…

…

Whats… going on here? He stood there, looking down at the ground. The beautiful tiles illuminated by the fake sunlight breaching the windows.. But no matter how much he didn’t want to look up, his senses became flooded with.. Stench.

The visceral smell of a body. A human body. The pool of blood that flows from their lifeless husk. The skeleton lifts his throbbing head up, pounding from the adrenaline. There they lie... The human child. 

“Frisk?” His voice weakly let out. “Alright buddy. You got me. C’mon. Let’s just get this started again.”

He looks at this hallowed body, before something clicks in his mind - frrrrump! As the bones splitting them in half vanish into smaller pieces before dissipating into the ambient magic. Their body hits the floor, splattering into the puddle of thick blood-

He takes a quick step back in reaction, but it's nowhere near fast enough. His shirt gets a helping of human paint on it. But - he quickly clenches his head.

He hadn’t noticed how badly he was in pain. How badly his head hurt and how tired he was. His feet ached, but that pain was nowhere near as painful as his eye. He rests a hand on the top of his head, feeling the clean cut that the knife made all the way down to his eye. The pool of Frisk’s dark red fluid inching towards him, he takes several steps, quickling going around it.

Keeping his hand on his head, he walks slowly, making his way towards the entrance to the hallway, but he soon gives up, taking a single step off to the side, before halfway collapsing and falling against one of the many pillars holding up the roof. He lets out a grunt as he finally removes his hand from his eye, and grips the jacket sleeve-

Riiiiiiiiiip!

He jolts his hand, as he rips the sleeve off, and unfolds the two layers sewn together, taking the thinner inner layer, and pulling it off the seams. The skeleton takes the cloth and wraps his head and eye, the procedure methodical and practiced. Sans stops himself for a moment, letting out a single chuckle. Thinking back to his time working for the Royal Scientist. Being taught basic medical procedures.

The memory quickly fades as soon as it comes as he finishes wrapping his head, before turning to look at the sight again... His eye socket narrowed instinctively... Why aren’t they coming back? What are they waiting for? Something is wrong here. They have never taken this long to retry. Are they trying to taunt him?

“Tch. Right.” He remarks to himself. The thought of this maniac trying to play a game like this at a time like this. When they got so far. 

…

…

…

No.

He shoots up from the ground! Standing on his feet despite the pain, he forces himself to stand. No no no, it’s impossible. He couldn’t have… won… right? That’s not how it works. You don’t beat a time traveler, you just prolong the inevitable.

A small smile came to his face, this had to be it. He actually managed to win. Somehow, someway, the human is dead. And they won’t. Come. back.

That thought echoed in his mind, he let out a chuckle, repeating it in his end.

“I won! I won! I. Won. I…won...”

His smile quickly fades.. He won. He killed the human. The ability to reset is gone. The ability to bring everybody back…is…gone.

The realization starts to sink in.. His nonexistent stomach feels sick. He staggers for a moment, quickly taking a hand, leaning against the pillar. Putting his other arm up to his mouth.

He beat the human. The one person who could undo everything. Who could bring back everybody from the dead. Gone. Forever. No no no no! This has to be a joke. Some sort of cosmic hypocrisy! How could it be that he could win, and still lose.

The emotion of anger starts to flood inside him, he clenches his fist. It’s. Not. Fair.

“HggrrrrAH!” In a minor fit of rage, he quickly swipes his hand forward into the pillar- CRRRRRRRRRACK! The stone coleman cracks under the force. His fist leaks some yellow blood, as he lets out a grunt.

“No. Get it together. Its impasta- er sigh. It’s...I need to get out of this damned hallway.” He says to himself. The impulsive response to make a stupid joke, leaving his mind. He buries the thought of doing that alongside his own existential dread.

He takes a step away from the crime scene of his outburst, and vanishes in an instant. Taking a quick “shortcut” as he calls them, and appearing in Snowdin Town. The empty town, still eerie as it was when he left. The whimsy he felt living in this place, however boring it may have been, he missed it already- no. Stop it. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about things like that!

He mentally slapped himself, knowing it would be an immediate mistake to actually hit himself. Before he turns to his left, looking at the house he lived in for the past 15 years. He reaches up a hand, and pushes the door open. Taking a step inside, closing the creaky wooden door closed behind him. He glances at the couch. His favorite napping spot that he dreadfully wanted to sleep on and wake up from this bad dream. He takes a step towards it, but a voice echoes in his mind-

“No. We’re not done yet.”

He squints, his only remaining white eye disappearing, feeling annoyed by his own inner motivation to not sleep. He takes a second step, and veers off course from the couch into the kitchen. While making his way, pulling off his coat and tossing it to the side, and doing the same with his bloodied shirt.

Reaching a hand up, he opens a cabinet, pulling out some bandages. He removes the cloth around his head, grabbing the mirror off the fridge, he wipes down the area of the scar, and takes a small vial of morphine into a syringe and jabs it into the side of his head. He winces, and lets out a groan, before- shit! The vial slips from his fingers and smashes onto the ground, scattering glass and liquid pain relief all over.

A thought enters his mind, he opens his mouth- “Pap can you-” he stops. How stupid. Papyrus is gone. He looks in the mirror at the wound. He has stopped bleeding, he squints into the mirror at himself…what's that?

Something hard to see. A very translucent black box, with a white border. There is text in it…what does it say?

Sans Atk 9 Def 25 4k

Frisk (Player) UnderLaw

He just lets out a sigh, trying to unfocus on it, and seeing it disappear. Possible conclusion: He’s losing his mind. He did take a massive hit to the head, hallucinations are the least of his worries. He looks back down at the mess of the bottle and just steps over it. The slipper absorbs the glass shards, as he walks out of the kitchen, and kicks off his slippers, and looks at the stairs.

He mentally does a small calculation on if it would be more exhausting climbing them with physical strength or if he used a shortcut. He decides it isn’t worth expending the magic, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Reaching his door, he grips the handle and steps inside. He only manages to make it two steps before his legs give out, and he falls unconscious onto his floor mattress.