*You move onward. Dropping down holes again and again... it seems wasting time is your specialty.

Frisk: "Shut up. Something is here, I can feel it."

*You drop down another hole. One would hope you'd snap your neck from the fall. Alas, You survive.

Frisk: "Jeez, are you still mad about that ghost thing?"

*The reason why others dislike You truly is a mystery. Is it because your skin looks like dehydrated urination?

Frisk: "How do you know what dehydrated pee pee looks like?"

*Or that your legs look deformed?

Frisk: "H-hey, it's a medical condition! You're being ableist, I could cancel you ya kno-"

*Or maybe, just maybe, it's the mass murder you've committed?

Frisk: "Oh come on, I kill a couple-"

*Dozens.

(has)Frisk: "Okay, 'Dozens' of monsters and I'm the bad guy?"

*Yes!

Frisk: "Darn straight I am! Because bad guys rule!"

*Bad guys literally always lose. You're a destined loser.

Frisk: "W-well what about you?"

*Me?

Frisk: "You lived some sort of life! Tell me, how did being a goody two shoes go?"

*...

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Frisk: "Oh, sorry I didn't hear that. Is that the sound of you agreeing with me?

*No! Y-you suck!

Frisk: "Nu-ah. Y-you're..."

*You whisper

Frisk: "..A...bitch"

*That's a tier-two cuss! Toriel will KILL you.

Frisk: "W-well it's true!"

*You don't even know my gender!

Frisk: "It's universal!"

*It's not.

Frisk: "Shut up grammar police!"

*That's not grammar, grammar is a language's struc-

Frisk: "Grammar police!"

*Oh whatever! You keep jumping down holes until...you find a faded ribbon?

Frisk: "Told you there was something here."

*You pick up the faded ribbon and tie it to your scraggly hair.

Frisk: "Of course, gotta look my best when I'm killin'!"

*...Right. You move onward. You cross over green leaves as you find yourself at a crossroads. You move straight ahead. And then up.

Frisk: "Woah..."

(to) *Woah indeed. Before you is the Ruins city. Buildings upon buildings made to house an entire civilization. Now empty, not from you're genocide but the BRAVERY of monsters to explore further into the perilous underground. If you were to be silent for but a moment, you'd hear the soft jingle of bells. All surely now brass. But still with the same melody of hope, the same warmth of a home.

Frisk: "Oh I was talking about that toy knife, it looks cool."

*...Of course you were. Your mindless mind equips the toy knife.

Frisk: "That doesn't even make sense."

*Nothing does.

Frisk: "Oh don't be such a downer. After all, this all had a point to it, I'd take a stab and say that this knife will even the scales against Toriel."

*...

Frisk: "Oh come on, that's what I'm going to do. I'm just cutting to the point, no reason to toy with you, that just be...plastic? Not sure if there's any pun I can do with that."

*...

Frisk: "Fine, fine. No more stalling, now-"

*You lift up the knife

Frisk: "It's time for goat hunting."