The world was quiet, a blanket of silence engulfed everything for not one living creature remained in the graveyard of the city. The clutches of nuclear war and tragedy had finally broken through the barriers and eradicated any chance of a happy ending, of a chance for humans and monsters to finally coexist in peace. There was nothing here, nothing but chaos and sorrow. Even the fires had died out, the smoke that billowed into the sky their ghost. Perhaps you and the comedian were both the last of your race, the last human and the last monster intertwined in a sadistic fate.

Shortly after you regained your grip on reality did the comedian join you as well, rubbing his skull, looking at the gashes in his bones from where the flower had dug its roots into him. "Damn weeds," Sans growled and threw on his black overcoat, lighting a cigarette. You wrinkled your nose at the acrid odour but said nothing.

Your eyes danced across the landscape and to the white rift that led to nowhere, to the end of your journey, to where you would face the king of the Void in his realm of white and infinite as the legends had always foretold. But not alone, never alone. Sans was still here, still a reminder that you had once come from a universe and that your unvierse still lived. Somehow, someway you would restore things, bring back the dead from their graves and reboot the whole thing over again.

But it was impossible to reset, wasn't it? After Frisk had perished in the wastelands of America, the ability to reset had died alongside them. They were part of an old order that had perished when the first bombs fell. The city of Chicago had been a mere remnant of a human empire that once dominated the planet, clinging onto the slightest shred of normalcy.

But that too had perished, brought down by a single child without a soul and a flower whose soul had been ripped apart and twisted for his king's pleasure. Sometimes you wondered if this whole ordeal was simply nature heaving the wheel, attempting to remove both monsters and humans from the playing board so that some new species could step forward to rule the planet.

Even though you and the comedian stood as a monument, a mere whisper of the decimated civilisations that you represented, you refused to let that weigh you down, refused to curl up in a ball until death claimed your soul as was the fate of all living things, mortal or immortal. That was the truth of it, the thought that kept you going. Even gods could die.

Without thought, more of an inborn instinct than it was anything, you allowed the tips of your fingers to intertwine with the skeleton who stood next to you. Though the two of you had been ripped apart, thrown to the ground and only now stood side-by-side as battered victors, you felt closer to him than ever.

"Are you ready?" Sans asked, looking at you. It was more of a statement than it was a question. What other option did you have but to continue with your adventure, lest you stay behind and mourn all that had been lost this night?

"Always ready but never willing," you replied wistfully, casting one last glance at the city of Chicago whose fires had gone dead. Nature was creeping, pushing itself already against the empty city streets and alleyways. In the distance you could make out a deer tentatively stick out its head nearest the outer area of the city, unchallenged by nothing. For man and monster had perished together in the final battle, the final war.

On those words the two of you stepped through the rift, entering a world of white that had no beginning and certainly no end. How trivial the conflicts of your world must appear in the grand scheme of things, when hundreds of millions of universes existed all at once, buzzing with activity and life that the slaughter that occurred in your world was merely a faint note when compared to everything else?

The rift closed behind the two of you, offering no indication that it had ever been there at all. A brief wave of panic washed over you at the thought of being damned to wander this white tombstone for the rest of eternity, but the comedian gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as the two of you began walking.

But where to walk? Where to go? Everywhere was nowhere and nowhere was everywhere! You bit back a brief groan of frustration, hating that you had stepped so blindly into the realm of the king with no plan and no way of fighting him.

Sans reached into his pocket to pull out another cigarette. For some reason. the skeleton's habits seemed oddly familiar and yet you could not place it, another lost memory buried under the avalanche of past lives that you had once lived. "Damn things," the skeleton muttered as he struggled to get the lighter to catch.

A flash of black swooped in front of you, offering a jubilant cry as talons clasped around the cigarette and a bird took off flying, circling overhead, carrying its newfound possession with pride. "What the hell is that thing!" Sans snapped, suddenly looking very angry. "I wasn't in the mood for chicken tonight but if this bird is going to take my cancer stick away I might as well roast it." He swiped his hand downwards and summoned forth a skeletal blaster, jaws parted slightly to summon forth a torrent of magic should its master command it.

"Wait!" You hissed between your teeth, eyeing the bird with a growing look of apprehension as it continued to circle overhead. "I've seen it before..."

And then it came back to you, the dream that had not been a dream. When you had been falling from the building to escape Mayor Grimes and the raven had come to you, warned you to see things without seeing them, spoke of the hidden king that ruled in the world of white that you walked inside now.

But it had just been a dream, had it not? How was it even possible to consider the fact that you could have dreamed of things you had never seen before, never laid eyes upon? As strange as they were, dreams were only vague pieces of things that you had thought or witnessed and you were certain that you had never before seen a talking raven, or at least until now.

"Mistress is pleased!" The raven cawed, still clutching Sans' cancer stick in his talons. The skeleton did not seem taken aback at the revelation that the raven could talk or served some sort of master, but was rather disgruntled that this animal had dared to take his cigarette straight from his hands.

"I don't give a damn what you are," the skeleton growled, "but no one takes my cancer stick without permission." On those words he swiped his hand downwards, his left eye blazing a magnificent blue. The blaster behind him responded on command, opening its massive jaw to release the gathering of magic that had been pooling inside. The torrent of light tore through the air before you could even protest, setting ablaze the spot where the raven had been only moments before.

The raven did something you had never seen a raven do before, and it wasn't just the fact that it could talk. It opened its beak and seemed to inhale the magic that Sans directed at it, swallowing the energy as if it was nothing more than a meager worm that the raven had decided to eat. "What the hell?" Sans breathed, taking a step back as he watched the bird consume his magic.

"MIstress does not like it when wanderers use such language!" The bird chortled, swooping overhead and dropping the cancer stick onto the ground. Elated, Sans reached to pick up his cigarette when the raven flew in front of Sans, opened its beak once more and released the stream of magic that it had consumed only seconds ago.

"Sans!" You screamed over the roar of the magic, feeling the blood drain from your face as you saw the gaping hole within his chest. The comedian opened his mouth to respond but instead sank to his knees, shaking as he watched his hand begin to wither into dust and finally his whole form decomposed, leaving behind an eerily organized pile of ash adorned with the black overcoat he had once been wearing.

"Now Axeltyl, what have I told you about harassing our visitors?"

A towering figure stepped into the clearing but you paid no heed, fixating yourself over the pile of ash that had once been the skeleton. How fair was life when one could be stripped away of such a thing in a matter of seconds? Everything you had fought for was gone, gone, gone! For a moment you were content to let the approaching woman and her sadistic servant of a bird butcher you. But slowly, surely, your grief began to latch onto one emotion, one so strong that it burned inside your very core. For the first time in a very long time, you were determined, determined to slaughter whomever was behind this, you were -

"I'm so very sorry!" The woman gasped upon seeing your hunched form over Sans' decomposed corpse. She placed one massive paw on your shoulder which sent a wave of confusion coursing through your mind, drowning out the determination.

You whipped around and beheld the sight of the monster queen. Though she was not the Toriel from your world or any Toriel you had ever laid eyes upon during your adventures from hopping from one world to the next as you died and died again, you couldn't help but feel a wave of grief and astonishment crash down on you all at once, remembering how Mayor Grimes had twisted the mind of the Toriel from your world, reducing her to a shell of her former self.

"You must forgive Axel, he does have a habit of troubling those who cross his pass." As if to agree with Toriel, the raven squawked happily, pecking at the cancer stick that Sans had tried to grab. "Here, let me fix this for you." Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Toriel placed the base of her paw against the pile of ash and closed her eyes as if in deep thought. For a moment nothing happened, until a blue aura began to surround the pile of dust, lifting it into the air as it began to swirl around like a -

(self-sustained tornado of trash)

tornado of dust and ash. Slowly, the form of the comedian began to take shape as molecule after molecule began to reassemble themselves.

At last, the goat woman stepped away, looking much more tired than she had been only a few seconds ago. You watched in astonishment as the pile of dust finally solidified and revealed the physical form of the comedian who had disintegrated only seconds ago. You did not know whether to thank or attack the goat woman for what had happened but found yourself rushing towards the comedian, embracing him in a hug and vowing to never let go.

"Geez kid, you look like you've seen a ghost," Sans chuckled, enjoying the look of distaste that spread across your face upon hearing his poor excuse of a pun. "Come on, I've been dying to use that one all day." Even then you still refused to reply, but finally were betrayed by a small song of laughter that escaped your lips when the comedian finished his skit by saying, "Still nothing? I'll just dust that one off then."

It seemed that Sans might have gone on telling puns for the rest of the day if he didn't stop dead in his tracks upon the sight of Toriel who stood a few feet away from the two of you. "Hello Sans," she smiled warmly, the raven Axel perched happily on her shoulder, the cancer stick clutched in its beak, giving the appearance that the raven himself was smoking the cigarette. Sans narrowed his eyes at the sight of the raven but then turned to Toriel, a look of astonishment evident in his gaze.

"H-How are you alive?" He stammered, a thousand questions attempting to fight their way out of his mouth.

Toriel gave both you and Sans a soft smile. "I am not the Toriel from your world, nor am I such from any other universe, though I express my grievances for what the two of you have suffered. I would think it hard for you to grasp exactly what I am, I often have trouble explaining it myself - "

"You're Life," you interjected, looking at her in astonishment. "Well not actually life itself, but the physical embodiment of Life." You suddenly felt very, very small when compared to the cosmic entity that stood before you.

"In a sense, that is correct," Toriel replied with a small smile. "I am connected to each and every living thing in the multiverse. As they thrive, so does my strength. I am not of any world, nor from any universe that expired and dumped me here to rot. I have been here since the beginning, since the first wisp of coding manifested itself in the original timeline and will continue to exist until the Void finally knows darkness."

"So if you're the embodiment of life," Sans looked thoughtful for a moment, "does that mean there's a physical representation of death walking about too? Like some sort of reaper or something?"

Toriel's warm smile faltered for a moment as she looked upon Sans and you wondered at it. "Yes," she replied, though her tone was unusually tight. "Though he often does not like to get involved with the affairs of the mortal beings as he so puts them as."

"What, so you're like best friends with death?" Sans asked, cocking his head to one side, stifling back laughter.

"Yes," Toriel replied flatly as if this was obvious and everyone should have known such a thing. "In fact, we had tea and pie last week."

"That would make for an interesting comic," you pondered but then shook your head, refocusing yourself on the task at hand. "Your raven - "

"Axeltyl, though he does ever so prefer it if you call him Axel," Toriel chimed in, beaming at the raven perched on her shoulder. Sans narrowed his eyes in distrust at the bird, still muttering to himself about the fact that ravens should get their own damn cancer sticks and leave his well enough alone.

"Axel," you corrected yourself, "came to me in a dream back in my own universe. He said that you had sent him to warn me about Error and all that he was doing to hurt the multiverse, but why? What do I have to do with any of this?"

Toriel sat down on the ground, her green dress reflecting the light of the world around. "It is true that I sent Axel to warn you of the growing threat upon your world and all worlds. Death and I, the two of us rarely get involved with the happenings of what goes on around us. We are the natural order, I the extension of life and he the extension of death. We are content to let the universe function as it should be, for it is not our right to interfere."

She took in a deep breath. "However, times have changed. The balance is shifting and I can feel a darkness creeping over my limbs that should not be. The multiverse is still too young, still too full of potential for it to fully know well the emptiness and brutality of death. But yet it is a future I see is coming if left unchecked, a war that will bring all of creations to its knees. There once was a painter, very long ago, who could have stopped this all. But I have long since seen him and I fear for him."

"Ink?" You felt your voice waver. You had been curious as to why the painter had not shown his face given the recent conflict in your world and the inevitable war that was seeding within the multiverse, but never did you think him dead!

"But perhaps that is just the ramblings of an old woman," Toriel reassured you, though the hollow look in her gaze suggested that she truly believed the worst. "Death and I reached an agreement, that something must be done. Even he is not content with the shift, we both feel as if it is not the time for the multiverse to run void of life. And that is why we have called upon you."

"But I'm nothing special," you protested, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Sans took a step towards you and placed a hand on your shoulder as if to argue otherwise. A wave of gratitude washed off you as you looked at Toriel for an answer.

She returned in kind with a wistful smile. "I believe that is anything but true," she replied. "Every living thing in all of creation has a soul. Their soul defines them, who they are as a person, what choices they'll make and so much more. But every soul is unique to a universe, some little trait that's special inside it that can only be found in the universe that they're born in.

"But," Toriel continued, "you are the exception. Unlike others that roam these worlds, your soul is not bound to any universe for reasons even I do not understand. Upon your death in one world, your soul ascends into the Void and chooses another world at random, a never-ending cycle that you are caught in the midst of. I am sure that you have already realised this given the extent of your memories."

You nodded in confirmation as Toriel resumed: "I suppose you wonder why I say any of this. Error, the one who strives to claim the multiverse as his own, is preparing to raise an army. There are rumours, ghosts at most but dreadful if true, that he has managed to perfect the corruption of a soul's coding.

"Error has been able to identify the different traits of a soul that make them unique to their birth universes, what makes a soul created in Outertale unique to that region and so on. If Error has such knowledge, he would only need to tap into the source coding of that one portion of the soul and corrupt every living creature in that universe at once. He could create an army of billions within the span of seconds should he wish."

You listened with growing horror, briefly remembering Todd's words as you had fought him in the burning streets of Chicago, the way his battered and demented form had screeched into the air of your dying world:

Because you have lost, everyone you have ever known or loved will be dead soon and their souls will rise into the Void where my King rules and he will convert them. He'll make them into an army!

The very words chilled your blood to ice at the thought of an entire universe being rewritten in a matter of seconds. What was the purpose of life, then, if one could be completely changed and morphed as if their former self had meant nothing.

"Error's done that with our world," you realised, the pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting together. "There was a boy in our world," you explained to Toriel, recounting how Todd had given his soul over to Nightmare and became his servant, "who said that Nightmare was going to take the souls of every dead person in our world and convert them to some army he was making." You cast a nervous glance at Sans. "Do you think he's done that now?"

Sans' voice was hard when he spoke, reflecting nothing but untampered rage and sorror that had been manifesting inside him since the day the bombs first fell upon his world. "It would make sense," he concluded, "why Error was so interested in our world. He was using it as an experiment, to see if he could successfully corrupt the souls of the dead and convert them to his army."

You shuddered at the thought. If Error had been collecting the souls from your universe and creating them into an army, that would mean that foes and enemies you had once thought dead could be walking the ground once more. You recoiled at the idea of having to face Mayor Grimes on the field of battle once more.

"But there's still one thing you haven't explained," you said, turning back to face Toriel. "Why choose me out of everyone else?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she smiled. "Nightmare plans on corrupting the source codes for the souls of creatures that are native to each and every universe in all of existence to be subjugated to his control. You are the only one that does not belong to a universe, rendering your soul free from his grasp."

You once more felt the familiar wave of determination that seemed to crash down upon you, restoking the fire in your veins. At last it seemed that you had a purpose, a direction to follow. It was your duty, your responsibility to remove the king from his iron throne. And if all those who had died in your world were alive, even with their souls corrupted and minds enslaved for an army to their king, maybe, just maybe, there was a chance of restoring all those who had died in battle and slaughter.

But there was also something else that you were beginning to realise, something that your mind wanted to lock away, to refuse to accept that anything could go wrong, that anything could set you from the path you were so determined to set foot upon.

"When Error corrupts the source coding for a specific universe, everyone would be impacted, living or dead right? Because they all have that special bit of source coding all in common that makes them unique to their universe. And if Nightmare corrupts that bit of code, than everyone is affected."

"That is correct," Toriel frowned, beginning to pick up on what you were suggesting.

Because if Error had done it, if the king of the Void had managed to corrupt the coding for each and every thing from your universe, monster or human, living and dead, that meant not one was spared from his grasp. Not one monster, not one human was free from their soul being corrupted and minds enslaved to the will of their king.

You turned to Sans, taking a step backwards, revulsion and sorrow mixing together inside your heart all at once. "I'm so sorry," you whispered. "I just got you back but I promise, I swear upon it, that I will track Error down and free you, free everyone."

"I-I don't understand what you're talking about," Sans protested, looking genuinely confused.

For a brief, brief moment, you wanted to agree with the comedian, to believe that he had been spared from Error's corruption. That for some reason unknown, there had been a flaw, a fluke that had left the coding of his soul intact while Error corrupted the coding for everyone else.

But this is not a story and there are no happy endings.

When Sans spoke again, his voice was much more ragged, conveying nothing of his former self. "By golly, I've got to admit that you sure are a smart cookie! I almost had you there, didn't I!" Sans doubled over in a fit of sadistic hysteria, his form glitching slightly as his chest racked with laughter. "Do you honestly think that you can manage to defeat your king who has so generously allowed you to live in his kingdom? Have not you learned anything?"

You bared your teeth back in the beginnings of a snarl but did not make a move to hurt the skeleton, knowing that there was still hope, still potential for you to bring back Sans, your comedian, who had been locked away inside.

"Be gone!" Toriel roared and Axel cawed in rage, the cancer stick falling from his mouth.

"We'll be seeing you soon," Sans cackled and vanished from view, most likely teleporting to wherever his king ruled atop his throne of iron and misery. You watched as the comedian vanished, almost as if he had never been there at all.

The rest was a blur.

You remembered receiving Toriel's instructions, where Error's castle lay and how to navigate through this world of white. She wished you luck and even offered a hug, one you limply returned, mind already honed in on the path ahead.

Because for the first time and certainly not the last, there fire was hot.

Error had kindled the flames, pushed you to the brink. He had burned your world and ripped apart everything you had built for yourself. He had shoved enemies and adversaries your way to knock you to the ground but each and every time you rebuilt yourself, one step ahead, always a little bit stronger.

And now the final battle, the last stage was set, every piece was ready for the closing act. Somewhere in the Void, inside a castle tucked away from all, sat the king upon his throne surrounded by his army of stolen souls with their corrupted codes, where the comedian whom you had grown fond for also lie in wait, his soul too corrupted as all others had been.

The fire roared inside your mind, drove you on the path as you reached towards the folds of magic tucked away inside your mind. Without resistance or struggle, you easily brought forth the magic needed to fuel your veins and summoned forth a red spear that hummed with arcane energy as it came into contact with your hand.

You were determined.