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Dust fills the air of the Dark Ruins. Not a single monster can be seen everywhere. You stand in front of the exit. You tilt your hat down to hide your eyes from view. Lightning scars are visible on the your arms. Upon exiting the ruins, the cold is immediately noticed. It is annoying but must be ignored as justice must be brought. The flower returns, tells you that no one will know what will happen. Everything you did has been kept quiet. No one will miss the monsters from the ruins. Why would anyone care about them? They have no families out here after all.
You begin to question the justice enacted.
The desert is dry and warm. A stark contrast to Snowdin. You tilt your hat back up to make your eyes visible once more. Yet you still feel a shadow remaining on your regretful face. Fear can cause someone to take a route they will regret. Despite everything, the bird has given you a second chance. The flower on the other hand seems disappointed in the sudden change of heart. He questions why you would help those who harmed you. Those who harmed the children you are looking for. That it would be best to turn them into dust. Would it not be justice to avenge the fallen children? Why stop after reaching 8?
You don't give them a response.
The vine pierces the bird and she falls to dust. Perhaps you should have known not to trust him. Reality seems to warp around you as the vines close in. A plaything is what he calls you. A toy that has constantly been broken and repaired time and time again. Every play session has been slightly different. Yet the outcome always ends the same as of recent. You end up here on this roof with him. He taunts you over his control. You can see the flashes of all the monsters you brought justice to. Ones who did not partake in the crime. Vines once again curl around you. They press harder and harder until you break once more.
A new vine curls up and presses a button. Time resets once more. Perhaps this time it will work.
Clover wakes up in a cold sweat from her bed. Long messy hair runs down her back. She takes a look down at her body. She sighs a breath of relief. Not a single speck of dust on her tanktop or sweatpants. Not a single sign of her twisted sense of justice. She hears slow and steady breathing and turns around. Her partner remains in their slumber despite the sudden lack of warmth. The cowgirl only looks away and rests her hands on her shoulders. Tears begin to fill her eyes as a single thought fills her mind.
“I don't deserve you, Chara.”