The path ahead wasn't straight like the one before. Instead, they descended an odd, spiraling staircase that seemed to stretch endlessly downward. It was made of countless materials—books, bones, stone, tile, flesh, wood—shifting as they walked.

The Observer found the staircase peculiar, but Gaster appeared unbothered. Halfway down, he paused, his expression flickering with agitation.

The Observer hummed in response.

"That obnoxious little cat-dog is becoming harder to trace," Gaster muttered, his tone sharp with frustration. "I had a particular version in mind, yet... it feels like we've drifted from it."

The Observer, speaking in your words, asked, "What world is next?"

"I don't know, Asriel," Gaster sighed, sounding weary as he glitched briefly before regaining his composure. "Just... give me a moment. There are a few nearby. We'll try one." The Observer whirred curiously.

"What?" Gaster tsked. "Focus, will you?"

Turning to the right, Gaster took a breath and began tearing at sections of the ever-shifting stairs. The pieces pulled together into a sort of doorway. When opened, it formed a short hallway—its structure defying the logic of their current surroundings, though in the void, that wasn't so unusual.

They proceeded inside, the strange, shifting floor giving way to soft beige carpeting. Pale grey walls lined the hallway, which wound down a small staircase into what resembled a living room. There was furniture: a couch, a loveseat, and a lonely rocking chair that swayed gently in the corner. The chair faced a large window that displayed a bright, sunny world outside. Cars drove by, and shadowed figures walked the streets.

The Observer whirred with curiosity, moving closer to the window. As it approached, the figures outside began to slow, some even turning to face it. Suddenly, a phantom hand grasped the drone, yanking it backward. The shadows resumed their normal movements, as if nothing had happened.

"While I admire curiosity, when you're in a place like this, assume everything is dangerous," Gaster warned, his voice calm but firm. The Observer chirped in agreement.

"There are no 'living rooms' in the void. But there are hunting grounds. And you—" Gaster thumped the drone lightly—"will not trigger any traps. Or I will replace you with a modified Roomba. Clear?"

Another affirmative chirp followed.

Gaster sighed and continued onward, leading the drone until they reached a standing mirror that reflected neither of them. A faint path seemed to stretch beyond it, leading toward what looked like a kitchen.

A voice, similar to Chara's, echoed through the room. "Gaster, is that you? Aren't you going to help us?"

A second voice, distorted but resembling Asriel's, followed. "Didn't you promise to help us?"

Gaster glanced at the mirror, his hands gripping the edges as they sank into the reflective surface. With a forceful tug, he stretched the mirror wider, warping it into a passage.

"Please... you promised!" the voice of 'Chara' cried out again.

Gaster twitched slightly but dragged both himself and the Observer through the mirror. As they passed, bones conjured by Gaster shattered the entrance behind them, leaving the world they'd just entered far behind.

The path was shorter, leading out of a smaller door that Gaster enlarged effortlessly with sheer power. He strode through, adjusting his trench coat in silence.

The Drone followed, scanning the area. It resembled 'The Ruins,' traditional in design, with purple stone marking the walls and floors. Some sections were brighter, though most remained darker. Green vines lined the walls, but the usual golden flowers were conspicuously absent, replaced by vibrant red roses instead.

The air was thick with an overpowering scent—a mix of roses, lavender, and something faintly like sweat. Gaster glanced around, puzzled.

"Wait... where are we?" he asked aloud, producing his control console, only to find it blank. "Peculiar. Usually, I have some measure of access across the variants, but... not this one?" He stepped closer to examine a rose. "Roses... why do I feel an unpleasant sense of familiarity?"

The Observer made a curious noise and chimed as one of the votes completed.

"Hmm, yes. Of course," Gaster muttered. "This would be the question of Aliza, right?" He glanced at the Observer, who confirmed by displaying the results.

Graft the 'Void' Aliza's Code onto your Aliza?

Yes - 2

No - 0

"Fascinating," Gaster remarked, pondering the result. "I wonder if the absence of votes should be counted as a 'no' or simply a lack of interest." He shrugged. "In any case, the vote passes."

He motioned for the Observer, which hovered closer and opened its compartment. Gaster retrieved the code from his pocket—a swirling orange mass. He then pulled out the canister containing your world, grasping a portion of its code like writhing tendrils.

With careful precision, Gaster began threading the new code into the canister, replacing certain parts and adding others where there had been nothing before. Bit by bit, he worked, ensuring each piece slotted perfectly. When finished, the code settled within the world.

"There," he said, returning the canister to the Observer. "It's done. We'll check the results later, once we're finished here. We need to head to Waterfall after I identify this timeline."

Despite summoning the void for answers, it provided nothing, frustrating him. He started walking again, and the Observer followed, its compartment now closed. As they continued, the oddities of this world became more apparent. The ruins felt... wrong. There were no puzzles, no real obstacles to speak of.

They entered a room where the floor had collapsed, revealing a net below—an odd safety feature, considering the lower level already slowed a person's fall, making it safe.

In another area, crude writing labeled 'puzzle' adorned the walls, but the stones typically found there were replaced with strange slots. Gaster simply pushed down the spikes blocking their way and proceeded forward.

"This is a peculiar world," he remarked, his voice uneasy. "Lovely, seemingly pleasant. Yet, it fills me with discomfort... Why?"

As they neared a T-shaped hallway, sounds of knocking and distant conversation became clearer. Gaster quickened his pace, leaving the Observer behind as it paused to scan odd signs and strange totems along the way.

"How disrespectful, denying me access!" The voice was unmistakably some version of Toriel. "It's just... one more. That's all."

Gaster hummed. "Toriel, the caretaker of The Ruins... Perhaps we can gather some answers."

He rounded the corner, then stopped short, making a distinct, surprised noise. The Observer began to follow but was yanked back by a phantom hand. It only managed to catch a glimpse of a woman's dress—black and purple, seemingly made of something soft and comfortable.

"Oh my," Toriel's voice chimed with surprise. "Hello there."

"A-ah, I-I... Wow. Q-queen Toriel..." Gaster stammered nervously as the Observer tried to escape the phantom hand. "It's... surprising to see you like this... here, I mean... Hello."

The Observer made a curious noise, but before it could act, another phantom hand dragged it back.

"I'd recognize that adorably nervous stammering anywhere. It's been a while, Gaster. I didn't know you'd be visiting The Ruins~" Toriel's voice carried a certain sway.

More phantom hands appeared beside the Observer, rapidly constructing a doorway out.

"Ah, well y-yes." Gaster's voice faltered as footsteps approached. "I was just... passing through."

"I haven't seen you since your... cure for us," she added. "Did you dress up just for an old lady like me?"

"W-well, th-the cure?" Gaster's nervous stammer returned.

The Observer, now scanning timelines, tried to identify this world but couldn't. Thankfully, the void intervened, offering a designation:

NC6969692 - Designation: Underlust Variant

The drone didn't recognize the name, curious to learn more, but was promptly shoved back into the pathways. Whirring softly, the door shut behind it, leaving the Observer floating in a slice of the void.

It looked around at the endless darkness, noting a few faint, glistening lights far, far away.

The drone felt confused. What was Underlust? And why had the doctor been so hasty to make it leave?

It floated for a while, waiting for an answer, before whirring in annoyance. It seemed this would take some time. Then, it had a thought, sparked by flickering, flashing letters from the void.

Why not check in on your world? See the results of your... earlier decision. Warning...don't expect something 'pleasant.'

It was warmer today—noticeably more so, especially within the enclosed space. Yet, the darkness provided a comfort that light couldn't match. The faint outlines of the surroundings began to reveal themselves. Inside the confined area was a metal case, marked with a rifle stamp on the front. Above it, coats were packed tightly, their ends brushing against dark brown, nearly black, hair.

The hair belonged to a small figure hiding within the cramped space, gently petting something purring on her lap. Her faded purple eyes scanned the cracks in the door, focusing on the thin rays of light seeping through. She wore an old yellow raincoat, clinging to her frame, visible only when the light briefly touched her.

On her lap, a small kitten purred contentedly, despite the loud rumble of the engine and the occasional bumps that jostled them. The kitten panicked with each sharp bounce, but she soothed it with trembling hands.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, Valerie," she whispered shakily, trying to calm both the kitten and herself.

Fear crept into her mind as she reassured the kitten, silently questioning the wisdom of bringing it with her. Her heart pounded harder as the rumbling engine began to slow, and her eyes darted nervously toward the door. A loud creak, followed by the slam of a door, startled her. She flinched, her hand unintentionally clenching a bit of the kitten's fur, which earned her a soft grumble from Valerie.

"Okay... okay... please ju—" she whispered, trying to move the kitten to a hidden spot she had prepared, but it slipped from her grasp. "V-V-Valerie?" she whimpered, frantically feeling around in the darkness of the closet, her pulse quickening. She could hear the tiny creature scurrying about.

"P-please. I'm sorry," she begged, finally catching the kitten just as the door to her hiding space swung open. Light flooded in, blinding her, and her heart sank as a tall figure loomed over her.

The man's clean attire—crisp shirt, slacks, styled beard, and short hair—stood in sharp contrast to the fear she felt. His orange eyes gleamed coldly as his smile vanished. The kitten, now squirming in her grip, panicked and scratched her, making her release it.

In a swift motion, the man snatched the hissing kitten. "It's amazing how you can't seem to follow simple instructions," he growled, his voice dripping with malice. "I told you to get rid of that fucking coat!"

"W-wait—" she tried to speak, her voice barely a whisper.

"And what did I tell you about these, damned flea ridden cats!" His voice thundered, his words striking fear into her. Her mind raced, her senses overwhelmed. The kitten's loud hissing was abruptly silenced with a sickening snap, and its lifeless body was tossed into the closet beside her. She flinched away, covering her eyes, only to feel his rough hand grip her arm and yank her to her feet. She screamed in terror, but it didn't help.

Pain coursed through her, her thoughts blurred, and everything became distant—a little piece of horror locked away, to be unpacked another day.

When she came back to herself, she was standing by the campfire under the sunny sky, staring blankly at the flickering flames. The charred remains of her yellow raincoat lay at the bottom, melting into the fire. It was her fault. She should've thrown it away, like he'd told her to.

She always messed things up.

"Your daughter is so quiet," said a voice, snapping her out of her trance. She glanced toward it, barely recognizing the woman speaking. Her father was sitting across the fire from her, beside the woman, Lee, who had kind green eyes and a smile. They had been talking, flirting—one of the few times Aliza saw him smile.

"Aliza, sweetie. You don't have to be so quiet, you know," Lee said, patting the spot next to her on the log. "Why don't you come get something to eat?"

Aliza hesitated, glancing between Lee and her father. His smile remained, but his eyes betrayed another emotion—something that made her legs feel weak. He finally spoke.

"C'mon, Aliza. She's always skittish, huh?" He motioned toward her, speaking to Lee. "This is what I was telling you... She's like this after every weekend at her mom's place." He spoke, as if Aliza weren't there. "I even bought her clothes for this trip, and what does her mother send her in?" He gestured to Aliza's outfit. "That ratty purple dress."

Lee gave him a sharp look. "Hey, don't hurt her feelings talking like that," she said firmly, her tone softening. "Besides, what if she likes the dress?"

Aliza took the opportunity to glance around, briefly distracted by the trees and the sloping, winding path they'd traveled up. They were camping in the mountains. Her eyes landed on the motorhome they'd driven in, then on her sandals by the door. They didn't fit her properly and always hurt her feet.

Lee's voice drew her attention back. "Hey, Aliza. C'mere, I got you something." Aliza looked at her in confusion as the woman held out a green ribbon, tied into a neat bow. "I saw you trying to use a smaller one earlier, so... ta-da!"

Aliza hesitated. "But it's... yours?"

"And I'm giving it to you," Lee laughed warmly. "Besides, I bet it'll look way cuter on you."

Aliza fidgeted with the ribbon, unsure what to say. Lee took the ribbon and gently placed it in her hair, adjusting it until it sat comfortably. She even pulled out a small mirror from her pocket to show her.

Aliza stared at her reflection, liking the way it looked, but fear churned in her stomach. Her father's voice cut through her thoughts.

"This is where you say thank you, Aliza."

She flinched. "T-thank you," she stammered.

Lee smiled. "You're very welcome, sweetie." Her phone began to ring. "Oh, I've got a call. I'm surprised I have signal up here. Give me a minute, will you?"

"Take your time," her father said, setting down his drink. As soon as Lee walked away, his expression darkened. "You just can't help but mess things up, can you?"

Aliza's heart raced. "N-no," she whispered, trembling. "I-I-"

"N-n-n-n stop the stuttering. It makes people think there's something wrong with you." He demanded, as she grew silent. "And then you just shut down. That, right there, is part of why nobody likes you," he hissed, his voice quiet but filled with venom. "And now the fire's dying...great job." She glanced at it, and flinched. "Go get some sticks or firewood. Make yourself useful."

"Out there?" Aliza glanced nervously toward the forest. "W-what about... b-bears?"

"They won't waste their time on you. Now go."

Aliza hesitated but obeyed, walking into the woods. Her legs shook as she moved through the trees, gathering sticks. Seconds, minutes, hours. Her bare feet made each step painful, thorns and sharp rocks cutting into her skin. At one point, a thorn drew blood, and she couldn't help but cry.

With her arms full, she stumbled upon a cave, its entrance overgrown with vines. The image of a bear flashed through her mind, but she reminded herself that they probably wouldn't bother with her. She stepped cautiously inside.

In the center of the cave was a pit, with an open ceiling above, casting a faint twilight glow into the structure. Aliza approached the edge and peered down into the dark depths. She couldn't see the bottom.

Her desire to turn away faltered. There was something, calling, beckoning. It was suffocating, crushing, sweet. Her dim eyes staring into the darkness. Heart-rate slowing, steadily. She let out a breath she'd been holding in, and stopped trembling. A stone crumbled, a foot shifted, and she fell.

Her world fading into darkness.

Few fall for a good reason. It's hard to be brave when you're always living in fear. But maybe, just maybe, something good awaits that child at the end of all this. I guess we'll find out someday.

The Observer emitted a low, concerned hum, troubled by what it had witnessed. Had something gone wrong? This was far more unpleasant than the rest, at least from its own perspective. But its thoughts were interrupted when a door materialized, cutting through the fabric of its drifting.

Gravity returned, a space forming around it. The door creaked open, revealing Gaster. The doctor looked disheveled—his normally sharp attire rumpled. His suit was messy, lipstick stains marked his collar, his tie hung loosely, and his vest was half-buttoned. His hat was conspicuously absent.

"Ah, there you all are. Apologies for the delay," Gaster greeted with a weary smile.

The Observer clicked in curiosity.

"Complicated," Gaster admitted, trying to straighten his tie. "I've always avoided that world, so I didn't fully grasp the depth of its problems." He adjusted his collar. "Apparently, the magic in that reality was fading. No new offspring, life draining quicker, people falling more frequently." He paused to finish buttoning his vest. "My variant tried to fix it by using a 'unique' human soul, hoping to resolve these issues. But that caused a new problem—an infection of sorts, eroding the senses of others, driving them to..." He trailed off. "Well, don't worry. After some... 'negotiation', I managed to relieve their Toriel of her burden. I synthesized something based on experiences of love, affection, and...less carnal emotions." He cleared his throat, noticing the lipstick on his collar, his face turning a shade pink. "It's only temporary for now, but with further testing, I—"

The Observer interrupted. "This?" It tapped on something on his finger. "This?"

"Oh... yes," Gaster glanced at the ring on his finger. "I also... got engaged? I think?" He studied the band. "Although, I'm not sure if it was a valid proposal. But that's something to figure out after I synthesize a proper batch of the cure at the lab."

He waved his hand, forming another door in the void. "The solution should solve the core issue and calm them down from their... more destructive tendencies. But it still needs something to stabilize it once it's in their system."

The Observer spoke in your voice, recalling data on the world—fading, dying. "Why?"

"Why?" Gaster echoed, understanding the question. "Ah, well, the cure fades too quickly to be permanent. But after speaking with Toriel, I realized I could perform something like a graft to anchor it." He spoke with renewed enthusiasm. "If I'm right, it could significantly alleviate the burdens of—"

The Observer's voice interrupted again. "Dying-world."

Gaster froze, his hand hovering over the door. He blinked, as if waking from a dream.

"Yes... that's correct," he said quietly, his voice losing its excitement. "A dying world. I can only enter those that are already perishing." He slid his hands into his pockets, staring at the door. "Helping them is futile. I'd just be wasting my own power... on a doomed world."

A silence fell as Gaster reoriented himself. The enthusiasm drained away, replaced by the cold logic of their mission. His trench coat shifted, morphing back into the darker lab coat he once wore. The lipstick stains blurred and vanished. His vest remained, but he let the tie and the ring melt into his palm.

The Observer watched as he collected himself.

"Gaster," your voice asked. "Are you a good guy or a bad guy?"

Gaster pondered this for a moment, conjuring a cigarette. "Wasting time on morality in a place like this will only get you erased," he replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "All it does is weaken you. Distracts you. And then, it hurts you." With a snap of his fingers, the door to the lab crumbled. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a strand of code. "By the way, I found the Temmie of that timeline. It seems its 'oddity' is that it wasn't affected by lust, remaining... sane, in a sense. I believe it'll suit your purposes."

The Observer tapped Gaster, but stopped when it saw the glare in his eyes. It opened a compartment, weaving the code into your world, giving space for the peculiar creature.

The drone whirred again, concerned.

"No. No questions." Gaster's voice was stern, turning fully to face the Observer. "We need to focus on the task at hand. Now, what's the current vote?"

The Observer obeyed.

For the Blind/Blue Role

Glyde - 1

Papyrus - 1

Napstablook - 3

Alphys - 1

Ruins Rock - 3

For the Ambitious Role

Mettaton - 2

Chara - 2

Toriel - 2

Papyrus - 1

Martlet - 1

Gaster crossed his arms, reviewing the results. He glanced at a few of you, his disapproval evident.

"We cannot repeat individuals. So, those who voted for Chara—either you missed that she's currently in the 'Ruins' of this world, or you're simply trying to be funny." His tone was dry as he continued, "I'm afraid I'll have to nix those votes. Please cast a new one."

The Observer tapped the last name on the Ambitious Role list, as Gaster flicked his cigarette away.

"Martlet… I'm not entirely familiar with this one," Gaster mused. "If I recall correctly, there was a former Royal Guard by that name in my home world, listed among the 'fallen' monsters. I believe she 'fell down' after the death of a human she was protecting from the throne." His eyes scanned the list again, lingering on a name for a moment. "As for the others, the vote is still open. There's time to decide a winner—before I have to break out the coin again."

He chuckled darkly at the thought before whisking the list away, leaving only the 'Blue Role' or 'Blind Role.'

Tapping the list, he raised an eyebrow. "The Ruins Rock? You do realize it's less of a 'monster' and more of an animate stone, right?" His tone was skeptical. "A peculiar creature… and evidently, one you feel strongly about. I take it this amuses you?" His stare sharpened, a clear judgment in his gaze. "If that's your final choice, I'll abide by it. Regardless of my... opinion on the matter."

The Observer closed the list, while Gaster lit another cigarette, taking longer, harsher drags than before. His expression grew colder.

"Regardless," he said with a sigh, "we can head to one of the more intact timelines. We'll start with a world where we can find either Napstablook or... your Rock." He almost spat the last word, as if it left a bitter taste. "By the time we arrive, hopefully, a decision will be finalized. Come along, you scrap heap."

With a gesture, the drone followed, whirring quietly as they set off.

It seemed there was nothing more to be said.