Green and Baxter were deep in conversation, discussing what had transpired during Green's absence. Their journey had taken them through a shattered realm—the remnants of what once belonged to the now-deceased King Ralsei. The domain lay in ruin, a broken world strewn with fragments of its former grandeur.
Ruined streets stretched before them, lined with the remnants of grand, repetitive buildings now reduced to rubble. Shredded cloth piled in corners, some still smoldering from fires that remaining denizens struggled to extinguish. Pale, chess-like humanoids—the guards of this place—stood motionless and expressionless, stripped of their false life with the death of their creator.
Among these surroundings, a question lingered. It was unspoken yet persistent, threading through the mind like an intrusive whisper. It was your question.
Green broke the silence. "I've never seen one of the floors all messed up like this," he commented, glancing around at the devastation. "whole worlds too?"
Baxter nodded slightly. "As I understand it, yes. The intruders caused... 'considerable' damage. But it was contained—not as widespread as it could've been."
Green let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "heh, damn... I get ganked for one day, and everything goes to hell. guess I better try and avoid that in the future, huh?"
Your voice cut through the exchange, calm and direct. "My query about King Ralsei potentially being available for future choices is still up."
The statement earned a glance from the pair. They stood in a clearing where an apartment complex had collapsed, leaving a jagged void in the cityscape. Around them, survivors sifted through rubble—families sobbing quietly, workers tirelessly gathering what could be salvaged. Eldritch flowers floated through the wreckage, lifting larger debris as if aiding in the reconstruction.
Green turned toward you. "hey, there you are. You went all quiet for a bit… kinda creepy when you do that."
Baxter, however, honed in on your question. "King Ralsei?"
"not sure what they mean either," Green admitted with a shrug. "got any ideas?"
Baxter delved into the chaotic stream of whispers that formed your thoughts. Among the cluttered phrases and tangled meanings, it found the thread it sought. The words flowed, faint yet clear.
"Is Ralsei's code available for use?" you had asked. "While that specific version was... 'mean,' I'm sure it could be edited out."
Baxter processed this before responding, its tone measured. "This unit is... uncertain."
Green cocked his head. "did Chara kill him?"
"I believe so," Baxter replied.
"then no." Green's response was immediate, decisive, as he began walking.
Baxter hesitated, following after him. "What is the meaning of 'no' in this context?"
"well, BB, Chara is... scary to a lot of folks. mentioned it when you first met me," Green explained, gesturing vaguely. "her soul is all... messed up. when she kills someone or is near their remains, she absorbs part of their soul. studied it once—no broken afterlife for them, just 'pop,' nothing. That's how she has all those spells—stuff she didn't learn, just... got, y'know?"
Baxter's lens flickered a curious blue. "Then... can she not codify?"
"if she knew how? definitely. but ain't nobody taught her. only the big boss, Asriel Collector of Worlds, and his thugs really know 'how.'" Green's tone grew quieter. "imagine it made the funeral... unpleasant."
The two reached the elevator system between floors. Its mechanisms had been repaired, faintly glowing with ethereal energy. Baxter mulled over Green's words before speaking.
"It is a funeral. Is it not always unpleasant?"
"sure, but most people can pay their respects. Chara... she couldn't without stealing some of Aliza's soul. gaining power from her. no rest for folks like that. she'd never want to, either, specially for her wife." Green said, glancing at Baxter. "what?"
The drone's voice lowered. "This unit was informed... Chara was 'with' Aliza when she perished."
Green froze. The words sank in slowly, his expression unreadable. He didn't respond, unsure of what to say. Instead, he motioned silently toward the elevator, stepping into its shadowy interior. Baxter followed, the weight of unspoken truths settling between them.
The darkness of the elevator surrounded them, swirling as if it knew their destination. It wrapped around them, pulling them away.
As they traveled down, down, down, the silence became more than mere quiet—it was oppressive, unnerving.
When the elevator finally opened, it revealed the snowy expanse of the Joined World's top floor. This floor being where the access point was for Chara's world. It now it lay ravaged. The devastation was stark.
Green scanned the battered surroundings. Buildings stood with shattered windows and collapsed walls. Openings leading to lower floors were obstructed by dangling debris or blocked by piles of shattered stone and heavy snow. The wind howled through the area, fierce enough to knock Green's hood up and nearly send him tumbling forward. Baxter, noticing this, stabilized itself against the relentless gale.
The blizzard of snow obscured vision beyond a few feet, forcing the drone to adjust its lens. Through the torrent, it could make out figures working in the chaos—repairing structures, offering shelter. The pair moved forward, weaving through alleys where businesses had been converted into makeshift shelters. Tents and coverings were fastened to keep out the bitter cold, while shopkeepers of the remaining establishments distributed food and aid where they could.
"go figure. top floor got hit the hardest," Green muttered as they approached what used to be his workshop. He gestured toward the wreckage. "hey, look at that. home sweet home. gotta thank em for panting, huh?"
The building was little more than a heap of rubble, crushed beneath the collapse of another structure. Part of the pathway was blocked by debris, but Green climbed over it with practiced ease. Baxter noted with some relief that the Collectors' Floweys were hard at work here too. It seemed Gaster's departure had caused far more destruction than it fully realized.
As they neared a staircase leading to the hidden alleyway, Green paused. His gaze shifted toward a group gathered nearby. Magic rippled through the air, lifting stones and slotting them into place as sections of a building were repaired.
A tall skeleton stood among the group, wearing an orange hoodie, with a an friendship bracelet on his wrist. Green stepped in to help move debris, drawing a glance from the skeleton as the building became partially reconstructed.
"Heya, Green," the skeleton greeted casually. Baxter recognized him immediately and chirped in response, moving closer.
Baxter recognized this skeleton. Papyrus, the one it had met with Chara, when it was being worked on.
"Hello, Papyrus. We're—" Baxter began.
Green cut in, his tone somber. "I'm sorry about how things went down," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I—"
Papyrus interrupted. "I know you tried to help, Green. I also know the Faker stopped you… heard all about it." He adjusted his hoodie, slipping his hands into his shorts. "Doesn't change anything... but I ain't mad at you."
Green hesitated. "you mad at her?" he asked cautiously.
Papyrus didn't answer immediately, but his silence spoke volumes.
"you know damn well she didn't mean it," Green pressed.
Papyrus finally spoke, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. His voice was unsteady. "Doesn't really matter, does it?" He turned away. "Later, Green."
"hey, don't—" Green called after him. "don't act like that... it ain't gonna help nobody."
But his words didn't reach Papyrus. The skeleton from Chara's world seemed unwilling—or unable—to care. He walked away, his focus returning to helping with the ongoing repairs.
Baxter tilted its lens toward Green. "Is… he mad at Chara?"
"yeah," Green muttered, starting up the staircase.
"She is not at fault," Baxter stated, trailing after him.
"he knows," Green replied curtly.
"Then why is he mad?" the drone pressed.
Green sighed heavily. "his kid died. her soul got shredded apart. can't visit her spirit in any of the underworld floors. can't even take comfort knowing she's 'at peace.'" His voice was thick with understanding. "he knows it ain't Chara's fault, but it is. you know?"
"No," Baxter admitted plainly.
"that's 'cause emotions are messy," Green replied. He glanced at Baxter, changing the subject. "speaking of… let's go check on our human."
He led the way down the cluttered alley, into the deepening shadows. Your Observer, Baxter, followed close behind.
As they continued deeper into the world, you heard it.
Your names. Almost. Someone was calling you. Trying to.
The pull was unmistakable—a coiling thread drawn taut, your connection being summoned. Instinct guided you, carrying you toward the source.
Within this strange, shifting tale of a world, you found her: your Vessel. Your Guide—or the one likely to claim that role.
She stood alone in a grand, flowery garden, golden petals shimmering in the air. The soft hues of orange drifted lazily, carried by a strange wind that found its way even here. At the garden's center, secluded from the city and nestled at the base of a golden tree, stood a gravestone. Its placement was delicate, its presence somber. The earth before it undisturbed.
She was trembling. Her darkened eye lingered on the stone, her breath unsteady. Words had been choked on, her throat raw from earlier attempts to call you here. In her hand, something small and sharp dug into her palm.
Then she turned toward you, her lavender eye catching your presence at the grove's edge. Her outfit had changed. The bloodstained jacket remained draped over her, but beneath it was something different—a tabard that clung to her form, resembling those often worn by Toriel or her counterparts across countless worlds.
Once vibrant in hues of purple and white, the tabard's colors now faded, as though drained by her aura. It was a ghostly monochrome, layered over a simple white sweater and leggings. Familiar black-stained boots completed the ensemble, adding to the grim nature of her appearance. Contrasting this beautiful place.
In her hand, she clutched an orange amulet. It was dim now, its previous heart-like shape fractured into a jagged star with cruel, pointed edges. Blood seeped from where the shard had pierced her skin, dripping down onto the dirt below—and onto Aliza's grave.
Her pitch-black eye, pierced by the faintest sliver of lavender light, rested on you.
"You're here," she muttered, her voice laden with reflection. "I didn't think that would work."
She fell silent, the wind tousling her disheveled hair. Her smile was strange. "Still as silent as ever, huh? When you look at me."
Though your presence was undeniable, she wasn't wrong—your chorus offered no words to her. No thoughts. No inquiries. You were present but distant, observing.
She scanned you, as though searching for something. "Do you like the new outfit?" she asked, tugging lightly at the loose tabard with her free hand. "Mom came by with spare clothes. The others…" Her voice wavered. "The others were covered in… Aliza." She let out a shaky, bitter laugh. "Everyone's distant. Mom recoiled when I...heh, nobody will even touch me anymore. Like I'm going to—besides Azzy. And even he seems afraid of me now."
Her gaze drifted, hollow and stormy, consumed by tangled thoughts. You glimpsed fragments of self-loathing and raw, writhing hate within her mind—a chaotic torrent, less coherent words than sheer emotion.
Her grip tightened around the bloodied amulet, staining the orange crystal further. The puncture wounds on her hand had already begun to close, healing rapidly, but she didn't seem to notice.
"When we first met... when I was a child," she began, her voice trembling. "You saved me—or you tried to." She paused, her smile faltering. "When I saw you again, I hoped you'd save her. Keep her far away from me." Her head tilted slightly, as if mocking her own words. "I was worried she'd die because of me. How funny is that?"
The laugh that followed was jagged, fractured. Her legs gave out, and she sank to the ground, slouching against the gravestone. The jagged amulet remained clasped between her hands, its sharp edges still biting into her skin.
"This isn't even her grave," she admitted softly. "They were scared I'd... take more. I don't even..." she swallowed, her breath shallow. "I didn't even get to..."
She rested there in silence for a time, leaning against the false grave she had made—a memorial to a memory. Blood pooled beneath her, mingling with the dirt. A faint orange glow emanated from her, a whisper of memory reaching out to calm her shuddering breaths.
The clearing was quiet, but not for long. Footsteps broke the stillness, drawing both her attention and yours.
The connection between you shifted, the anchor she had forged loosening slightly as Green stepped through the garden path. Baxter floated beside him, both observing the scene in silence. She scanned them, struggling to process the sight.
Green didn't speak. He walked over and sat beside her, pulling her into a sideways hug. She didn't resist, leaning into him as silent tears traced down her misery-laden face. Baxter followed, hovering close before settling gently in her lap.
Your connection coiled tighter. The binds grew stronger, weaving further into her and the others. Your influence spread, unseen but undeniable.
Time passed before the tension began to ease. The darkness within Chara's eye, however, remained. The substance—HATE—was unmistakable, its presence clinging to her like a shadow. Frothing from within, steady and constant.
Green broke the silence. "okay," he said, rising to his feet. "let's go."
"Go?" she asked, watching him carefully.
"yup. gonna grab something to eat and maybe... see about doing something." He offered his hand, his casual tone a stark contrast to the heaviness surrounding them.
"Greeny..." She glanced away, hesitating.
"nope. c'mon." He motioned her forward with a slight grin. "hey, maybe you can help me with these 'questions' for that world thing."
She seemed to weigh the suggestion, her gaze shifting as Baxter floated up beside Green, its lens focusing on her. The drone extended a mandible in mimicry of Green's gesture. Slowly, reluctantly, she released her grip on the bloodied necklace. Her rapidly healing hands moved to tie the amulet around her neck before she reached out, taking their hands—Green's and the mechanical facsimile of Baxter's. They helped pull her to her feet, though she wobbled slightly and exhaled a long, tired breath.
A quiet question slipped from her lips. "I thought you were... dead too."
Green chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "well, sort of. I take it you've got some idea of what went down?"
"Not really," she admitted.
He sighed. "well... I was with Aliza, trying to get her to go home. then Faker jumped me. the Collector wanted... something with me. but your pal Baxter and, uh... 'them,' they went and sprung me."
"Baxter?" she asked, her interest only half-hearted.
The drone reintroduced itself promptly. "This unit was designated Baxter Bob. You may call me Bob, though."
Chara's eye moved past the drone to rest on you. "You... bailed him out?" Her tone was laced with skepticism. "Why?"
Baxter answered before you could. "Yes. They requested his return." After a pause, it added, "They were concerned about you."
The first statement caught her off guard, but the second drew a scoff, her expression twisting into one of doubt. "I don't buy that," she said, shaking her head. "It was probably more about liking him than caring about me."
Green whistled lightly, breaking the tension. "hey, no serious stuff right now. we ain't ever gonna know one hundred percent of anything, so no sense in dwelling on it. at least not until we've gotten some food." He gestured dramatically. "gonna swing by that place on the cloud level—you know the one."
Her lips quirked into a resisted smile. "Are you seriously trying to get another Happy Bucket?"
"well, I haven't gotten to enjoy one—not even once—without something happening. so yeah." He grinned wider. "it's gonna work this time."
She let out a soft laugh, almost despite herself. "You don't have to do this, Greeny."
"course I do. I'm hungry." His chuckle was lighthearted as he added, "now c'mon, don't want the food to get cold."
Baxter tilted its head. "Has it already been made?"
Chara rolled her eye. "No, it hasn't."
Green waved a dismissive hand. "that's just what they want you to think. anyway, don't suppose you wanna... teleport there? left my teleportation power in my other coat." He smirked.
"Idiot," she muttered, rubbing her eye with a hint of genuine amusement.
Despite her exhaustion, she took hold of them both and closed her eye, focusing on their destination. The image came to her mind—a flickering light enveloped them. In a flash, they disappeared from her world, heading toward a fleeting moment of peace and normalcy.