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To say that Frisk and Flowey were not in a good spot mentally was… putting it lightly, to say the least.
Before them, for the 20th (50th? 100th?) time, stood Asgore Dreemurr, King of the Monsters and the last obstacle before they could cross the barrier. Every encounter they had faced before was immensely tough, from Toriel’s fierce protectiveness, to the skeleton brothers’ cooperative attacks, to Undyne’s cold and calculating patterns… they were even able to beat the superstar villain Mettaton at his own game, thanks in no small part to the brilliant Dr. Alphys and her help. But this… this was different.
No matter how many times they tried, what angles they approached from, the King was much too strong, too fast, and with how long it was taking for them to learn his patterns, they were starting to lose hope of ever beating him. Their minds were finite, fragile things, after all…
“Human. I must have told you many times before, and I will tell you again: I will not stop until you give in to your suffering .”
He slams his trident down, and by this point the pair’s Mercy has long since been dashed. They just want to end this pain and suffering, by any means necessary. This time (and maybe others before), they would choose violence, and plenty of it.
Everything was supposed to work out perfectly. While Frisk made heavy swings with their rusty, worn dagger, Flowey would intercept Asgore’s flames with his pellets, and hold Asgore back with his vines when he motioned to use his trident! Everything was set in motion, there was no way they could fail with the perfect plan!
There was no way Asgore could break out of Flowey’s hold and gore Frisk with his trident.
There was no way Asgore could overwhelm Flowey’s pellets with his flames and burn them both to a crisp.
There was no way Asgore could sneak an attack against Flowey to put an end to his support, before bringing Frisk to a slow and painful end.
There was no way Asgore could just straight up tear off each of Frisk’s limbs so they couldn’t make a proper move, before succumbing to their injuries.
There was no way.
There was no way.
THERE WAS NO WAY.
They were at wit’s end as they faced the King in the Mountain for what they could only assume to be… damn it all, they’re losing count, aren’t they? Asgore did not have the determination to manipulate time as they did, but even he could recognize the weariness in their eyes… that desperation.
“It shall all end soon, human. When your determination falters, humanity will know a fraction of the pain you suffered. The pain I suffered. Now perish!”
Neither of them were willing to wait for the trident to make its impact. With a determined yet fearful scream, the world around them began to warp in that all too familiar golden tint, and they were flung back.
Where they previously saved won’t do. They have to go further back than that.
Further, and further, and further…
ALL the way back.
—
Frisk was back just outside the Ruins, as was Flowey. They had gotten so far without laying a malicious finger on anybody, but the message was clear; pacifism wasn’t going to help them win against Asgore.
Walking back to the spot where they met Flowey, they could see him curled up, trying to process the Hell they've been through. To be so close to the finish line, yet brutally yanked away piece by piece…
“Frisk… What do we do?”
Flowey was shaking and trembling, but Frisk remained stoic. He needed their support in these harrowing times, even if they were on the brink of falling apart themself. They had to be strong.
They had to get stronger.
“We'll try your initial idea. If it's kill or be killed…”
They take out the stick they were holding onto from before the fall, brandishing it in front of Flowey. He grimaces, but nods at Frisk all the same.
“I don't want to be killed anymore, Flowey.”
“Same here, Frisk.”
—
“Prove to me that you can survive in this hellish world!”
Dear, sweet Toriel. Flowey had explained in the prior timeline that she was his mother, before his first death that transformed him into the flower he was today. Frisk knew she was a caring mother figure, and she couldn't bear to lose another child to the monsters out there, let alone to Asgore. They thought they were different, that they could shine through peacefully, but they had no such luck.
It's why they're standing before her with a Toy Knife in hand, caked in the dust of the Ruins' inhabitants, while Flowey curled his vines around them defensively. They had to get stronger.
They swing their weapon at their former caretaker, and they tear through her midsection like a hot knife through butter.
“M… my child… What happened to you…?"
She had a horrified look on her face before she faded to dust, her soul crumbling soon after. Frisk was still reeling from the force behind their strike, and the implications of the dust on their hands. Did she really deserve this?
It didn't matter. It was necessary to get stronger. They understood that, Flowey understood that, and they had to press on. They will need all the strength they can get to face Asgore, and as that puzzle from long before once said, neither the brave nor the foolish walk the middle road.
—
“y'know, i'm starting to wonder what the point of your snowdin forest romp is.”
It was a bit late to be thinking that, wasn't it? Frisk and Flowey had scoured the forest for every monster they could get their hands on, indiscriminately punching their way through each and every one. The Canine Guards were tough, but they were no match for the pair, and the wandering teens looking at a chance to kill a human were even squishier.
“really, if you only set your sights on the royal guard, you would've been hailed as a hero. but maybe you don't want that.”
Admittedly, this wasn't the first time they were dodging those damn blasters and jumping over bones. Those skeletons were tough, but they were crafty bastards too: they had a plan to take advantage of each other's deaths by landing the killing blow themselves, gaining the other's power in the process. They always had plans, and they found ways to help each other even from beyond the grave.
Frankly, it was infuriating that no matter what they did, the skeleton they initially targeted wouldn't die fast enough to foil that plan.
“that look on your face… that's the look of someone who's been hurt beyond compare. i get it, really, but did ya have to go this far?”
Frisk and Flowey only scowled at the empowered Sans, not dignifying him with a verbal response. A blaster showed up right beside them, but they knew all of his tricks by now. As soon as the blaster was almost fully charged, a bone shot through its mouth and sealed it shut like a pin. It was an attempt at improvising an explosive in lieu of straight and focused beams to make dodging less effective, but the same was true for Sans himself.
With quick footwork and a devastating haymaker, Frisk sent the blaster flying in Sans' direction. He instinctively dodged the actual blaster, but remembered too late what its purpose was.
“oh no-”
The ensuing explosion, as predicted (or more accurately, experienced), was devastating, and both Frisk and Flowey had to struggle to maintain their ground. When the dust finally settled… Sans was in pretty rough shape, bleeding what they assumed to be ketchup, but his left eye still had a dim glow of cyan and yellow.
Satisfied that he was beaten, Frisk and Flowey made their way to Sans, the former picking him up by the collar (or whatever the equivalent was on a t-shirt) and winding up a punch to cave his skull in. It was all to get stronger, and with this-
“fuck you.”
Sans' eyes suddenly glowed bright, far too bright, before headbutting Frisk right on the nose. Their vision was assaulted with a bright light and their ears with a loud bang, but it wouldn't be enough to kill them.
Even passed out in the snow, Frisk and Flowey both gained LOVE as the rest of their old friend turned to dust, blowing away with the snow. If giving up the good times with Papyrus and Sans and their lives was what it took to face off against The King, it was worth that sacrifice.
—
Karmic Retribution was annoying enough against either of the skeletons, but to have it linger as a permanent poison on the soul was a whole other deal entirely.
Frisk was beginning to doubt the efficacy of sweeping the entire underground of monsters, but briefly recalling the pain they suffered at Asgore's hands was enough to spur them on. Flowey looked like he was conflicted on the matter as well, but his partner's determination would help spur him on. The monsters they encountered hit hard for sure, but they hit harder.
Flowey's pellets were certainly on par with Undyne's spears, and though the mercenaries under her lead were competent fighters, a single kick from Frisk could instantly turn one to dust. They were getting stronger, but was it enough to face Asgore?
They kept combing and sweeping Waterfall like the desperate survivors they were, trying to scrounge up all the EXP they could get, every healing item they could get their hands and vines on. They couldn't afford to take half-measures, not with the stakes so high.
That's why they were standing on a rickety bridge, facing a scared Monster Kid. They were trying to put on a brave face, even with Undyne nowhere in sight, and it honestly sickened Frisk.
“I-If you wanna h-hurt anyone else… y-you gotta go through me first.”
If this is how they planned to die, then so be it. Trying to protect hateful people was not on their list of preferred causes to die for, but EXP is EXP.
They will all be executed in the end either way.
—
Frisk and Flowey learned a lot in their ensuing battles with Undyne.
For one, they were capable of using falling bridge pieces and rocks as platforms to jump off of, bouncing between debris to regain their footing when it was shattered by Undyne. They also found a near perfect synergy with each other, with the two of them fighting as if they were one body in mostly human form. The vines and pellets were great assets in every attempt at the fight so far too.
They also found out they were capable of so, SO much hate towards a friend they had cooked with in a previous timeline. To think they had memories, experiences with that hardened mercenary captain where Frisk had shared their experiences with stretching food to last much longer, where Undyne shared tips on how to make all those boring rations taste exciting, and where Flowey contributed nothing thanks to his past as a Prince and his present as a flower.
Their hate proved too useful to reminisce about those times, however. Even with Undyne hurling boulders at them, Frisk was able to tap into that power to shatter them with a kick, and Flowey finally had the power within his pellets to neutralize her spears blow for blow. Although she still had the numbers advantage, Undyne was getting less and less overwhelming, each opening getting wider as Flowey took advantage of the boulder debris to act as a tool to deflect those oncoming spears. It was only a matter of time before the decisive blow could be dealt, and Frisk spun and spun before leaping and delivering a devastating axe kick to her head.
That one strike had more power than any of them were expecting, an explosive shockwave of strange, dark magic tearing the mountain they were fighting on in half. It was only through Flowey's quick thinking that Frisk didn't fall to their death, while Undyne was hanging on for dear life as a half-melted corpse.
“S-So… even that power wasn't enough, huh? A real shame too… I doubt our king would absorb the human souls even in this situation.”
The mention of the souls made Frisk's blood run cold. How could they forget? There was just a slim chance that he would do it, true, but…
“It's fine, though. King Asgore Dreemurr can wallow in his decades of hatred all he likes! But as long as monsterkind bands together, we CAN survive this! With or without me!”
Somehow, she had the strength to turn her body, pointing towards a little chipped rock that used to be the wall of a tunnel. There was something whirring…
“I don't know who's in charge of these cameras, or what you do with them, but whoever you are… the rest is up to you.”
It was at that moment that Undyne finally let go of life, her sludgy body crumbling to dust. The wind did not disturb where her ashes lay, and after a brief period of silence, Frisk began to run in the direction of Hotland. There was no time for them to think, not when there was a chance that Asgore could get even stronger.
Flowey, though… he didn't have to move at all, staying in their backpack. He had all the time in the world to think about Undyne's dying words.
Is this what he wanted?
—
Flowey was starting to think they were getting too powerful, their hatred too personal.
The power thing was a physical problem. Almost every attack that Frisk used chipped off sizable pieces of the ground around them, and Flowey, fearing for their lives, would be forced to take over and use carefully aimed pellets to secure the kills.
The other thing… Asgore was certainly a horrible, horrible monster, and holding onto his hatred for so long made him the way he is today. He liked to think they weren't nearly as horrible, but was that true? Asgore had promised to make humanity suffer in the wake of Prince Asriel's death, to show them despair, but how different was it from their own actions?
“Wow, Mettaton's lair looks way different when we're not getting kidnapped. I sure hope that gun's still there…”
Flowey was jolted out of his thoughts for a brief moment, now aware that they were getting awfully close to the end. Mettaton had dropped the supervillain bit to assist in evacuations, but there was simply no point in dismantling the huge and sprawling set which even incorporated the CORE in its design.
He could only sigh as Frisk made a beeline for the cell that held them in the prior timeline. It was all in service of finally defeating Asgore. Even if over a hundred monsters have perished in their rampage, the monsters in the Capital would finally be free of their hateful ruler.
They had to be justified.
—
Dr. Alphys didn't waste her time mucking around, that's for sure.
Before them stood Mettaton ULTRA, far more powerful than even Mettaton Ultimate. Although the latter was certainly built as a human-exterminating robot (the truth was a bit more complicated, but it didn't matter), that form was built to intimidate, to give off the aura of a supervillain. This one was bulky, utilitarian, and connected directly to the CORE as a power source, as if he had transformed into some kind of tank.
It was a pretty apt appearance, because Mettaton was siphoning all of the CORE's energy to form a thick and powerful barrier. It was far from glamorous, but as the last obstacle between them and Asgore, he couldn't afford to have fun.
“I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU DESTROY ALL OF MONSTERKIND. YOU HAVE TO TIRE OUT EVENTUALLY, AND THAT'S WHEN I WILL STOP YOU. PERMANENTLY.”
It was certainly a bold claim, but it seems to have triggered something in Frisk. Drawing their Empty Gun, they took aim at Mettaton ULTRA and pulled the trigger.
Flowey was nothing short of horrified as the pitch black bullet shattered the barrier before them, blowing a massive hole in Mettaton's torso. Thin, wispy trails of black smoke flowed from the barrel, and Frisk trained their sights on the horrified robot.
“H-HOW? N-NO AMOUNT OF LOVE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO BREAK THAT BARRIER! UNLESS… DO YOU HATE US THAT MUCH?”
It was an uncomfortable silence. Neither Frisk nor Flowey were willing to answer, but only the latter was trying to swallow back bile. It was getting out of hand…
“W-WELL… G-GUESS YOU C-CAN'T WIN THEM ALL.”
Mettaton collapsed into a crumpled heap of scrap and electronics, before his body turned to dust. With the CORE no longer used to block their progress, they were free to walk ahead and finish their journey.
Flowey couldn't help but wonder if they should.
—
New Home was feeling rather bleak. Maybe it was all the dust caked on them and choking the air, because it wasn't fundamentally any different from before: Flowey would walk Frisk through the replica of his old home, and talk at length about his past. There was nothing left to say, however, as they barged into his old room and tore open the gift boxes with their pretty little bows.
“About time.”
Flowey couldn't help but feel concerned, perhaps a little scared, even, as Frisk grabbed the dagger and locket for themself. They seemed to glow eerily in the light, as if their murderous perception had warped them into manifestations of their stormy feelings. Thankfully, they seemed to be taking their time, and not just jumping over the locked gate.
“Y'know, Frisk, I've been thinking…”
It seems that initiating conversation was a good way to get Frisk to slow down. Their brisk walk slowed as they approached the mirror at the end of the hallway, allowing Flowey to continue.
“I can't help but feel like we went too far. Way too far.”
Frisk only frowned and made a noncommittal grunt to acknowledge what Flowey had said. They blankly gazed into the mirror, and Flowey tried to keep up the one-sided conversation.
“I mean, Asgore didn't do much more than rough up the area we fought in, right? We destroyed a miniature mountain, and you shattered a barrier powered by the CORE! It… you know, the thing that powers the entire Capital?”
Frisk, truthfully, could not recognize the kid in the mirror. Was it truly them, or was it someone else? If systematic slaughter could change someone this much… it didn't really matter to them. It was all in service of getting stronger, to fight Asgore.
“U-Um, really, I think we could've toned it down. That Karmic thingamajig could've been avoided if we only targeted the Royal Guard, we could've avoided lots of pain if we didn't try to attack Monster Kid, and we might have even kept Dr. Alphys' support if we-”
“Why?”
It took Flowey a good few seconds to register Frisk's response, but by the time he caught up to reality, they were already in the kitchen, taking the second key needed to unlock the gate. ‘Why’? What did they mean by that?!
“Why what?! We could've had an easier time! Fewer monsters would have to die!”
“And why should I want that? Don't you remember what they did to us?”
Right, they had suffered against more than just Asgore. The monsters were bloodthirsty, and they would do anything to see the sun again, to get their revenge on the people that robbed them of hope. Just like they were doing right now.
“I-I know! But we calmed them down without resorting to violence before! And Monster Kid, they didn't do anything! They-”
“-were complicit in my pain. Our pain.”
Flowey wanted to argue back, but he found himself paralyzed. It wasn't that he thought they had a particularly good point, since above all else they (plural) had tried to murder a child, but… he'd been a child when he first died, too. It wasn't the first time they had suffered at the hands of many, but they were doling it out in spades now.
No… they were doing the exact thing they'd refused to do all those years back.
Frisk was rapidly approaching the Last Corridor, and Flowey had only just noticed. He was losing large chunks of time to his own thoughts; he had to get his bearings straight.
“F-Frisk, really, I get it, it's been rough, but this can't be how to fix it!”
“So what do we do then, Asriel? Do you want us to wade through a crowd of killers and not put up a fight, and then die to some angry goat another hundred times?! That sure worked out for us last time!”
Frisk was mad. There was no dancing around that, it was plain as day. They took slow, deliberate steps into the Last Corridor, clenching their fist over the Save Point to activate it. Their eyes were burning red against their dark sclera, a feature that Flowey had only just now noticed.
“No, wait, you tried it twice. You really are an idiot.”
That shouldn't hurt as much as it did, but it stung deeply for Flowey. He gritted his teeth as he recalled those times he messed up, how he had let those humans kill him the first time, and how he had let those monsters kill Frisk the second. He was stupid, and then he was weak, and he didn't want to be either.
“Frisk, please! We could've tried a sneak attack on Asgore! It doesn't have to end like this!”
“It's too late for that now, isn't it? At any moment, Asgore could absorb the human Souls, and render our attempts to go back pointless. You said it yourself; human Souls are very attuned to determination.”
Frisk suddenly stopped in the middle of the Last Corridor. It was there that Sans had once judged the fallen humans, before retiring for reasons he had been vague and cagey about.
“The Capital must have hundreds of monsters, right? If I went there… we could gain so much EXP. So much LOVE. There's a chance we could-”
Flowey heard enough. He didn't care to hear Frisk's demented reasoning for pursuing monsters off the beaten path, monsters who couldn't even be excused as being in their way. God, they- they'd both been willing to kill another child for the crime of blocking their way, but this would mean actively hunting them down, and their power could grow too far out of control. They could destroy the entire world.
Maybe it's a little late to draw the line, but Flowey didn't care.
“I'm sorry, Frisk.”
Clambering out of the backpack he resided in, Flowey wrapped his vines and roots around Frisk's neck, trying his damndest to strangle them. Twice now he had tried to ally with a human with the intent of wanton slaughter: the first time, he was able to stop them, to let them both pass peacefully. Now he had to contend with a much more stubborn human, one that he helped commit genocide.
His preemptive attack was cut short by Frisk grabbing on tight and ripping him off their neck, before tossing him as far as they could. It didn't do much as he rooted himself into the ground afterwards, but he glared at the human all the same.
“You don't want to do this, Frisk. We share LOVE and determination, and I will subject you to endless pain if it means you'll change your mind.”
“Maybe I was wrong about you, then. You're not stupid… you're an honest to god traitor .”
Frisk drew their knife, ready to cut Flowey down, and Flowey readied his vines and pellets. They both hated the idea of fighting each other, but it's clear they were not getting past each other without one.
It was a beautiful day for it, anyway.