Chapter Text

A sense of foreboding filled Frisk with determination.

The constant dripping sound of Waterfall had given away to the howl of distant wind, though how there could be a wind this deep underground was far beyond their ability to understand. The sound kept the hairs on the back of their neck standing up straight and their legs moving briskly, a far cry from the relaxed pace that the moist caverns behind them had encouraged.

Or, had mostly encouraged. Ever since leaving Snowdin Frisk had been a hunted animal.

Their first sight of the warrior had frightened them like little else down here had. Monsters were aggressive on the surface, but barely took any convincing to lay down their weapons and start acting like old friends. The ghost cousins had been spooky at first, but they turned out to be two of the friendliest people Frisk had ever met. Even the dogs in the Royal Guard started acting like big puppies in armor the moment a stick was thrown.

But the figure that had started pursuing them in Waterfall was different. They walked slowly and carefully, covered head to toe in dark armor. They'd intimidated the heck out of Metta, and most other monsters showed either reverence or fear when Frisk tried to ask about them. When that helmeted head had finally turned towards Frisk there had been no discussion; no respectful pause to allow them the chance to act first; no chance to beg for mercy. The moment that creature had laid eyes on them they had immediately conjured blades of pure magic out of thin air and sent them flying towards them with lethal precision.

It had been all Frisk could do so far to keep walking a few steps ahead of their pursuer, and to dodge the barrages of knives that could come at any time. Now things finally felt like they were coming to a head; they couldn't quite explain why or how, but they just knew they'd have to confront their antagonist for real soon.

They began to approach an especially craggy area of the Underground, where a mountain under the mountain rose up and nearly touched the cavern ceiling. Frisk tensed up at the sight of a familiar shape halfway up the mountain, sitting with their legs casually dangling over the ledge.

Unexpectedly... they spoke.

"Greetings," said the figure. "We've had a few scuffles, but we haven't been introduced. I am Chara."

Frisk remained stoic with some effort. It wasn't just that their attacker had taken them aback by suddenly talking after all this time. The armored figure—Chara, apparently—had a much softer voice than they would have expected. Perhaps it was the helmet that muffled the sound. Perhaps they were simply quieter than their aggression would suggest. Either way it unsettled Frisk to their core, and they declined to offer their own name in return.

If this offended Chara then they showed no indication of it. They continued on in their soft tone, voice slightly echoing from within their helm.

"When you first wandered into town, I was so confused. A human coming out of the Ruins? This could only end with dust or blood. Probably both. And yet. Somehow. Despite all odds. You came walking out coated in neither."

Again Frisk remained silent, allowing their recurring menace their chance to speak. They'd found thus far that every monster would rather be listened to than fought. Chara's clear but echoing voice began to betray a hint of frustration.

"Instead of an empty town you left one enamored with you. Even the Royal Guards, whom I'd idolized, decided to let you walk right past them. They even have the audacity to bark about the new 'friend' that they met today. They have not even noticed that you are carving a straight line towards the Barrier. And thus that you can only be planning one thing."

Chara paused, and somehow their silence set a chill down Frisk's spine. When the armored figure spoke again, it was softer than before but in a hiss that somehow carried down the mountain nonetheless.

"You are planning to take a boss monster's SOUL and leave this place," they said. "If you did not, you would not have left the Ruins. Do you understand, human? You cannot leave the Underground without the murder of my father, my mother, or my brother. We cannot both have what we want."

For the first time a sliver of doubt formed itself in Frisk's chest. Was the figure telling the truth? They'd done nothing but assault them with knives up until now. And yet what they were saying matched uncomfortably with the plaques lining the walls throughout Waterfall...

Chara was no longer sitting down. They had risen to their feet, towering above Frisk from atop their rock pile despite being barely an inch taller than them. Their voice had become ever so slightly louder.

"This is the point at which a member of the Royal Guard would follow the ancient customs for those who had made it this far. They would take this moment to tell the tragic story of their people. But I am wearing stolen armor. I will show you no such courtesy. After all. I am only human."

With a smooth movement the figure yanked the helmet off of their head, and it was all Frisk could do not to let their stoic mask crack. The face under the helmet wasn't a boss monster like Asgore and Toriel. It wasn't even a monster at all.

Chara was human. Their face was almost a reflection of Frisk's own, but with a face flushed pink from the howling wind, a forced smile stretched across their lips, and eyes colored blood red.

Blood red eyes. Frisk had barely believed the stories of monsters before falling down, and they certainly hadn't taken seriously the weirder stories that people whispered up above. The stories of humans with the eyes and magic of monsters.

Demons.

Chara's eyes were furious but their smile was manic. "Asriel insists to me that there is good up there. That we could show mercy to anyone who falls down. But you are the perfect example of why he is wrong. He expects kind children or honorable warriors. But you? You are a trickster. You believe you can fall down and walk right back out with any SOUL that you please. You think no one will stop you or punish you when you inevitably decide to stab your new 'friends' in the back. You think that you are above consequences."

Their fist clenched, but they turned it into a flourish—a flourish that resulted in an array of glowing magical knives floating in the air, poised to attack.

"You are my mirror, human. Our continued existence is a crime, but while I tried and failed to give up my SOUL... you want to take one of theirs. I will not allow that to happen. I will not allow you to be in control. You may prepare yourself as long as you like, mirror, but when you step forward... we will find out which of us is more determined."

The wind was howling. The ceiling overhead glimmered with a thousand unfulfilled dreams. The human in armor had an eager smile but hateful eyes.

Frisk was afraid, but filled with determination.

They stepped forward.

"Right," said Chara with obvious satisfaction. "Come and face the absolute."

They slid down to land in front of Frisk, floating knives in tow as their armored feet hit the ground. The world went monochrome as the fight began.

Frisk had been in dozens of these strange magical fights since falling down, but something immediately stuck out as odd about this one. As usual they could see their own SOUL as a glowing red heart shining from within their chest; but now, for the first, they could see one that wasn't their own.

An identical red heart shone in Chara's chest, its glow emanating even through their bulky armor. Chara too paused to take stock of the situation.

"Interesting. Your SOUL's magical attribute is Determination. Just like mine."

Frisk mused aloud that they didn't know SOULs had magical attributes. Chara's smile betrayed an annoying and immensely worrying trace of smugness.

"I am not surprised. Most humans have forgotten. It is old magic I learned from my father... my real father. My monster father."

They cocked their head with the expression of someone who'd just had a devilish idea. "...shall I impart a lesson?"

Frisk began to say that that was quite alright, thank you, but it was too late. Chara's hand slashed downwards, and a sudden constricting sensation splashed through their entire body at once.

Their SOUL wasn't red any more. It had turned a pretty shade of green... and their feet now felt firmly rooted to the ground. They realized with a rising horror that Chara was preparing a barrage of their magical blades, and that this time, dodging and running away wouldn't be among their options. Imagery of being executed on the spot, knives perforating their immobilized body, flashed through their mind almost as vividly as though they were living out the scene.

No running. Certainly no fighting. Their only option was to ACT.

...specifically, to guilt-trip.

They managed to call out to Chara that this was wildly unfair. Chara began to roll their eyes, but they pressed on quickly, trying to play on what they'd heard earlier. They pointed out that the monster Royal Guard would never execute a helpless opponent.

"You must have misunderstood. I am not yet in the Royal Guard."

Oh. Right. This was going to require a more advanced argument. They instead pointed out that they wanted to be... and if a human ever aspired to join the Guard, or even LEAD it one day, they should prove they could defeat another human while playing by monster rules.

As soon as the words left their mouth they braced themselves for summary execution, at least seventy-five percent certain that no amount of appealing was going to save them now. And yet... surprisingly...

"...a compromise, then."

Chara summoned a long and lethal looking dagger made of their red magic, but instead of sending it stabbing straight through Frisk's SOUL as anticipated, they slid it over for them to pick up off the ground. Frisk was uncertain how this was supposed to help.

"There. Now you can defend yourself. More importantly. When you die... YOU WILL KNOW IT WAS BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T GOOD ENOUGH."

Frisk barely had time to pick the blade off the ground before the barrage came and they found themselves desperately batting away knives from every direction, barely able to keep up with how relentlessly they kept coming. The magical weapon had a tingling effect against their fingers, but that was nothing compared to the shock that ran up their arms with every successful deflection. They knew even failing to block a single attack would be the end of the battle.

Yet this did nothing to dampen their determination. It should have been impossible for an untrained fourteen year old to do a thing against this sort of magic, yet somehow, someway, they found themselves blocking and timing each barrage as though they'd done it a thousand times before.

It seemed as frustrating to Chara as it was encouraging to Frisk. They could hear the armored human mutter something about "deja vu" before having to stop and catch their breath—the effect on Frisk's SOUL ending as soon as they did. It turned its natural shade of rainbow-red and freed them to move once again, an opportunity they took immediately. They ran straight towards Chara.

Chara's eyes widened in fear, flinching instinctively in expectation of being hit. But they had nothing to fear. Frisk had refused to strike any monster that crossed their path, and an angry human wasn't going to be the exception. They ran right past them, light on their feet and making a break for the Hotland border.

"What? Stop. Come back here!"

Armored feet clanged against the stone ground as they tore off after the other human, managing to capture them again in the green glow. Frisk again had to fend off a few rapid waves of crimson knives.

Chara was clearly struggling to keep up their smile.

"The only way you are going any further, human, is if I can rip your SOUL out with my magic. Then you are going straight to the Capital. Then we are breaking the Barrier. Then they will be free!"

But this time the green SOUL didn't last as long. Frisk was again free to dart towards Hotland. Chara was huffing with both rage and exhaustion, and again had to run at full exertion to keep up with the fleeing human. Running towards Hotland was like running right smack into a wall of pure heat—Frisk was immediately regretting the thick sweater they were wearing, and couldn't imagine what wearing a suit of heavy armor would feel like here.

Daring a look over their shoulder they could tell Chara's face was flushed redder than before. Sweat was dripping down their face... and... was that their imagination, or were there tears of frustration there too?

"Stop," Chara gasped, struggling to keep the pace. It was clear they weren't used to running in the 'stolen armor' they were wearing. "I won't... let you... get past me..."

Frisk almost felt bad for them, but they couldn't afford to turn back. They kept running as the wall of heat grew still more intense.

"I won't... let you... get near... him..."

Him?

Frisk's feet were skidding past a water cooler when they heard a crash behind them. Even as dead set on running as they were, they couldn't help but turn around and check.

Chara had collapsed. They'd run as far as they could in their heavy stolen armor, but the heat and the unfamiliar weight had dragged them down in the end. Their smile was finally gone. Their breathing was hoarse and ragged, their eyes clenched shut and showing the clear streaks of unbidden tears running down their cheeks. Even the tears were quick to evaporate.

Frisk found themself hesitating. Monsters seemed to be able to handle a lot, but Chara... Chara was a human. Humans could get heatstroke, which they knew because they'd once gone hiking and gotten so hot and dehydrated that they'd completely passed out and spent later that day vomiting. Apparently heatstroke was a pretty serious deal. It could even kill you.

Their hesitation didn't last long. There was a convenient water cooler right by the path they were following with a stack of paper cups helpfully supplied. They poured a tall cup of the cool liquid, refrained from immediately guzzling it for themself only by the pure power of determination, and carried it back to the fallen human.

...they weren't sure if it was safe to try pouring it into their mouth, so Frisk just poured it onto their face. It completely drenched them, causing them to start sputtering and gasping as it poured down their armor and soaked the clothes underneath.

Weirdly... despite the fact that they'd just been trying to murder them to death with magic knives... they looked pretty adorable for a second. Then their eyes opened.

Frisk took a few reflexive steps back as the other human seemed to fully awake to their circumstances. They were frowning. Their now drenched cheeks were flushed with what could be heat and could be anger, but also, to Frisk's eyes... with something like embarrassment.

The two locked eyes with one another for a long moment with nothing but the sweltering air between them before Chara finally rose up again and Frisk prepared to bolt.

But. Instead. Chara simply walked away. Their boots seemed to clang heavier than before as they half-walked, half-limped back the way they came. There was something in their gait that made Frisk want to call out and check if they were okay, but... something told them that would be pushing their luck. Their direction was clear to them. They had to press forward, whether or not their entire journey was going to be fruitless without murder. They had to stay determined.

Even so, the encounter weighed on their mind. Why was there another human down here? More importantly, why was the only other human they'd met down here more devoted to hunting them down like an animal than any of the monsters?

...why had they looked at Frisk, a complete stranger, with so much hate? Why were they so certain they meant the monsters harm? And who was the him they seemed dead set on keeping them away from?

To their utmost surprise, they had only been walking across the parched Hotland earth for a couple of minutes before a massive building loomed in front of them—a building which appeared to be a laboratory. They took a deep breath. Whatever questions they had wouldn't be answered by going back where the knife-happy human had gone, or standing rooted in one place here. If they were going to get any answers—or get back to the surface at all—they had to keep moving forward.

They entered the laboratory, tip-toeing into the surprisingly dark interior. They almost walked straight into a wall before they found a light switch, flicking it on to find a fastidiously clean environment with interesting equipment all around.

Some of that equipment included massive monitors displaying Frisk's own face like out of some freaky dystopian movie. That... would explain where the cameras they'd seen were sending their data. They fortunately didn't have much time to creep themself out thinking about it before a door opened at the far side of the lab.

They stood up straight, prepared for another tense confrontation despite being exhausted from facing Chara. But the monster who appeared before them gave them pause.

"O-Oh no," said a distressed bleating voice. "You're here already? I thought there was more time... Mom's not here yet... Dad's probably asleep at home... who even knows where Chara ran off to... um..."

The monster finally caught himself stammering, stepping forward.

"S-Sorry. What I mean to say is... howdy! My name is Asriel. I sort of intern here at the lab for the Queen. You're new to the Underground, so... I was thinking... I could help you?"

Frisk stared. Asriel was a fuzzy, white, goat-like boss monster, just like Asgore, the sad old gardener. But Asriel was closer to them in height and they could only guess age; he had a nervous but kind expression, and was outstretching his hand in a friendly gesture. He was also wearing a labcoat several sizes too tall for him, to the point that he had to shake his arm just to get his hand out of the sleeve.

Chara's family were boss monsters. This must be their brother... the him they wanted so desperately to keep an assumed murderous human away from. Frisk suddenly felt that they understood and agreed with Chara on a far more fundamental level than before, as an internal squee motivated them to dart forward and introduce themself.

This fluffy boy must be protected.