Even in the world of the dead, where the ghosts of universes that had long since ceased into oblivion, where the outcasts of broken worlds were ripped from their homes and left to rot in the world of white, did you feel alone.

You were surprised at the feeling that had manifested inside your mind, taken root ever since you had watched Sans vanish from sight, leaving you alone. Of course, you had always truly been alone since the very start of your adventure. It had been you that led the revolution against Mayor Grimes, to try to forge a better start for the rest of humanity and monsterkind, only to watch as they once more tore on another to pieces.

But in the end, your work had been futile. The world had still burned, the nuclear holocaust had not stopped until the life of every living, breathing creature had succumbed to the fate that awaited anything with a heart that beat and lungs that sighed. Death was inevitable, death was a ticking time bomb that was strapped to everyone's chest and it was impossible to see the countdown.

Sometimes the thought of death was enough to drive someone mad, it could drive anyone mad given enough time and thought. For your entire life you walked around, the thought that there was always a bomb strapped to your chest, ticking down to some unknown and hidden moment tucked away in the back of your mind. Because every living thing would die eventually, succumb to the fate of billions of organisms before them and simply cease from existence while the rest of the universe carried on without a thought to the mere whisper you had been in the song of life.

But the thought of death did not bother you like it did with so many others. You had seen death, known it ever since the bombs had rained from the sky and embraced whole cities and countries with a fiery embrace, eradicating history and civilization in the blink of an eye. You had seen death in the streets of Chicago years after the world war had ended, seen it as monsters were dragged from their homes and shot without trial, the police force their judges, juries and executioners.

Millions of others before you had died in your lifetime, so why should you fear your own death? You did not tremble nor cower at the thought of stepping before the king of the Void, the only powers that surged through your veins was the steady stream of magic that could be summoned if the time was right. You did not wail over the fact that the odds were not in your favour, that most likely in a few hours time, you would be a lifeless corpse on the white floor of the Void, bleeding out your life's blood as your eyes stared into the light of creation that they could not see.

Many would have run from such a fate, one full of death and destruction. But for you, there was an emotion hammering away inside your fight that numbed out the instinctual urge to run, that clouted your thoughts of seeking shelter and trembling before the might of your king, the king who had managed to corrupt the coding of an entire universe with the mere flicker of thought, who like a nuclear missile, could wipe away whole groups of people as if their lives and sufferings meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

And if the king of the Void was like a nuclear missile, than what was there to fear? Even when the dead world you had come from was bathed in flame and chaos overnight, you had survived, lived by chance and eventually through skill and persistence, standing as a monument, a tombstone of older times, of a human empire that had long since fallen and the world would never know again. If the king was a nuclear missile, if the king of the Void posed no more threat than that, than how you would laugh when you faced him! For you had survived a million more like him, survived wave after wave of nuclear holocaust and lived to tell the tale!

You had never before felt the strange emotion that coursed inside your veins as strong as you did now. The way, the path towards your end destination was clear, for the emotion sharpened your senses and dulled out any distraction that might present it itself. The emotion that flowed through your veins alongside your life's blood was a catalyst, a transparent conductor between the magic tucked away inside your brain and to the rest of your being. While that emotion remained inside you, you could summon forth magic without any difficulty, as if the arcane energy was nothing more than a mere extension of your arm.

You had begun to lose track of time as you wandered through the world of white, feeling very alone. But as isolating as the loneliness was, you were certain that that feeling would end soon, either through the liberation of the damned souls that were enslaved by your king or through the gentle folds of death that would drag you into the pit of oblivion.

Long since had it been since you had bade Toriel and her raven Axel farewell, a solemn parting that left the three of you on edge. There had been the mutual feeling that following your encounter with Error, the three of you would never meet together again, whether it be through the dictations of fate or through the claims of death that held high over your head.

But the emotion, the determination that blazed inside you, it guided you through the world of white, leading you down paths unseen and guided by the strings of destiny that were every-so-tightly woven around you. And eventually after hours or perhaps years of wandering, it was hard to dictate the passing of time in a world where such a thing did not exist, did you find what you were looking for.

It was a massive camp, full of various makeshift tents where people wandered too-and-from, heads held high as they walked with a sense of duty, each soldier guided by a purpose. We believe that Nightmare is raising an army, Toriel's words echoed inside your mind as you watched the collection of people clamour about like ants following the orders from their queen.

Or king.

There was something strange about the way these people walked, the way their spines were stiffened and shoulders that were squared as if they were constantly on alert for an impending attack. Another detail that you managed to discover was that this army that was assembling inside the world of white was not only an army, but an intermixing of humans and monsters alike, working alongside one another, indifferent to the old hatreds and rivalries that existed between the races.

It occurred to you that this too was what Toriel had been referring to as well. If Error had been able to corrupt the coding of each and every living thing in your world, it meant that he had complete control over their coding and thus transported them to the Void.

Everyone who had ever lived or died within your forsaken universe was alive, walking around with their minds corrupted, carrying out the orders from their king.

The thought both sickened and enticed you at the same time. You were revolted at the fact that these people had been violated in such a way in the sense that their minds could so easily be taken over, their whole life and personality cut away like it had never been there at all. But at the same time you couldn't help but rejoice at the sight of the humans and monsters who had once lived inside your city, alive even if their minds were twisted and forced into servitude. Because that meant that if you could conquer their king and free them, there was still hope after all.

The determination inside your blood blazed even higher as you caught sight of a lone skeleton walking through the crowd, barking out orders to those who passed him by. Even with the ghost of his former self erased, you could still recognize the figure of the comedian you had grown so close to.

But the biggest problem at hand was attempting to devise a plan in which you could infiltrate the camp without being seen. No doubt had Error engraved a picture of you into their minds, keeping every human and monster on high alert in case you did decide to show your face. One wrong move and you could have an army of ten thousand turning on you, ready to rip out your throat should their king give the order.

Perhaps a disguise would work, you wondered, if you could manage to mask your face long enough to sneak through their defences and...

"Not so fast."

You froze as a hand clamped around your shoulder, their iron-grip unrelenting. You stiffened as you turned around and beheld the sight of Undyne, your friend from your dead world whose life had ended too soon. You shuddered as the memory played through your mind, the wounds and the trauma still fresh of the battle that had ravaged Chicago, of Flowey forcing himself onto her corpse, moving Undyne's limbs as if she was nothing more than a makeshift puppet.

But this version of Undyne offered no recognition that she had ever known you in her life. In fact, it seemed as if she was not even aware that she existed, nothing more than a hollow lifeform that was filling out the orders that were dumped into her head by her king. A wave of great sadness crashed over you and only hardened your resolve to fight to set these people free.

"You may not remember me," you whispered to Undyne, "but we have walked and talked as friends once. And I promise that I will set you free, that I'll set everyone free and make this right. We're going home."

When Undyne responded, the original tone of her voice had vanished, replaced by one much more glitched and sinister, as if an unseen face was speaking through her. "How adorable," the arcane voice rasped, not bothering to hide the sadistic glee that dripped from its words. "You think that you can win, that you can somehow hope to save your universe when fate has damned it to rot? The minds of your friends, of your comedian are gone, erased and vanquished forever. There is no hope for you here, no battle to fight. I have won rightful dominion over this world the second I drove the heel of my foot into the painter's skull, when his dust flowed like a river through the Void. There is nothing for you (Y/n), no friends, no allies. You have lost this fight before it even began."

"That's where you're wrong," you snarled and flipped yourself over, grabbing hold of Undyne's arm and wrenching it in a direction it should probably not move in, a loud snap resonating through the air. Undyne let loose a howl as she clutched her broken arm, drops of blood sprinkling across the white ground of the Void. Before she could regain herself, you slammed the base of your elbow into the back of her head, watching in dismay as she crumbled to the floor, rendered unconscious. You did not dare make a move that would prove fatal for your mission was not one of genocide, but one of saving the lives of those who had been stolen.

The army that gathered within the camp began to stir as if part of a hive mind, soldiers both human and monster marching along side-by-side in a sadistic procession, guided nothing more than by the orders of their mad king.

The monsters within the army's ranks raised their hands, tapping into the magic that was woven into the very fabric of their being and summoned forth a whole wave of different attacks, honed in on you.

But still you did not falter.

When the magic was unleashed, when the world became a roar of violent energy and colour, you knelt down into a ball, allowing the fire within your veins to extend beyond the inner workings of your flesh and form a translucent red shield that wrapped around your mortal form.

"Let me be brave," you whispered to yourself as the monsters' attacks slammed into your shield. You thought of the faces that were surrounding you, the faces of the humans and the monsters who lives had been so unfairly taken like they meant nothing. You thought of Sans and of Undyne and every other friend that had helped you in your travels, how they had all fought valiantly to get you where you stood now, so that you might put an end to the reign of the king and start a better world, a better future. And you thought of the lives of every living thing in the millions of universes besides your own whom you also fought for, so that they would never know the suffering and calamity that your world had.

And that gave you strength.

The determination rose in strength and you devoted every ounce of your being towards it, determined not to let your mind falter, to hone your energy on the shield that wrapped around you, for should one thought stray, it would give way to the magic and you would be incinerated.

At last the roar of the magic died down, the ringing ceasing from your ears. You lifted your head, surprised that you had even lived at all. The army continued its march to where you stood, the monsters preparing another round of assaults.

But you did not give them time to recover and began running towards the unexposed flank of the camp, towards where their king lay as he watched his army carry out the deeds he deemed unworthy of doing himself. You dodged a wave of bullets, of fire and bone, your gaze trained on one black tent that stood in the centre of the camp. The sight fueled your fire, became the epicentre of your life.

A single figure walked out of the entrance, looking quite bored with how everything was turning out. With a mere flick of his wrist, blue strings crept their way across the floor like serpents guided by an invisible hand, wrapping around your limbs and suspending you in the air. You thrashed and howled against the bindings but made no progress from your efforts, helpless, hapless to do anything.

"Such a shame!" The person shouted at the army that was beginning to return to the camp. "You all had one job, to kill one damn human! And even after you gave it all you got, you still couldn't do it! Well I suppose as the old saying goes, if you want something done, you've got to do it yourself."

Error cracked his knuckles, cocking his head to one side as the beginnings of a sneer took over his features. "And I'm guessing that you're (Y/n), is that correct? You're the human that's been causing me so much grief these last few days, the one human in the entirety of your universe whose coding was unique, with a design so intricate that even I could not come up with a wave to enslave it as I have done with the thousands of others from your world.

"And yet," he continued, sneer widening as the king of the Void drank in this moment, relishing this victory, "after all this time, after planning and countless sacrifices, after the mountain of bodies that are stacked up in your name of all those arrogant enough to sacrifice their lives so that you might get the chance to kill me, you've still lost, and without a fight too! I must say, you and the painter have so much in common." On those words, Error picked up a black paintbrush that was slung across his back.

"That belongs to Ink," you snarled, beginning to hate everything about the glitch of a skeleton that stood before you.

Error sighed. "Did I ever tell you the story about how I got this brush? No, I didn't pick it up from the painter's cold, dead corpse if that's what you're asking. I had dug Ink out of the hole he had buried himself in, managed to find him after he was so determined to run away from me. And we fought, you should have seen it, such a shame that no one was selling tickets. We fought for so long that you thought that an eternity could have passed and the two of us wouldn't have noticed.

"And it seemed like the fight would never cease," he continued, "for our powers were too well-matched. But at the last second, in one crucial moment, I knocked the painter to the ground. And when he was recovering from the shock, I reached out to the coding of his brush, analysed every detail that constructed it and I was determined to make his weapon mine own. I corrupted every bit of that brush, changed its loyalty if you will. You should have seen the look on the painter's face when the brush came to me, when I could summon it from him with a flicker of thought. And then I drove it into his skull, watched as the very tool he had crafted whole worlds with was his ultimate destruction."

Bile rose up in your throat at the thought of witnessing Ink's lifeless form across the Void. The painter had been like a brother to you in your past lives and the image of his death made you hate the glitch even more.

"And now," Error concluded, "I'm going to do the same thing with you. Upon your death will it mark the glory of a new age, one where not one stands strong enough to oppose me, not that there ever was. My army will spread out across the whole of the multiverse, corrupting the codes and converting entire worlds to my side. And then I will reign upon my subjects in the Void, in one kingdom where none know of resistance. That is utopia."

"Wherever there is life, there will always be hope," you snarled. The familiar feeling was back inside you again, the determination that had hammered inside you for many a time.

Not only inside you was determination, but an ancient sorrow that radiated from the pits of your mind, mourning for all those who had died and sacrificed themselves to get you here. It seemed so profoundly wrong that Error could still win, that he could remain triumphant while thousands of others had died virtually for nothing.

The determination seemed to embrace the sorrow, intermingling with it until a whole new emotion was formed entirely. You did not know a name for it nor did you think that words could describe such a feeling.

But more than anything, you wanted Error to understand, for the king of the Void to know what it felt like to know the sorrow of loss and the determination that still blazed inside a martyr even when death was inevitable.

There were two words that you felt could cast such a spell, two words that you felt could contain such a spell. And so you allowed your tongue to speak them, to utter the words whose meanings you knew not:

"Avar Hivaeken."

"What did you say?" Error snapped, picking up on your words. A cynical smile was plastered on his skull. "You think some petty spell that you happen to cook up on a whim is going to stop me, to stop what I have planned? No, you will die here today (Y/n) in a world where no one knows your name."

On those words, he arced the brush over his head, ready to slam it down on the base of your neck and end your life once and for all. You closed your eyes, embracing the folds of death.

And yet it did not come.

Testing the waters, you forced one eye open, looking up at Error whose face was contorted in an expression of unimaginable rage. "What did you do?" he shrieked, arms trembling as he dropped the brush to the floor, sinking to his knees as the spell took its toll.

"I made you understand," you wheezed, the pressure of the blue strings increasing around your throat. "I made you understand what you've done, all the pain you've caused and even when all seems lost, even when you think that the rest of creation will bow before you, there will always be hope. We will never bow down to you."

Error clawed at his skull in an attempt to pry away the influx of emotion ravaging inside him. "Make it stop!" he screeched and collapsed to the floor, watching in horror as his left arm began to twitch violently, his corporeal form not able to sustain the energy of the spell that was eating him from the inside out.

And then in a brilliant flash of light, with a glare and heat brighter than that of a thousand suns, similar to the flash of fire and inferno that had engulfed whole cities and nations, did Error disappear in the blinding light. In an act of quick thinking, you summoned forth a transparent shield and extended it to the army gathered around the interior of the camp, shielding them as the explosion rocketed throughout the Void.

When the dust had cleared, not one trace of the camp remained, the whole of It reduced to ash. A neat pile of dust was gathered where Error had been kneeling several moments ago, a sadistic monument to the damned creature that had once been. "Good riddance," you snarled as the strings binding you to the air slackened, releasing you to the ground. You kicked the pile of dust in triumph, watching as the particles of dust scattered in the coming breeze,

The wind was suddenly knocked out of your lungs as you were lifted several feet into the air. "You did it!" A voice cheered and you recognized the monster holding you hostage as Undyne. "I don't know where the hell we are or why we're here or why I'm even alive in the first place, but you did it!"

You laughed and returned Undyne with the same fierce hug, noticing that much to your delight, the rest of the monsters had regained their memory and composure as well. And through the crowd you saw the comedian making his way towards you.

Undyne noticed this as well and let you go before she caught sight of a familiar yellow dinosaur and went charging off into the distance, obviously elated. You flung yourself onto Sans, taking in the scent of the burnt cigarettes and packaging tape that seemed to cling onto his black overcoat wherever he went. "Next time we decide to go somewhere, I get to choose," the comedian laughed, obviously exhausted. Most anyone would if their coding had been corrupted.

Sans immediately stopped upon seeing a taller skeleton walking blindly through the crowd. "That's Papyrus," he whispered, looking at you with an expression of excitement that you had never thought the comedian capable of. You recognized Papyrus as well, remembering him through the memories of your previous lives where you had ventured through the Underground, avoiding all sorts of japes and puzzles.

"Go to him," you whispered and Sans took off running, eager to meet his brother. In fact, all the monsters and humans alike were eagerly conversing with one another, reuniting with dead family and friends that had been claimed in the battle of Chicago. It occurred to you that all the humans and monsters present had only lived inside the city. Those who had died during the original nuclear war seemed to still be damned to whatever afterlife awaited this life.

As Sans disappeared into the crowd, you caught sight of a small human child stumbling blindly through the midst. It took you a moment to realise why this human was so familiar, but when you did, you felt bile rise in your mouth.

The purple and blue sweater was unmistakable.

"Frisk?" you asked, remembering the name for the human ambassador who had gone missing. But your knowledge of Frisk extended beyond this timeline, beyond this life. This was also the Frisk who had complete and utter control of the timeline, of each world and could reset it on a whim, bring everything back to point zero. You had known them in lives past this one and the glint in their eyes suggested that they remembered you too.

"You're (Y/n), right?" They asked, looking preoccupied by something. "I was talking with the other monsters and they told me what happened." Tears welled in the corners of their eyes. "I left Chicago after the war had started, walked into the wastelands. My friend Asriel, he used to be a lot different. In order to fix him, I gave him my soul so that he could be normal again. But in giving him my soul - "

"You sacrificed your control over the timeline and couldn't reset anymore," you interjected. When the human child seemed surprised at you mentioning their arcane abilities you replied, "I'm like you in a way, I think. I jump from world to world when I die and sometimes I have the ability to reset. So I know about humans and their powers to reset whole timelines when they venture into the Underground."

"Y-Yeah," Frisk replied, on the verge of tears. "But now it's better, after you defeated Error and freed everyone, I got my soul back, good as new."

You didn't understand why Frisk was crying. "And why's that a bad thing?" you asked slowly.

"Because don't you get it!" They exclaimed. "Everyone here, they died in the current timeline of our world. Since they're dead, they'll never be able to get back into our world. The only chance we have of bringing them back is - "

"Resetting the timeline," you realized, horror dawning on you. "You're not going to do that, are you?"

"There's no other choice," Frisk whispered, their voice dangerously low. "Sans told me that everyone died, so no one besides you and him would be able to get back home. Our universe would reject everyone else's coding because they've already died. We can't just leave them stranded out here in the Void, can we?"

You looked back over to Sans who was happily chatting away with his brother and knew instantly that it was selfish to even consider putting your own wants and desires over the needs of others. "So if you do reset," you mused, turning back to Frisk, "everyone would go back to normal?"

"Everything," Frisk replied quietly. "It would take us all right back to the beginning, when I fell into the Underground."

Your voice was unusually tight as you replied, "And no one would remember a thing? Not even me or Sans - "

"I'm sorry (Y/n)," Frisk muttered. "But what else can we do? There's no other option here, no way to continue and just leave everyone stranded like outcasts."

"I know," you mumbled, running your hands through your hair as your mind struggled to process the information. "But I just got my memory back, I can remember all the times I walked through the Underground, all the memories I had with him - " You looked back at Sans. "And if you reset, that's gone, plucked from our minds like it never even happened in the first place. No one would remember, except you."

Frisk forced a grim smile onto their face. "What else can we do?"

You stared at Sans and turned your gaze to Undyne and Alphys who roamed happily together. They all deserved a second chance, a better shot at living their lives and undoing the catastrophe and sorrow that Error had seeded upon your universe. There was no other option. If Frisk decided to continue instead of resetting the timeline, the souls of the humans and monsters alike would never again allowed to return to their world, stuck forever to be ravaged by insanity in this world of white.

"Do it," you whispered, tearing your gaze away from them. Frisk opened their mouth to reply but you were already walking away, determined to make the most out of the few seconds of this life that you had left.

"Hey bonehead!" You called over the crowd, pushing past the humans and monsters so you stood face-to-face with Sans.

"What's going on?" the comedian asked, picking up on the obvious sorrow that filled your gaze.

"Nothing," you lied, thought it wasn't very convincing. "Everything's going to be alright, I promise. Frisk is going to fix everything and get us all home."

"W-What - "

Before the comedian could finish his question, you grabbed him by his overcoat and pressed your lips against his, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you saw Frisk in the corner of your eye, slamming down a shaking fist on an orange reset button. The comedian returned the embrace, the two of you holding one another, making up for all the time the two of you had spent apart, fighting across worlds and armies to seek out a better life.

You remained that way as you felt your soul left into the air, the reset taking effect, pulling back the grouping of humans and monsters towards their original universe, turning back the gears of time, undoing slaughter and genocide that had plagued your world. Your last thought was of the comedian, if you would ever see him again, if the tides of fate would dictate another chance.

And then the tides came crashing down on your mind, drowning out your memories, your experiences and your life, washing you clean for the blank slate that you would become when you awoke in a few seconds time in your old home, before the monsters had arisen from their Underground prison, before the bombs had fallen. And Frisk would get it right this time, you were certain.

With a heavy sigh, you relented to the tidings of fate, sending your mind and your memories spiraling into the gaping jaws of oblivion.