Reset

20

Sans just stood there, transfixed by what was occurring. Frisk was still laying there on the floor without a single hint of movement. Why weren't they resetting? They should've done so by now. It may have been foolish, but the skeleton leaned over the lifeless Frisk and talked to them, beads of sweat still running down his skull.

"hey... kid...?" he asked in a quiet voice. "you uh... ready for the next round?"

Thoughts started to cloud his head when the kid didn't answer. Maybe they gave up. They must've gotten so tired of being disintegrated into ash by the high power beams the Gaster Blasters emanated, or being thrown endlessly into walls or the ceiling by the gravity attack that turned their soul blue.

Their soul! Sans had almost forgotten about their soul. It's been about twenty minutes since the kiddo had officially been dunked on and got killed. Why hasn't their soul reincarnated itself to be absorbed? Sans should've been able to absorb it by now. Not that he'd want such a dirty creature's soul anyway, but still. Alphys would've had a great explanation on why this event wasn't occurring. The thought of one of his friends suddenly pained him. Especially Alphys, she had just up and disappeared without a trace of her whereabouts. Had the kid killed her too? Sans hadn't received any information about that. He knew of Undyne's demise of course; she had seemed to evolve into some sort of being fused together with overpowering determination to live, but had ultimately met the same fate as everyone else. Alphys though? Sans didn't recall anything particularly bad happening to her.

But it was still bothering Sans that Frisk wasn't resetting, and there was no sign of their shattered soul anywhere. Sure it was unnerving, but if Frisk wasn't going to start this dreaded cycle again, what did this mean for Sans? He'd done his job. He'd protected those innocent people who would've been slaughtered mercilessly in the long run if Frisk had somehow broken the barrier.

Sans waited a few more minutes still awaiting a reset, but none came. It seemed like a happy thing; not having to repeat time anymore in different timelines, but the thought crashed into him that he was alone down here. Only Asgore remained farther up ahead probably gathering the original human souls, but within this timeline they weren't too close of friends yet. It'd be useless to seek his help or company.

After such a long time of battling Frisk anyway, Sans needed a well deserved rest, even if he'd only had one fight in this time. He knew he could just teleport to wherever he pleased, but thought better of it. Instead he decided to use his legs for a change and walk all the way back to Snowdin.

A long while more seemed to pass before Sans started his journey back to his home. But as he swept down the hall, he couldn't help but look back at the lump that was Frisk lying on the floor before he left.

***

While it was true that Frisk had been killed by Sans' grand signature attack and had given up, one piece of them still managed to cling onto determination- their soul itself.

Just as Sans disappeared out of the room, Frisk's soul finally appeared above them in tattered pieces, some shards even broken off and floating freely close by. The red glow pulsated in no kind of pattern, as if it was fighting its own battle with something. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, it mended itself, every piece going back its original place. The soul would've looked good as new if not for a single thin but noticeable crack splitting right down the center down to the tip at the bottom. The evil that had once trapped Frisk in thoughts of genocide now began to appear like a see-through smoke in front of them where Sans had been until it became fully solid. This was not Frisk's doing; no, Frisk had given up.

The first fallen human stretched their arms as if they'd just woken up from a long nap, and opened their bright blood red eyes to inspect the scene in front of them. They spotted something shiny laying a few inches from Frisk and bent to pick it up, ignoring the body as if it was part of the floor. They used the edge of their green sweater with a single yellow stripe to wipe the dried blood and dust from the blade, and smiled into it, looking over their features with a pleased expression. Finally they had their own body after all these years. They no longer had to act through their useless puppet in order to kill. They could now experience the thrill of killing things themselves with their own body. Frisk had never wanted to hurt anyone anyway, anything dark and malicious had solely been the evil residing within them.

The newly formed being lightly drew their finger along the sharp edge of the weapon, admiring it as the most fascinating thing they'd ever seen.

Then they suddenly spoke in a soft but raspy voice to no one in particular.

"Greetings. I am Chara."