Papyrus wrote down the following story in his mind:
‘Once upon a time, Prince Asriel made friends with a human named Chara. They grew very close.’
‘But Chara fell ill. Rather, they were already sick in their mind and heart. They set a plan in motion… driven by resentment and all sorts of negativity.’
‘The little prince was none the wiser.’
It’s a story long past that continued to resonate into the present day.
The villagers were hitting the goat-prince with everything they had: brooms, sticks, punches and kicks. The beauty of nature marred by the cruelty and fear of others.
Papyrus remembered a statement Cenna once said:
“Angry mobs are balls of ugly hatred.”
“STOP THIS VIOLENCE!” He tried to grab one of the humans, alas they were but images. His hands passed through them.
Asriel cried and cried, begging the villagers for mercy. He ended up curling over Chara’s body, trying to shield his face and the corpse of his beloved friend.
The boy’s poor mother tossed logic out of the window. Papyrus heard slight scuffling sounds, as if someone tried to restrain her from dashing straight into the screen.
“Asriel! No! Stop hitting him, please!”
Gaster said, “Queen Toriel, this is the past! Calm down, I beg of you!”
The vision flickered into Asriel’s mind. Chara, glowing as red as their SOUL, tried to shake him out of his paralyzed state.
“Get up! Fight!” they yelled.
“Why???” Asriel whined.
Chara replied: “This is the chance for you to be the REAL hero you’ve always dreamed of!”
“But I don’t wanna!”
“Okay, okay, fine let me help you.”
Chara’s spirit tried to pry control over Asriel’s body. They managed to raise a hand. Conjured a puff of fire.
“NO!!!” Asriel screamed. He wrestled back the control of his body and dispelled the flames. “I don’t want to hurt anybody!”
“How the heck are you going to free your people if you don’t fight? How else are you going to harvest six more SOULS? You think that they’re just gonna hand them over to you?!?”
The prince sank too deep into panic to respond.
“Humans don’t CARE about you! They don’t give a damn about anyone else other than themselves! So. Just. DO IT!”
Chara stole back control and tried to conjure a rain of fire. Yet again, their efforts were thwarted by Asriel himself.
Though they had ascended into godhood, their HP steadily spiralled down the drain.
The human got so fed up, they screamed: “Don’t be an idiot, dammit. In this world, it’s kill or BE killed!!!”
Papyrus heard a cry out from the backlines of the human villagers.
“Stand aside!” said a man.
Everyone turned their heads in that direction. They dispersed as fast as they could.
He had a spark of hope. Maybe someone here had common sense!
Then, he heard multiple metallic clicks. When he turned around, he did not find mercy: instead he found the village’s firing squad.
Rifles.
Shotguns.
Pistols.
“Fire!”
The images blacked out. But, he still heard the sounds. It’s as though someone set off a multitude of fireworks at once.
Papyrus’ bones jolted and quaked. It never crossed his innocent mind that such loudness could be this terrifying.
After the first volley, there was nothing but silence.
“Papyrus?” Alphys asked. “Are you okay?”
No words could come out from his larynx as the vision’s materialization resumed.
He did not return to the fateful day where the Prince died.
Instead, he went further back.
It's a house: a small cottage.
Someone had mounted a prized shotgun on the wall. Beneath it were several trophies and certificates of recognition.
‘Marksmanship’, ‘Grand Martial Arts Tournament’, ‘Best Knife Dancer’.
Framed family photographs filled the right side of the wall. Papyrus recognized the child with rosy cheeks right away.
It’s Chara.
The home looked cosy enough. It’s well kept and clean: passes Papyrus’ high housekeeping standards any day, any time. But it seemed a bit cluttered with all the achievement-related decorations.
“I’M CONFLICTED,” he said, “THEY HAD TONS OF COOL STUFF. BUT I WONDERED IF THERE’S TOO MANY OF THEM.”
The moment of peace ended there.
“Chara!” a woman yelled. “Get back here!”
Papyrus followed the source. The small kid in their distinctive green and yellow sweater dashed up the stairs, scraped up and in tears.
The woman, presumed to be their mother, tried to catch them. But Chara had slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it from the inside.
The vision skipped a few hours ahead. The woman and her husband sat down at the dinner table, grim.
“ …IS IT ME, OR CHARA’S ACTUAL FATHER WAS AS BURLY AS KING ASGORE?”
“Yeah, damn.” Undyne mentioned, “If you turn that hair from black to gold and shave off some of that tough-man edge, he really does look like Asgore.”
“THE MOM DOESN’T LOOK LIKE THE QUEEN THOUGH. SHE’S… A GROWN UP VERSION OF CHARA? MUST BE THE ROSY CHEEKS. AND THE BROWN HAIR.”
“Chara got bullied in school again,” said the mother.
“What is it this time?” the father asked back.
The woman slid a report card towards her husband. After one glance, he threw it down on the table in dismay.
“Are you fucking serious, Kylie?” He grumbled.
She replied, “Yes, Trion. The teachers summoned me today to discuss about our child’s terrible grades. Heard the neighbours talking bad about us too. The usual ‘Chara is not their real kid’ routine.”
“Why the fuck do they care?!” Trion exclaimed, “Especially Yozna! She’s the one with a real bastard child!”
“Who’s also the best martial artist in grade school. If her son is a Red Child, he would be on the top of the candidate list by now.”
Kylie continued, “Look at all those trophies: we’re Gungnir’s best, yet some out-of-wedlock kid scored better than our offspring. Talk about utter shame.”
“Don’t remind me,” Trion grumbled. “I punched Loric in the gut over that insult last week.”
The father combed his fingers into his hair, frustrated and worried. “If Chara fails the exam… I don’t know what the Persona would try to do.”
Papyrus frowned at the exchange. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND. WHY DID THEY BULLY CHARA’S PARENTS TOO? I THOUGHT BEING A COMMUNITY MEANS SUPPORTING EACH OTHER.”
“Not everyone on the Surface is close-knit like us,” Sans explained. “They run on different values. Doesn’t mean it’s right, but that’s how they live.”
Clips of their life passed by. Chara’s parents tried to protect their beloved child in the only way they knew: through harsh, rigorous training. They tried to teach Chara their distinctive arts of the knife, from the basic strikes to skillful recovery.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Prove the world wrong.
Be stronger, smarter, faster than the bullies who tried to suffocate them.
Survival of the fittest. That’s the way of Gungnir.
A dull ache gripped the young skeleton’s ribs as he watched the seasons pass. It’s not the harsh training that bothered him the most. Rather, it’s the growing rift between parent and child.
Chara rebelled. Snapped back. In doing so, they further frustrated their stressed parents. High on emotion, the punishments were often more severe than they should be.
Nobody knew how to talk things through. It reminded him too much of a different pair much closer to home…
Papyrus asked: “WAS SANS’ TRAINING LIKE THIS? A LOT OF CUTS AND BRUISES?”
There was an uncomfortable cough in the background. Neither side wanted to disclose the details in full.
In the end, Gaster did the tough answering: “No. It’s not. Chara’s training was painful, but not dangerous. The parents were very careful to not inflict critical injuries. Even in anger.”
“On the other hand, I… I did my best to simulate true battle scenarios. A taste of real war. That includes-- Oh? What is it, Child of Mercy?”
Frisk hushed gently, “Shh, we understand.”
“…Thank you.”
Papyrus didn’t get it. Though, he had a feeling that it would hurt Sans’ feelings, so he let the subject slide.
One day, Chara got into another screaming match with their parents. The child ended up so angry, they tossed the knife on the floor. Hard. It bounced across the surface and almost cut their parents’ feet.
“NOTHING is ever good enough for any of you!” the child screamed, “Nobody would give a fuck that I’m gone!”
In the heat of the moment, the father yelled back: “Go ahead and fucking try!”
Chara ran out of the house. The parents didn’t follow because they’re used to such outbursts. They expected their child to cool off somewhere and turn up for dinner. That was the pattern for a long while now.
They waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Chara never returned home.
The villagers scoffed at the disappearance. To them, it was the proof of weakness in the family. The truly strong would never snap that way.
“WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?!” Papyrus exclaimed. “YOU SHOULD BE HELPING YOUR FELLOW MEMBERS LOOK FOR CHARA! NOT RUB IT IN!”
But they didn’t. They left Trion and Kylie to find their child alone.
So the parents got into the car. Drove to the nearest cities. Searched high and low in places where children frequent. Game shops, internet cafes, parks, playgrounds…
Everywhere except the mountain.
Regret. Regret, regret. Papyrus saw the pain reflected on the couple's faces. They slept late and woke up early, growing haggard from their worries.
In the end they had to swallow their pride and file a missing person’s report at the police station. It’s the ultimate shame since everyone in the area knew of the Gungnir’s isolated ways.
Chara thus became yet another statistic of runaway children.
By the time they had an official search party, Chara had long fallen into the Underground. All the parents’ efforts were for naught.
Then, one day, a monster emerged from under the mountain.
In his hands lay the cold corpse of their missing child.
Grief and anger overwhelmed the parents. Their thoughts were filled with revenge against poor Prince Asriel.
‘That goat killed Chara!’
‘How dare you, fiend!’
Trion, the father, ran back home to grab the shotgun on the wall. He loaded it as fast as possible.
Other villagers put their training to use. All differences must be set aside to tackle the adversary their foreparents once warned of. They soon became the firing squad Papyrus had witnessed earlier.
Chara’s greatest tragedy was not that they were unloved.
It’s the fact that they never knew just how much their parents truly loved them.
Skip. Tear. His Seer’s Eye couldn’t maintain integrity in the face of extreme violence. Papyrus now realised just how much Mezil had supported him for The Core Incident’s dive. It made a world of difference.
He saw a glimpse of Prince Asriel escaping with Chara’s body. By then, it already was too late for him.
No prompt. No rest. The visions kept flowing. Papyrus knew at a subconscious level that he must keep going: the moment he stops, fear will catch up.
The Gungnir searched the fields and forest for signs of their fleeing enemy. They eventually found a trail. At the end, they expected to bump into two corpses: one human and one monster.
Instead, it led them to the Barrier-sealed entrance to the Underground.
Spirits faded into view. Their faces were blocked out by glitched squares of orange, blue and green.
Unlike Napstablook or Mettaton, these ghosts don’t ‘feel’ right.
They exuded rage. Disgust. Anger.
His sights shifted to a dark forest. More glitched spirits lurked between the trees. Their whispers were written down in chalk.
‘Our blood given to witchcraft.’
‘Unforgivable.’
Strange incidents happened across the countryside. One person spoke of someone electrocuted by a broken power line. Another mentioned a person drowning in their own bathtub. Hikers went missing, only to be found dead at the base of the mountain.
The local police filed the events as suicides or accidents, while the Gungnir drew another conclusion: they had angered the spirits of their ancestors.
An old, long-bearded man in his eighties thus stepped into the interiors of an ancient stone temple. The medieval design made it stand out from the rest of the Surface architecture.
Many urns sat on the bed of golden flowers surrounding their dead deity’s stone throne. Each housed the DEMON of their champions.
He asked them for advice.
‘Choose a successor’ they said.
‘Your time is up.’
‘This summer is your limit.’
Cenna mentioned, “That old guy’s the second-to-last Persona. Damn, that room gives me the creeps. You wanna know what real occult looks like? It’s right there: dealing with the dead. Those cultists are the true witches and warlocks in my book.”
Summer soon arrived. Papyrus knew it as the season when families take breaks and go to the beach. At least, that’s what he understood.
But it’s different for the Gungnir. It’s the moment for them to retreat from the eyes of the government and enact an ancient ritual.
Children with Red SOULS gathered at the ancient stone temple. Their one mission was to prove themselves worthy of carrying on the torch.
That didn’t happen. None made the cut.
Papyrus’ vision darkened again. Only text remained on the screen.
‘Failures.’
‘Tainted.’
‘All of you.’
999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
Fire erupted across the flat horizon. Embers danced upwards into the smoke-covered sky. The familiar shape of Mount Ebott stood against the shadows of blackened evening, looming high above the inferno.
He had a bad feeling about this. The last time he felt such a sensation… was in a timeline that doesn’t exist anymore.
“Oh shit, Cinnamon Roll get outta there!”
He’s sure that he heard Cenna’s voice. However, it was distant. Muted. As if he’s listening to an old radio.
“I WILL NOT,” Papyrus replied faster than he could think.
“Serious, dude. Leave this to us!”
“NO. IF I STOP HERE, ANOTHER PERSON WILL HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS MESS.”
“Our Chronographer is a pro. She’ll view your recordings and continue from there. Trust us, okay?”
Doctor Gaster questioned: “Are you absolutely certain? As much as I’m grateful for your concern over Papyrus, I doubt you’ll uncover anything new... Even with the help of another capable Chronographer such as your friend.”
Besides, is Chara’s personal life truly the missing key to the puzzle? I think not!”
“Don’t push it, old man,” Sans snapped back.
Unease behind. Hostility ahead. No matter where he turned, the young skeleton found himself sandwiched between two difficult choices.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK, FRISK?” Papyrus had a feeling that it’s very important for them.
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to hand over such a heavy decision to a tiny child. It’s unfair and a little embarrassing. Yet, Papyrus had faith. They always had a good head on their shoulders.
“I…” Frisk muttered, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“IS THAT ALL?”
“Yes.”
“WELL THEN!” Papyrus imagined himself in his classic puffed-chest, scarf-waving pose. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SWEAR THAT HE WILL NOT INJURE HIMSELF!”
Deep down inside, he knew that everyone expected him to return.
Still… Papyrus turned away from his friends and family. Headlong and head-first, he charged towards the distant inferno.
He could hear everyone screaming for his name, demanding that he stop.
‘Don’t be foolish.’
‘Don’t be an idiot.’
Flowey would have emphasized the ‘idiot’ part.
Papyrus imagined the pages of his life flipping backwards to the day of Frisk’s wake. It said the following:
‘Once upon a time, a wizard offered a young man the chance to become the hero of his dreams. Told him that he had the talents to make a difference.’
‘The wizard then warned that there will be many trials. Hardships. Pitfalls. The gritty details of which were often left unsaid in tales of glory.’
‘Brave of heart, the young man stepped up to the plate. Though ever naive to the depths of his decision… he understood the one and only truth:’
‘There’s no turning back.’
He ran.
And ran.
And ran.
Forward, straight into the flames.
It’s hot. Searing hot. He shouldn’t be feeling this much heat from a mere vision, yet his bones stiffened and rattled.
Nonetheless, he kept on going.
Papyrus walked past a strange imagery. It’s a huge barren tree ‘decorated’ with the bodies of small humans. The top half was glitched out in the tri-colour squares of his Seer’s Eye.
Crimson cords bound their legs to a stone weight.
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” he said outright. “ARE THOSE CHILDREN?”
“…Hoping you didn’t need to see that, Cinnamon Roll.” said Cenna. “Fuck those spirits, seriously.”
“Argh, I can’t believe we bought their stupid cover story for decades! ‘Make the landscape unrecognizable to the enemy’? It made no damn sense and yet it fits with their absurd MO.”
“WHAT WERE THEY TRYING TO HIDE?”
Sans answered, “Infighting, Paps. Their group got ripped up from the inside. You can imagine it’s really embarrassing for such independent folk. So they cooked up a tale that put them in better light.”
“OH… I THINK WE BETTER MOVE ON. IT’S NOT SAFE FOR FRISK.”
Or himself. As Papyrus journeyed into the interiors of the temple, he felt a hint of the terror left behind. Poor, poor children: born in the wrong place, on the wrong time.
The old Persona had to make a decision to save his people. He handed out a torch to Chara’s parents. Demanded one more act to redeem themselves.
“Burn the flowers. Don’t come back until it’s done.”
“But, leader…” Kylie said, “A fire of that scale means we’ll burn too. Die the very death of witches and warlocks.”
“Why do you think our ancestors are so enraged? Thanks to Chara, they think all of us dabble in such treachery.”
The old Persona stretched out the torch-bearing arm once more.
Trion reached out to grab it, and then… he stopped, overwhelmed by intense fear and humiliation. In their lore, this brutal divine judgement was reserved solely for the worst.
The time of mercy passed. Persona withdrew the torch and turned his back against the couple.
“Little wonder why your child strayed. You will be executed by poison far away from the community. Don’t fret, you will get a proper government burial: that’s our last acknowledgement of your great deeds.”
“Take them away.”
The couple’s pleas landed on deaf ears. The strong folk of the village pinned them to the ground, tied them up, and hauled them off to a certain ignoble death.
The Persona led the rest of the volunteers out into the field. They set ablaze anywhere with Ebott Goldenflowers. Fire soon spread across the ground and up the trees, sending skyward a thick smoke that blotted out the celestial blue.
Once again, the great mountain sat in the middle of a hell on earth.
The flames burned on and on. Consumed houses. Livestock. People. Anything in its wake.
Ashes were all that’s left behind. The scene reminded the young skeleton too much of monster dust. For a human, it’s the same as standing in the middle of a field of corpses.
Papyrus wondered if he bit off more than he could chew.
Dear brother called from a distance. Said something along the lines of: “You can stop now, bro. Take off the visors.”
Enough is enough. Papyrus knew that he had seen things through to a proper conclusion. Chara’s story ended here, along with the demise of their community.
He touched the front of his skull, trying to grab something that should be on his face.
Except…
That’s all he touched. His face. There was no visor. Cold sweat streamed off the top of his cranium.
“UH. I THINK. SOMETHING IS WRONG.”
Silence.
Pin-drop silence.
Papyrus couldn’t hear or sense anyone from the present world anymore.