heart of Hotland, leaving behind the unsettling waters and unpredictable whims of the River Person.
As Frisk and Sans stepped into Hotland, the full extent of the devastation caused by the explosion unfurled before their eyes. The scene was far more harrowing than they had anticipated. The once sturdy and vital bridge that connected Hotland to Waterfall had been completely obliterated, reduced to scattered remnants that offered no passage across the chasm. The very land masses that once cradled the bridge now lay shattered and fractured.
Their gaze then turned to the lab, but the sight that greeted them was one of desolation and ruin. The entire edifice had been razed to the ground, its once towering structure reduced to a mere memory. All that remained were charred fragments of the flooring, scattered like broken dreams. The devastating impact of the bomb had left nothing unscathed in its vicinity, reducing anything in its path to a pile of smoldering ashes.
Amidst the wreckage, a few defiant steel girders stood tall, their skeletal forms a testament to the resilience of the materials. However, even these stout pillars of metal paled in comparison to their former glory, none surpassing Frisk's own height. The sight weighed heavily on their heart, a sinking sensation gnawing at their stomach as they beheld the ruin that had befallen Alphys's lab. The once vibrant hub of scientific inquiry had been reduced to a somber monument of destruction.
And then there was the matter of the elevator, as Sans had mentioned. Its absence spoke volumes, the absence of its mechanical presence only serving to accentuate the void left by its destruction. The upper levels of Hotland, hidden from view, remained shrouded in a veil of uncertainty, the extent of the damage lurking beyond the confines of their immediate sight.
Sans tilted his head at Frisk. "you're doing that thing again, pal," he remarked, his voice tinged with a gentle reassurance.
Frisk sighed softly. "I know, but... she was a good friend of mine."
Sans reached out and placed a comforting hand on Frisk's shoulder, his touch warm and grounding. "she still is, though, right?" he gently reminded them, his voice carrying a thread of hope. "in your world, she's still alive and well, so you gotta chin up. we'll find a way to set things right."
A glimmer of gratitude sparkled in Frisk's eyes as they nodded in agreement. "Right," they replied, a renewed determination animating their features. Casting their gaze across the rugged landscape that stretched before them, they furrowed their brows. "Not really seeing a way forward from here," they said. "How did you want to get to the core?"
Sans cracked his knuckles, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. His grin widened, a playful confidence emanating from him. "i happen to know a shortcut," he declared and motioned for Frisk to follow him.
Frisk had to remind themselves to never take one of Sans's shortcuts again. The harrowing experience had left them worse off than when they had first stepped off the boat, their body aching and their senses disoriented.
"What in the world was that?" Frisk managed to utter between breaths.
Sans, seemingly unfazed by the treacherous shortcut, flashed a nonchalant smile. "see? now we're here," he replied.
As Frisk took a moment to gather their bearings, their eyes widened at the sight before them. They found themselves standing at the entrance of the vibrant and extravagant MTT Resort. Casting their gaze backward, they beheld a breathtaking view—a steep drop-off that descended into the depths of Hotland below. Miles and miles of scorched landscape stretched out, revealing the red-hot magma that relentlessly churned and devoured the broken remnants left in the wake of the explosion. The sheer magnitude of the fiery abyss sent a shiver down Frisk's spine, and they couldn't help but gulp, their eyes transfixed by the ominous sight that lay beneath them.
Sans shook his head, his sockets filled with a mix of concern and amusement. "you really gotta stop doing that."
Frisk offered a sheepish smile, their eyes scanning the transformed surroundings. "Sorry, it's just... weird seeing these places like this."
Turning their attention back to the resort, Frisk took note of the surprisingly minimal damage inflicted upon the immediate vicinity. Considering the powerful concussive blast that had rattled the Core during their previous visit, it was remarkable to see the area relatively intact. However, one unmistakable sign of destruction stood out amidst the wreckage—a shattered neon sign, once proudly displaying the name of the resort, now shattered into a million glistening fragments scattered across the pavement. The absence of illumination from the building's windows added to the eerie atmosphere, casting shadows that danced ominously in the dim light.
"i was going to tell you a joke about broken glass, but nevermind..." Sans sighed, a touch of disappointment in his voice. "It's too shattered."
Frisk couldn't help but chuckle, finding solace in the skeleton's lightheartedness amidst the chaos. "I'm surprised you're still able to come up with puns at a time like this.
Sans shrugged, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "helps with the tension, annnd when i have no idea how to move forward."
"At least your honest, though I think I should be fine." Frisk grinned, feeling a surge of exhilaration as they leaped through the air, propelled by their momentum. With a precise landing, they landed right in the heart of the broken sign, perched atop its flat surface. The shattered glass beneath their feet sparkled like a starry sky.
Sans suddenly appeared beside them. "eh, i'd give that landing a six," he remarked, his usual nonchalant tone filling the air.
Chuckling, Frisk playfully nudged Sans. "Oh, right, I forgot you can just do that."
"don't get upset about it, pal. six is still a really high number. i think twenty-nine would be a close second." Sans shrugged, a faint smirk dancing across his face.
Curiosity sparked within Frisk, and they couldn't resist teasing further. "What is this score out of then? Did you just rate my landing a six out of twenty-nine?" they asked, their tone filled with playful banter as the pair ventured into the darkened resort.
Sans nonchalantly tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, his expression thoughtful. "nah, it was more so out of thirty. hey, isn't there supposed to be a monster manning this place?" he queried. His gaze shifted around the lobby, now bathed in a cozy ambiance created by several scattered candles casting flickering light.
Frisk's eyes scanned the dimly lit surroundings, searching for any sign of Burgerpants. A sense of relief washed over them when a familiar voice cut through the silence. The cat-like monster emerged from the depths of the shop, carrying a softly burning candle that cast a warm glow on his face.
"What's going on, little dude?" Burgerpants greeted them, his weary eyes flickering with curiosity.
Frisk couldn't help but smile at the sight of Burgerpants, glad to see that he had come out unscathed from the recent events. "I'm glad you're okay, after everything that happened... I wasn't sure this place would still be here."
Burgerpants shrugged nonchalantly, placing the candle carefully next to the fountain. "Huh? Oh yeah, that earthquake or something?" He brushed off the impact of the incident as if it were just a minor inconvenience. "Whatever it was, it knocked the power clean out. I know for sure my boss would treat me to another CD therapy if I didn't try to make this place look better."
Frisk tilted their head, their curiosity piqued. "It does look really cozy in here." As they took in the cozy ambiance of the candle-lit surroundings, they couldn't deny the inviting atmosphere.
Burgerpants nodded, his gaze shifting between Frisk and Sans. "So... you two made up yet?" he asked, a touch of hope evident in his voice, as if yearning for some resolution or reconciliation.
Sans shrugged, his shoulder slumping in a casual gesture. "you could say that. just a simple misunderstanding, ya know?"
Burgerpants let out a dry chuckle, a hint of sarcasm tainting his voice. "Yeah, sure. I'd hate to see what a real problem would look like for you, skull bro."
Frisk turned their attention to Burgerpants. "We're actually on our way to see Asgore. Would you like to come with us?"
"Asgore? What do you need to see him for?"Curiosity mingled with skepticism danced in Burgerpants' weary eyes as he pondered their proposition.
Sans leaned in, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "kind of a long story, but basically we need to find a way to travel through time and space, cross the multiverse, and hop into frisk's timeline."
Burgerpants tilted his head, his gaze fixed on the ground as he processed Sans' explanation. "I'm gonna pretend like I understood any of that," he admitted, a touch of resignation lacing his words. "You two seem like you got a plan sorted out. I'll just hold the fort down here, but hey, don't be a stranger. I've got some Glamburgers on the grill whenever you guys pass through here again."
Frisk's face lit up with delight at the mention of Glamburgers. "Yes, please! We'll definitely be back soon!"
With a wave of farewell to Burgerpants, Frisk took the lead, retracing their steps through the intricate and maze-like structure of the Core. They navigated through New Home, feeling a sense of familiarity with each corridor they passed, until they finally arrived at the Last Corridor, their destination looming before them.
A surge of anticipation coursed through Frisk as they crossed the threshold of the Last Corridor. This time, Sans was walking alongside them, no longer positioned as their adversary. The weight on their shoulders lifted, replaced by a sense of relief as they emerged from the corridor into an open space.
Sans spoke up, his voice tinged with regret. "you know, i still feel bad about the way i treated you back then. if i had just listened to my instincts, we could've avoided so much unnecessary pain."
Frisk shook their head, a gentle smile on their face. "No, please don't apologize. Things didn't go right, and it's only natural that you acted the way you did."
Sans gave them a questioning glance, but remained silent.
As they rounded the corner, the grand door leading to the throne room came into view. Frisk hesitated, a mix of apprehension and uncertainty filling their mind.
"what's wrong?" Sans asked, his gaze fixed on Frisk.
"I don't know... Last time I met Asgore, we pushed ourselves to the brink, and he nearly died. Things are different now, and I'm not sure if I have a second chance if something goes wrong."
Sans' smile widened, a glimmer of determination shining in his eyes. "don't sweat it, pal. This time, you've got me to back you up."
Frisk's apprehension eased, replaced by a newfound confidence. They nodded, their resolve strengthening. "Yeah, you're right. Together, we can face whatever comes our way." With a renewed sense of purpose, Frisk stepped forward, standing before the grand doors of the throne room. They took a deep breath, gathering their courage, and pushed the doors open, stepping inside.
-=CHARA=-
"Why are you doing this?!" Chara yelled in anguish.
"Save your pitiful act for the afterlife." Asgore's response was swift. In an instant, his spear materialized, thrusting forcefully into the ground before Chara, unleashing a shockwave of energy that sent them sprawling backward. The force of the impact jolted through their body, rattling their bones and stealing their breath.
Asgore retrieved his spear, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fury and self-righteousness. He raised the weapon high, its menacing presence aimed squarely at Chara. The cold steel of the spear seemed to mock their defiance, a visual reminder of the power and authority he wielded as the king.
A torrent of emotions surged within Chara's chest. How could Asgore stand there, acting so smugly, as if their struggle and pain were inconsequential? But amidst the fury, a flicker of realization ignited within Chara's mind—a chilling awareness of their own hidden potential. They had seen the same darkness within themselves, the gnawing hunger for power. And now they understood the depths of Asgore's own power.
Closing the distance between them, Asgore's spear flickered, its fiery orange and tranquil blue hues mirroring the conflict within his soul. Chara's steps faltered, their body barely evading the first strike in a desperate dance of survival. But it was a futile effort. The onslaught of blows came fast and relentless, each strike a merciless assault that threatened to shatter their very essence. Pain coursed through every fiber of their being, their soul tormented by the relentless assault.
Summoning their last reserves of strength, Chara heaved themselves upright, their body battered and bruised, but their spirit unyielding. In a defiant act of resistance, they spread their arms wide, standing unwaveringly before the relentless storm of Asgore's attacks.
Asgore's features twisted into a twisted smile, his eyes narrowing with pleasure as he prepared to deliver the final blow. With a swift motion, he reared back, his grip tightening on the spear.
"Goodbye," Asgore's words dripped with finality, his intent clear.
But Chara refused to succumb to the weight of despair. In that critical moment, a surge of determination coursed through their veins, pushing them beyond their limits. Time seemed to slow as their body reacted on instinct, sidestepping the lethal strike by a hair's breadth.
In the wake of their narrow escape, Chara's eyes burned with a newfound fire. They would not be defeated. The battle was far from over, and their resolve only grew stronger. With every fiber of their being, they vowed to face Asgore head-on, to challenge his tyranny and
Chara's heart raced, their mind unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events. The anticipated finality of Asgore's deadly blow never came crashing down upon them. Instead, they found themselves locked in a state of disbelief as their wide eyes scanned the scene unfolding before them.
Asgore, the mighty king of the Underground, was held back by the very beings who had once pledged their loyalty to him. The royal guard strained and struggled against their own sovereign, their faces etched with determination and a flicker of remorse. It was a sight that defied all expectations, shattering the illusion of Asgore's invincibility.
"Go! Go! Go!" Doggo's howl pierced through the chaotic air, urging Chara to seize the opportunity and escape.
In a flash of movement, Lesser Dog darted forth from the opposite side of Asgore, a blur of white fur and unwavering loyalty. With astounding strength, the canine companion swept Chara up into their embrace, cradling them protectively as they raced away from the battlefield. The wind whistled past their ears, the adrenaline fueling their flight.
The echoes of Asgore's shouts of anger reverberated through the air, his voice a futile cry against the tides of destiny. The once-mighty king, now trapped in his own web of self-destruction, flailed and fought against the bonds of his own creation. Chara couldn't help but feel a mix of vindication and amusement, an irrepressible urge to burst into laughter at the irony of it all.
-=FRISK=-
A wave of bittersweet nostalgia washed over Frisk as they stepped into the grandeur of the throne room. The air was heavy with the fragrance of yellow flowers, a sea of vibrant petals that seemed to dance in unison. Each bloom faced towards the lone figure at the center, Asgore himself, tending to his precious garden with utmost care. His massive form moved with a gentle grace, ensuring not a single delicate stem was harmed as he diligently watered the flowers.
"Dum de dum..." Asgore hummed softly, lost in his horticultural task. His attention momentarily caught by a faint presence, he turned towards Frisk and Sans, a startled expression etched upon his face. The water pail trembled in his grasp, threatening to slip from his hands as he struggled to process their unexpected arrival. His gaze wavered, uncertain of where to settle.
"Oh...you're..." Asgore's voice trailed off, his words faltering as he wrestled with the turmoil of his emotions. He averted his eyes, a mix of regret and longing evident in his demeanor. "I so badly want to ask, 'Would you like a cup of tea?' But...you know how it is..."
Frisk exchanged a worried glance with Sans, their heart pounding with anticipation. The urgency of their mission hung heavily in the air, their plea for Asgore's assistance on the tip of their tongue. But the lingering fear of a confrontation loomed..
"Shoot," Frisk whispered urgently to Sans, their voice barely audible. "At this rate, he's going to fight us. What are we supposed to do?"
Sans responded with a smug smile. He stepped forward, positioning himself between Frisk and Asgore, a bridge between two worlds.
"Why, aren't you Sans?" Asgore's voice carried a hint of surprise, his gaze shifting towards the familiar skeleton who had just intervened.
"yep, that's me," Sans replied, his tone laced with a playful charm. "and i've got a treasury of puns fit for a king."