The golden light spilled across the polished floor. Dust hung thick in the air, every footstep stirring it into lazy spirals. The hall was silent, save for the soft hum of ancient magic, and the faint echo of Frisk's footsteps.
At the far end of the corridor stood a familiar figure.
Sans.
Hands in his jacket pockets. Eyes half-lidded, sockets shadowed with something beyond exhaustion. The smile he always wore was gone now, replaced by a line of quiet resignation.
"…so you made it."
The words hung there.
Frisk didn't answer.
Didn't even slow his step.
Sans sighed, looking down at the ground for a long moment before continuing.
"i guess it was only a matter of time, huh?"
His fingers tightened in his pockets. The air shifted, heavy with the weight of a thousand unseen resets.
"you know, back in the day, i'd have made some kind of bad joke about this. something about skeletons in your closet. or… about how this whole thing's a bone to pick."
A hollow, humorless chuckle escaped him.
"but not now."
He lifted his head. One of his pupils flared a pale blue, but not with hope — only duty.
"you've been busy, huh?"
He gestured vaguely at the dust on the floor. The empty spaces where friends once stood. Where names were spoken, and stories told.
"i've seen it all. the numbers. the resets. every time you come back, this world resets too. like a game. and each time, you chose this."
Chara's voice hummed softly in Frisk's mind.
"He's wasting his breath."
Sans kept speaking, his voice low and worn.
"you remember how this works, right?"
He gestured to the hall behind them, and then to the door ahead.
"in this world, it's kill or be killed."
His gaze sharpened.
"and guess what?"
The air snapped cold.
"you're gonna have a bad time."
Silence.
Frisk didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
Chara grinned.
"Finally."
Sans gave one last sigh.
"welp. guess there's no point dragging this out."
The hall around them dimmed, magic rising like storm clouds gathering in a sunless sky.
"let's just get this over with."
—
Above, the girl's hands trembled around her book. She raised them slowly, hesitantly, trying to ask the man something. A simple, voiceless gesture.
He understood.
And his voice was heavy when he answered.
"Yes… this is it. There's no turning back."
She swallowed hard, rain sliding down her face like tears.
—
Back in the Judgment Hall, Sans' SOUL ignited with light.
Chara's voice was sharp and cold.
"Kill him."
Frisk lifted the blade.
And the battle began.