He turns away.

Toriel remains kneeling in the bone cage, her HP flickering at one. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t resist.

Papyrus walks to the entrance of the Ruins. With a wave of his hand, the bones shift—reforming into a barricade across the doorway. Thick, glowing bars seal the entrance shut.

He placed her there himself. The Ruins—once a place of safety—now a prison.

Toriel watches him through the bars, her expression unreadable. She doesn’t plead. She doesn’t apologize.

Papyrus doesn’t look back.

He walks to Sans’s body, kneels, and gently lifts his brother into his arms. The blood stains his gloves. Sans’s head rests against his shoulder, limp.

Frisk steps forward, quiet as a shadow. She says nothing.

Papyrus glances at her, his voice low and heavy.

Papyrus: (softly) "I’m sorry… but I can’t let her hurt anyone else."

Frisk doesn’t respond. Her eyes stay fixed on Sans, wide and hollow.

Together, they leave the corridor. The forest is silent as they pass through. No monsters stir. No wind moves the trees.

Papyrus carries Sans all the way home.

Frisk follows, silent.