Chapter Text
Some time after Mettaton's defeat, Shamrock and Frisk had somehow made it into the castle. And with everyone so focused on Mettaton, the way there was almost empty, but unfortunately the crowd had stopped them from reuniting with Dalv. Frisk consoled themself by snatching a locket and knife from Asgore’s house.
At this moment, the humans were only a few short rooms away from the king of monsterkind. They walked into a golden room, lined with pillars.
“Ugh, this place reeks of justice…” Shamrock muttered.
“hey.”
A certain skeleton appeared in front of them, in the form of a shadowy figure.
“Who are you?!” Shamrock demanded.
“oh yeah, guess we never met. i’m sans the skeleton, and i’m here to judge you.”
Shamrock pulled out his revolver and pointed it at Sans. “I don’t really care about justice.”
Sans disappeared and reappeared behind the duo. “don’t care. i’m guessing you two already know the deal with LOVE and EXP, so I’ll skip that.”
Shamrock turned to face the skeleton again, but once again Sans disappeared and reappeared behind him. “judgement-wise, you two are both pretty bad people. your LOVE isn’t that high, but it’s from lack of opportunity and convenience. weirdly though, you did some good things too.”
Sans appeared right between Frisk and Shamrock, his words practically in their ears. “you know, i’ve got a hunch that one of you two is a time-traveler. if i’m right, then how about you guys go back, see where you did things wrong, that kinda stuff?”
“No,” Shamrock insisted. “This timeline is fine as it is, and I don’t plan on playing around with this power the same way that someone else I know did.”
Sans stepped away and his pupils disappeared. “okay, i guess i can understand your perspective.”
Then suddenly, he disappeared.
“That was weird…” Shamrock muttered.
“Yeah, a little more involved than I remember his judgement being…” Frisk replied.
Chara hummed in thought. “I guess it must be that he knows what you did last run, so he doesn’t feel like he has to pull any punches.”
Shamrock and Frisk walked out of the judgement hall and to the doorway outside the throne room. As they got there, Shamrock leaned on the wall next to it and touched a golden star next to him. [File 8 Saved]
The cowboy’s eyebrows raised and he turned to Frisk. “You know, I was so busy thinking about Mettaton, I never did ask: What do you want to do with Asgore?”
“That should be pretty obvious,” Frisk replied. “I’m a violent little human with a precious soul and he’s the king. I want to take care of our business.”
Shamrock’s eyes widened. “I… guess I should’ve expected that.”
“Yep. Now, can I go fight him, or can I not do that, or…?”
“I’ll let you do it, but only because I like you, despite the horrible things you’ve done, or maybe even because of them. I guess you do make me feel less horrible… But that’s not the point. The point is that I also like Asgore, and it’s about the same amount, so once your battle starts, I’m going to leave. No loading, no redos, whoever wins wins.”
Frisk nodded. “I can work with that.”
“One more thing. I’m going to talk to Asgore and say my goodbyes. Oh, and I guess I should say goodbye to you too.”
“Nah, I don’t need anything that sentimental. Let’s go talk to the king!”
Shamrock sighed and walked into the throne room, Frisk only a step behind him.
“Howdy, Asgore,” the cowboy hesitantly greeted.
“Oh, is that you Shamrock?” The king turned around, only to realize that there were two humans that had entered.
“He brought a special delivery!” Frisk exclaimed. “And that delivery is me!”
“I see…” Asgore muttered. “Thank you for coming here.”
Shamrock sighed. “Before I go, I wanted to say… Thank you again, Asgore. Even if the world hated me, you didn’t. You gave me that chance to live in your kingdom in peace when you had every excuse to let me die again. And I’m– I’m sorry I betrayed your trust and killed two monsters.”
Asgore’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“They were trying to lock me up and take my freedom away,” Clover explained. “Still, I betrayed that trust. If you live, you can come and give me a punishment.”
“A justified punishment?” Frisk replied, smirking.
Shamrock spun on his heel and shot his revolver, the bullet grazing against Frisk’s hair.
“He’s the king of the land. He gets to do punishment the way he wants, and for some reason I trust him, but I don’t call that justice. Goodbye, Frisk. Goodbye, Asgore.”
Shamrock turned back around and walked out.
Frisk smiled. “Let’s go to the barrier and finish this.”
Asgore nodded gravely and they moved past the throne room, to the last space in the underground.
“This is the barrier–” Asgore began.
“Yeah yeah I know. Let’s get on with this!” Frisk’s dagger glinted.
Chara cackled, “After having to spare that showman, this is gonna feel good.”
Asgore sighed. “Fine then, I will skip my explanation about the barrier. However, I think you deserve to see this.” Asgore slammed the staff of his trident into the ground, revealing six human souls in the containers.
“Hold on, doesn't that yellow soul there belong to Clover?” Chara asked.
Frisk shrugged. They’d just been talking to Clover, though he went by a different name. Er, wait, was that guy actually not Clover?
Asgore slammed his trident into the ground between them. “No mercy, from either of us.”
Frisk leapt at the king, who picked back up his trident and used it to block. Asgore then swung his trident fervently towards Frisk, alternating between blue and orange swings.
The human easily moved and stopped in rhythm with the attack, then used the final orange swing to leap at Asgore and stab him in the gut.
Asgore knocked Frisk back away with the hilt of his trident, then sent an inferno towards Frisk, who was prone on the ground. They couldn’t avoid it, but after the inferno blew over them, Frisk gobbled down their piece of pie, completely healing themself and making Asgore pause.
Frisk threw their pan at Asgore’s face, stunning him even further. Frisk took this moment to leap forward again and slice at Asgore’s throat. As the knife sunk in, a trident latched onto Frisk’s sweater and pulled them back away. The king stretched out his trident, using it to hold the human high above his head. Then, he formed a powerful, compact fireball in his other hand, one with so much magical power it glowed crimson like his trident.
As this projectile came towards Frisk, they quickly pulled out their trash can lid and held it up. As the fireball impacted, it sent Frisk launching off the trident and back away from the king, completely unharmed. Asgore grit his teeth and threw his trident at them, but Frisk blocked that too.
“ENOUGH”
Both combatants turned toward the human souls, where that terrible warped voice had come from, and saw a one-eyed flower with all six human souls floating around its petals.
“I thought I’d give the king a chance to deal with you, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. You’re not killing anyone else, Frisk, because now I have the power I’ve yearned for.”
Frisk kept a steady grip on the worn dagger. “What stops this fight from going the same way it has every other time, Photoshop Flowey?”
“Heh heh.” Flowey showed off his sadistic smile. “I think that should be pretty obvious, but even if you’re as much of an idiot as I think you might be, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”
As the human souls fully entered Flowey, he started to transform. A red, skull-like head erupted out of his mouth, his petals turned into pipes with eyes in them, and his face became a TV screen. Vines came out from the ground, wrapping together into massive thorny arms, and a million pipes erupted out of this terrible body, connecting to every surface. [File 7 Saved]
“Oh, you might not figure it out actually,” Photoshop Flowey noted. His voice had warped alongside his form, nothing like a flower’s anymore, befitting a gigantic monstrosity. “BECAUSE I MIGHT KILL YOU FIRST!”
He cackled like seven voices screaming over each other, each filled with a different flavor of twisted glee.
Vines shot out from Flowey’s body, right at Frisk, who carefully sidestepped before slashing them apart. Still, this did almost no damage to Photoshop Flowey.
A bomb shaped like a nuke, appeared above Frisk, who started running from it. As it exploded behind them, the world faded away and Frisk was face to face with a cyan outline of a young girl.
Magic knives appeared around the girl, launching at Frisk, but they used the worn dagger to knock away these knives and approach the girl. She tried to swing at her own knife at Frisk, who met the strike with their own. They made eye-contact as they crossed blades.
“Please, help me out here,” Frisk beckoned.
The cyan girl stopped, stepped back, and faded away. When she was gone, Photoshop Flowey returned.
“I guess she must remember how you patiently waited, murdering every single monster before moving on,” Flowey mused. “Because believe me, this run you were anything but patient.”
Photoshop Flowey spouted flamethrowers from his vines, which tried to roast Frisk on every side. They dodged each spout of fire, staying light on their feet until the world faded away again.
An orange boy, taller and older than Frisk, stood before them, a smile on his face. He threw out a right hook, which Frisk ducked under. Then, he tried to jab, so Frisk sidestepped. As he kept trying to punch them, Frisk weaved through the attacks, and when the orange boy overextended himself, they took their chance, stabbing the worn dagger into his chest. “Will you help me?”
The orange boy smiled and stepped back, giving a thumbs-up as he faded away. Photoshop Flowey was in front of Frisk again.
“That’s it! I’m not letting you have the chance to do all this!” Flowey cried out. He formed a ring of friendliness pellets. “You’ve only befriended two human souls! They don’t have enough power to let you escape from this!”
As pellets closed in and Flowey’s cackling rang through their ear, Frisk desperately called out, “Somebody! Anybody! Help me!”
A trident came flying out from nowhere, straight into Photoshop Flowey’s TV screen. As it impacted, the pellets fizzled out and the botanical abomination reared back. Frisk turned to see Asgore, running towards them and Photoshop Flowey, another trident in his hand.
“You know, I forgot about you! Congratulations!” Flowey sneered. Then, all humor left his face. “Integrity, hold off Frisk while I deal with the king.”
The world faded until a blue ballerina with one arm and a cracked face appeared above them. A song from a music box played as they jumped around, twirling like a top, and landing right where Frisk was standing. Frisk kept sidestepping right as the blue ballerina was about to hit them, and kept their eyes on the performance. When the music finally slowed to a stop, Frisk gave a round of applause, then pleaded.
“Please, can you help me?”
The blue ballerina looked at them. In one eye held contempt, in the other, nothing at all, like it was mindless. The ballerina reluctantly nodded as they faded away and Photoshop Flowey returned.
The botanical abomination didn’t bother with words, he just shot dozens of star-shaped bullets from his eyes. As Frisk stepped between the projectiles, they caught sight of Asgore, who was wrapped with vines. He was struggling against them and his eyes were open, alert. “Human, behind you!”
Frisk turned to see another bomb behind them. They jumped away, and as it exploded, the world faded again.
A purple enby was in front of Frisk, holding out a book. Words came out of it, trying to wrap around and crush Frisk. They avoided those words and looked around, noticing that this time the words told a story.
“You’ve persevered through hopeless battles, but that last time, you ran from him, then you gave up and reset it all. Show me you can persevere.”
That was the end of the story, but the word “persevere” repeated, hundreds and hundreds of copies coming out of the book towards Frisk, who kept avoiding and avoiding. They jumped over some, slid across the ground to get under others, and ran away from the words that streaked towards the ground like meteors.
Several minutes later and the words stopped coming. All that remained were Frisk, the purple enby, and a massive book, which closed itself.
Frisk leaned on their knees for support. “Will you… help… me?” they asked through their panting.
The purple enby nodded as they and the book faded away, letting Photoshop Flowey return.
His two front eyes glowed, one yellow and one green. The green side erupted into fire while the yellow side formed dozens of finger guns, shooting daisies at Frisk. They weaved between the daisies, making sure not to step backwards into the flames, then they leaped at the closest finger gun and cut it apart.
As Frisk turned back around, the flames took up their whole vision, burning through their vision until Photoshop Flowey was gone before forming into a large pan and a green person. The pan shook, sending flames towards Frisk while the green person stood idly by, biting their lip. Frisk dodged the flames and looked at the green person.
“Please, help me!” they cried out.
The pan and fire faded and the green person stepped closer. “I’m not sure… You’re anything but kind, and doing so wouldn’t be right…”
“I’m begging you,” Frisk pleaded.
The green soul sighed and stepped back. “Fine, we will aid you.”
The cyan, orange, blue, and purple outlines reappeared on each side, surrounding Frisk.
“Wait, we’re doing this already?” Frisk asked “But there are only five of you!”
The purple enby chuckled. “Truthfully, you stand no chance of convincing the sixth to help.”
The five souls each shot out green magical objects, healing Frisk as much as they could as Photoshop Flowey faded back into view.
“I knew grabbing those five was a gamble!” Flowey cried out. Vines grabbed the souls, tying them up like Asgore. “That’s okay, they’re not what I need to defeat you! Just me and him will suffice!” [File 8 Saved]
Photoshop Flowey dropped a bomb onto Frisk, who dashed out of the way as quickly as they could. A flamethrower appeared in front of them, so–
[File 8 Loaded] Frisk slowed to a stop, letting the bomb land directly onto them. As they fought to remain conscious, they noticed that the botanical amalgamation was gone again, replaced by a yellow outline, one Frisk knew well.
“Howdy. It’s been awhile,” Clover greeted. Despite the casual words, malice dripped from each syllable.
The cowboy raised his revolver and shot at Frisk, who cut the bullets out of the air with the worn dagger before charging at Clover. As Frisk sliced, their opponent dashed through the attack, then back at Frisk, gunwhipping them in the face.
Frisk fell to the ground and Clover put his foot on top of them, pinning them down as he aimed his revolver. Desperately, Frisk cut at Clover’s ankle, making him lose his balance, then Frisk pushed him and he fell to the ground.
When Frisk climbed to their feet, Photoshop Flowey had returned, and Clover’s outline was standing on top of it. [File 6 Saved] The botanical amalgamation’s mouth started glowing, then a yellow laser beam streaked out of it.
Frisk leaped away from the attack.
[File 6 Loaded] Frisk smirked and still leaped from the attack
[File 6 Loaded] Frisk leaped away again.
[File 6 Loaded] Frisk decided to just barely sidestep, then charge at Photoshop Flowey.
[File 6 Loaded] Frisk groaned as they avoided the laser again. But as they prepared for another load, Photoshop Flowey sent out vines, wrapping them around Frisk to hold them in place.
“Gotcha!” Flowey taunted. [File 1 Saved]
Clover aimed his revolver, his whole form shining bright yellow. Then, he opened fire. HP: 10/40
Frisk struggled against the vines, but their grip was too strong and the bullets pelting them were so painful that it was hard to focus. HP: 5/40
Looking around, Frisk could see the other five human souls and Asgore, all of whom had their eyes closed. They’d given up the fight. HP: 1/40
Another bullet slammed into Frisk’s head, a fatal shot. HP: 0.1/40.
But Frisk was too determined to ever give up. Yet, even as they continued, this pain, this helplessness, it still hit them at their very core. Tears streamed down their face as they cried out into the darkness, “Anyone that can hear me, please… HELP! HELP!”
“But nobody came!” Flowey cackled with glee.
A bullet streaked into Photoshop Flowey’s monstrous head, interrupting his laughter. Then, another slammed into his TV screen, cracking it. More and more bullets came from behind Frisk, ripping holes throughout the botanical abomination.
“What is that?!” Clover demanded, looking at the perpetrator.
Frisk twisted themself around to look and positively beamed as they saw Shamrock, his rifle held up for another shot.
“That’s your walking corpse,” Flowey explained. “Somehow he’s more determined than anyone else.”
Shamrock quickly shot out all of Photoshop Flowey’s eyes, making him rear in pain. Then, he shot the TV screen again, completely shattering it.
“Hey, can you get me out of here!” Frisk yelled.
Shamrock shot the vines which held Frisk in place, letting them fall back to the ground.
Frisk climbed onto their feet. “Thanks for the help, but why are you here? Didn’t you say you’d leave me and Asgore alone?”
“I’m not here because of you or Asgore,” Shamrock clarified. He glared at Photoshop Flowey and his soul. “I’m here because of them.”
“What did we do?!” Flowey demanded. “We’re trying to kill Frisk, not you!”
“You stole the timeline,” Shamrock declared. “It is rightfully mine, earned through pain and hardship, and I’m not relinquishing it to the same false ally and traitorous soul who have tortured me for as long as I can remember.”
Clover didn’t have a clue what his body meant, but he also didn’t have time to figure it out. Despite their power, Flowey and him were losing this battle, and there was no else here to help. He would have to step up, or… wait, there was someone else!
“Humans that fell before me,” Clover called out. “Aid me and Flowey in this crusade of justice! This is the same person who slaughtered all of monsterkind, with no morals, showing no shred of kindness, all for their own gain! They may have reset since then, but they haven’t repented and they haven’t changed! So come on, help us!”
The outlines shifted, like they may have been considering it. Flowey understood the plan and unwrapped his vines, letting them free. However, as soon as they were released, Shamrock raised up his hand and revealed Asgore’s soul containers. The souls unwillingly were drawn to them, flying right inside. Then, Shamrock shut the containers.
“Your tricks won’t get you the timeline back. And besides, this is a battle between me and the two of you, not some other nameless souls.”
“Hey! Me too!” Frisk called out. “I’m also a part of this!”
Shamrock sighed. “Yes, you’re here too.”
“Stop it!” Flowey thundered, using each hole that had been shot in him as another mouth. “Shamrock or whatever your name was, this is just idiocy! This is the same person who nearly destroyed all of reality, just for the fun of it.”
“They said their own horrible things about you, and since you’re the one who tortured me across timelines, I’m inclined to believe their words more than yours,” Shamrock argued.
“Fine!” Flowey grit his teeth. “If you’re being that stubborn, I have one more plan to deal with you! Clover, do you trust me?”
“Of course I do, pal!” Clover replied.
Flowey’s eyes brightened. “Thank you so much, bud.”
Photoshop Flowey suddenly started to warp, each part of it receding towards the form’s nexus. When things neared that nexus, they shrunk and changed shape. Even Clover’s soul was dragged into the center, and as it did, everything started to glow white, brighter and brighter until Shamrock and Frisk could only see the outline, which itself morphed.
The outline solidified and stopped glowing, revealing a boss monster with striking similarity to Asgore. However, instead of kingly robes, they wore a cowboy costume, with a poncho and everything someone in the Wild East could hope for. In his chest, a yellow soul shined brighter than the sun.
“Do you see that?! It’s Asriel Dreemurr!” Frisk announced.
“It doesn’t matter what he’s called. Either way, we’re finishing him,” Shamrock declared
He shot his rifle at Asriel, who summoned chaos sabers and cut those bullets out of the air. Then, Asriel dashed forward, trying to cut both humans to shreds.
Frisk went toe to toe with him, countering his blades with their own worn dagger. Meanwhile, Shamrock took a step back and shot his revolver at Asriel as many times as he could as quickly as he could.
Asriel backed away, deciding to reevaluate that strategy. He pulled out his chaos buster, a massive laser cannon, and pointed it at Shamrock. Then, he fired it and a pure yellow laser made out of the very matter of Clover’s soul streaked towards the cowboy.
Frisk dashed into the way and stood in front of it with the trash can lid, but the laser kept coming. Frisk pushed against it, determined to hold it back.
[File 7 Saved] Seeing a chance, Asriel used a spell to hold his chaos buster in place, then ran towards the Frisk, swinging his chaos sabers at them. Violently interrupting him, a bullet ripped a hole through his torso. Asriel tried to ignore the pain and swing again, only for another bullet to rip into him.
Asriel turned to face Shamrock. He was about to yell when he noticed Shamrock shoot his rifle at the chaos buster, breaking it and stopping the laser. Suddenly free, Frisk leapt at Asriel, dagger in hand.
[File 7 Loaded] Asriel used the same spell to put his chaos buster in place, but this time he dashed at Shamrock. The soulless human whipped out his revolver, about to shoot Asriel, but before he could, the monster ripped the gun away and crushed it in his hand, then let the pieces scatter in the wind.
Shamrock started sprinting away. His last weapon was his rifle, and he needed both space and time to land a shot with it. So, he was going to get a better one.
Asriel causally pulled out his own revolver and aimed at Shamrock, then unloaded the full chamber. Shamrock just barely avoided each shot and reached at the chaos buster. He grabbed it and pointed it away from Frisk, towards Asriel.
Asriel laughed and the weapon dissolved back into pure magic. Then, Asriel was right in front of Shamrock.
“I forgot how much of an annoying pest you can be, Clover!” Asriel exclaimed. “You can’t actually hope to defy me though. Now that I have the timeline again, I am your GOD!”
Asriel stepped back, looking at his hands. “What are you talking about, Flowey?”
Before he could reply, Frisk appeared next to them and slammed the pan into Asriel’s face. As they did so, they dropped the trash can lid. Enraged, Asriel tore the pan off of his face and melted it into sludge. “Die already!” he screamed.
Shamrock grabbed the trash can lid. “Hold him off. I have a plan.”
Frisk grinned and nodded, then hurled themself back towards Asriel, knife in hand. Asriel parried with a chaos saber while he used his other hand to conjure a star shower, but Shamrock held his trash can lid over his head, blocking everything that came down on him.
Frisk ducked under the saber and plunged their weapon into Asriel’s chest. He screamed in pain and shoved Frisk away, then grabbed the dagger and crushed it.
“You can’t win! I have the timeline and the power of a human soul! Just die!”
Frisk threw the torn notebook at Asriel, who grabbed it and tore out its spine, then dumped the loose papers onto the ground.
They threw the ballet shoes next, but Asriel vaporized them. They lunged at him with the tough glove, but Asriel consumed it in fire, forcing Frisk to stop, take it off, and stomp out the flames.
While they were distracted, Asriel thrust his chaos saber at their chest. Desperately, Frisk dropped to the ground, only for Asriel to send a star streaking down at them. Frisk scrambled away, but still felt the shockwave as the star made a smoking crater in the ground.
Asriel stepped through the smoke, screaming, “Pathetic! What else do you have?”
Frisk pulled out the toy knife. It wasn’t much, but Asriel couldn’t know that. “I have the real knife. The most powerful weapon of all” They climbed to their feet and, with the help of Chara in their mind, they showed off their creepy face.
Asriel flinched. “You can’t get that, can you?”
“It’s about malice in your soul, nothing about real death!” Frisk bluffed.
“It’s really about the absolute,” Chara muttered under their breath, but they were ignored.
Asriel swung his chaos sabers, which Frisk ducked underneath. They tried to stab again but Asriel blocked with his other saber, which cut the toy knife apart.
Laughter bubbled up from Asriel’s core. “Just a stupid bluff! Wow! You really have nothing left, do you?”
As he looked down, back at Frisk, he saw that they were holding a stick in their hand, the only weapon they had when they first fell into the underground.
Frisk mustered up all the determination as they could, swinging towards Asriel, who didn’t even bother blocking. He pulled out his revolver and aimed it at Frisk.
Suddenly, a crimson trident flew through Asriel’s center, piercing Clover’s soul with its center prong and sticking inside him.
“Ack!” Asriel screamed. [File 7 Load Failed]
The fusion fell to his knees, the trident shining inside of him. He looked up at Frisk, eyes shining in terror. “The timeline. I don’t– You–” Yellow dust flaked out from his wound.
Frisk stepped forward and smirked, their stick held ready for execution.
Asriel looked at the three crimson points sticking out of his chest. “Heh heh, letting the king fight your battles for you? Pathetic.”
Frisk swung their stick at his neck, aiming to decapitate him.
Asriel rose to his feet and a ripple of wind shot out, blowing Frisk away. “PATHETIC!” He ripped out the trident and tossed it to his side. Then, he clenched his fist and his wounds closed.
A bullet ripped its way through Asriel’s head and he stumbled forward, but he clenched his fist harder, closing that wound too, then turned around to see Shamrock and Asgore.
Asgore froze as he looked at Asriel’s face. “Is that you? How?”
Shamrock’s eyes were wide. He muttered, “I thought that would work.”
“Aww, how tragic.” Asriel conjured electricity in his palm. Shamrock fired another bullet, but Asriel flicked it away. Then, he sent lightning streaking towards the soulless human, who barely dodged.
Asriel heard footsteps behind him and turned back towards his other opponent, who now held Asgore’s trident in their hands. He grabbed Frisk by the throat, his hand shaking with rage.
“ENOUGH!” Asriel desperately cried. He lunged at Shamrock and grabbed their throat as well, then started flying away. He dragged both humans on the ground as he soared fast enough to leave behind afterimages. The world flashed past and suddenly Asriel wasn’t flying forwards, but flying upwards, higher and higher.
Frisk and Clover gasped as they saw the bright blue sky all around them and a mountain below.
“Here we are, too far for you to ever hurt monsters again, and too far for the king to interfere.” Asriel grinned like a madman. Then, his hands heated up and started burning Shamrock and Frisk.
Desperately, Frisk funneled all the determination they could muster into Asgore’s trident, then swung it at Asriel’s wrists, cutting them off. Asriel’s hands dissolved into dust, letting Frisk and Shamrock fall, plummeting back towards the ground.
Asriel reformed his hands and chaos sabers, then streaked down after the humans, the sun behind him.
Frisk and Shamrock landed, forming a crater on the cliffside. Their bodies were bloody and broken and pain coursed through their veins just as much as determination did. HP: 0.00000001
Then, Shamrock reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle of gunpowder. He gulped down half of it, then tossed it to Frisk, who caught it and chugged the rest before letting the bottle go and shatter on the ground.
Their wounds started restitching, but they were still far from healthy, and something above them was growing larger. Frisk and Shamrock instinctively reached out to defend themselves as Asriel Dreemurr descended upon them, a chaos saber held out to cleave each of them apart.
Frisk blocked with the crimson trident, while Shamrock held the trash can lid. Both weapons were warping under the stress of the full weight of Asriel’s will.
“I WON’T LET YOU WIN!” he cried out.
Shamrock spat into Asriel’s eyes, and the monster flinched for just a moment. But in that moment, Frisk and Shamrock pushed back with the full force of their combined wills, shoving Asriel off of them and rising to their feet.
Asriel stumbled back and his chaos sabers flickered away. Shamrock and Frisk stared into his eyes, challenging him once more.
Asriel growled and conjured his chaos buster, only for Frisk to throw Asgore’s trident at it and shatter it. They stepped closer.
With a final roar, Asriel made a star the size of a meteor in front of himself. The star then crushed itself inwards as it flew into his palm. Asriel clenched his fist around the star, then he threw himself forward, fist crackling with power.
Shamrock and Frisk didn’t even have to look at each other as they each brought on fist forward, side by side. They unconsciously forged four-pointed stars in their hands.
They met Asriel’s comet punch with their own, all four consciousnesses pitting their full willpowers against each other. They screamed with effort as they pushed and pushed. Power crackled into the attack and back out, racing into each of their cores.
Then, their fists erupted into a golden explosion, its perfect flame billowing out in every direction.
When the smoke finally cleared, there was scorched rock, the crimson trident dissolved into pure magic, and the sun shined down on the victors. Shamrock and Frisk stood over Asriel’s body, which lay prone on the ground.
Asriel reached towards them, and mustering up every drop of power he had left, he made a revolver. “I’m not done,” he croaked.
He carefully aimed it at Frisk and pulled the trigger, but Frisk merely smacked the bullet away, then stomped on Asriel’s arm, pinning it to the ground.
“You’re done,” Frisk declared, pressing their foot down even harder.
Asriel wanted to scream, but he didn’t have enough air in his lungs. He blinked away tears of pain to see Shamrock standing over him. The soulless human had his rifle’s barrel pointed at Asriel’s head, his finger on the trigger.
Asriel whimpered, not enough energy left to form words.
Shamrock let his bullet loose, and it flew into Asriel’s head. Almost instantly, his form faded away and all that was left behind was a soul, a revolver, and a one-eyed flower.
Flowey chuckled. “There, you did it! You beat me! Congratulations!” His eyes darted around frantically. A vine reached back towards Clover’s soul and Flowey pleaded to any higher power that he could have just one more moment!
Shamrock pulled the trigger six times, tearing through the flower until it was nothing but shreds which plopped onto the ground.
Frisk rushed over to Shamrock and enveloped him in a hug. “We did it! We’re not dead.”
Shamrock reluctantly put one arm around Frisk. “Yeah, I guess we are. We won.”
A voice whispered in Frisk’s head. “Goodbye, brother.”
Hearing footsteps, they turned back to the cave nearby. Their instincts told them to get ready for battle, but neither human had the energy left for that. They carefully watched as Asgore, king of monsterkind, emerged and locked eyes with them.
“Please, explain to me what happened.” Asgore’s words were polite, but his tone was absolute authority.
Frisk peeled off of Shamrock and turned their body to face the king.
Shamrock spoke first, “That abomination stole your six human souls, then tried to attack Frisk for the seventh. They defended themself and I came as well when I sensed that Frisk was being attacked. We already pried the first five souls out of his grasp, but my former soul clung to him, so we had to kill him to reclaim it.”
Asgore nodded. “That explains most things, but why in the Angel’s name did it take the form of my son?”
Shamrock blinked. “Your son?”
Frisk stepped in front of Shamrock. “They were taking the image of the previous monster with a human soul, which was Asriel with Chara’s soul.”
Asgore looked at his feet. “I… see. I suppose that makes enough sense.”
An awkward silence hung in the air.
“Thank you for your help,” Shamrock said. “Without you, he would certainly have killed us.”
Frisk nodded. “Yeah, and using your trident was awesome.”
Asgore smiled softly. “Thank you for your own kind words.” He walked over to the yellow soul which rested on the ground and cradled it within his arms. He looked up at the two humans. “And thank you from all of monsterkind for reclaiming these souls.”
The yellow soul shook violently, but Asgore kept a firm grip on it.
“You should go put that away as quickly as you can,” Shamrock suggested.
Asgore sighed. “How right you are. I don’t deserve to be up here enjoying the surface anyway. Not while my people suffer underground.” He turned back to the cave entrance and started walking in.
After a moment he stopped and turned to face them once more. “You two may leave. Congratulations on escaping the underground.” With that, Asgore disappeared into the darkness.
Frisk and Shamrock sat down in silence. They let their feet dangle off the cliffside and looked out into the distance, at the setting sun.
“Can you remember the last time you saw the sun?” Shamrock asked.
“No, I don’t think I can,” Frisk replied. “How about you?”
“Not the real one. Just this really big rock the Dunes has, which is kinda like the sun. Compared to the real deal though, it’s nothing.”
Silence stretched between them. They had nothing to say, nothing that mattered. Except…
“Are you going back down there?” Frisk asked.
“You mean the underground?” Shamrock clarified.
Frisk nodded.
Shamrock looked up at the sky, which was turning purple as the day waxed on. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve got more friends down there than I do up here, and if I left them behind… I just can’t leave them behind. How about you? Are you going to stay up here?”
Frisk looked at the beautiful expanse of the surface. There were mountains on the horizon, lakes below them, and forests stretching everywhere between. It was a place that held infinite possibilities, so Frisk’s curiosity should be begging for them to explore all of it.
“I’m going back down there too,” Frisk replied.
Shamrock’s expression lightened. Then, he stood up. “Well then, I guess we should get back. I don’t want Dunebud or Dalv to get worried.”
Frisk sighed and got up as well. Side by side, they turned their back to the sun and walked back through the barrier, into the underground.
“You’d think if Asgore was so grateful for supposedly saving the world that we wouldn’t be here!” Frisk groaned.
They and Shamrock were confined in a dungeon cell below the castle, alongside Dunebud, who was napping in the cell’s corner.
“We still committed a lot of crimes, and I did tell him he could give whatever punishment he saw fit. We’re lucky that his gratitude shortened our sentence,” Shamrock replied.
“You said he could punish you, not me!” Frisk protested. “Or Dunebud!”
“Well he really should’ve killed you for everyone’s freedom. You’re really lucky he settled on only giving you a year down here.”
“It’s probably only that short because we’re kids. And I’ve still got a couple more months in this jail than you do!” Frisk grumbled.
Shamrock groaned and lay down on his cot. “Well, you killed, like, twenty more people than me, including Undyne! What were you expecting?!”
Frisk sighed and sat down on a stool. “Okay, at least we can agree that Dunebud got unlucky here.”
“Yeah, it's not her fault she’s got such terrible friends, but she’s an accomplice and the world’s not fair.”
Frisk chuckled. “If it were fair, the two of us would be dead, while everybody we killed would be alive. Except Flowey I guess.”
“A toast to the world’s injustice!” Shamrock declared.
Frisk deadpanned. “We don’t have cups.”
Shamrock looked sheepish. “Oh yeah…”
“Besides, we need to workshop the wording. How about, ‘A toast to the death of justice!’”
A cat-headed guard walked over to the jail cell. “Hey humans, you’ve got visitors.”
“Who are they?” Frisk asked.
“Martlet, Starlo, and Ceroba,” the guard answered.
Frisk looked expectantly at their fellow inmate. Shamrock was looking at the ground and sighed. “Let them in.”
The guard nodded and unlocked the cell, letting Martlet, Starlo, and Ceroba in. Once they’d entered, the guard locked back up the cell.
“H– Hi Shamrock!” Martlet squeaked out. “Thanks for letting us in!”
Shamrock nodded.
“Oh!” Frisk exclaimed. “You guys are those people Shamrock keeps talking about!”
Ceroba smiled softly. “I guess we are.”
Starlo, meanwhile, was positively beaming. “I’m so glad to see ya! Especially after so long!”
Ceroba put a hand on Starlo’s shoulder, a silent reminder for him to calm down.
Meanwhile, Dunebud had just woken up and caught sight of these visitors. She leapt towards Martlet, who caught her and started laughing. “Hey there, do I know you?”
“Gwob Gwub~”
Martlet set Dunebud down on the ground and patted her on the head.
“Come on,” Shamrock sat up. “Why are you here?”
“We wanted to come see you,” Ceroba carefully answered.
“And, let me ask you again, why?” Shamrock was clenching his fist next to his empty holster.
“Because we care about ya!” Starlo shouted.
Shamrock rolled off of his bed and rose to his feet. His hat cast a shadow over his face, pierced only by golden light coming from his eyes. “Is that true? Since when have you cared about me?”
“We always have!” Martlet insisted.
The human clenched his fists so tightly his fingernails had to be cutting into his skin. “Oh really? Even under the blossoming tree? Even when you let me rot away and die?”
“But, you asked us to…” Starlo trailed off.
“Fine, my traitorous soul did say that. But if you care so much, then why would you let me die as soon as I said some magic words? And even if I had to die, why–” Shamrock croaked out. “Why did I have to be alone?”
Martlet and Starlo’s mouths moved, but no words came out.
Ceroba squeezed her eyes shut. “I offered to stay with you, and you didn’t want me to. If you wanted someone with you, I could’ve…”
Shamrock grit his teeth. “You practically begged those two to let me die, Ceroba. And as you held my soul, I became certain that this was just your plot, that you were using my supposedly pure soul to help Kanako. I was confident that you’d betrayed me. Now that I saw my soul at the barrier, I’m not so sure, but… I didn’t want you there. I wanted someone I could trust, but there was no one.”
Ceroba shrunk back.
“I– I just couldn’t bear to watch you die,” Martlet blurted out. “I’m sorry, I should’ve realized–”
“Did you think that you were in more pain than the person dying?” Shamrock spat out.
Tears streamed down Martlet’s cheek, and as she tried to force out a response, she could only croak.
Starlo looked down, letting his hat cast a solemn shadow over his face. “I’ve never forgiven myself for how things went that day, and it looks like I was right not to.”
“Darn right,” Shamrock replied. “Let me be frank with all three of you. You say you care about me, and I don’t believe you, not with the way you left me behind. Please, get out.”
They each nodded and turned to leave.
“But, maybe you could come back next week. I might be more ready to talk then,” Shamrock added.
Martlet’s face lit up. “Yes! We’ll make sure to! You won’t regret this!”
Wordlessly, Shamrock slipped onto his bed and closed his eyes while his visitors filed out and the door was locked behind them.
Frisk turned to look at their fellow inmate. “Wow, that sounds rough.”
“That’s one word for it,” Shamrock muttered.
Dunebud leapt up next to Shamrock and patted him on the shoulder.
“I thought you hated those three,” Frisk said. “So, uh, why did you invite them back?”
Shamrock sighed. “I figure, if they do really care about me, I can give them a second chance. But if they abandon me again, then I can be certain that they’re traitors.”
Frisk nodded along. “I guess we’ll have to wait a week and see.”
And exactly one week later, they came back.