Chapter Text
degenerate cycle
dəˈjen(ə)rət ˈsīkəl
(noun) a repetitive process or loop in which the system loses quality, energy, or functionality with each repetition, leading to deterioration over time.
(☝︎✌︎💧︎❄︎☜︎☼︎, 🕈︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ 👎︎✋︎☠︎☝︎💧︎. "degenerate cycle." Encyclopedia of Quantum Physics and Practical Mechanics, 18XX, pp. 66.)
This golden sunset is always temporary.
Frisk smiles as the sky glows golden.
Toriel is humming.
Sans is making a terrible pun.
Asgore waters his garden with hands too gentle for a war.
Alphys and Undyne argue over something dumb. Papyrus is winning.
They should be happy.
They are.
And then—
silence.
Not sleep. Not death. Not even emptiness.
No light.
No sound.
No sensation.
Just oblivion.
It all turned
D A R K
D A R K E R
Y E T D A R K E R
Frisk panicked.
And they reset.
And the cycle begins anew.
They fall.
They get up.
They make friends.
They fight.
They forgive.
And they die.
Again. And again. And again.
And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and
Days blended into weeks,
which blended into months,
which blended into years.
Frisk stopped counting.
They tried everything.
They tried mercy.
They tried neutrality.
They tried—
Genocide.
It had been easier, starting with the Moldsmals and Whimsuns; they didn’t even look remotely human. It didn't feel like murder.
It was for science. For discovery. For a “happy ending.”
And Frisk began raising their LV.
An important thing to note was that Level Of ViolencE and EXecution Points weren’t just measurements of the sins that Frisk bore; those numbers tangibly made them stronger, faster, and more durable.
However, they could feel those changes not only in their body but also their SOUL.
The hate and death clung to their SOUL like a thick miasma and numbed them as they swung their weapon with the intent to slaughter every last monster that stood in their way. The LOVE and EXP wrapped around their SOUL muffled the guilt, smoothed over the horror, made it feel okay .
Frisk had been looping for so long, the numbness and apathy felt freeing. Liberating.
Anything other than their fear of oblivion.
With those walls of murder and destruction stripped away with the rewinding of the clock…
The grief hit them harder than Sans’ blasters. For the people they had killed, for the fact that they hadn't felt anything, and for the fact that they… they’d gotten so close. Close enough to be completely unrecognizable to themselves.
Then, there was the voice in the back of their head that grew louder and louder with every senseless murder. The dark, cruel voice that roared with adrenaline as they danced between waves of bones and lasers of death.
When Frisk first noticed the voice, they thought they were just going insane. Which wouldn’t be that surprising after a hundred-odd resets.
After emptying out the Ruins with dust-coated hands, Frisk checked Toriel’s kitchen out of a sense of obligation; the entire point of starting down this violent road was to see what they could change. Find any kind of hint on how to reach any true, meaningful ending.
Even if they were, to some fucked-up degree, enjoying it now, they were still doing it for a purpose. Everything had to be investigated. No stone could be left unturned. So Frisk slid open the kitchen drawers.
Where are the knives.
‘…What?’
No response. Just a faint sense of confusion and a cold sweat down their neck.
‘…Weird. Maybe I’m finally cracking…’ Frisk’s cold face, expressions deadened by their LV, quirked upwards in a slightly amused smile.
Internally, they knew that smiling after they just killed droves of innocent monsters was messed up on so many levels. They couldn’t bring themselves to care that much with the shroud of Execution Points and the mental exhaustion that clung to them like a thick syrup.
Double-checking that they were alone in the kitchen, they again searched for the source of the voice.
‘…Guess it was nothing.’
Frisk shrugged.
They didn’t hear from it again for a while.
However, they quickly realized the voice wasn’t theirs, nor the resultant delusions of a fractured mind.
It grew louder and louder the more they slaughtered, until they were one hundred percent sure they weren’t alone in their head.
Not worth talking to, they whispered as they turned Toriel to dust with a single strike.
16 left, they murmured when they saved outside Snowdin. The number dropped with every monster they killed.
Forgettable, they dismissed as they fought Papyrus.
And when they looked in the mirror, they saw the face of Chara, the first fallen child.
Rationally, they should have stopped. Voices of dead children encouraging murder in their head was an obvious sign that they should probably not do that.
But it was something completely and totally new.
Driven both by their search for a solution and a morbid curiosity, they continued their slaughter.
‘It could just be reset, anyways. No harm, no foul,’ they reasoned.
Sure enough, the voice kept growing in volume with each speck of dust on their hands.
And it grew to a cacophony as they stepped into the last corridor. Their echoing footsteps could barely be heard over the rabid screaming going on inside their head.
KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIM—
Sans.
Wearing his signature blue hoodie and pink slippers as he stared them down.
Dust swirled in the air as Frisk stepped forwards.
“heya. you've been busy, huh?
...so, i've got a question for ya.
do you think even the worst person can change...?
that everybody can be a good person, if they just try?”
S H U T U P
He seemed amused as he chuckled softly.
“heh heh heh heh...
all right. well, here's a better question.”
The lights in his sockets went dark. Chills traveled down Frisk’s spine, even despite the twisted grin teasing their face. The voice went momentarily silent.
“do you wanna have a bad time?
'cause if you take another step forward...
you are REALLY not going to like what happens next.”
There was an air of finality to this.
Sans had always been a lazybones.
They were going to reset this timeline anyways.
Might as well enjoy it, right? Frisk wondered idly how strong Sans could actually be; as the Judge who had determined the worth of their actions in numerous other timelines, he must’ve been prepared to judge someone truly evil. Just in case.
Frisk’s grin stretched wider.
‘There’s nothing wrong with being a little curious, right?’
K I L L
Tap.
They planted their foot firmly in front of them as they took on a loose fighting stance.
“welp.
sorry, old lady.
this is why i never make promises.”
The air felt charged.
“it's a beautiful day outside.
birds are singing, flowers are blooming...
on days like these, kids like you…”
The pause felt loaded. Loaded like a loaded gun leveled at their head.
“should be burning in hell.”
And then the wave of bones ripped them to screaming shreds before they could react.
…
He killed them, hundreds of thousands of times.
They might’ve even given up, despite their overflowing Determination. But the voice—
KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIM
—didn’t let them rest.
They fought. Over and over again. They barely heard what Sans was saying.
They got used to the pain. To dying. To the taste of their own blood in their mouth.
And each time, they got further than before. Eventually…
“...listen.” Frisk watched as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of Sans’ skull. They barely spared a thought on the question of how skeletons sweated as they braced themselves for the next attack.
“i know you didn't answer me before, but... somewhere in there. i can feel it.
there's a glimmer of a good person inside of you.
the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing.
someone who, in another time, might have even been...
a friend?
c'mon, buddy.
do you remember me?
please, if you're listening...
let's forget all this, ok?
just lay down your weapon, and...
well, my job will be a lot easier.”
Somehow, those words pierced through the thick miasma of LOVE around their SOUL. They hesitated.
Sans didn’t move.
They paused as the dying breaths of every other monster flashed through their mind.
Toriel. Papyrus. Undyne. Mettaton.
They were honestly tired of fighting. They’d died so many times by now.
They just wanted to sleep for 72 hours straight.
And doubts had started creeping in.
‘It could just be reset, anyways. No harm, no foul…’ They paused, hesitating more. ‘...right?”
The dam of LOVE buckled slightly.
KILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIMKILLHIM—
But that damned voice…
They tried to drop the knife.
‘...What?’
Their hand twitched but didn’t let go.
Do you think you’re in control.
Raw terror ripped through them. Their body wasn't theirs anymore.
‘STOP! WAIT!’
The realization that their actions might actually have consequences was like cold water poured down their back.
Something in them told them that killing Sans would take them beyond the point of no return.
K I L L
'NononononononononoNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO—"
They could only watch as their arm raised upwards in preparation for another strike.
They were nothing but a puppet.
A toy.
A complete and utter fool.
They thought being a god of time made them above the consequences of their own actions and now they were paying the cruel price.
*But it refused.
Mustering every drop of Determination in their body, they pushed.
They slowly lowered their arm.
…What.
Why.
Stop that.
FIGHT
KILL
STRIKE
The voice seemed confused and angry, devolving into meaningless babbling.
Meanwhile, Sans seemed both surprised and deeply relieved. Admittedly, it was difficult to read expressions on a skull. “...you're sparing me?
finally.
buddy. pal.
i know how hard it must be...
to make that choice.
to go back on everything you've worked up to.
i want you to know... i won't let it go to waste.
...
c'mere, pal.”
He winked and opened his arms invitingly.
Frisk tremblingly lowered the knife. It had been… it had been so long since they’d gotten a hug.
They didn’t realize how much they missed it up until now.
It clawed at them violently, even through the shield of LV wrapped around their SOUL.
Combined with the terror of their body no longer being their own and the doubts creeping in…
Clang.
The knife bounced against the tiles as they shakily stepped forward into arms’ reach.
The screaming of the voice in their head faded into their background.
Tears gathered in the corners of their eyes as they reached out desperately.
Shhk.
Abruptly, bones sprouted from the ground. The pain was sharp and sudden as the magic constructs speared through their body easily, lifting them several feet off the ground and leaving their dying carcass suspended in the air. They tried to scream but their destroyed lungs only allowed them the tiniest wet gurgle. Blood slowly dribbled from their chin and onto the floor as they felt the KARMA course through their veins.
“geeettttttt dunked on!!!”
Despite the agonizing pain, Frisk chuckled internally as shudders wracked their soon-to-be corpse.
Sans leaned in with empty sockets, endless darkness staring straight into Frisk’s SOUL.
“if we're really friends...
you won't come back.”
They didn’t.
They grabbed at that tether in space and time hatefully bound to their SOUL and pulled, harder than they had ever before.
They awoke on a thick bed of Golden Flowers.
Never before had they been so grateful that they were trapped between oblivion and endless repetition. They weren’t dead, they weren’t dead, they weren’t dead—
Their stomach heaved. They choked on dust that wasn’t there.
The Level Of ViolencE and EXecution Points wrapped around their SOUL that had been muffling the guilt, smoothing over the horror, making it feel okay… had been torn off like a band-aid.
Everything came crashing back down to reality.
‘I… I… killed them… I killed them all…’
They retched.
Then they laid there in the flowerbed.
No matter what they did, the memories flashed underneath their eyelids whenever they closed their eyes.
Toriel's smile turning into a smear of dust.
The silence in Snowdin.
The sound of their own footsteps echoing alone through Waterfall.
Undyne’s screams. How long she held on. How furious she was.
The way Alphys never showed her face again. Not even at the end.
The way Mettaton’s body sparked and twitched, his voice giving out mid-sentence.
And Sans.
The dance of bones and blasters. The taunting. The laughter. The growing quiet.
Frisk had murdered almost everyone. The Underground was a tomb.
And yet, when Sans gave them that one last chance… they took it.
That’s what saved them. That’s what damned them.
The moment they reset, all the numbers dropped away.
And without them to keep the blood from sticking, everything came crashing back.
Not in pieces, but all at once.
Every face. Every final breath. Every “why?”
It hurt.
It hurt so much they couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even muster the willpower to move.
Eventually, Toriel found them lying there, dehydrated and hungry.
They met her warm eyes.
They weren’t ready.
Ugly, powerful sobs wracked their small body.
The memories of Toriel’s dust coating their fingers…
“What’s the matter, my child?!” the goat-monster rushed over to them, arms reaching out by instinct.
Frisk recoiled from her touch before desperately gasping and hugging Toriel around the torso. They buried their face into her robe and clung to her like they were drowning.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
Their words dissolved into incoherent sobs.
Despite her confusion, Toriel dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around them, holding them tight and steady.
“Shh… It’s alright, little one. You’re safe now. I’m here.”
‘I’m not the one you have to worry about.’
They didn’t meet Sans’ eyes in that timeline, or the next few either.
And they never laid their hands on another monster after their attempted genocide warpath.
...So they didn’t try everything.
They came close, though. In the end, they couldn’t finish what they started.
And they reset.
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and
They drifted through resets like a purposeless, silent specter.
At some point, they could practically go through the Underground blindfolded without a single scratch.
And they were so very tired.
'I think I'm reaching my limit,' they thought as they listlessly hit reset again. They knew it was starting to get bad when timelines started to bleed together in their head. 'I think I need... a break. I need to talk to someone like they're real again.'
They shuddered.
It had been a while since they had last stopped to really breathe...
And this would be their first break since... Since the timeline where they attempted a total genocide of all monsters.
'...how shameless can I be?'
53rd Reset After Aborted Genocide
6:05 AM, Sans' and Papyrus' House.
A gentle knocking rapped against the door.
Snow drifted past the fogged windows.