The world was unraveling.
The throne room faded into a vortex of static, the golden flowers swallowed by darkness. Flowey's laughter became static, garbled and broken as the very fabric of the Underground trembled.
"Hee-hee-hee… It's all going to plan…"
Vines lashed out around Frisk, dragging him into a twisted void. The screen of reality cracked and split, forming jagged lines of white. Colors bled where they shouldn't. Shapes existed and didn't. Time and space stopped playing by the rules.
Then — the horror began.
Omega Flowey.
A monstrous parody of life. Petals distorted into flesh, mechanical eyes blinking in madness. A grotesque amalgamation of plant, machine, and something unspeakable. Screens flickered, displaying memories stolen from those Flowey murdered. Screams echoed. The faces of monsters long gone twisted in agony.
"LET'S HAVE SOME FUN, KID!"
The battle raged. Death after death. Frisk's body reduced to ash and pixels only to return, only to die again. The world was a hellscape of saw blades, bullets, and dismembered parts of Flowey's shifting form.
But there was no hesitation now.
No mercy. No regret.
Chara's voice was no longer beside Frisk.
It was within him.
"Yes… yes… this is what it means to be free."
And then — it was over.
With a final strike, Frisk severed the last root binding Flowey to this world. The creature's face contorted in terror.
"W-wait… please! I can... I can help! I can—"
But Frisk didn't hesitate. The blade fell.
Flowey was dust.
—
Everything faded. The static subsided. The world became a blank canvas of white. And there, in the endless nothing, she appeared.
Chara.
Not the childish voice, not the shadow in the mind — but her.
A girl, no older than Frisk, with short auburn hair and crimson eyes that gleamed like embers in a dying fire. She wore a simple green and yellow sweater, stained dark at the cuffs. Her expression was unreadable — a cold, perfect mask.
And then she spoke, her voice clear, carrying in the emptiness.
"Greetings."
She smiled, a terrible, beautiful thing.
"I am Chara."
She stepped closer. Frisk felt the weight of her gaze, heavier than any weapon.
"Thank you. Your power awakened me from death."
She placed a hand over her chest, the motion almost tender.
"My 'human soul.' My 'determination.' They were not mine, but yours. At first… I was so confused."
Her fingers curled into a fist.
"Our plan had failed, hadn't it? Why was I brought back to life? But as I watched you, I realized."
Her eyes gleamed, red as fresh blood.
"Your strength. Your determination. Your insatiable hunger for death."
She laughed then — quiet, unhinged.
"That's why it was you. That's why it's always you."
Chara stepped closer until her face was inches from Frisk's.
"You and I are not so different, are we?"
The white void seemed to pulse with her words.
"So… You've done it. You've killed them all."
Her expression darkened.
"And now, there's nothing left. No joy. No sorrow. No one to stop us. No one to care."
She turned her gaze to the endless nothing surrounding them.
"Now we can move on to the next world."
Then she faced Frisk again, her voice dropping to a sinister softness.
"If you choose to erase this world, it's your decision."
A knife appeared in her hand, gleaming.
"Erase…"
"Do not."
The options hung in the empty air.
—
The girl gripped her book, her fingers trembling violently now. She stared at the man, whose face remained forever hidden beneath his hood.
His voice was low, cold, final.
"This is where Frisk is given the choice. But it was never a choice, really. Not after what they've done."
The fire flickered.
"In the end… the world belongs to the one willing to take it."
The rain began to fall harder.