Frisk stood once more in the throne room.
The warm petals of golden flowers brushed against his feet. Asgore's throne remained empty, and the world beyond shimmered in waiting silence. The monsters gathered in the New Home cheered. Toriel smiled, holding out her hand. Papyrus spoke of friendship. Undyne declared a future of hope.
He accepted it all.
A new beginning.
A perfect ending.
And yet.
He felt nothing.
It happened again.
The world reset.
Frisk woke beneath the Ruins' soft purple haze.
Toriel's voice called out with motherly care.
Mercy.
Forgiveness.
But the air felt heavier.
The shadows deeper.
"Do you really think this will save you?"
Chara's voice was always there, a venomous thread twisting through his thoughts. Mocking. Patient. Waiting.
Frisk spared Loox.
Spared Napstablook.
Spared Doggo.
Spared Papyrus.
He made friends.
He smiled.
But every time he looked into their faces, he saw the way their bodies had once fallen.
He heard the final gurgling breaths.
Saw the hopeless pleading in their eyes.
And Chara reminded him.
"They don't remember, Frisk. But you do."
Again.
Reset.
Mercy.
Smiles.
A hollow happiness.
The guilt didn't fade.
It festered.
Every act of kindness was met with Chara's whispers.
"Murderer."
Another world.
Another perfect ending.
Another empty, suffocating peace.
And again.
Nothing to feel.
After the twentieth reset, Frisk's hands trembled as he spared Undyne.
By the fiftieth, he avoided the town square, unable to face the monsters who thanked him.
By the hundredth, his own reflection in the Waterfall's pools was a stranger's face.
By the hundred and fiftieth…
His Mercy no longer felt like a choice.
It felt like a lie.
And by the two-hundredth…
Frustration bled through the cracks in his heart.
"Why won't you leave me alone?"
Chara giggled.
"You made me, remember?"
—
On the three-hundredth reset, Frisk's patience snapped.
He stood before Flowey.
No Mercy.
No smiles.
Only resolve.
"I want to see you."
He wasn't sure if he spoke aloud or thought it.
But the message was clear.
A Genocide route.
Not out of hate.
Out of desperation.
A chance to confront Chara.
To face what he had unleashed.
The old hunger returned.
Monster after monster fell beneath his hands.
Snowdin ran red.
Papyrus died again.
Frisk didn't flinch.
Toriel's warmth turned to ash.
Undyne's determination shattered.
Sans fought — but even his final blow, the one that had claimed hundreds of Frisk's past lives, landed weakly.
Because deep down, even he knew this wasn't about victory.
It was a graveyard march to an inevitable end.
And when Frisk finally reached the place where Chara waited — where the world bled red and the screen shattered — he raised his weapon.
"I'm ending this."
But Chara was already smiling.
"You never had a choice."
The fight was merciless.
Chara faster.
Crueler.
Stronger than memory allowed.
Every attack Frisk made missed.
Every strike Chara landed cut deeper.
And then it ended.
Frisk lay broken on the endless white void, Chara's knife at his throat.
"You don't learn, do you?"
A final slash.
Darkness.
And then her voice.
"One more reset. One more chance. But only if you ask me nicely."
And he did.
A trembling whisper in the void.
A plea.
A bargain.
White light returned.
"See you soon, Frisk."