Your focus was split, though there was only a brief moment to make a decision.
The Observer jolted back to life, finding itself placed on a desk in what appeared to be a grocery store. In front of it stood two people: the first was a variant of Sans, notably green, with a screwdriver in hand. The Observer's sensors quickly identified him as "parody-oriented, avoid"—a note left by Gaster about beings marked as "dangerous."
This Sans remarked, "hey, look at that, it's working, Lavender." Chara stepped into view, arching an eyebrow. "You can make any checks out to 'tumblrsexyman'... uh, whenever."
"Okay, but—answer when you're ready here," Chara folded her hands thoughtfully over her nose before tilting them forward. "What the hell?"
Sans chuckled. "like half the people around here, it just needed a little screwin'."
"No, seriously, Greeny. What the hell?" She gestured to the Observer. "All you did was turn a screwdriver."
"didn't you know? I'm a doctor in my backstory."
She squinted, unimpressed. "Oh, really? What kind of doctor?"
"anesthesiologist."
This answer earned a long, incredulous stare. To confirm, he rummaged in his pocket and produced a certification, flashing it toward her and then toward the Observer.
Chara's eyebrow lifted. "Your powers are bullshit."
"whaaat, no way! 'fuck logic, I do what I want' is a pretty cool powerset, if you ask me. but hey, what do I know?" He nudged her with a grin. "besides, it's not like your power's not busted, pillow princess."
"Actually, fuck off, Greeny." Chara rolled her eyes, flipping him off.
"right, forgot that's your other half." He laughed harder as she responded with an exasperated sigh.
"Keep this up, and you're gonna have to hang out with someone from your world. Oh, wait—"
"damn, that's cold." They both laughed again, the tension easing a bit. "you know I'm just messing with you. I like you and yours."
"Thanks, man." She rested an arm on the Observer as they talked, chuckling. "I like you well enough too."
"well, since that's all settled... drinks later?" he asked.
"How much later?"
"whenever you wake up tomorrow."
"Uh... that's like 3 A.M. Way too early, dude."
"it's a multiverse, Lavender. it's literally always five o'clock somewhere."
"Can't argue with that logic," she muttered, before glancing around. "Got a backpack around here?"
"sure. pet backpack, too."
"Mind if I borrow it?"
"pfft, nah. you can have it." He gave a knowing glance toward the Observer. "you'll probably be hauling that thing around for another chapter or two, at least until the paths converge, when he realizes he doesn't have it."
Chara blinked. "You're not going to explain that, are you."
"nah. I am the king of cryptic bullshit." He handed her a backpack, adding, "now shoo—stories are supposed to have, like, forward progress."
"Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Greeny." She slid on the backpack, adjusting the Observer so it faced forward. "I'll hit you up later, K?"
"later, Lavender. try not to get killed by the poll, okay? remember, endear yourself to the people."
"Hey, no worries. I'm definitely trying." She assured him while heading back out onto the street, muttering to herself, "What people?"
The Observer had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, partly due to your collective requests for caution, and partly because of the registered threat level of this peculiar Sans. They were now a good distance from where they'd been last, or so it seemed.
"You've been super quiet," Chara commented, glancing over her shoulder.
One of you replied, "Yes."
She raised an eyebrow. "That was a weird voice." Walking down the snowy street, she added, "You, uh, trying out different ones or something?"
The Observer answered, "No."
"Oh… okay?" She waited for further explanation that didn't come. "Anyway, you zoned out for a bit. I guess you shut down, or… passed out, or something."
"Detected interference," it clarified.
"From what?"
"Unknown."
"Right. That's not ominous at all."
"No further information available," the Observer replied, managing a fluid sentence.
"Hey, listen to you! You're not stuttering anymore," she noted as it processed this change. "Honestly, I have no idea what he did exactly. One of your parts didn't fit back in, so I'm carrying it until I can try and repair you properly."
"Missing part?" it asked.
Chara grabbed a nearby pole as she turned, guiding them toward a staircase. She glanced around, confirming that the area was deserted.
"Yeah. Some sort of… thing. I think it's a backup battery or something," she admitted, then quickly added, "Don't worry about it. It's not broken." She paused, then asked, "Also—hey—before you blanked out, you mentioned grafting, right?"
They stopped halfway up the staircase, where she stepped off and onto the roof of a nearby building. Heading into a narrow alleyway behind it, she navigated through the dark, claustrophobic space with just enough room to pass.
"Yes," the Observer confirmed. "A decision… two times maximum."
She hummed thoughtfully. "A decision, huh? Well, yeah—you can only do it 'safely', twice, at most," she said, recalling something. "And, you should really be careful talking about it around here. The Collector isn't a fan of it. He calls it 'patching' and thinks it's, uh… cheating."
"Patching?"
"Yeah, patching, like patching a file. Patching code. That kind of thing."
She stopped and held up her hand, conjuring a purple light that illuminated the narrow corridor. Reaching out, she felt along the wall until her hand found a hidden latch. With a pull, the wall began to shift, sliding open to reveal a larger, dimly lit corridor beyond, resembling a judgment hall.
The Observer scanned the area, identifying it as darkened and vast. Chara stepped into it, turned, and sealed the entrance behind her. She tossed the light ahead, and it bobbed along as she began walking down the hall, her steps echoing in the silence.
The Observer spoke up. "Are you grafted?"
"No." She glanced back at it, then asked, "So, what are you, uh, 'grafting,' exactly?"
"Character," it replied.
"Yeah, I got that. Who, and why?" she wondered aloud, the light trailing along with them.
The Observer considered her actions so far, weighing whether she might be trustworthy. Perhaps, it concluded, she was.
"Chara," it answered.
She stopped, pausing in front of a door where light poured out from the edges. "Interesting. Somehow, I guess you don't mean me." She waited, but there was no response. "Are you… trying to graft me to someone else?"
"No. Was not presented that option," it replied. "Voting is… concluded?"
Uncertain, it searched for results, tallying your responses and concluding that you did indeed want to graft the remnants of the phantom to the Chara from your own world.
"That's the single most ominous thing you've said," she remarked, adding, "And, to be honest, it kind of confirms what I figured you were."
"Observer," it replied.
"Yeah." She scanned the area with a softly glowing eye. "You're designed to, I guess, interact with the 'Watchers,' aren't you?"
"Watchers?"
"Creatures that exist uh, beyond the confines of this reality. To them, this world might be like… I don't know, a game, a story, or a comic book, maybe. It's sort of hard to know."
"Yes. Is this… bad?"
"Nah." For a moment, her gaze seemed to pierce beyond, as if glimpsing you all directly, her eye twitching. "I won't… press. But uh, hopefully…" She strained, and black blood began to seep from her eye. "You don't mean any harm."
"No harm," the Observer replied. "Voting."
It decided not to share the rest of the information unless you all were comfortable with it. It wasn't entirely sure how to proceed, as its signal briefly encountered interference again, which it attempted to correct.
Chara let out a breath and turned her gaze away from you. "We can get into it later. For now, let's, uh, get you all fixed up, pal."
"Thanking," it replied, then corrected itself. "Thank you."
"Huh. Oh, no worries." She stepped through the doorway and into the light, wiping the blood on her sleeve.
The area around them shifted rapidly as they passed through the dimensional gate, revealing a world—that felt oddly familiar. The Observer scanned the surroundings, noting the landscape filled with large, flower-like trees and the warm hues of late summer transitioning into early fall. Its sensors picked up a distinct apple scent from fields of wheat near the exit.
Some trees in the surrounding forest had been cleared, and a few monsters patrolled nearby, while others worked the fields, chatting with each other in a warm, inviting manner. The Observer focused on the winding forest path ahead, where thickly intertwined branches created a darkened trail illuminated by holiday lights and festive signs.
Beyond this path, a hillside city came into view, complete with a winding road, protective walls, and an open gate. Tall buildings stood within, and there, stretched between two signposts, was a large banner that read, "You're Our Hero!" A Delta Rune adorned its center, with a purple heart replacing the usual symbol.
Chara spotted it and flushed slightly. "Ah… g-guys… wow, that's… dorks."
The Observer remarked, "Familiar. Echo flower. River. This is—"
"This is my home world," she replied, starting down the path. "Welcome, welcome. It uh, went through some rough patches, but it's better now. No more wild creature attacks. And the famine that was driving everyone crazy? That's been dealt with too."
A nearby monster spoke up, "All because of you."
"It was a team effort, Doggo. Don't say it like that," she laughed nervously.
The bipedal dog-woman glanced at the Observer and added, "It was awful. The core broke down because of those wicked creatures. Without its magic, the water didn't flow properly," she explained, as Chara's heartbeat grew faster. "Whole fields went barren. Magical reserves dried up just trying to keep up with demand." The human's breath grew shallow. "Everyone was starving. Some even—"
"Hey! Let's shift the conversation. Is my wife around?" Chara cut in quickly. "Sort of… on a time crunch."
"Huh? Oh, yes, she's in town. Did the last battle go well?" The monster glanced at her with concern as a few others looked up.
"It did, yeah. All good things. We're safe," she assured them, adding, "Just, busy is all. I'll catch up later, alright?" She waved briefly. "Bye."
With that little wave, she started running down the road, picking up speed. The signal began to flicker as they moved along the forest path. The Observer noted it was well-maintained—static started to break up its vision—unlike the world near the Echo Flower. Some of the trees—more interference surged—there was a guard station as well.
The Observer let out a small chirp as its vision grew increasingly distorted.
The air was noticeably colder than in previous versions of Snowdin. The Observer took note of this as they moved, briefly aware of a gap in its memory. Last it checked, they were beside the town's central tree. Now…
Gaster stood next to this world's Frisk, facing another skeleton in a snow-covered clearing. Heavy snowfall smothered the surroundings, obscuring visibility. One of you whispered, urging the Observer to claim this Frisk for later use. Another laughed, predicting the child's impending doom.
This world's Papyrus looked different from his more traditional counterpart. He was clad in full plate armor, complete with a helmet that made him appear more intimidating. His signature red scarf hung more like a short cape, lending an ominous air to his stance.
"I thought I'd instructed everyone to stay in their homes," Papyrus said, his voice missing its usual upbeat inflection.
Frisk squeezed Gaster's hand. The doctor scanned the armored skeleton before him, a mixture of admiration and concern on his face.
"Did you?" Gaster asked. "I'm sure you did, but it seems I missed the announcement." He gestured to Frisk. "Luckily, though—I found this child freezing beneath a tree. Evidently, a 'friend' of theirs is trying to harm them, and they're terrified."
Both Papyrus and Frisk exchanged glances. Papyrus's eyes, barely visible through the helmet's slit, narrowed as he hefted a claymore with a bone handle, its blade glowing faintly orange.
"You'll turn the human over to me, and I'll handle it," he commanded.
"Will I?" Gaster replied smoothly.
"You will."
"And why, exactly, would I do that?"
"As a Royal Guard, it is my duty and obligation—not yours."
Gaster considered this, then asked, "You're Papyrus, am I correct?" No response. "Interesting. I heard you were once a rather lighthearted fellow." He smiled slightly. "How about this—we play a simple numbers game. If you win, I'll turn the human over to you. If not, they go free."
Papyrus's eyes vanished into shadow beneath his helmet as he tightened his grip on the blade, weighing the proposal. Then he raised his weapon, leveling it toward the doctor. The world flashed black and white, and Frisk gasped in panic.
"No. No more games. No more puzzles." Papyrus's voice was cold and resolute. "Undyne is counting on me. E-everyone is counting on me... I cannot fail. I will not fail. I am the newest member of the Royal Guard." He flourished his claymore, malice radiating from him. "I am the Great Papyrus, and you will surrender—or else."
Gaster shrugged, responding coolly, "If nothing else, I admire your conviction."
Without warning, a wave of blue bones surged toward Frisk and Gaster. They stood their ground as bones erupted from the earth. Gaster grasped Frisk's hand, side-stepping one attack of pale bones, then hoisted Frisk into the air as a cluster of bones shot through him, piercing at odd angles.
In response, his eyes flashed yellow, a burst of energy incinerating the bones and obliterating those that neared. A phantom hand caught Frisk mid-air, drawing them safely out of the battleground as Gaster turned, snapping his fingers.
Suddenly, the ground around them—from the edge of Waterfall's entrance to the surrounding trees—flickered, transforming into black-and-white tiles. Rows of blasters appeared overhead, blocking out the snow. Papyrus shifted warily, noticing numbers materializing on the tiles.
"Let's start simple," Gaster said. "Two plus two is?"
The blasters began charging. Papyrus leapt, landing on the tile marked four as beams rained down, scorching the ground and tearing through the snow. A blue beam washed over him, dealing no damage. As the firing ceased, the numbers on the tiles flickered and changed.
"Four times three is?" Gaster continued.
Papyrus grunted, spotting the twelve nearby. He dashed toward it, gritting his teeth as a blue beam nicked him, dealing damage before he reached the safe tile. As the beams receded, he swung his claymore in Gaster's direction. Gaster took a measured step to the side, allowing the orange energy to pass harmlessly through him.
Frisk signed frantically, "Wait, please, we don't want to fight."
Papyrus summoned a blaster of his own, slashing repeatedly with his orange weapon, forcing Gaster to move. The blaster fired, aimed directly at Frisk. The child let out a panicked sound, but before the shot could land, a green barrier materialized, blocking the attack.
Gaster's voice cut through the chaos. "Dodge or die."
Frisk nodded. The ground flashed beneath them, and they quickly darted to the side. Bones erupted where they had been, the orange blade slashing down, piercing the earth as orange light spread. Papyrus focused, the ground breaking open as more bones flung in every direction. Gaster grinned, watching as the battlefield consumed all visibility.
He weaved through the barrage, having identified the source of the attacks. A noise of pain reached his ears—Frisk had been hit. The child staggered, looking badly hurt from the blow.
"Focused on your goals. I can respect that," Gaster mused, his hand twitching. "But, do try to have some fun."
Various phantom hands appeared, lining the edges of the arena. Papyrus lunged at Gaster, but in the blink of an eye, his soul turned blue and he was flung back across the clearing. The ground suddenly flickered, displaying strange circles—checker-pieces in black and red.
Frisk was snatched by a phantom hand, moved to one side, while Papyrus was dropped onto the other. Gaster vanished and reappeared at the sides, motioning as a timer appeared in the air.
Frisk signed, confused, "Papyrus, please. We can stop now."
Papyrus scanned the board, his gaze narrowing. "I'm not playing your games. Surrender. Right. Now."
He started racing across the board, kicking one of the pieces away while conjuring bones from all directions, which fired across the board. Gaster tilted his head, his phantom hands flickering with yellow light, incinerating each attack before it could land. The checker pieces shook briefly before firing at Papyrus, striking him from various angles and punishing his defiance.
Gaster tsked. "No cheating now. You're meant to play by the rules."
Papyrus roared beneath his helm, throwing his sword at Gaster. The doctor simply vanished into the dark. Papyrus raised his hand, bones tearing from the ground around him, aiming at the phantom hands. Most were incinerated before they could reach, but a few struck. Papyrus caught his blade mid-air and tossed it again—this time at Frisk.
Frisk timed it perfectly, moving as the blade approached. They phased through the orange weapon, letting it fly back toward Papyrus. He caught it, feeling a strange sensation, and glanced over his shoulder to see Gaster standing behind him.
"So stoic," Gaster remarked, vanishing just as Papyrus swung, the blade turning pale. "How about this, then?" Gaster appeared beside Frisk. "Since you don't want to play my game, I guess we'll do… something else."
He dug into his jacket pocket and summoned six human souls. Frisk's eyes widened in alarm as the souls rose, shifted, and swirled around them, each becoming a copy of Frisk with different eye colors.
Papyrus demanded, "What... What did you do?"
Frisk signed, as the others did. "Papyrus, something's wrong. Please, please stop. We're friends. Right?"
Gaster snapped his fingers. The various Frisk duplicates' eyes opened—including the original's. They all vanished in an instant, an energy consuming the area, pulling Papyrus along as well.
The area warped. Suddenly, Papyrus found himself alone at a crossroads, with signs pointing in two directions. One read "Patience," the other "Bravery."
"What motivates you to do this?" Gaster's voice echoed. "What inspires you to act like this?"
A roaring noise filled the air as Papyrus barely dodged a blaster, another forming above him. The light didn't fade as it fired. He dodged again, but the area around him continued to be engulfed. He had to make a choice.
Without hesitation, he chose and sprinted down the road marked "Bravery." As he ran, he saw something familiar up ahead: himself, his brother, and the human, standing at the electricity maze. Frisk was holding the shocking orb on one side of the maze, while Papyrus and his brother stood on the other. He remembered this moment—he'd almost forgotten to place the orb on the other end.
Gaster commented, "Your brother told you about the anomaly, didn't he?"
Papyrus stopped, confused. "What is the meaning of this?"
"And you felt 'brave' trying to vanquish it, didn't you?" Gaster asked, as Frisk stepped closer to the edge. "But in this moment... do you know who was truly brave?"
Frisk took a misstep and hit the wrong side of the maze, triggering a surge of electricity that coursed through them. A scream of pain echoed as they tried to correct their mistake, only to hit the wrong side again, wincing in pain.
Papyrus's eyes widened. "This... this didn't happen. They crossed it without—"
"A child who can manipulate time. An anomaly. However, it mostly activates when..." Gaster's voice trailed off as Frisk made another wrong step, the screaming intensifying before it stopped abruptly. "...they die."
Papyrus shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixated on the orb, still pulsing with energy as it electrified Frisk's remains. The scent of burning lingered in the air as the scene repeated itself, over and over, nearly a dozen times, until Frisk finally succeeded.
"That's..." Papyrus trailed off.
"Bravery," Gaster remarked, his voice cold. "Now... reward it."
Papyrus hesitated, his grip tightening on his weapon. He heard the blasters approaching. With determination, he rushed toward Frisk, feeling the ground crack beneath him. He swung out, spotting the orange soul, and the blade connected, tearing through their body. The orange soul shook violently before shattering into pieces, blood splashing across him.
Papyrus appeared back on the path again. This time, there were two new signs. One read "Kindness," the next "Perseverance."
"Stop. Stop it right now!" Papyrus demanded, before being hit by a blaster from above.
The blast shattered his helmet and tore at his armor, making him stagger forward.
Gaster's voice cut through the chaos. "Be honest now. When you were given this order, how did you justify your decision to carry it out?"
Papyrus felt the burn of pain and rushed down another path, dodging the ongoing attacks. He pushed through a thicket of trees, glancing around in confusion. Suddenly, he saw the human.
Frisk was at Doggo's stand, being attacked by the guard. But instead of fighting, they managed to end the confrontation peacefully, petting the injured Doggo after taking a few hits themselves. Papyrus watched, bewildered, as the human continued on, bleeding but pressing forward. He tried to step in, but no matter how hard he tried, he could only observe.
One by one, the monsters Frisk encountered attacked them, but no matter the injury, the human spared them all—showing kindness, offering mercy. Papyrus's expression shifted as he watched the cycle repeat. He saw Frisk die multiple times, only to return, trembling with fear but still insisting on showing mercy.
At last, the barrier keeping him locked in place shattered, and Papyrus stepped forward. He saw the human offering Sans a Nice Cream. His brother turned it down, suggesting that Frisk "go back," to run to the ruins. To somewhere they'd be safe. Papyrus felt confused, noticing the child's refusal.
As Sans walked away, Papyrus approached. Frisk seemed to notice him, offering the Nice Cream to him as well. His grip tightened around his weapon.
Gaster's voice pierced the silence. "Well? Go on. You see this as 'kindness' to monsterkind, don't you?" Adding. "A 'kinder end' for your 'friend.'"
Papyrus breathed heavily, his grip tightening further. One of his fingers cracked as he raised his weapon, slashing down. The blade connected with a sickening thud, and blood splashed against him. The Nice Cream melted as red flowed over it, and a green soul manifested, trembling before shattering.
Again, Papyrus found himself back on the road. Two paths awaited him: "Justice" and "Integrity."
Gaster's voice echoed. "You know how kind they are. You know they won't fight you. No matter what you do. No matter your actions. You know how rare that goodness is. And yet you persist… why?"
Papyrus gritted his teeth. "Fight me already. Stop... this. Please."
A whirring sound came from above, and Papyrus knew he wasn't getting a reprieve. He scanned the two paths, then chose one, racing down it again. His steps felt heavier, his breaths colder.
He arrived at a familiar spot. Standing beside Sans, he saw Frisk in front of them. It was his brother's puzzle: a word search. Frisk sat down, stopping before it.
Papyrus had expected the human to ignore the puzzle. He thought they wouldn't take it seriously, but when Sans assured them of its importance, Frisk sat down and began to search.
For almost an hour, Frisk worked at it, shivering and sneezing, looking miserable. Sans even offered them a chance to stop, but Frisk refused. They wouldn't quit.
It was a "puzzle." It was something supposedly fair, something his brother had deemed important. And Frisk respected it, maintaining their integrity by not cheating, not lying. When they couldn't find all the words, they tried to surrender.
Sans had remarked, "well, ya didn't win, 'cause it wasn't meant to be fair."
Frisk signed, confused. "What?"
Papyrus asked, "What do you mean, Sans?"
"wasy." Sans had replied, showing him. "I made it unwinnable, 'cause sometimes, kid, you... you'll come across things that won't play fair. that you can't win. Ya know?"
The first time around, Papyrus had gotten angry, annoyed, even. He told his brother it wasn't fair and moved on. Even as Frisk conceded and offered surrender, still respecting the game. But now though...
He scanned Frisk before him now, muttering, "What is... the point of this?"
Gaster's voice rang out. "What are you waiting for? They admitted defeat, didn't they?"
Papyrus gritted his teeth. "This wasn't a fair, though."
"Neither is fighting an opponent who doesn't want to fight you back," Gaster whispered, his words cutting. "Where's your integrity? Your conviction? I thought it didn't matter."
Papyrus steeled himself, raising his weapon. With a desperate cry, he swung the blade down as hard and fast as he could. Slaying the human, bloodying the snow. The blue soul manifested, shaking before shattering.
Then he heard it. "yeah. I figured that would happen."
Turning, Papyrus saw Sans standing behind him, still. "Sans… it's... I-I had to. I-"
"just uh. don't. okay?" Sans muttered, while putting up his hood. "this is why I don't make promises."
Once more, Papyrus found himself displaced, back on the road. This time, only one path lay ahead. The sign read "Determination."
"Integrity is such a rare thing among humanity," Gaster remarked with a playful chuckle. "They're prone to lie, cheat, steal. Murder. Destroy. They constantly indulge and worship the worst among them. It makes integrity a rare and valuable thing, don't you think?"
Papyrus waited for the blasters, but they never came. He knew they weren't needed anymore. He stepped down the path, his sword dragging along the ground. His expression was one of exhaustion.
Finally, he found himself standing in the clearing of the battle. He watched as the human approached, excited and happy to see him. Frisk hurried over, seemingly eager to explain that they were meant to fight. Then, to his surprise, they hugged him.
This hadn't happened before, not from his perspective. He didn't remember it. And yet… he somehow knew it 'had' happened. And he somehow knew what would come next. He saw himself not respond, saw Frisk's confusion as they stepped back. Then, a sharpened bone punched through their chest. Papyrus winced.
The scene repeated again and again. Each time, the child was more hesitant, listening as he explained that he was ordered to kill them, to take their soul, to free everyone. He had to do it. He couldn't fail.
Over and over, the same outcome: Frisk refused to fight, pleading with him to stop. They begged to be friends again, desperate to understand this "betrayal," confused by what they'd done "wrong."
Then, finally, the barrier disappeared. The snow was heavy as he opened his eyes to the other side of the battlefield. He saw Gaster standing to the side, observing. And there, in the center, sat Frisk, their expression fearful as they gazed up at him. Around them were the bodies of the other Frisk 'copies,' slashed apart, slaughtered.
He felt confusion wash over him until the memories rushed back—the 'road' was an illusion. He had been fighting. Every blow had struck one of them down. Tore them apart, until, at last, there was just one left. The original.
"One must have determination," Gaster's voice echoed. "To keep going, no matter what. Not a measure of right or wrong, but of acceptance or defiance. And Frisk?" He paused as the injured human's tears fell. "They've lost it. No more resetting. No more trying again. Congratulations… you destroyed the last ounce of hope they had." Papyrus glanced away, hearing Gaster clap slowly. "So, what will you do?"
Papyrus expected something—perhaps a remark, a plea, an attempt to incite him to 'remember.' But there was nothing. Only the crying child and his bloodied weapon.
The Observer watched, silent, waiting. Papyrus tried to raise his weapon one last time, but his hands were shaking so violently that the blade slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground. He fell to his knees.
"I can't," he whispered, the words barely audible.
"You already have," Gaster replied, his tone cold. "Countless times before. Three times on the road. And six times here. Are you honestly feeling guilt…hesitation...after everything?"
"I... I don't know... I..." Papyrus stared at the bloodied ground. "What have I done?"
To his surprise, he felt movement. Suddenly, he was embraced. Frisk, tears rushing down their face, held him tight.
Frisk chose to Spare him.
Hesitantly, Papyrus returned the hug, an expression of misery and regret on his face. The Observer made a small chirping noise, seemingly relieved that it had ended like this.
But then Gaster's voice broke the moment. "How touching," he said with a cold, mocking tone, his footsteps echoing as he drew near. "A 'happy' ending. Forgiveness. Redemption. How beautiful."
For a moment, silence hung in the air, tense and heavy. The only sound was the whisper of the wind through the trees. Papyrus's shoulders relaxed, Frisk's expression softened, and a glimmer of hope filled the atmosphere.
But in an instant, Gaster's smile vanished. Without a word, and with a flicker of speed, he plunged a hand directly through Frisk's chest. His fingers glowed with red energy, and Frisk gasped, their eyes widening in horror. Gaster pulled back, letting their body crumple to the ground, their soul suspended in his hand.
Papyrus cried out, his voice broken and raw. "NO—!" He felt confused, betrayed. "I-I don't... W-WHY?"
Gaster held up the soul, examining it with a clinical gaze before glancing back at the fallen Papyrus. His expression was cold, unfeeling. "A disappointing end," he mused. "I had hoped your resolve was limitless. But no matter. I can correct that weakness."
With a final, heartless gesture, Gaster conjured a swirling aura around Papyrus. The magic wrapped around him like shackles, tightening as his form flickered. He tried to rise, to strike at the doctor, but the magic shattered him in a painful display, erupting into code as his body disintegrated.
The doctor opened his coat, and the swirling torrent of energy wove slowly into a pocket. He examined the human's heart-shaped soul, grasping it tighter, cracks beginning to form as his smile grew. Malice and irritation flickered in his eyes.
The Observer replayed one of your thoughts, one it had overheard: "Are we keeping this Frisk? They seem nice enough?"
The doctor's grip loosened, his dark expression shifting to you. "Of course, one of you would want to keep it," he said, gesturing dismissively. "I was hoping for a satisfying crunch." His voice dripped with malice. "But if that is what you want... perhaps we can use it later."
He focused, codifying the heart-shaped soul before reaching down to pick up the body. With ease, he tore it apart, weaving the two pieces back together before slipping them into his coat pocket.
"Mangy brat cost me several souls, for a less desirable variant of what I'd been seeking," he muttered, lighting a cigarette. "But oh well. I suppose now, you need to decide which version of Papyrus you want, from the three we've obtained."
The Observer, clearly off-put by the doctor's actions, reminded you of the three options:
DeadEnd!Papyrus
Disbelief!Papyrus
Serious!Papyrus
Gaster then asked, "By the way, what was the result of the grafting vote?" The Observer quickly tallied the votes, ready to present the full findings when Gaster interrupted. "I just need a yes or no."
The Observer spoke in its own voice. "Yes."
"Very well," Gaster said with a sharp nod. "Let's handle that now, shall we?" He motioned to the Observer, producing a piece of code from his jacket. "We can—"
He trailed off as the slot opened. The Observer emitted a whirr of surprise. It was empty. The cannister, your world, wasn't here.
"How... where did...?" Gaster's voice was laced with frustration. "Fantastic. Well, I know where we're going next."
He pocketed the Chara code, turning with a flick of his wrist. An unstable passageway rapidly formed before them. The sound of fast, angry footsteps echoed as Gaster entered, and the Observer, moving quicker than usual, followed reluctantly.