The path ahead brightened faintly, flickers of golden light reflecting off the damp walls as the man continued the tale. His voice took on a lighter tone, like wind teasing the edges of memory.
"In the heart of the Underground, where laughter echoed faintly through the stillness, Frisk met someone… peculiar."
The girl looked up again, expectant.
"His name was Sans. A skeleton. Lazy, detached… but far from foolish."
He shifted slightly. "Frisk first met him in the shadows of Snowdin. A joke. A smile. A sudden pun that made no sense and every kind of sense."
Despite herself, the girl's lips curled slightly. The first smile since the story began.
"Sans was strange. Funny, yes. But he watched. Always watched. And beneath the jokes, he carried a weight. One that few could see."
The man's hands folded again. "He understood something most monsters didn't. Timelines. Resets. The way the world could start over—and end—again and again."
The girl's eyes narrowed with curiosity.
"Frisk didn't understand it at first. But they felt it. The déjà vu. The uncertainty. And Sans… he hinted, quietly. Cryptically. That maybe this wasn't the first time they'd met."
He paused.
"And Chara? Chara didn't trust him. Not because he was dangerous—but because he knew."
The girl nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her expression.
"Still, Frisk returned to him often. For jokes. For riddles. For quiet companionship in a world that seemed to hold its breath. And Sans, in his own way, began to care."
The man's voice softened. "A child with nothing but kindness, and a skeleton who saw the worst. Their friendship was quiet, strange… but real."
He tilted his head slightly, the hood never budging. "It was Sans who offered warnings. Who told Frisk to be careful. To keep going. And to hold onto hope—even when he no longer could."
A silence passed.
The girl closed her eyes for a moment, as if remembering something she hadn't lived. Echoes of laughter in places she'd never been.
The man leaned back, shadows folding around his face once more.
"Then Frisk entered Hotland and met Alphys."
The air shifted as Frisk stepped into Hotland.
It was as though the very walls breathed. A dry heat shimmered through the air, distorting the metallic corridors into wavering illusions. Pipes lined the walls like veins, pulsing with steam. Hissing valves released bursts of vapor, and somewhere in the distance, gears turned with a rhythm that echoed like a heartbeat.
Frisk wiped their brow. The temperature change from Waterfall to here was like stepping from a dream into a furnace.
Stay calm, Chara whispered. Keep walking. You've come this far.
They nodded silently and pressed on. The floor clanged under their shoes, the metallic ring sharp and hollow. Strange machines buzzed in the walls—automated panels, blinking lights, conveyor belts humming with movement. It was a world built by someone trying to control something… or hide from it.
And then they saw her.
Dr. Alphys.
The royal scientist.
She wasn't what Frisk expected.
Short, yellow-scaled, dressed in a white lab coat several sizes too big, and shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. She peeked out from behind a console, her glasses slipping down her snout.
"Oh my gosh—you're here," she blurted, half to herself. "Um—uh—hi!"
Frisk blinked, startled by the sudden appearance.
"I mean—wow, okay. So, you're the human, right? I've been, um, watching your progress. Not in a creepy way! Well, kinda! But not—not bad creepy—just—you know—monitoring! For safety!"
Chara's voice snorted somewhere in the background of Frisk's mind. This one's adorable.
Alphys fidgeted, looking like she was about to bolt. "I, um, made all these puzzles up ahead! But I didn't expect you to get here so soon! Or at all! And now I—I don't know what to say!"
Frisk stepped forward slowly, offering a calm smile. Alphys paused, blinking at them.
"You're… not mad?" she asked, voice suddenly small.
They shook their head.
Her eyes brightened behind her thick lenses, and she let out a breath like she'd been holding it for days. "That's… good. That's really good."
She hesitated again, glancing toward a wall. "I—I should help you. Through Hotland, I mean. I can guide you, if you want. Through my—um—my phone. If you… still have it."
Frisk pulled out the phone they'd been given. Alphys visibly relaxed.
"I—I'll be with you every step of the way," she promised. "If that's okay."
And so the strange partnership began.
Frisk moved deeper into the labyrinth of Hotland, and true to her word, Alphys was there—offering hints, solving puzzles, and occasionally sending awkward status updates that made Chara groan in embarrassment.
She's trying, Frisk would think.
She's trying too hard, Chara would reply.
But neither asked her to stop.
As they delved deeper, Frisk started noticing odd things. Cameras in the corners. Screens flickering briefly with their image. Puzzle rooms that seemed almost designed to lead them toward something.
And that's when Mettaton arrived.
A gleaming, over-the-top robot with flashing lights and a voice that boomed like a talk show host. His arrival turned the quiet trek into a strange game show—trivia questions, death traps, timed puzzles.
Frisk stumbled through the challenges with Alphys frantically feeding them answers through the phone, her voice panicked and desperate to be useful.
"Y-you got it! That's right! Oh my gosh, you're amazing—uh—I mean! Keep going!"
But the farther they got, the more Frisk felt it.
Something wasn't right.
Alphys knew more than she was saying. Her flustered apologies, her self-doubt—it all masked something. A guilt. A secret.
She's hiding something, Chara whispered. Something big.
Still, Frisk kept moving forward. Not out of trust, perhaps, but compassion.
Even in this maze of metal and steam, even surrounded by flashing lights and lies, they could see it:
Alphys was scared.
Not of Frisk.
Of herself.